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summary: there are no words to describe the pain of losing someone you love. and for Jack Abbot, a man who's never been good with words, he finds himself unable to tell you just how much he loves you.
warnings: get your tissues; themes of terminal illness, grief and loss.
notes: I started this draft a long while ago and had to shelf it because it genuinely made me cry writing it. but a recent family incident had me thinking about it and so I decided to give it a second chance.
thinking of all of you who've lost a loved one to illness or disease <3
The hospital room is quiet. Silent in the restless way all hospitals are. Always on the edge of waiting; the anticipation of a new decision, a new change.
Something going right. Something going wrong.
Time slows to a crawl, a vacuum. Life goes on outside, flourishing and blooming like the changing seasons. But here, everything seems so stagnant.
Like every breath was a gift, not a given.
Jack lays beside you carefully, back scrunched against the railing of the too small hospital bed; his tear stained cheek pressed against your pale forehead, lips brushing the line of your cropped hair. Murmuring the same three words he had been all night.
“I love you.”
I love you. I love you. I love you-
You had cut your hair short a while ago. In the bathroom of your home, Jack holding your hand as Dana had gently talked you through each snip of the silver shears.
“Easier maintenance,” you’d insisted. Jack could see the truth behind your eyes anyway.
The fear.
It would fall out anyway.
Jack had never been good with words. At least, not when they counted.
Not now, when every hour the two of you had together became more precious than the last. He sometimes felt like he was groping at sand, trying to keep the hourglass from stopping, the grains falling from his hands anyways.
It had progressed a lot faster than anyone had anticipated.
The sickness.
Just a little over a year ago, Jack had held your hand silently as you cried in the blue office room.
Jack remembers that.
How blue everything was. How bleak it seemed. The hope you still clung to in spite of how quickly things spiraled.
Your body is cold now, pressed against Jack’s front. Even with the heated blanket he’d brought from home and the quilt your mom had given as a wedding present all those years ago draped over your frail body.
Jack could feel it. The life slowly fading from you.
He carefully brushes a finger over the edge of the blanket around your shoulder, reaching over to fix the canula beneath your nose.
Jack hadn't slept in a long while. Not at night anyways.
When you could slip away from his grasp before he even told you goodbye.
You'd been sleeping a lot more lately. Between doctor consults and nurses administering more medication. After a visit from your family or Robby and Dana. Jack would allow himself to close his eyes then. When Robby was sitting beside him; two men sitting in too small plastic chairs, knees pressed together.
So he would feel if something went wrong.
Jack has a looming feeling it will.
You've been more quiet lately. More tired. Even when you were awake, you'd just sit and listen, lashes droopy, leaning against the stack of pillows. Like even staying awake for more than an hour took all your energy.
You'd hold Jack's hand as Dana told you about her kids or give a small smile when Robby complained about something that had happened in the Pitt. You'd watch as life unfolded around you, holding onto Jack’s hand like he's the one who's leaving too soon.
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, love.”
"But you could. If you want to go home for some rest. I wouldn't mind. Dana will keep me company-"
"No. No I'm right where I want to be. With you."
He wasn't going anywhere. He'd been there by your side for all of it.
He’d been there through the silence after your diagnosis, the pain and sickness of treatment. Through the good days and bad.
Through the really bad days.
Jack has no plans to be anywhere but by your side. He’d crawl into your grave and sleep forever by your side if he could-
“Jack.”
Your voice is barely a whisper, cracked and dry from not using it.
He misses hearing your voice. Misses it like you were already gone and not laying next to him right now. Jack sniffs, clearing his throat softly before leaning forward to hear you better.
“Yeah?”
You blink, head shifting back slowly to look at him. Your eyes are glazed over, just focused enough where Jack knows you're still there.
“Sleep.”
He gives you a soft smile. So soft, it's almost a grimace. He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his flannel, forehead pressed against yours.
“I will. I promise.”
“Please.”
His heart aches at the thought of it. At the thought of these being the last few times the two of you ever speak to each other.
“I will honey,” he murmurs against your skin. Cold against his lips. You close your eyes, lashes falling closed like you couldn't hold them open anymore. You make a noise and Jack stills, eyes wide as he looks over you.
“You okay?”
Your breathing becomes little puffs of air. Strained.
“It hurts,” you whisper. So quiet. Jack swallows, tears pricking the corner of his eyes.
“You want more pain meds?” Your head moves against the pillow. An attempt at a nod. He’ll take it.
Jack presses a kiss to your cheek, reaching over your body carefully to find the morphine drip button.
He's careful of the tubes and IV connected to you, thumb pressing the button you could no longer push yourself. You make a noise, a slight whimper, and Jack feels the lump in the back of his throat grow heavy again.
Of all the awful things he'd seen in his life, nothing would ever scar him more than this. Seeing you in pain. Watching you die slowly, leaving him before either of you were really ready-
“Ready?”
It’s a whisper. One you whisper to Jack beneath your breath as you both stand at the altar.
“Is anyone ever really?” He whispers back. Nervous. You give him a small smile, the gauzy fabric of your veil making your face softer, glowing beneath the light.
Gosh, he doesn’t think you’d ever looked so beautiful than right now. The beginning of your future. Rings and vows and everything else that was to come.
“Jack,” you laugh quietly, the priest beginning to speak. You lean closer to him, so only he could hear, “I know you're ready. Robby told me you wrote your vows months ago.”
“Started,” he corrects, looking at you from the side of his peripheral. “I didn't finish them till last night.”
“Me neither.” He raises a brow. You smile.
“Too much to say. Not enough words to say them.” Jack smiles and leans in even closer, not caring if everyone was staring.
“I love you-”
Jack looks back at you, frowning as he sets down the drip button. Your lashes are cracked open again, lips parted enough to let out shallow breaths.
“What was that hon?” He asks, brushing your hair with his fingers again.
“I love you,” you repeat. Jack takes a shaky breath, nodding.
“I know."
Jack wants to tell you so much. All the things he'll miss. The way you laugh, how much he loved your smile. The quiet mornings where you talked him to sleep, the late nights where you waited for him to come home.
He wants to thank you for the years of waiting you did. The long distance overseas when he was in the army. The way you didn't leave when he was lost in his head after his leg. The patience and love you carried with you, even now in this room.
The way you'd always been his rock. His bright day after a stormy night.
Jack wants to tell you all the things he still wants to do with you. The sabbatical trip you had always talked about. The Christmas party that never seemed to work out. The box of baby things the two of you never got to talking about.
He wants you to know he'll miss you. He already misses you. So much, it's hard to breathe sometimes just thinking one day he'll wake up to a world without you in it.
He wants to tell you so many things.
But when he looks at you, he sees it in your eyes. All the things the two of you cannot say.
And so he just says those three little words. Like they'll somehow manage to say so much more.
based on this brain dump and a request to write about narcisstic parents + request to expand the brain dump to a fic
Summary: Jack Abbot x reader!doctor!robby’s little sister
Reader is Robby’s little sister, who was raised by narcissistic parents who only cared about one child: Michael. Reader has known Jack since she was a teenager, and they have been friends since. Once she is older and they become closer at work, she convinces herself that she doesn’t love Jack and dates Rob. On the other hand, Jack has been madly in love with her since she was a med student.
Word count: 9.6k
TW/TAGs: SH as child and adult, narcissistic parents, vomit, reader loses virginity to Jack (when she is +18), smut, reader has nickname: bubs, cheating on partner, blood
Notes: hiii I’m aware that Robby mentioned his mom left him at a young age. But for the purpose of this fic, that didn’t happen.
Sending my love to anyone who was raised by narcissistic parents, and who was made to feel like they are never good enough. You are more than enough, and you don’t need anyone who shares the same DNA as you to tell you that.
Sending you my love if you’re struggling with your mental health too. Please please please talk to someone about how you’re feeling ❤️🩹
The fic includes flashback to reader’s past.
Not very well proof read.
@lacy1986
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Flashback
A shadow, is how you felt like for most of your life. A dark silhouette of something big and great, and you only seem to be noticed when the light is faced towards this so called something that is big and great.
“Oh Mikey don’t you look so handsome!” Your mom claps her hand together as she fights back tears once she sees your brother all dressed up in his graduation gown. “Doesn’t he look great?”
“You look nice” you look up from your book and smile at him. “Have fun at graduation!”
“Sorry you’re not coming.” He says softly, forcing a small smile.
“Me too.” You aren’t sorry in the slightest, because it means you get the house to yourself for a few hours. Your mom also forgot to buy your ticket — a blessing is disguise if anything. “Take lots of pictures please!”
The moment they leave the house, is the moment you can finally breathe. You grab your book, curl up on the sofa, and lose yourself in a made up world where you weren’t forgotten about.
A world where you didn’t feel lonely.
A world where you felt loved.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
“Your mind is elsewhere tonight.” A gentle voice snaps you out of your haze.
“Sorry Jack.” You clear your throat, giving yourself a second to readjust to your surroundings. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing, but you’ve been staring at the screen and not blinking for a good few minutes.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t need an apology, just making sure you’re alright?”
“Robinavitch!” Someone yells your name, “patient in five is after you.”
You fight back tears you didn’t know the cause of, mutter another sorry as you log out of the computer and walk to room five. Jack watches you as you walk away, a familiar look of defeat and sadness in your step. He wonders what went wrong, but he doesn’t know when it went all wrong. He had known you at least fourteen years, and working beside you has brought him nothing but joy. But the more he watched you, the more he realised how good you did at hiding your emotions. But he had a feeling that you might be getting too tired to hide anymore and he desperately wanted to help.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Flashback
“Oh she’s vomiting again, you’re gonna be late for school!” Your mom yells as she passes by the bathroom. The time was 6am, and it was exams week. Which means that sickening feeling in your stomach was back; a feeling you didn’t know what it was and was difficult to explain. You also had no one you can tell about this feeling. But it made you uncomfortable and you couldn’t fight the nausea that burned your stomach every morning. So during exam week, or whenever there was a test coming up, you vomited just before going to school. Your body had built up a coping habit, and you didn’t know there was anything wrong with it until you became a doctor many years later and reflected back on it.
“I’m ready” you say weakly as you rinse your mouth clean. “You’re the one who’s still in pyjamas.”
“Your dad’s taking you.”
“Which means I’m gonna be late for school!”
“It’ll be fine!”
“Mom! No! They gave me detention last time because he was late!”
“He works harder than you, the least you could do is say thank you.” She snaps back.
You choose silence, because that’s the best option most days. You wait by the door for him, backpack slung over your shoulder as you tap your foot on the floor anxiously. The sickening feeling in your stomach is back, and this time you don’t feel nauseous, but you feel an unexplained wave of fear wash over you.
“You’re quiet on the drive this morning”
“Please can you drive faster? I’m gonna be late.”
“I’m going the speed limit.”
“You’re 7 miles under.”
“You could at least appreciate the morning with me? Michael always was so much more talkative.”
Michael was more talkative on the way to school because they asked Michael questions on the way to school. Whereas for you? Your interests, which were mainly reading books, wasn’t their interest so no questions were asked.
“It’s career day at school today.” You say quietly.
“That’s exciting! Right! You’re gonna be a good doctor.” A good doctor, but not a great one. A career that was chosen for you, the moment Michael was accepted into medical school. Your mom cried tears of joy: “oh I’m gonna tell everyone my son is a doctor! My daughter will be one too! Hopefully.”
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
The shift goes on like how anyone would expect, and the tears you were fighting earlier, came rushing out the moment you stepped into the bathroom cubicle. You actually weren’t too sure why you were crying; you felt an ache in your heart that twisted so badly at you. The ache is always there, sometimes forgotten about, but today… today it was excruciating. You wait until your face had calmed down slightly, and your eyes were not as red before you step out into the ED. You had two more hours of this shift; two more hours until you can get home, and zone the hell out. Two hours until you take yourself into an imaginary world in which you didn’t feel broken.
“Robinavitch” Ellis calls you over, but she instantly clocks in on your sad and red eyes. “You alright?”
“Mhmm. How can I help?”
“Patient in room 5 is asking for you again.”
“Okay.”
“Wanna know why?” Ellis frowns at how quiet you had gotten all of a sudden. “What’s up with you tonight?”
“PMSing.” A lie. “Bad night.”
“Go rest, I’ll do it.”
“No, no, I can do it!” You had this deep fear of someone doing you a favour. Again, a feeling you weren’t too sure why existed, but it was deeply unsettling.
“Girl, go rest. I can see you fighting the will to live.” Ellis’ words hit you like a punch to the gut. You have been in survival mode for far too long, and the will to live is now a stranger. “On-call room is yours. I’ll come find you in 30 minutes”
You give her an unexpected hug, and she doesn’t have time to react before you pull away and rush to the room. Your tears once again had started falling and you weren’t too sure why. You open the door without knocking, and walk in on Jack talking to someone on the phone. You freeze, not entirely sure where to go from here, and he quickly hangs up the call. “Who upset you?” He says firmly. “Give me a fucking name.”
“No one” you whisper as you wipe your face clean.
“A name!” He says loudly.
“Jack I promise nobody’s upset me.”
His jaw tightens as he walks toward you, “I swear I’ll skin them alive.”
“Abbot I promise…” you say softly, “Nobody. I’m having a bad night.”
“And if I find out you’ve lied to me?”
“I’ve never lied to you Jack.”
He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against him. “I’m here to talk. Always have been.”
“I have nothing to say.” You had plenty to say. So much to say, in fact, that you had written so many notes and letters about the unexplained emotions you have felt since you were younger. You kick your shoes off and lay on the bed, resting your legs on Jack’s thighs who sat at the end of the bed. You don’t go to sleep, instead, you close your eyes and focus on a happy memory. Although you don’t have many, there was one that always stuck.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Flashback
Graduation day, for you, went a lot differently than Michael’s. You got ready in your room alone, which you were grateful for. But when it was time to take picture, your mom was too busy doing her makeup, and Michael was still out at work. Your dad was too, so you opted for a couple of mirror selfies.
Your mom yells for you to get the door as it rings. You groan loudly, and she snaps back, “I heard that!”
You run down the stair, holding onto your graduation cap, and open the door to one very smiley Jack.
“Jack! Hi!”
“Wow” you exclaims as he looks at you, “you look amazing!”
“Aw thank you!”
“Seriously Robinavitch, you look stunning.” He follows you into the house, gently closing the door behind him. “Where is everyone?”
“Dad’s at work, he might not make it on time. Mom’s still getting ready and Michael’s nowhere to be seen.”
“That’s fucking terrible. On your graduation day?”
“Hey at least they remembered!” You tease.
“Okay while everyone’s busy then.. I have something to give you. It’s something small, really, but I thought you might like it.”
He pulls out a small jewellery box, and hands it over. You open up the box and find a bracelet, with a few charms dangling from it. “You didn’t have to get me anything?”
“Of course I did! It’s your graduation!” You take the bracelet in your hand and look at all the different charms. There was a book charm, a cat charm, and a stethoscope charm.
“You can add more charms if you want to, I just picked the three I thought you’d like the most.”
You throw your hands over him, knocking your cap off your head in the process and Jack doesn’t hesitate to pull you tightly. “So proud of you.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s nothing!”
“Jackyyyy!” Your mom says loudly, interrupting your moment. “Don’t you look handsome.”
“Me? Have you seen her? She looks stunning!”
“What’s up with your hair” she points at your hair that had gone messy form the hug, “fix it quick. Jack how do I look?” She spins around, showing off her dress.
“You look nice, Mrs Robinavitch.”
“Aren’t you a polite young man.” She giggles at him. “Are we ready to go?”
“Is dad not coming? Or Michael?”
“They’re running late but I said I’ll take pictures!” She says as she walks away from you, grabbing her keys off the side.
Although you feel disappointed, because how could you not, you don’t feel as sad once Jack links his hand in yours, grabbing your cap off the floor and leading the way out of the house. Having your only friend cheer you on today made everything so much better.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
“Wake up” Jack say softly as he gently shakes you, “it’s home time.”
“No” you mumble, “I like it here.”
“What, in the on-call room??”
You body jolts wide awake and you look around confused.
“It’s just me bubs. Shift’s over.”
“Ellis was supposed to wake me up! You were supposed to wake me up!” You say panicking as you feel your heart hammer in your chest. You feel instant guilt of letting people down. “They needed me out there! Why didn’t you wake me!”
“It’s okay, it was quiet. Honestly everyone’s been twiddling their thumbs.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“Ive never lied to you once.” He helps put your shoes on, “shall we grab breakfast after this? What are you in the mood for?”
“Can’t. I’m meeting Rob after work.” Jack hates Rob, so does Ellis, and Robby, and everyone else that had met him. But you weren’t meeting him, that was just an excuse to not go out with anyone so no one asks you what’s wrong, “Sorry,”
“Don’t be. Go enjoy it. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
“Sorry again about missing the shift.” You say quietly.
“Sweetheart…” Jack mutters softly, “I don’t know what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, but I can feel your sadness, and I need you to talk to me when you’re ready. Hmm?” Jack hand known you since you a teenager, after meeting your family once him and Robby started residency together. He had picked up on your habits, like how you preferred to zone out when the world around you was loud. How you read books that had the most unrealistic realms ever. How you avoided your family like the plague, and more importantly, how the light had been sucked out of you slowly but he couldn’t understand why.
“Thanks Jacky”
“Don’t let anyone out there know you call me that,” a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, full of worry but also full of love. “Say hi to Rob.”
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Flashback
The first time you inflicted pain on yourself was the first time you felt at ease. A bizarre and unfamiliar feeling washed over you, which confused your mind deeply. How was it that a small cut took the ache in your chest away? It didn’t make sense. It became a coping mechanism, from the moment you left home and started med school. But you didn’t do it often, because you didn’t need coping when you were away from home. It was when you got a random phone call from your parents, to tell you about another one of Michael’s achievement. They however also would ask about med school, your friends, exams, etc…. “It’s been tough, I’ve picked up some shifts at a local cafe so trying to juggle both had been a-“
“Oh I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s all about time management.”
“Yeah, time management….” You murmur, wanting to roll your eyes at her but that would be catastrophic.
“When I was your age, I picked up two jobs at college. Michael did too actually.”
“He worked in a bar, mom. He got paid to party.” You see the moment her facial expression changes on the screen. How she presses her lips together tightly, holding back words of anger. “Gotta go mom, say hi to dad.”
“You should call us more often” she says but you end the call so damn quickly. You mutter to yourself, “You can call me too, you know.”
Michael, or he now goes by Robby, checked in on you constantly. But it was always a text, or a quick call. When you tried to call him yourself, he always declined and said he was too busy. But the only person who was always to pick up the phone was Jack.
“Hey bubs!!” His face lights up the moment it comes on the screen. “I’ve missed you!”
“Hey Jacky, I’ve missed you too! I wanted to see how you are.”
“I’m good, great actually. How’s university? Is that roommate still giving you trouble?”
“Actually she moved out. So I’m all alone.”
“Which you love!” He says excitedly. You always loved your alone time. “Do we still… love that?”
“I do, of course. It’s nice having all this space to myself.”
“What about boys?”
“There’s some cute guys but they’re so childish….”
“You staying safe?”
“Always” you assure him, “can’t have little Robinavitch get in trouble now can we?”
“You never got in trouble once… you were a golden child if anything,”
You snort out loud, then the familiar ache appears back in your chest. “Yeah….”
“Hey uhh, when are you coming home?”
Never would be the answer, but one thing you didn’t do was be sarcastic with Jack. “Not soon, maybe Christmas? Why?”
“Nothing I just miss you.”
“You can always come to California? There’s a medical conference on in a couple of weeks at Stanford. I can give you the tour and we can attend it together?”
Jack grins from ear to ear once he hears the invitation, “I’d love that. Let me work out logistics.”
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
“Morning, sweet girl” a soft voice whispers in your ear, and you brush him off. “Fancy breakfast?”
“No… I’ve just worked a 14-hour shift… can you let me sleep in, please.”
“But I’m bored.”
“Rob, respectfully, not my problem. I’m working tonight.”
He grumbles as he flicks the off the duvet and walks out of the bedroom. Despite all the loud noises he made in the kitchen, you managed to drift off back to sleep. Rob has his own apartment, but always opted to staying over at yours because it was bigger and nicer. But that also meant that your much needed silence is interrupted daily, and there always was a mess you needed to clean up. But dating him was also fun… sometimes. He was nice and kind and never got angry at anything.
A couple of hours later, you wake up feeling refreshed for the shift ahead. You have a few missed calls from your mom, and you decide that you are in no rush to give her a call back. She’s well aware that you work nightshifts, but she doesn’t seem to pay attention to that. You can also guarantee that the moment you call her back, she’d say something like, “I called you five times”
“I was asleep”
“At midday?”
“I work nights remember?”
“What’s with the attitude?”
“I woke up not long ago and you for some reason are in a bad mood.. what can I do for you mom?”
“It’s your grandma.”
“Okay?”
“She’s dead.”
Oh.
“That’s terrible.” You say flatly, not a hint of emotion in your words. Death never really affected you, not in the way it should have. Michael was also your grandma’s favourite, and she forgot your name most of the time.
“You can sound a bit sad you know.”
“I am sad…” You feel a small hint of sadness, but also feel generally numb.
“I don’t hear you crying?” She says rudely.
“Are you crying?”
“Of course I am!” She certainly wasn’t, because you knew her fake cry very well and she was putting it on too dramatically.
She tells you about her the funeral dates, talks far too much about flower arrangements and then asks you to pick a nice, suitable dress for the funeral. She reminded you to send her a photo of what you pick because she knows best and she will make sure you look your best. “It’s a funeral, not a fashion show” you mutter to yourself once you hand up the call.
You text Robby: have you heard from mom?
No, what’s up?
It’s not good news
Is it about gran?
You know?
She’s been gone a few days…
You let out a sarcastic laugh. They forgot to tell you that your grandma died? Ah, the carrier pigeon must have had a detour.
He doesn’t respond to your text and you don’t expect him to. They forgot to tell you that your grandma had died, but made sure to tell Michael that she has. That summed up your life.
The day of the funeral, you wanted to feel sad, you truly did. But you felt nothing as you slipped your black dress on, brushed your hair back, and fixed the last bit of your makeup. You stare at your lifeless eyes in the mirror, “why aren’t you sad? We should be sad….”
You told Rob that he doesn’t need to attend, because the last thing you needed was family members asking when you’re getting married. The answer would be never. Robby picks you up, and you’re surprised to see Jack in the front seat. He offers to switch with you so he can sit in the back but you quickly decline. The ride over was quiet, like anyone would expect, but Jack texted you sneakily to ask if you were okay.
I’m managing.
Anything I can do to help?
Help me get through the big Robinavitch reunion, please
I’ll never leave your side
Thank you always <3
The ceremony went as anyone would expect, a few forced tears came out of your mom’s eyes, none from your dad’s. Robby shed a few tears too, and despite all your best efforts, nothing came out of your eyes. You even pinched your hand a few times, hoping a bit of pain would trigger some sort of sad emotion, but nothing happened. Jack sat next to you, a few rows behind your parents and all the other family members. Jack moved his hand slowly over to your hand, and gently linked it with his. His touch was warm, soft, and everything you ever wanted in this life. The tears you’ve been holding back have now come rushing out, and not for the reasons anyone expected.
“Once this is over… wanna get out of here?” Jack whispers.
“Where to?”
“Somewhere with alcohol….”
You keep your eyes fixed ahead at the person who was leading the ceremony, but you slowly nod at Jack and squeeze his hand tighter. Once the ceremony was over, you wait for everyone to leave and you stay behind, wanting to avoid any family members that might ask about your marriage status, and Jack hangs around with you, noticing how reserved and uncomfortable you looked, “Fake a medical emergency?”
“Dropping dead would be ideal” you mutter.
Jack shoots you a look of concern; you always had a dark sense of humour but this time there was nothing humorous about it. Your tone was serious.
“I’m kidding Jack.”
“Mhm… let’s uh… let’s brave the Robinavitchs then.”
“Come say hi to auntie!” Your mom says excitedly, forgetting that this is a funeral and she should be acting sad. “She’s a resident, working where my Michael is. Can you believe it?”
“Hi” you give a small wave, but she pulls you in for a long and wet kiss on the cheek.
“You must be so proud”
“Oh yes he’s the attending of the entire department!”
“No of her” Auntie says, “you know, despite all her troubles as a kid… she’s now a doctor!”
The troubles she referred to as a kid consisted of being alone, crying at random things and having panic attack, which reflecting back on, you didn’t know they were panic attacks. You thought you were dying when you had the most terrible fearful feeling wash over you. They took you to a doctor once, a shrink as your mom called it, to find out what’s wrong. When he told them that their 9 year old daughter might be anxious, they laughed and told him not to be ridiculous.
“Good to see you, Auntie. I’m no longer troubled, if you’re wondering.” Her eyes, as well as your mom’s widen in horror at your comment. You rarely ever snapped back at anyone, and to do it at a funeral? You knew you were about to be the talk of the family for weeks.
You turn on your heels and brush past them as you walk away abruptly, but your mom of course catches up with you. “That was rude young lady.”
“You think I’m troubled?”
“Not anymore, I don’t!” She tilts her head at you, an attempt look sympathetic but in fact it looks condescending more than anything,
“I wasn’t troubled! Mom! I was sad!” You still are sad, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“We gave you everything. You had a roof over your head and food on the table every day. You never once went hungry! What even made you sad”
You laugh at her words. “So providing the bare minimum for a child you decided to birth is a luxury?”
Jack sees you from a distance arguing, and without saying a word, he takes his phone out and requests an uber back to his place.
She leans in and hisses, “Stop being a brat. You think you’d change after all these years.”
“See you later, mother.” You charge past her, your anxiety wrapping itself around your neck like a rope. You don’t see Jack approach you, or all the eyes on you, but you do remember walking away from them as quickly as possible. Jack rushes after you, eventually catching up, “hey, hey”
“No, no I don’t want to talk!”
He holds your shoulders steady, “wasn’t gonna. Taxi will be here in a minute then we’re going home.”
“Where the hell is that Jack! Because it sure can’t be this hell!”
“Back to mine, okay? Back to my home.”
You try and catch your breath but your chest is on fire. He pulls you away from prying eyes, holds you in his arms until the taxi arrives. Without another word to anyone, including Robby, Jack takes you home.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Flashback
“Can you tell me about how you’re feeling?” The therapist asked you.
“I don’t understand the question” you replied.
“Your teacher at school sometimes say you hurt yourself on purpose.”
“I don’t hurt myself…”
“She says you pinch yourself a lot and you have bruises?”
“It’s a habit…”
“Usually ten-year-olds like you… Would pick up on other habits. What makes you pinch yourself?”
It was something you did when you felt uncomfortable, and it gave you a sense of relief. You felt too clastrophobic in the classroom, scared for no reason, terrified you’d feel that unexplained feeling of dying again, and so pinching yourself helped you cope.
“I’m sorry I won’t do the habit again. I promise.” You made a mental note to pick on places no one can see. And when the habit developed into something more dangerous, like using something sharp, you again, did it no place anyone will see.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
“Drink” You snap out of your haze and look up at Jack, who was standing in front of you with a drink in his hand.
“Is it strong?”
“It’s whiskey”
“I’d take Absinthe at this point.”
“Maybe one drink at a time..” he says softly as he sits next to you. “I’m proud of you.”
“Hah. What for?”
“For standing up to her.”
“I didn’t, though…”
“You absolutely did!” Jack sets his glass on the table. “did you see the way you spoke to her?”
“It’s nothing to be proud of…”
“Why? Because you were taught always to respect your parents?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“That’s bullshit.” he gently moves your face toward him, then mutters, “You know it is.”
You instantly burst into tears because what is being said is true. You don’t need to respect them because they never respected you or even loved you. A roof over your head does not mean love. “No one will ever love me!”
Jack holds your face in his hands, resting his forehead on yours, “I love you, you know that. I tell you that all the time and I’ve never once lied about it.”
Your sobs only get louder, “You only love me because you’ve known me since forever! It’s like you have to love me because you know me!”
“I love you for a lot more than that.”
“I don’t know if I am deserving of anyone’s love, Jack. Like she said, I’m troubled”
Jack mumurs softly, barely audible, “Until the day I die, I will prove to you that you are wrong.”
For a moment, everything goes quiet. The pain and the emptiness, it was all too much. You have reached a breaking point, and you don’t want to think anymore. You want to feel love. Or something. Anything.
You lean in and kiss him first. It isn’t soft or sweet, no. It’s desperate and hungry, like you haven’t kissed anyone before.
Jack freezes for half a second in surprise, then kisses you back just as fiercely, one hand sliding into your hair, the other pulling you closer. For those few seconds, the noise in your head go blissfully silent, and you feel loved. Then reality hit you like a truck as you pull back sharply, eyes wide with guilt. “fuck, fuck fuck!” You push away from him and rush to the door.
“Wait, please don’t go!”
“No! Jack! I’m stupid! What the hell did I do that for! We promised never to do that again. Rob! oh my God, what about Rob!”
“Rob is a jackass!”
“Hey! no!”
“He forgot your birthday! He forgets you work night shifts, sweetheart. He- you deserve better!”
You throw your heels on, and with shaky hands you manage to grab your bag and phone, “don’t I know it Jack!”
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Flashback
“Welcome to Stanford University!!” You jump up and down in excitement, showing off a huge building behind you. “I can’t believe you’re here!!”
Jack gets out of the car quickly, forgetting about his bags or paying the cab driver, as he picks you up and spins you around for a hug. “Oh, I’m already feeling so much better”
“Me too, Jack, me too!!!”
He puts you down but doesn't let go just yet; he wants to make sure you’re really here with him. “Hi”
“Hi Jacky”
“Missed you.”
“Missed you too”
“Excuse me! Your uhh bags??”
“Shooot” Jack rushes back to the cab to pay, then takes his bag in one hand, your hand in the other as he lets you lead the way. “This is beautiful.”
You look at the old building and the green parks aorund it. “It sure yes.”
But Jack isn’t looking at the building or the garden; he is looking at you.
“Do you want the grand tour first or freshen up in my room?”
“I’d like to see where little Robinavitch lives please and make sure there are no childish boys hiding under her bed.”
You giggle softly and lead the way, Jack casually swinging one arm over your shoulder as he asks you a million questions about Stanford.
The door to your dorm room clicks shut behind you once you make it back. Jack set his bag down and looked around the small space with a soft smile. “I like it, it’s cozy.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s you. You’ve decorated how you want it, not how anyone else wants it.” You don’t understand exactly what he means, but Jack is no stranger to how your parents treat you. “What books have you been reading?”
He sits on the bed next to you, as you show him all the new books you’ve bought, and the ones you’ve so far read. You also grab your iPad and show him all your study notes and your progress. You love how supportive he always is with your studies, and how helpful he has been whenever you needed help with an assignment.
“Back in my day we wrote with pen and paper. Nothing this fancy.”
“Under candlelight too?” You tease him. “So what do you think? Am I gonna pass?”
“You’re gonna be the best doctor I’ve ever known.”
“What about Michael?” Jack clicks his teeth and you giggle at his reaction. “Don’t let Mrs Robinavitch hear you say that.”
“I’ll shout it from the rooftop next time I see her.”
“You’ll get me in trouble!” You didn’t need to do anything to get in trouble… but when things don’t go her way, or your dads way, or in a way that it doesn’t benefit Michael, then it was somehow your fault. Jack helps you study for a while, quizzing you on all sorts of medical topics, praises you for each question you answered correctly, which was pretty much all of them. He admired how clever you are, and how passionate you are about this despite it being a profession you didn’t pick for yourself.
“So… any guys I need to worry about?”
You shrug. “Meh. Not really. Most of them are idiots.”
Jack chuckles but stays quiet, waiting for you to say more.
You swallow hard, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. “I’m still a virgin, Jack. And all the boys here are not for me. They’re childish, love to take drugs and generally just… meh”
He doesn’t look surprised, but instead keeps his warm gaze on you.
“I’m scared,” you continue. “I don’t want my first time to be with someone who’ll use me or make me feel bad afterward. I want to feel safe… and loved and I don’t think I’ll find it here.”
“That’s okay, the right guy will come. Don’t rush it, no matter how pressured you feel. Do what’s best for you.”
You meet his eyes, and you blurt out, “I want it to be with someone like you, Jack. Someone I trust.”
He studies your face for a second, definitely not expecting you to have said that. “I uhhhh” Jack wants to respond but for a moment, nothing comes out.
“I’ve thought about it…. Not like the way you expect. But I want my first time to be…different. With a friend. Not on a drunken night out.”
“Sweetheart there’s an age gap between us. I’ve known you for years…”
“That’s why I trust you Jack. You never once made me uncomfortable. You’re always been so respectful and kind and… I’m not forcing you to do anything. It’s just what I would like to do.”
“You sure?” he asks in a low voice now. “I need you to be certain. Because if that’s what you want then I’m okay with that. I want your first time to be with some you trust too.”
“I’m sure,” you whisper. “I want it to be you. I trust you.”
“I don’t want things between us to change sweetheart. This will affect us for the rest of our life.”
“I promise it won’t, not for me. I didn’t ask you to come out here just to say this, but the second I saw you today, Jack, I just… knew.”
Jack smiles softly and leans in, his eyes meet yours and for a second he freezes. Once he sees you smile he kisses you with quiet confidence. The kiss was everything you’ve dreamt of. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer but never rushing. “Now?” He asks.
“Mhmm, please”. No time like the present.
“You taste good already” he murmurs against your mouth. “Just relax into my touch. Keep telling me how you feel, hmm?”
Clothes come off gradually between kisses, without rushing. He peels away your shirt, then his own, his fingers tracing your skin gently. “Beautiful,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your collarbone. “Tell me if anything feels off.”
You lie back on the bed as he settles between your legs, his body warm above you. He kisses down your neck, your breasts, taking his time until you’re arching into him and breathing faster. You thought about how it would feel to be this intimate with a guy, with someone like Jack, but you didn’t think it was gonna be this good. And certainly not this soon into seeing him, but you truly couldn’t be more content. The emotions you are feeling were different — they are wild, happy.
“Wanna show me how you play with yourself? So I know how you like it?”
You shake your head, “Just… do what you would normally. Just be gentle… I think.”
His hand slips between your thighs and you moan at the thickness of his fingers flicking against your clit. “Good girl,” he says softly, voice low and reassuring. “You feeling relaxed?”
“Mmmm” you mewl, back acrhing off the mattress as your feelings intensify.
“Sweetheart do you..have condoms?”
You point at the top drawer by your bed. “They hand them out like candy.”
He reaches for a condom rolling it on while keeping his eyes on yours. “We’ll go slow. Breathe with me, okay?”
“Just the tip first,” he coaches, pressing forward inch by inch. You feel the stretch, tight and tense at first and he freezes immediately. “Talk to me bubs, what are you feeling?”
“I feel good, it feels good, more, please”
“Okay you’re doing so well. Relax those muscles… there you go.” He sinks a little deeper, murmuring praise the whole time. “That’s it. You’re so tight around me. Feels incredible. Let me in, baby. I’ve got you.” The fullness is intense, but his voice keeps you steady. He pauses often, kissing you deeply and his thumb circling your clit to keep you relaxed. “Halfway now. You’re taking me so beautifully. How does it feel?”
“Good,” you gasp, digging your nails into his arms, “Don’t stop.”
He rocks forward until he’s fully seated, groaning quietly. “Fuck, you feel perfect. All the way in. Just stay with me… breathe bubs, breathe.” He starts to move in slow, “Feel how I’m sliding in and out? Nice and easy. Your body’s opening up for me. So good… you’re doing amazing. If you want me to stop i’ll do it okay?”
“N-no ppplease don’t”
Pleasure builds gradually and you no longer feel discomfort. His pace stays gentle as he watches your face for every cue. “That’s my girl. Let it build. You’re getting wetter… feel that? Come whenever you need to. I’m right here.”
“I-I-“ Jack kisses the corner of your lips as he feels you clench around him, crying out into his mouth.
“Yes, just like that. I’ve got you. So perfect.”
Only when you’ve come down, and feels you relax a bit more, “baby can I come now?”
You hum in response and nod.
He thrusts a little deeper but still controlled, until he finishes with a low groan, burying his face in your neck. He pulls out carefully and disposes of the condom, then pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead. “You were incredible. How do you feel?”
“That was amazing,” you say, head all foggy but feeling so incredibly happy and loved.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck.
“Thank you Jack, for making me feel this way. It’s gonna be a fun couple of days.”
“Oh yeah?” He smirks, “what else do you have planned for us?”
“More of this… more of us. Just for a weekend.”
“Anything you need. I’d do it for you.”
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
You get home later that evening after the funeral, and you truly and well have gone and fucked up now. You heard your mom’s voice in your mind, reminding you how messed up you are.
“How was work?” Rob asks as he looks up at you from the sofa.
“I was at the funeral Rob. I told you that?”
“Oh sorry, I have a lot going on, I keep forgetting. How was it?”
“It’s a funeral. What… do you expect?”
“Okay I’m just asking.”
“Is it okay if I have space tonight please… I need to be alone.”
“But I’ve missed you and I really want a cuddle” he says softly, tilting his head at you playfully.
You shake your head in frustration and shut the bedroom door behind you. He doesn’t bother to follow you, and luckily for you, he eventually leaves. You spend the whole night crying at how stupid you are for what you did with Jack. You promised never to kiss him again. You worked so hard on forgetting about your weekend in Stanford, and you both did so incredibly well, working together, being this close with each other and still keeping a boundary. And all it took is a funeral, not even a sip of whiskey to get you to kiss him.
You sob as you sat on the bathroom floor, looking down at the blood that trickled down your thigh. You promised you wouldn’t cope this way, and you’ve been doing so well, until now. You cry at how broken you are. Your dad’s voice echoes in your mind, telling you that no Robinavitch should be this weak. You cry because your bother who you love very much, can’t fix your parents behaviour or yours. You cry because you indeed are troubled.
You return to work as normal, putting on a happy face, especially around Jack. He doesn’t bring up what happened, although he constantly checks in on you. He notices how cheerful you are, and wonders what actually have gone in the last 48 hours. Because the sad and broken girl on his sofa few days ago, is much differnet to this one. But what Jack doesn’t know is you’re back to coping, which means back to masking, which means despite your smile, you’re closer to the edge than you ever have been.
Later that morning, you go back home to find Rob in bed. You want to tell him what you did but can’t find the right words, so you sit on the toilet seat and stare at the floor.
“Morning sweetheart.” He stretches his arms as he walks into the bathroom and lets out a loud yawn. “What happened to your leg?”
You look down at your thigh and freeze. The scars are right here, evenly spaced out, sore and red, and you forgot to hide them. “I cut myself.”
“Oh no” he tuts innocently, not realising what you’ve meant. “I’ll get you a plaster once I’ve brushed my teeth.”
“I want to break up.” Your mind doesn’t register what your lips have said.
“What?”
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m a shit girlfriend.” You convinced yourself you were but in fact he was the terrible boyfriend. Who forgets their girlfriend’s birthday? Who buys his lactose intolerant girlfriend, cow milk?
“You’re just stressed! You’re not thinking clearly!”
“Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be. I’m done.”
“But why!”
“Because Rob! Because I’m messed up in the head okay!” You yell and shock is suddenly all over his face. “I’m fucked in the head and I’m destined to be alone, so leave me alone!”
“You’re a bitch” he spits out and you start laughing hysterically at his words.
It was the only thing he’s ever said to you that you truly believed.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Flashback
“Michael is bringing is friend over tonight, so be on your best behaviour!” Your mom clicks her fingers at you as she prepares the food in the kitchen.
You look up from the sofa, “I’m always on my best behaviour…. Do you need help with anything?”
“No, just make sure the dining room is tidy.”
“Already done it.”
Not even a thank you comes out of her mouth. “Wear something nice. His friend is a resident doctor too!”
“It’s not like I’m gonna marry him.”
“Oh please” your mom lets out a small laugh. “I’ve seen his pictures, he’s so handsome”
You ignore her and turn on the TV, Matilda your favourite movie starts playing.
“Turn it down!” She yells at you after a few minutes. “Not the time to watch a movie when you should be helping!”
“I just asked you if you needed a hand…”
“You shouldn’t ask, you should do it anyway! Come, those dishes won’t clean themselves.”
You opt for silence once again as you help her around the kitchen, but everything you do apparently isn’t done correctly. She finally tells you to go get changed in preparation for this guy that’s coming over and you once again obey. You stay in your room for as long as possible, lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. There was no reason for why you did this, it was yet another habit. You opted to wear your denim dungarees and a top. Not a dress like she asked of you.
The door bell rings and you then hear your mom yell your name, but you ignore her. The familiar chatter of hello and introductions fill the hallway and eventually, you brace yourself for meeting Michael and his friend. You find them in the kitchen, already being fed snacks and God knows what else.
“This is an amazing spread, Mrs Robinavitch.”
“Oh please” she says in an unfamiliar voice. Is she putting on a posh voice? “Call me Maureen. Ah there she is!”
“Hi” you wave at the guy. Michael rushes to your side and gives you a big hug.
“Missed you, bugs,” he gives you a kiss on the top of your head.
“Missed you too Mikey.” You truly have missed having him around, because when things got difficult with Maureen, he sometimes had your back. “Jack, this is my little sister.”
“Hi” Jack shakes your hand, “very nice to meet you.”
Your mom wasn’t lying about calling him handsome, because he truly was. His curls were a mixture of auburn brown and ginger, and he had the most beautiful green eyes. “Nice to meet you Jack.”
“Right let’s give you the grand tour!”
“Mom what the hell for!” Robby protests, “Jack doesn’t need to see anything. We’ll sit in the garden.”
You join them around the table outside in the garden, and the moment they start chatting, you purposely zone out. The conversation doesn’t interest you, and you truly would prefer to be elsewhere. Somewhere where your dad isn’t gloating about how hard he worked, or your mom reminding you once again she came from a big family and had to take care of her siblings. You notice how Jack isn’t also as talkative, but maybe he wasn’t interested too. Or nervous?
Your dad asks you to grab the boys some drinks, and you wonder if Michael’s hands suddenly stopped working? It would be unfortunate given that he’s a doctor. After taking the drinks order you slip away to the kitchen and spend too long staring at the fridge. The footsteps behind you once again snap you out of your haze.
“Hi” Jack says softly, “do you need a hand?”
“It’s okay I can do it.”
“I don’t mind helping. They keep asking about work and I truly want to not… think about that.”
“Sorry they’re just.. proud of him.”
“Michael tells me you read a lot?”
“He talks about me?”
“All the time, yeah!” Jack smiles and you can’t help but smile too. “What are you reading at the minute?”
“Im reading two at the moment… sometimes three”
“That’s so cool”
You’re not sure how to feel about Jack being interested in your books. You wonder if he’s doing it out of sympathy? Or interest?
But Jack was truly interested in what you’re reading, because Michael spoke so highly of you and he couldn’t wait to meet you.
“I can show you? If you want?”
“I’d love that!”
You take him upstairs to your room where you kept all your books, and Jack wonders why they’re not kept downstairs, along with all the other books?
“Your room is very tidy”
“Mom made me do it… sorry” you aren’t sure what the apology for, but you’re terrified of saying the wrong thing.
“Bugs is your nickname?”
You nod.
“Do you like it?”
“Not always. I used to not be able to say bugs bunny. I used to call it bubs bunny.”
Jack chuckles, “That’s very cute.”
“Yeah I prefer bubs.”
You show him all the books you’ve collected over the years.
“Do you like classics?” Jack asks as he looks at your book case, picking a few interesting ones.
“Like Shakespeare?”
“Yeah, or dickens.”
“I love them.. I borrowed it from the library once but my allowance won’t cover the entire collection. But I’m waiting for my birthday to buy it, grandma always gives good money on birthdays.”
Jack doesn’t notice that he’s smiling, but you do. He has small dimples that you admire almost instantly. “Do you read Jack?”
“Not always, I used to. I never have the time to go to the bookstore. Do you think I can borrow a few?”
“Yeah! Take as many as you want!”
“By the way, when’s your birthday?”
“In two weeks.”
Two weeks later, your family, along with your grandma, and Michael, all come over for your birthday. The doorbell rings and as you open it, you find Jack standing with a present in his hand and some flowers.
“Jack! Hi!” There was no hiding your excited tone. “I didn’t think you were coming”
“Michael invited me, hope that’s okay?” He steps in and you close the door behind him. “Happy birthday. You look very nice!”
“Thank you! Everyone’s in the lounge, come in.”
When it was time to open presents, your grandma hands you an envelope and you excitedly open it, expecting it to be a full wad of cash so you can finally buy the Shakespeare collection you wanted. But it was a coupon of the book store that you like, that actives when you spend $50. You don’t have $50.
“Here” Jack says excitedly as he hands you the present.
“Oh Jack you didn’t have to get her a present” Maureen says
“It’s her birthday?” Jack doesn’t take his eyes off you as he says it, ignoring her rude comment.
The box is heavy, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a bow on top and a card that said: happy birthday bubs. You open it and find the entire Shakespeare collection that you told Jack about. As your eyes meet, you have the most shocked expression on your face and Jack shrugs casually.
For the first time in a long time, you feel loved. And that was a feeling you hold on to, for a long, long time.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
The annual Robinavitch dinner. The day you’ve dreaded since you last saw your parents. Your mental health has now hit rock bottom, but you’ve masked it so well, so no one knew what’s truly going on. Even Jack, who you told about you and Rob, and he once again supported you like the kind and amazing person he is.
You pull up at the house, just as Jack does too behind you. You grab the flowers you bought your mom, despite you not wanting to. She doesn’t deserve flowers, and it took you a long time to accept that. But it saves an argument so flowers it is.
“Hey beautiful” Jack says as he puts one gentle hand on your back. “You look nice”
“Do you think? Maureen will think otherwise.”
“Fuck what she thinks.” He smirks, “I think you look nice and that’s all that matters.”
“Before we go in… I want to tell you something.”
“Okay…” Jack frowns at your serious tone.
“I’m leaving. I’ll be telling them all at dinner tonight.”
Jack says, barely an audible whisper, “what?”
“I’ve spoken with HR and I’m taking a sabbatical.”
“Why didn’t you tell me!”
“I am… now.” You say quietly, fighting back tears. It was a rash decision you made overnight, but you staying here in Pittsburgh was not doing your mental health any good. If you were going to be miserable, you might as well do it abroad. “I’m sorry”
“Sweetheart… is it because of Rob?”
“Oh definitely not. I’m glad it ended.”
“Then what…”
“It’s difficult to explain.” Where would you even start? “Let’s go in…”
You turn on your heels and walk toward the door, leaving Jack standing by your car, watching the love of his life announcing her departure, without a planned destination or a return ticket.
Jack had loved you for a long time, but it didn’t happen when you first met. No. He admired you when he first met you though, your passion for books and your love for staying silent. You two became close when you got older. But he realised he loved you after your weekend in Stanford. As he boarded the plane, his heart was heavy and sad, and he felt empty. At one point he panicked and wanted to get off the plane, and run back to you. That’s when he realised he’s in love with best friend’s little sister. But that was a secret he kept for himself only for many years. He told you he loved you many times, you did too, but he truly meant it just as friends. The first time he’d tell you he loves you, you’d know exactly what he means.
“It’s so nice that you came Jack!”
“Of course Maureen, I can never turn down any of your invites.”
“How’s my Robby been? Do you think he’s following in Adamson’s foot steps?”
“Oh much better” he blurts out. “So much better. He’s brilliant.”
Jack glances at you, waiting for Maureen to ask about you, but he sees you pinch your skin under the table, so his hands reach over slowly and brush over yours. He leans in and whispers, “Shall I fake an emergency?”
You giggle softly, “there might be an emergency when I tell them I’m leaving.”
His posture stiffens and he clears his throat once he’s reminded again that you’re leavin. As the conversation continues, someone makes a comment about you, and you snap back at them. Something you didn’t do often, but you’ve reached a stage of not caring.
“Oh she’s always been sensitive” your mom laughs, “she’s always been like this. Ignore her”
Heat spreads across your face and chest as you sigh angrily. Jack reaches for your hand again but you brush him off, because the last thing you needed is human touch.
“Is she sensitive like this at work?” Your dad asks Jack.
“She’s one of my best residents actually. She shows emotions if that’s what you’re wondering.” Jack says flatly, maintain an angry gaze with him.
“That’s all thanks to us” your mom smirks, “we did good raising her.”
Jack puts his drink back on the table a bit too loudly, but doesn’t bother to respond. You laugh sarcastically at what she said. All thanks to her? The bitch did nothing to raise you well. She was more interested in getting her nails and hair done while you made yourself lunch at the age of five. All the memories of your childhood come rushing back in at once, and the panic attack hits you out of nowhere. Your skin tingles with anxiety, and no amount of pinching was going to help with the ache in your heart. You excuse yourself, mumbling something inaudible as you slip away from the table but they don’t notice you’re gone. Jack waits a few minutes before he pushes away from the table and follows you upstairs. He finds your bedroom empty so he walks over to your bathroom and knocks on the door. “It’s just me.”
But you don’t respond.
“Bubs can you let me in please?” He says softly. “Let’s get out of here and leave.”
Silence.
“Hey, I’m gonna come in if you don’t respond.”
Nothing.
Jack opens the door, and nothing has ever perpared him for the scene in front of himself.
“No” he whispers as he drops to the floor next to you, blood pouring out quickly from a cut, “no, no, no no!! Hey stay with me okay?” He grabs a towel and wraps it around your wrist. “Stay here, with me. Don’t leave okay?” He grabs his phone and dials 911, giving them the location detail. Your pulse is faint but the bleeding was quick.
“Bubs stay with me” his voice breaks, “why did you do this!” He wants to yell for help but he also doesn’t want to leave you. He manages to tourniquet the bleeding, as best as he could, but his eyes are too blurry from the tears. “Please, please no”
“It’s okay” you whisper, “it’s gonna be okay”
“Hey stay awake okay? C’mon look at me”
“Jack” you mumble, “I don’t want to be a doctor”
“Okay quit, okay? I’ll write your resignation letter. But you have to stay with me. You can’t leave me, I have so much more love to give to you!”
You give him a small smile, because you love him too, but don’t have the energy to show him how much, “I’m sleepy”
Jack sees the blue lights outside and he carries you in his arms and rushes downstairs. The pressure on his right leg is agonising, but he doesn’t bother to wait for the paramedics to one grab you from him. One of your cousins sees you and Jack and screams in horror. The family all rush over but Jack was already out of the door just as the paramedics open the ambulance doors. He doesn’t wait for anyone, and asks the paramedics to close the door and hit the road.
They don’t love you enough so they don’t deserve to know whether you survived or not. But Jack loves you so much, and he doesn’t leave your side that night, or any other nights until it was time for you to leave.
A few weeks later, you say your goodbyes to everyone at work, including Jack, whose face is a mix of anger, betrayal and love. “At least tell me where you’re heading.”
“You don’t need to know because you don’t need to worry.” You say softly.
“How can I not” he snaps back, but his anger doesn’t affect you. Because his anger is because of love.
“I love you, so incredibly much” you brush your hands through his grey curls, “and I’ll be back. I can promise you that”.
“I’m not saying it back.” His lips are pressed together tightly, as he sniffs back tears.
“That’s okay….I’ll send you regular updates I promise.”
With a heavy heart, you wave goodbye at everyone, give Jack a kiss on the cheek, walk out of the door, and head home.
A small part of you wishes he runs after you, but as you look over your shoulder, there is no one.
You’re reminded once again that fairytales don’t exist.
You are destined to be alone, forever.
The end.
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
Note: hiiii
Did you really think I was gonna end it this way?
Of course not besties.
Because I want my girl to be happy.
But I like teasing people of the internet, so anyway, here’s the actual ending.
Enjoy!!!!
Sorry again hah. <3
⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆
You’re in the airport staring at an over priced book store. The self help book was staring back at you. “How to fight your own demons” you read the title out loud, “my demons are Maureen and I wish I fought her.”
A guy next to you laughs and you can’t help but laugh too. You glance over at him, “What the-“
“Hey bubs” Jack smiles.
“What!” You exclaim loudly and everyone is now looking, “oh my God what!!!!”
“I rang every airport.” Jack says quickly, “I rang so many places. I looked at most flights and eventually took a wild guess. Anyway, eventually I pretended I was you when I rang the airline. We’ve been upgraded by the way.” He smiles.
“What! I thought the airline made a mistake! I didn’t even go to the first class lounge!”
Jack continues “And then the guy on the phone said I sounded like a guy not a girl, and I’m sorry I shouldn’t have but I snapped at him and told him he shouldn’t assume who I am based on my voice. Anyway he apologised and I apologised and he’s probably feeling guilty as we speak and I shouldn’t have done it, I feel terrible already but oh my God-“ Jack takes a deep breath then continues talking, “I love you. I love everything about you. I love how quiet you are. I love that you call it quiet time. I love how much you day dream. I love that you read Shakespeare when you were a teenager. I love that you want to quit being a doctor. I love that you’re so strong”
“Not strong Jack, I have so many scars.” You shake your head and wipe your tears.
“So!” He closes the distance between the two of you, “so what if you have scars! Life’s not been kind on you. Your way of coping isn’t healthy, or good, but we can work on it. Me and you. Together!”
“I’m broken Jack. You’re signing up to be with someone like me.”
“Whoever made you believe that you’re broken deserves hell.”
“I’m sensitive and-“
Jack yells loudly, “fuck that! You have emotions!”
“I’m not sure when I’m coming back.”
“Me too! Shen’s in charge now. I have no plants I need to water, and I’ve turned off the electricity in my apartment. I have no intention of going back either.”
“You really want to do this? I can’t promise I’m gonna be chatty, or keep up with conversations. My heads a mess and it’s all foggy and-“
“Bubs look at me” he gently lifts your chin up, “I don’t think you understand how happy you make me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” He gently kisses you, “it’s always been you.”
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IM A ZOMBIE IN MY BODY IM A TRAIN OFF OF THE TRACK I FEEL DIRTY I FEEL ROTTEN AND THE COLORS ARE ALL FLAT IM A SAD SHELL OF A WOMAN AND I’VE GOT MAGGOTS FOR THE BRAIN BUT THATS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WHEN MY BABY GOES WHEN MY BABY GOES AWAY HE GOES AWAY
Summary: Jack Abbot is too old for clubs, too tired for Santos’s birthday plans, and absolutely old enough to know better than to stare at the woman in the red top across the room. Unfortunately, knowing better does not help him at all.
Warnings: 18+ only, age gap, club setting, alcohol, sexual tension, heavy making out, public-ish tension, Jack’s restraint being the hottest thing in the room, reader is confident and knows exactly what she’s doing, Robby/Liv side chaos, implied smut.
Author’s Note: Jack Abbot, one black t-shirt, one bad decision, and the unbearable eroticism of a grown man trying to behave. That’s it. That’s the fic.
Xoxo, Del
Jack Abbot was too old for this.
The thought arrived somewhere between the third pulse of purple light across the ceiling and the moment Santos threw both hands over her head on the dance floor like she had personally invented birthdays.
Beside him in the booth, Robby sat with one arm stretched along the backrest, drink in hand, expression fixed in the grim neutrality of a man enduring a hostage situation with decent whiskey.
Jack looked out over the crowd.
Santos had somehow convinced half the department to dance under flashing lights. Mel was laughing with her, bright and easy, one hand wrapped around a sweating glass. Cassie stood near the edge of the floor, amused and observant, watching Whitaker attempt to clap on beat with the same tense concentration he brought to difficult procedures. Javadi was near him, awkward but committed, moving like someone had explained dancing to her from a textbook. Dana hovered near the bar, pretending to supervise while absolutely failing to hide the fact that she was enjoying herself.
Jack took a slow drink.
Robby watched Santos spin in a circle and said, “You know, this is nice.”
Jack turned his head just enough to look at him.
Robby stared at the dance floor for another beat, then amended, “For them.”
Jack looked back toward the crowd. “I’m too old for this.”
Robby lifted his glass. “I’m older than you.”
Jack said, “That wasn’t an invitation to compete.”
Robby took a sip, unimpressed. “You’re here because I’m here.”
Jack looked at him. “I’m here because you lied about the volume.”
Robby glanced at the speakers as if they had betrayed him personally. “I said there would be drinks.”
Jack raised his glass slightly. “There are lights on the ceiling.”
Robby nodded once. “That was not in the briefing.”
Jack huffed and turned back toward the dance floor, trying to settle into the kind of resignation that could get him through another hour. Maybe forty-five minutes, if Santos stayed distracted. Thirty, if Robby remembered how friendship worked and developed a convincing emergency.
It was his night off. That was the worst part. Jack did not get many of those, and somehow he had spent this one in a club with music loud enough to rearrange his organs, watching his coworkers behave like people with functional knees and no sense of self-preservation. He should have been home. He should have been on his couch, showered, clean, half-asleep with a game on low and his prosthetic off.
Instead, he was here, trapped in a booth, wearing a black T-shirt Robby had looked at earlier and called “acceptable,” which Jack had understood to mean, You look less like you were dragged here against your will.
Robby leaned slightly closer and said, “You could try looking less miserable.”
Jack kept his gaze forward. “I could also leave.”
Robby’s mouth twitched. “You won’t.”
Jack looked at him. “Watch me.”
Robby nodded toward Santos, who had just caught sight of Jack and waved at him with both hands, delighted and entirely too sincere. Jack stared back at her. Santos pointed at him, then at the dance floor, then made an exaggerated come here motion. Jack lifted his drink in a flat salute. Santos booed him from across the room.
Robby smiled into his glass. “She likes you.”
Jack said, “She has poor judgment.”
Robby’s laugh got lost beneath the bass. Jack looked away from Santos before she decided to physically drag him out of the booth.
That was when he saw you.
At first, it was not even a whole thought.
Just red.
The color of your top caught under the lights as you leaned close to the woman beside you, laughing at something she said. You had one hand wrapped around a drink and the other resting briefly on your friend’s arm, your head tilted to hear her over the music. The club moved around you in a blur of bodies and noise, but you looked like you belonged to the night in a way Jack absolutely did not. Warm. Confident. Bright.
Then you smiled, and the thought landed before he could stop it. Beautiful.
Jack’s grip tightened around his glass. No. The correction came fast and hard. No.
He looked away. He did the smart thing. The grown thing. The decent thing. He looked at Robby. He looked at the table. He looked at the condensation sliding down the side of his glass like it had suddenly become the most important thing in the room.
Too young, Jack thought. Not for you. Absolutely not for you. He told himself.
Robby said something beside him. Jack did not hear it. Because your laugh rose through the music again, bright and easy, and his eyes went back before he gave them permission. You were still near the bar, half-turned toward your friend now. Your red top caught the light every time you moved, the fabric clinging just enough in the room’s heat. Your jeans fit like they had been made to ruin men who were trying very hard to mind their own business. The club lights skimmed over your throat, your collarbone, the line of your top, and Jack’s mind, usually so good at triage, chose that moment to abandon him entirely.
His gaze dropped. Only for a second, not even that. Too long.
He looked back up, and you caught him. Dead-on. Across the room, your smile faded by degrees. Not gone or nervous. Just focused. Your eyes met his through the moving lights, and Jack felt the hit of it low in his ribs. Caught.
You had seen him. Worse, you looked like you liked knowing he was looking.
Jack should have looked away immediately. He did not. Neither did you. The room went strange around the edges. The music kept pounding. Santos kept laughing somewhere near the dance floor. Dana was probably still pretending she had not lost control of the night. Robby was probably still talking.
None of it reached Jack for one full, dangerous second.
There was only you. Your eyes. Your mouth. The faint curve of your lips when you realized he was not recovering as quickly as he should have been.
Then Jack forced himself to look down at his drink. Robby stopped mid-sentence. Jack felt it happen. He did not have to look over to know Robby had followed his gaze.
Robby said, “No.”
Jack stared at his glass. “I didn’t say anything.”
Robby’s voice went dry. “Your face did.”
Jack lifted his drink and took a slow swallow. “Shut up.”
Robby looked across the room again. “She saw you.”
Jack’s jaw flexed. “I know.”
The admission came out rougher than he liked. Robby turned back to him, and Jack could feel the amusement sharpening beside him.
Robby asked, “And?”
Jack kept his eyes on the table. “And nothing.”
Robby made a thoughtful sound. “Convincing.”
Jack looked at him then. “Don’t start.”
Robby lifted one hand. “I’m not starting anything.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed.
Robby looked toward you again and added, “Looks like she might, though.”
Across the room, you were still watching him. Not openly enough to be obvious to anyone else, but obvious to him. That was worse.
Liv leaned into your shoulder, saying something near your ear, but your eyes stayed on Jack for half a second longer.
Then your mouth curved, slow and knowing.
Jack looked away before he forgot himself completely.
Beside you, Liv followed your gaze.
She had been mid-sentence, one hand tucked into the pocket of her oversized leather jacket, the black fabric of her dress catching the light beneath it. Her boots made her look taller than she was, sharper somehow, like trouble with good posture.
She looked across the room. First, the man in the black T-shirt. Then at the man beside him.
Her eyebrows lifted. Liv leaned into your shoulder and asked, “What?”
You took a sip of your drink to give yourself a second. It did not help. The man in the booth looked down at his glass like that could save him. Black T-shirt. Broad shoulders. Forearms bare below the sleeves, one hand wrapped around his drink with enough tension in his fingers to make your stomach flip.
You should not have been so pleased. You were.
Liv followed your gaze again, slower this time. Her mouth curved. “Oh.”
You did not look away from the booth. The man in black lifted his glass to his mouth again, controlled and tense and visibly trying not to look at you. He failed, and his eyes found yours over the rim.
Your pulse kicked hard.
Liv watched that happen and made a quiet sound of appreciation. “That one?”
You let your gaze drop to his arms, then back to his face. “That one,” you said.
Liv’s eyes flicked to the man beside him, older, dark-eyed, tired-looking in a way that should not have been attractive and unfortunately was. He was holding his drink like he was mad at the concept of music and half a second away from saying something cutting.
Liv smiled. “Good.”
You glanced at her. She kept her eyes on Robby and said, “I’ll take the other one.”
You looked back across the room. The man in black was listening to the other one now, his body angled away from the chaos, but his attention kept betraying him. Every few seconds, his gaze returned to you like he hated that it had somewhere to go.
You said, “Forearms.”
Liv blinked, then looked at him again. The nickname landed. Liv laughed under her breath. “Accurate.”
You nodded toward the other man. “And him?”
Liv tilted her head, studying the man beside him.
The man with dark eyes said something to the man in the black shirt, and his mouth curved faintly when he shot him a look. The lights caught on his face just enough for Liv to see the dark depth of his eyes, the exhaustion, the amusement, the quiet, handsome irritation of a man who had been through too much and still knew exactly what he was doing.
Liv said, “Brown Eyes.”
You looked at her. “Really?”
Liv lifted one shoulder. “Look at him.”
You did. Brown Eyes was watching Liv now. Not the way Forearms was watching you. Forearms looked like he was fighting a losing battle with himself. Brown Eyes looked like he had just noticed the night might be worth his time after all.
Liv smiled slowly. You laughed. “Oh, you’re already gone.”
Liv glanced at you. “Says the woman eye-fucking Forearms from across a club.”
Your face warmed. “I am not.”
Liv gave you a look. You took a sip of your drink. Liv’s grin widened.
Across the room, Jack watched you laugh, and the sight did something unreasonable to him. It should not have. He did not know you. He had not heard your voice. Not really. Not over the music. He did not know your name, your age, whether you were here with someone, whether you were trouble, whether you were the kind of woman who smiled like that because she knew exactly what men thought when they looked at her.
Actually, Jack thought, jaw tightening, he was starting to suspect the answer to that last one.
You turned toward Liv, still smiling, and the movement shifted the line of your body. Your hips moved with the bass, easy even though you were not on the dance floor yet, and Jack’s mind supplied a thought so vivid and inappropriate it almost made him set his drink down.
What would they feel like under his hands? His eyes closed briefly. Fuck.
Robby noticed immediately, “You all right?”
Jack opened his eyes. “Fine.”
Robby looked at Jack’s glass. “You’re gripping that like it owes you money.”
Jack loosened his hand on purpose. That somehow made him feel more ridiculous.
Robby glanced back toward you and Liv. “They’re looking over here.”
Jack did not follow his gaze. “I’m aware.”
Robby’s mouth curved. “The one in red keeps looking at you.”
Jack stared forward. “Also aware.”
Robby took a slow drink. “The one in black keeps looking at me.”
Jack looked at him. “My condolences.”
Robby’s smile sharpened. “Don’t be jealous.”
Jack snorted. “Of what? A midlife crisis?”
Robby leaned back. “I prefer opportunity.”
Jack muttered, “Of course you do.”
Before Robby could answer, Santos appeared at the end of the booth like a glittering, determined storm system. Her cheeks were warm from dancing, her eyes bright, and she was holding a drink Jack was certain Dana had not approved.
Santos planted one hand on the table and said, “You two are depressing.”
Jack looked up at her. “Happy birthday.”
Santos pointed at him. “Do not weaponize politeness.”
Robby lifted his glass toward her. “We’re celebrating from here.”
Santos looked between them, unimpressed. “You’re sitting in the dark like divorced vampires.”
Jack said, “That’s very specific.”
Santos ignored him and looked toward the bar. Her whole face lit up. “Oh! New friends.”
Jack followed her gaze before he could stop himself.
You and Liv were at the bar now, closer than before. That was his first mistake. Because closer was worse. Jack could see more of you now. The red top. The curve of your waist when you shifted your weight. The way your jeans hugged your body. The way you smiled at the bartender, warm and easy, and then turned slightly like you could feel him looking.
Your eyes found his again. Jack’s stomach tightened. You smiled. Not big, not sweet. Just enough.
Robby made a quiet sound beside him. “Oh, that’s unfortunate.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Don’t.”
Santos looked at Jack, then across the room, then back at Jack. Her eyes widened.
Jack said, “No.”
Santos’s smile appeared all at once. “Interesting.”
Jack pointed one finger at her. “No.”
Santos was already backing away. “I’m getting birthday shots.”
Robby called after her, “Dana said one.”
Santos turned around, walking backward toward the bar. “Dana says a lot of things.”
Jack watched her go with dread settling over him.
Robby leaned closer. “She’s going to bring them over.”
Jack said, “I know.”
Robby looked at you again. “You could leave.”
Jack took another drink. “So could you.”
Robby’s eyes stayed on Liv. “I’m reevaluating.”
Jack looked at him with disgust. “Pathetic.”
Robby smiled faintly. “Flexible.”
At the bar, someone slid between you and Liv with the immediate familiarity of a woman who had decided the night needed more people in it.
She smiled at your red top and said, “Okay, you look incredible.”
You blinked, then laughed. “Thank you.”
Liv glanced at the woman’s birthday sash, crown, or whatever the club lights had turned into glitter on her outfit, and smiled. “Birthday girl?”
She put one hand to her chest. “Trinity Santos. Officially twenty-eight, spiritually twenty-one, emotionally somewhere around seventy-eight.”
You laughed harder. Liv lifted her glass. “Liv.”
You gave Trinity your name.
She looked between you both, then toward the booth. Her smile changed. You followed her gaze even though you already knew where it would land.
Forearms was watching. Again. This time, he did not look away fast enough.
Trinity looked back at you with delighted suspicion. You tried to look innocent. Liv did not bother.
Santos asked, “Do you two want to do birthday shots with us?”
Liv looked at you. You looked at the booth. The man in black had gone very still.
You smiled into your drink. “Sure.”
Santos lit up. “Perfect.”
Liv leaned closer to you as Santos turned toward the bartender. Liv murmured, “Subtle.”
You kept your eyes on Forearms. He kept his eyes on you.
You said, “I’m not trying to be subtle.”
Liv laughed softly. “Thank God.”
Santos collected the shots with the triumphant focus of someone completing an important medical intervention. Then she looked at the number of glasses on the bar and paused.
“Okay,” Santos said. “I need hands.”
Liv reached for two without being asked. “I’ve got these.”
You picked up another two. “Lead the way, birthday girl.”
Santos looked between you and Liv like you had just passed some private test. “Oh, I like you.”
Liv smiled. “Eventually.”
You glanced across the room. The man in the black T-shirt was watching. Again. This time, he did not look away fast enough.
Santos’s smile widened. “Interesting.”
“Shots,” you reminded her.
“Right,” Santos said, turning toward the booth. “Shots first. Bad choices later.”
Liv leaned close to your ear as the three of you started across the club. “You heard her.”
You kept your eyes ahead. “I’m being helpful.”
Liv looked toward the booth, where the man in the black T-shirt had gone very still. “You’re being something.”
You smiled into the noise. “Helpful.”
Across the room, Jack saw the exact moment Santos recruited you and your friend into her birthday operation. His shoulders sank by half an inch. Robby noticed and smiled like a bastard.
Jack said, “Don’t.”
Robby lifted his glass. “I didn’t say anything.”
Jack watched you walk closer, a shot glass balanced carefully in each hand, Liv at your side, Santos leading the way as if she had personally engineered the collision.
Every step made it worse.
You were smiling, amused by Santos, your shoulder brushing your friend’s as you moved through the club. The lights moved over your face, your throat, the red of your top. Your eyes stayed on Jack just long enough to make it clear you knew exactly where you were headed. Jack set his glass down. Robby leaned back in the booth, looking far too entertained for a man in imminent danger himself. Santos reached the table first.
“Birthday shots,” Santos announced.
Dana appeared beside her immediately, eyes narrowing. “Santos.”
Santos handed her a shot. “Dana.”
Dana looked at the glass, then at Santos. “You think saying my name back to me helps your case?”
Santos smiled. “I think it creates rapport.”
Dana took the shot with a sigh. “That is not what that does.”
Santos turned to you and Liv with unnecessary ceremony. “This is Dana. She’s in charge.”
Dana said, “Against my will.”
Santos pointed toward the others. “That’s Cassie, Mel, Whitaker, and Javadi.”
Cassie lifted her glass in greeting. “Hi.”
Mel smiled warmly. “Hi, random club friends.”
Whitaker accepted the shot you handed him carefully. “Thank you.”
Javadi took hers a beat late, then smiled like she was relieved to have caught the rhythm of the interaction. “Thanks.”
Santos leaned closer to you and Liv, lowering her voice with absolutely no subtlety. “We’re doctors. They’re less weird at work.”
Dana said, “I’m a nurse, and no, they’re not.”
Javadi blinked. “I think I’m slightly less weird at work.”
Whitaker glanced at her. “I don’t know if I am.”
Mel patted his arm. “You’re doing great.”
Santos turned back toward the booth like she had saved the most dangerous introductions for last.
“This is Robby,” Santos said, pointing to the man beside Jack.
Robby looked at Liv. Liv looked him over once, slow and cool. Robby’s mouth curved like he appreciated being assessed.
Santos pointed at the man in black. “And that’s Jack.”
Your eyes returned to him. Jack. The name fit him. Unfortunately. It made him real in a way Forearms had not. Forearms had been safe across the club. Forearms had been a joke you could murmur into Liv’s ear, something low and private and ridiculous enough to make her laugh into her drink. Jack was not safe. Jack was close. Jack had a voice. Jack had hands. Jack was looking at you like he had already tried to talk himself out of wanting you and was furious that wanting you had won anyway.
Santos smiled, entirely too pleased with herself. “And this is Liv.”
Liv lifted her glass slightly. “Hi.”
Robby’s eyes stayed on her face. “Liv.”
Liv tilted her head. “Robby.”
His mouth curved. “You say that like you’re deciding whether it fits.”
Liv looked him over once more, slower this time. “I am.”
Robby huffed a quiet laugh. Santos turned toward you next and gave Jack your name. Jack looked at you when she said it. Not like he was hearing it. Like he was keeping it.
Your pulse kicked hard. You said his name before you could decide whether that was a bad idea. A slow murmur, testing the syllables. “Jack.”
His jaw flexed. It was small, barely anything, but you saw it. The reaction moved through you like heat. Jack took one slow breath through his nose, and for one wild second, you wondered what he would look like if you said his name somewhere quieter. Somewhere darker. Somewhere with his body pressed closer and his mouth near your ear.
His eyes dropped to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. Jack said your name. His voice was worse than you imagined. Lower than you expected, rougher.
The kind of voice that made you wonder how it would sound against your skin. Against your throat, or lower.
You hated him a little for that. You hated him more for standing there like he had no idea what he had just done to you. Santos shoved a shot into Jack’s hand, then into Robby’s, then lifted her own.
Jack knew he should look away. He knew it with the same grim certainty he had carried from the moment he first saw you near the bar. It had been difficult from across the room. It was worse now. Up close, there was nowhere for his attention to go that did not make him feel like a worse man.
Your mouth. Your neck. The red of your top beneath the moving lights. The way your eyes had dropped to his arms before snapping back up, like you had been caught somewhere you did not regret going.
He had seen it.
And now his mind was doing things it had no business doing in the middle of Santos’s birthday party. He thought about your hands in his shirt. His hands at your waist. Your hips under his palms. Your body close enough that he would not have to imagine the heat of you anymore.
Jack’s fingers tightened around his glass. Fuck. He needed to stop. Immediately.
You were standing two feet away from him in a red top and jeans, looking at his mouth like you had already imagined what it could do to you, and Jack was trying very hard not to imagine anything back.
Robby leaned slightly toward him, voice low enough that only Jack could hear. “You look calm.”
Jack did not take his eyes off you. “Shut up.”
Robby hummed into his drink. “Noted.”
“To me,” Santos said, delighted, raising her glass.
Dana sighed somewhere beside her. “Of course.”
Everyone drank.
The shot burned warm and sharp, and for one brief second, everyone made the same face.
Santos recovered first.
“Perfect,” she said, setting her empty glass down with the satisfaction of someone who had made several excellent decisions in a row.
Dana looked at her. “That is not the word I would use.”
Cassie smiled into her drink. “It’s her birthday. Let her have delusion.”
Mel leaned toward Santos, already bright with the next idea. “They’re playing your song.”
Santos’s head snapped toward the dance floor. “Oh, absolutely not without me.”
Whitaker looked alarmed when Santos grabbed his wrist. Santos tugged him toward the music. “Come on, Huckleberry.”
Whitaker went with her, careful and resigned. “I don’t think I know this one.”
Javadi followed a beat later, clutching her drink with both hands. “I can learn by watching.”
Dana sighed and looked at Cassie. “We’re keeping them alive?”
Cassie lifted her brows. “Apparently.”
Mel smiled warmly at you and Liv as she backed toward the dance floor. “You should come dance too.”
Liv’s mouth curved. “We might.”
Santos pointed back at you from the edge of the crowd. “Don’t disappear. I just found you.”
You laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Then the crew slipped back into the crush of the dance floor, taking the birthday noise with them and leaving the booth suddenly, horribly, wonderfully less crowded.
Robby looked at Liv.
Liv looked at Robby.
You looked at Jack.
Jack looked at you.
For a moment, the four of you stood there with empty shot glasses, warm mouths, and absolutely nowhere safe to put your eyes.
Jack set his glass on the table first. “You friends with Santos now?”
You glanced toward the dance floor, where Santos had already pulled Whitaker into another doomed attempt at rhythm. You looked back at Jack. “Apparently.”
Jack’s gaze stayed on yours.
“She moves fast,” you said.
Jack’s eyes dropped to your mouth for one devastating second. Then he looked back up. “I noticed.”
The words were innocent, his voice was not.
Your pulse kicked hard as you tilted your head, letting your smile curve just enough to make his eyes narrow. “You notice a lot?”
Robby made a quiet sound into his drink. Liv’s smile sharpened.
Jack held your gaze. “When it’s worth noticing.”
The bass hit low through the floor, and the room kept moving around you.
Jack’s mouth barely curved.
You felt the answer in your stomach. Across from you, Liv turned her attention to Robby like she had finally decided to stop being polite about it.
“So,” Liv said, lifting her empty shot glass slightly. “Robby.”
Robby looked at her. “Liv.”
Liv’s eyes moved over his face. “You always this cheerful at birthdays?”
Robby glanced toward Santos, then back at Liv. “This is me being festive.”
Liv smiled. “Tragic.”
Robby’s mouth curved. “You judging me already?”
Liv took one small step closer to the table. “Efficiently.”
Robby looked at her as if he were deciding whether to be annoyed or interested. It appeared to be both.
“That working for you?” Robby asked.
Liv’s smile turned slower. “So far.”
Jack heard Robby’s quiet laugh and looked briefly pained. You noticed. Jack noticed you noticing.
His eyes came back to yours.
You looked at his mouth before you could stop yourself. Barely. Just once, but Jack saw it. His expression did not change much, but his gaze sharpened, and your pulse kicked. Jack leaned back a fraction, still watching you like he was deciding whether to let you get away with that.
“You do that on purpose?” he asked.
Your smile came slowly. “Do what?”
Your eyes dropped to his mouth. This time, you let him see it. Heat opened low in your body, slow and dangerous.
Jack’s voice dropped. “That.”
Before you could answer, Santos’s voice cut through the music from the dance floor. “New friends!”
You looked over. Santos had both hands cupped around her mouth and absolutely no shame. She pointed at you and Liv, then stabbed one finger toward the dance floor. “Dance floor! Now!”
Dana, standing near her with her arms crossed, said something you could not hear.
Santos yelled, “Dana says please!”
Dana’s expression clearly said she had said no such thing. Mel waved brightly from beside them. Cassie lifted her drink in invitation. Whitaker gave a small, helpless shrug like he had already accepted his fate. Javadi smiled gently.
Liv looked from the dance floor back to Robby and Jack. Her eyes gleamed.
“Do either of you dance?” Liv asked.
Robby looked at the crowd like it had personally disappointed him. “Not voluntarily.”
Jack did not even look away from you. “No.”
You lifted your brows. “Just no?”
Jack’s eyes stayed steady on yours. “Just no.”
You smiled like that answer had not bothered you at all.
“Okay,” you said.
Jack’s gaze narrowed. That was worse than if you had argued.
Liv looped her arm through yours. “Their loss.”
Robby’s eyes followed the movement before he could stop himself. Liv noticed, and her mouth curved as she turned away. You let her pull you toward the dance floor, aware of Jack behind you with every step. You did not look back right away.
You gave him time to wonder if you would.
The music changed as you and Liv found space in the crowd, something heavier now, slower through the bass. Bodies moved around you, warm and close, the lights cutting over the floor in flashes of purple and blue.
Liv leaned toward your ear. “He said no like he thought that was going to help him.”
You laughed, letting the beat settle into your body. “He’s optimistic.”
Liv’s eyes flicked past your shoulder. “He’s watching.”
Your stomach tightened. You did not turn yet. “Already?”
Liv smiled. “He never stopped.”
That should not have done what it did to you. It did anyway. You let your eyes close for half a second, your body finding the music as Liv moved with you. The club was loud enough to blur the edges of everything, but somehow you could still feel Jack across the room like a hand at the back of your neck.
You turned with the beat, slowly. Not too much. Just enough.
Your eyes found him over the moving bodies. Jack was still in the booth, still trying to look like a disciplined man. But his jaw was tight, his glass untouched, his gaze fixed on you like looking away had stopped being an option.
Good.
You wanted him to look. You wanted him to regret saying no. You wanted that careful mouth to go rough and that controlled hand to finally find your waist.
Jack watched you turn away from him again. His hand tightened around his glass. He told himself not to look lower. He did. Your hips moved with the music, easy and unhurried, the denim hugging you just right when you shifted closer to Liv. You laughed at something she said, tipping your head toward her, and now the heat of the room had touched you properly, a thin shine catching at your throat, your collarbone, the line of your chest beneath the red top.
Jack swallowed. Fuck. This was worse. Across the room had been bad. Up close had been worse.
But this, watching you dance after he had refused you, watching you move like you knew exactly what he had denied himself, was going to kill him.
His mind went right back where it had no business going.
Your hips under his hands. His fingers digging into denim. Your body pulled back against his. Your breath catching when he pressed his mouth to your neck and fucked you from behind, slow enough to make you impatient, hard enough to make that confident little smile disappear.
He wondered what sounds you would make. Whether you would try to be quiet. Whether you would moan his name like you had tested it earlier, only softer, messier, ruined.
Jack’s jaw clenched.
He looked down at his drink like a better man might be hiding at the bottom of it.
Beside him, Robby had gone quiet. That was never a good sign.
Jack did not look over. “Don’t.”
Robby exhaled through his nose. “Brother.”
Jack’s eyes cut toward him. “No.”
Robby was staring at Liv. Liv danced like she knew she was being watched and had no intention of rewarding him too quickly for it. She moved with cool, sharp confidence, black dress skimming her thighs, leather jacket slipping off one shoulder as she leaned toward you with a smile.
Robby dragged a hand over his mouth.
Jack said, “No.”
Robby picked up his drink. “Don’t hate me.”
Jack’s expression flattened. “Fuck no.”
Robby downed the rest of his drink.
Jack sat up slightly. “Robby.”
Robby set the empty glass down and stood. “I’m weak.”
Jack looked at him like he had betrayed the country. “You’re pathetic.”
Robby smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt. “Both can be true.”
Jack watched him step away from the booth with open disgust.
On the dance floor, Liv’s eyes lifted over your shoulder. Her mouth curved.
“Brown Eyes is moving,” Liv said.
You turned just enough to look. Robby was making his way through the crowd, focused on Liv like the rest of the club had become background noise. Your gaze slid past him.
Jack was still in the booth, still watching you. Still pretending he was not dying there. Your eyes met his across the room. You raised one brow. Barely. But Jack saw it.
Your look said, Really?
Jack looked down at his drink. Robby had already abandoned him. You were still watching. Your brow remained lifted, your mouth curved with the kind of challenge that made every responsible thought in his head take one careful step back.
Jack muttered, “Fuck.”
Then he downed his drink.
He set the glass on the table with more control than he felt and pushed to his feet. Across the room, your smile changed. Smaller. Hotter. Victorious. Jack saw that too. His eyes narrowed.
Then he pointed one finger at you as he started toward the dance floor.
A warning. A reprimand. A promise.
You smiled wider.
Jack’s mouth tightened like that had not helped him at all. It had not. He kept walking.
You did not move toward him. You made him come all the way to you. The crowd shifted around him, bodies moving between you in flashes, but Jack’s eyes stayed locked on yours like the rest of the room had become an inconvenience.
Robby reached Liv first. He slid into her space with the confidence of a man who had decided shame was not useful to him. Liv did not stop dancing. She looked up at him, mouth curved, eyes bright beneath the shifting lights.
Robby stopped in front of her. “Changed my mind.”
Liv’s eyebrows lifted. “That was quick.”
Robby’s gaze moved over her face, then dropped briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes. “You looked persuasive.”
Liv smiled. “And here I thought you didn’t dance.”
Robby stepped closer, close enough that his voice lowered for her alone. “I’m versatile.”
Liv laughed once, low and pleased, and let him put a hand on her hip.
You barely caught it.
Because Jack had reached you, and the air changed.
That was the only way you knew how to name it. The club was still loud. The bass still moved through the floor. Santos was somewhere behind you, yelling over the music, and Liv was beside you, looking entirely too pleased with the consequences of her own actions.
But Jack stopped in front of you, and the noise thinned. He did not say anything. Neither did you. He stood close enough for you to see the heat in his eyes, close enough to catch the faint scent of whiskey and clean soap underneath the club air. His hand was empty now, his glass abandoned at the booth, his fingers flexing once at his side before going still.
That should not have made your stomach flip. It did. You let your hips move with the next beat, slower than before, your eyes still on his. Jack’s jaw tightened. And there it was. The answer.
He had not come over because he wanted to dance. He had come over because sitting still had finally become impossible.
You smiled, and Jack’s eyes narrowed. His gaze moved over your face, then lower for one brief, controlled second before coming back up.
The look was not innocent.
You shifted closer by half a step. Jack did not back away. The music dragged warm and heavy around you.
A few feet away, Robby bent his head toward Liv’s ear. Whatever he said made her grin and shake her head, as if she were refusing him and enjoying it at the same time. Liv’s fingers touched the front of his shirt once, light and warning. Robby looked down at her hand. Then back at her. His mouth curved.
Bad decisions were forming quickly over there.
Jack noticed too, just barely. His eyes cut toward Robby and Liv for half a second, then came back to you with something dry and resigned in his face.
You tilted your head.
Jack shook his head softly. “Of course.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself. The sound caught him. You saw it land. His expression shifted by a fraction, like your laugh had done something even worse to him than your body had.
You moved with the music again, and Jack’s eyes dropped to your waist. This time, he let them stay. Heat moved through you so fast it almost made you miss the beat. His gaze lifted, and you looked at his hands. Then back up at his face.
Jack saw that too. His voice came low beneath the music. “You want something?”
Your pulse kicked. You could have played innocent, but you did not. You let your eyes drop to his hands again, then lifted them slowly. Jack’s jaw flexed. His attention sharpened until it felt like his focus had become a physical thing, warm and heavy against your skin.
You said, “You came all the way over here to keep your hands to yourself?”
Jack stared at you. For one second, he looked almost offended by how well that landed. Then his mouth curved. Barely. Dangerously.
“No,” Jack said.
Your breath caught.
His hand came to your hip. Just one. Careful at first, warm and solid. Heavy enough to make every thought in your head trip over itself. His palm settled against the side of your jeans, fingers spread just above the curve of your hip, respectful enough to be infuriating and intimate enough to make your body go hot from the inside out.
You felt every inch of his hand. Jack felt your reaction. His eyes sharpened. You hated him for noticing. You loved him for noticing.
The song shifted lower, bass pulsing through your feet, and you let your body move into the shape of his hand. Jack’s fingers tightened once. Not much, but enough.
Your breath changed, and his eyes dropped to your mouth. You smiled like you were handling this better than you were. Jack looked like he knew better.
“That all you’ve got?” you asked.
Jack’s thumb moved once against your hip, and your stomach tightened.
His mouth barely curved. “You in a hurry?”
You held his gaze. “You took a while getting over here.”
Jack leaned in just enough for his voice to reach you beneath the music. Not close enough to touch anywhere else. Not close enough to give you what you wanted. Close enough to ruin the air between you.
“I was making a bad decision,” Jack said.
Your pulse stumbled. You looked at his mouth before you could stop yourself. Jack saw it. His hand stayed at your hip. Only there. Nowhere else.
That almost made it worse.
“You always take that long?” you asked.
Jack’s eyes stayed on yours. “Depends on the decision.”
You smiled slowly. “And this one?”
His gaze moved over your face. Slow. Controlled. Hot enough to make your skin feel too tight.
“This one,” Jack said, “got complicated.”
You breathed out a laugh. “Because of the dancing?”
Jack glanced down at your body. Then his eyes came back to yours.
“No,” Jack said.
Your mouth went dry. Jack’s hand flexed at your hip again, still the only place he was touching you, still careful enough to make you want to scream.
“Because I’m old enough to know better,” Jack said.
You should have stepped back, but you didn’t. Instead, you moved a little closer, not touching his chest, not pressing into him, just taking one more inch of space until his hand had to settle more fully at your hip. His jaw tightened.
You looked up at him. “That working for you?”
Jack stared at you for one beat. Then another.
“No,” Jack said. The answer hit low.
A few feet away, Liv laughed. You looked past Jack’s shoulder. Liv had her back pressed to Robby’s chest now, her leather jacket loose off one shoulder, her head tipped slightly to the side as he leaned down to say something near her ear.
No. Not say.
His mouth brushed her neck. Just once. Light enough to pass for a whisper if anyone wanted to lie about it. Liv’s smile went slow. Robby’s hand settled at her hip, and she moved back against him with the beat like she had already decided exactly where the night was going.
You huffed a soft laugh. Jack followed your gaze. His expression went flat immediately.
You looked back at him, amused. “They’re leaving together.”
Jack’s eyes returned to yours. “You know that from one look?”
You glanced over again. Liv had turned her face just enough for Robby to speak against her ear, and Robby looked entirely too pleased with the angle he had been given. His fingers flexed at her hip. Liv’s hand came up, sliding briefly into his hair before dropping again like she had remembered there were people around.
You looked at Jack. “I know her.”
Jack’s eyes flicked toward them again. Robby’s mouth brushed Liv’s neck a second time. Jack sighed through his nose. “Unfortunately, I know him.”
Your laugh slipped out before you could stop it. Jack looked at you when you laughed. Not at your mouth this time. At your whole face. The attention landed differently. Warmer. Still dangerous, but warmer. You felt your smile soften. Jack noticed that too. His hand at your hip gentled for half a second before settling again.
Then Liv appeared beside you, cheeks warm from dancing, lipstick still perfect, expression entirely too calm for someone who had just had Robby’s mouth at her neck. Robby came with her, one step behind, his hand resting at the small of her back like he had earned the privilege recently and intended to keep it until told otherwise.
Jack looked at him. Robby looked back. Neither of them said anything for half a second.
Then Jack’s mouth flattened. “Really?”
Robby lifted one shoulder. “Apparently.”
Liv turned to you and smiled brightly. “We’re leaving.”
You looked at her. “Shocking.”
Liv’s smile widened. “I know. No one could have predicted this.”
Robby glanced at Jack. “I was blindsided.”
Jack stared at him. “Were you?”
Robby’s mouth curved. “No.”
Liv squeezed your hand once. “I’ll text you when we get there.”
You held her gaze. “And location stays on.”
Liv nodded. “Already is.”
You looked at Robby. Robby’s brows lifted slightly, but he did not look offended. Good.
You smiled sweetly. “Bring her back alive, Brown Eyes.”
Robby’s grin came slow. Jack’s eyes flicked to you. Liv laughed.
Robby looked between you and Liv. “Brown Eyes?”
Liv patted his chest. “Before I knew your name.”
Robby looked pleased with himself. “And now?”
Liv looked him over once. “Still accurate.”
Robby’s grin widened.
Jack closed his eyes briefly. “Jesus Christ.”
Liv leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Be smart.”
You said, “You too.”
Liv’s eyes flicked toward Jack. Then her smile turned evil.
“Make Forearms work for it,” Liv said.
You froze. Jack’s gaze sharpened. Robby’s grin appeared immediately. “Forearms?”
Liv tugged him toward the edge of the dance floor before you could stop her. “Goodnight.”
Robby followed her, still laughing. Jack did not say anything. You did not look at him. That felt safer.
Behind you, Robby called, “Good luck, brother.”
Jack’s voice came flat and dry beside you. “Fuck off.”
Robby’s reply came without missing a beat. “That’s the plan.”
Liv’s laughter disappeared into the crowd with Robby’s.
For a second, you did not move. The music filled the space they left behind, bass low and heavy, lights cutting over the dance floor in deep blue flashes. Jack stood beside you. Too quiet. Too close. You did not look at him. That felt safer.
His voice came low near your ear. “Forearms?”
Your eyes closed. “Don’t.”
Jack stepped closer. Not touching. Not yet.
“No,” Jack said. “I think I’m going to need to hear about that.”
You turned your head and found him watching you with the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. It was not a full smile. That would have been easier. This was worse. This was Jack, knowing he had caught you and deciding to enjoy it.
“It was before I knew your name,” you said.
His gaze held yours. “And now?”
Your eyes dropped before you could stop them. Down his shoulder. His arm. The bare forearm below the sleeve of his black T-shirt. Jack saw it. His mouth barely moved.
“Still?” Jack asked.
You looked back up at him, but the damage was done. Jack’s eyes were darker now, amused and heated in a way that made your stomach tighten. You could have made a joke. You could have lied.
Instead, your hand moved. Your fingers found his forearm. Jack went still. Not completely. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But you felt it beneath your fingertips, the faint lock of muscle under warm skin as your touch settled over him. You traced one finger slowly down the inside of his forearm, following the raised line of a vein toward his wrist.
Jack’s hand flexed at his side. Your pulse kicked. His voice came lower. “That an answer?”
You kept your eyes on your finger because looking at him felt like a mistake.
“Maybe,” you said.
Jack’s jaw shifted. “Maybe?”
Your fingertip paused over his pulse. It jumped. Barely. But you felt it. Your eyes lifted to his. His control looked different now. Thinner. Hotter.
You said, “You heard the nickname.”
Jack stepped closer, and the heat of him cut through the club air. “I heard it.”
Your finger was still resting against his wrist. His pulse beat beneath your touch. Steady. Not as steady as he looked. You smiled. His eyes narrowed slightly, but his mouth curved.
“Careful,” Jack said.
Your hand stayed on his arm. “You keep saying that.”
Jack’s gaze dropped to your mouth. This time, he did not pretend it was an accident.
“You keep needing to hear it,” Jack said.
The music shifted into something slower. Heavier. The kind of song that gave people permission to make bad choices and call it dancing. Jack looked at you. You looked back.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then you lifted your brows. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
Jack’s mouth barely curved. “I changed my mind.”
Your stomach dipped. You should have said something smart. You should have made him work for it. Instead, you stepped closer. Jack’s hand found your hip again. This time, when your body moved with the beat, his moved with yours.
Barely at first. A shift. A sway. A controlled little give that should not have felt as intimate as it did. But then your chest brushed his. Just once. Your breath caught. Jack’s hand tightened. The contact disappeared with the next beat, then came back again, slow and warm and impossible to ignore.
Your body against his.
His body answering yours.
The space between you narrowed until dancing stopped feeling like the right word for it.
Jack looked down at you, and the heat in his eyes made your skin feel too tight.
You wondered what it would feel like if there were nothing between you. No denim. No shirt. No careful inch of public restraint. Just his skin against yours, sweat slicking between your bodies, his hands dragging you closer instead of holding himself back, his mouth rough at your neck while you moved together with nothing left to pretend.
Jack’s thumb pressed into your hip like he had followed the thought somehow.
Like he knew exactly where your mind had gone.
Your eyes lifted to his. His jaw was tight. His control looked thinner now. More fragile. You were not the only one imagining it.
Jack was trying not to think about your body under his.
Trying not to think about your thighs spread around him, your back arching off his bed, your voice breaking because careful had finally become impossible. He was trying not to picture your hands in his hair, your mouth near his ear, telling him exactly how you liked to be fucked.
Harder. Slower. There.
Jack’s jaw clenched. Fuck. He wanted to know. He wanted to hear it in your voice. He wanted to feel the exact second your confidence turned into begging, wanted your body pinned beneath his while you asked for more like he had not already lost his mind giving it to you.
Your hand moved over his forearm again. Slow. Deliberate. You traced the raised line of that vein toward his wrist and felt his pulse jump under your finger. Jack’s eyes darkened.
You smiled softly. “You okay?”
Jack stared at you. “No.”
The answer went straight through you. Your smile faded. Not because you were scared. Because you felt it too. Because the careful press of his hand at your hip had turned into something impossible, something that made you wonder what he would feel like inside you. Whether he would go still at first, jaw tight, eyes fixed on yours while he tried to let you set the pace. Whether he would let you climb on top of him and take what you wanted.
Whether he would last.
You pictured it too clearly. Your knees on either side of his hips. Your hands braced on his chest. Jack beneath you, watching you like restraint had become a physical ache, letting you move until his patience snapped and his hands found your hips. Guiding you. Moving you. Taking over because watching you ride him had finally broken whatever discipline he had left.
Your breath changed.
Jack heard it.
His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, still decent enough for the dance floor, still controlled enough to count as restraint. But it brought you closer. Fully this time. Your body pressed against his, and Jack inhaled once, sharp and quiet.
There. There it was. The thing both of you had been circling all night.
The heat. The shape. The fit.
The terrible, perfect knowledge that this would be worse without clothes.
Better. Worse. Impossible.
Jack leaned down until his mouth was near your ear. His voice came rough beneath the music.
“If I stop being careful,” Jack said, “I’m not stopping here.”
The words moved through you like heat. Your fingers tightened around his forearm. Jack felt it. His hand spread wider against your back, not forcing, not taking, just holding you close enough that your next breath had nowhere to go except against him.
You turned your face slightly toward his. Your cheek almost brushed his. Almost.
“Who said I wanted you to stop?” you asked.
Jack went still. You felt the question land in his body. His control did not disappear. Not yet. But something in it shifted. Something low and dangerous unlocked behind his eyes. He drew back just enough to look at you. The lights moved over his face, cutting along the hard line of his jaw, catching on the heat in his eyes.
“You know what you’re asking for?” Jack asked.
Your pulse kicked. You did not know all of it. Not really. Not the exact weight of him. Not the sound of his voice in a quiet room. Not how his hands would feel when he stopped using restraint like armor. But you knew enough. You knew you wanted him closer. You knew you wanted his mouth. You knew you wanted to hear him lose that careful tone and find something rougher underneath it.
You looked at him. “I’m asking you to dance.”
Jack’s mouth barely curved. It should have looked amused. It looked hungry.
“That what we’re calling this?” Jack asked.
Your body moved with his again, slow and close, the friction of fabric and heat making your thoughts blur around the edges. Your hand slid from his forearm to his wrist, your fingers curling lightly there. His pulse beat hard beneath your touch.
“For now,” you said.
Jack’s eyes dropped to your mouth. The space between you changed again. Thinner now. Hotter. His hand at your back pressed once, just enough to guide you with the beat, and your body followed before your mind could catch up.
You saw him notice that. The way you gave. The way you let him move you. The way your breath went shallow when he took even that much control. Jack’s gaze lifted back to yours.
“There it is,” Jack said.
Your stomach tightened. “What?”
His thumb moved once against your back. Slow. Deliberate.
“The part of you that likes being told what to do,” Jack said.
Your breath caught so sharply you could not hide it. Jack’s eyes darkened. You should have denied it. You should have laughed. You should have done anything except stand there with your hand wrapped around his wrist, and your body pressed to his, letting him feel the truth of it.
But Jack already knew. His mouth came closer to your ear again.
“You can argue if you want,” Jack said. “I’ll still know.”
Your eyes fluttered. “Cocky,” you said.
Jack’s hand tightened at your back. “Observant.”
The word dragged over your skin. Your body moved with his again, and this time, Jack guided it. Not much. Nothing anyone else would notice. Just a subtle pressure at your back, a shift of his weight, a controlled movement that made you follow.
It should not have made you think of his bed. It did. It made you think of his hands on your hips again. Of him watching you from underneath, letting you think you were in charge until your rhythm started to falter. Until your thighs shook. Until you got too needy and impatient and he finally sat up, pulled you down hard, and did the work himself.
Your hand tightened on his wrist.
Jack’s voice lowered. “Where did you just go?”
Your eyes snapped to his. He was watching you too closely. Too carefully. Too well.
“Nowhere,” you said.
Jack’s mouth curved. “Liar.”
The word should not have done anything to you. It did. You looked at his mouth. Jack looked at yours. The dance slowed until it was barely a dance at all. Just bodies close together. His hand at your back. Your fingers at his wrist. Your breaths tangling in the narrow space between you. The club was too loud. Too crowded. Too public.
And somehow none of that felt like enough to stop this.
Jack’s gaze dropped again, slower this time, to your mouth. Then your throat. Then back up.
When he spoke, his voice was rough. “You keep looking at my mouth.”
Your lips parted. Jack’s eyes tracked the movement.
“You keep noticing,” you murmured.
His thumb pressed into your back. “Hard not to,” Jack said.
Your body swayed into his. His jaw flexed. For a second, you thought he might kiss you right there, in the middle of the dance floor, with Santos and Dana and everyone else somewhere in the crush of bodies around you.
For a second, you wanted him to.
Then Jack looked past you. Not away. Just enough to remember where you were. His restraint came back visibly, and you hated it. You hated how much you liked it too. Because it was not rejection. It was control. It was him wanting you badly enough to need it. Jack looked back at you. His hand slid from your back to your hip again, slower than necessary, like he needed one more second of you before he made himself behave.
“Not here,” Jack said.
Your stomach dropped. For one sick second, you thought he meant no. Then his thumb moved once against your hip, and his eyes dropped to your mouth like leaving it alone was hurting him.
Oh. Not here. Not no. You swallowed.
“Then where?” you asked.
Jack went very still. His gaze lifted to yours. The heat there made the answer unnecessary. He gave it anyway.
“My place,” Jack said.
Your breath caught. The music kept moving around you, heavy and careless, but Jack had gone still in front of you. Waiting. Not assuming. Not taking the answer from the look on your face, even though you knew he could read it.
You held his gaze. “Only if you’re sure.”
Jack looked at you like that was the last decent thought either of you had left.
“I’m sure,” Jack said.
His eyes moved over your face, focused and sober enough to make your pulse trip for an entirely different reason.
“You drive here?” Jack asked.
You shook your head. “Liv and I Ubered.”
Jack nodded once. Decided. Simple. “I’ll drive.”
Your stomach dipped. It should not have sounded like that. Practical. Certain. Like he had already made room for you in the rest of his night.
“Okay,” you said.
His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back. Steady. Warm. Guiding, not pulling.
“Come on,” Jack said.
You went with him. The walk out of the club felt longer than it should have. Jack stayed close at your side, his hand at your back as he guided you through the moving bodies, through the pulse of music and spilled neon light, past the bar where Dana glanced over and immediately looked like she had made a very informed decision not to ask.
Santos saw you, and her eyes widened. Her mouth opened. Dana caught her by the arm and said something sharply into her ear. Santos shut her mouth. Barely. Jack did not look over. You did. Santos lifted both thumbs with the subtlety of a fire alarm. You pressed your lips together and faced forward again before you laughed.
Jack leaned closer without slowing down. “Do I want to know?”
“No,” you said.
His mouth curved faintly. “Figured.”
Then the door opened, and the night air hit your skin. Cool. Sharp. A shock after the heat of the club. The music dulled behind you as the door fell shut, becoming nothing more than a low thump through the walls. The parking lot was dimmer, quieter, broken by streetlights and the distant hum of traffic. Your skin felt too warm. Your lips felt too empty. Every place Jack had touched you seemed to remember the shape of his hand.
He kept his palm at your back as he walked you toward his truck. Not low. Not wandering. Still careful. Still Jack. That somehow made it worse. The truck sat near the edge of the lot, dark and solid beneath the yellow wash of a streetlight. Jack stopped beside the passenger door and finally let his hand fall away from your back.
Careful again.
You turned to face him. He had his keys in one hand, his jaw tight, his eyes on you like the walk outside had not cooled him down at all. If anything, the quiet made it worse. There was no music to hide behind now. No crowd. No Liv and Robby. No Santos yelling from the dance floor.
Just Jack. Just you. Just the space between you, shrinking by the second.
You swallowed. “Still think this is a bad decision?”
Jack looked at you for a long moment. His eyes dropped to your mouth. Then lifted.
“Worse than I’d like,” Jack said.
Your stomach flipped. You smiled before you could stop yourself. “That didn’t answer the question.”
“No,” Jack said.
He stepped closer. Your back met the truck door. The metal was cool through your top, and Jack was warm everywhere he came near you. He did not crowd you all at once. He gave you one last breath of space, one last chance to step away, one last second to pretend either of you was going to make a different choice.
You did not move.
Jack’s hand came to your jaw. Firm. Certain.
Then his mouth was on yours.
Not polite. Not careful. Not like the man who had spent all night pretending he knew better.
He kissed you like restraint had been a punishment and this was the first second of relief.
Your hand caught his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric as your body arched into him. Jack made a rough sound against your mouth and pressed closer, one hand braced beside your head against the truck, the other sliding from your jaw to the side of your neck.
His thumb angled under your chin.
He tilted your face exactly where he wanted it.
The thought should not have made you weak.
It did.
You opened for him, and Jack took the invitation with a low sound that went straight through you. His mouth turned hotter, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours until your grip tightened in his shirt and your knees threatened to become a problem.
Jack pressed you more firmly into the door.
Not hard enough to hurt.
Hard enough to make sure you felt him.
His body lined up with yours, solid and warm, one thigh shifting between yours just enough to make your breath break against his mouth.
You felt him smile. Barely.
The bastard.
You nipped his lower lip.
Jack’s hand tightened at your neck.
“There she is,” Jack murmured against your mouth.
Heat rushed through you.
You pulled him back in.
He came willingly.
Too willingly.
His hand left the truck and found your waist, then your hip, then the curve of you like he had been trying not to touch you all night and had finally run out of reasons. His palm dragged over denim, fingers spreading, gripping once when you rocked into him without meaning to.
Jack broke the kiss on a sharp breath.
His forehead hovered near yours. “Careful.”
You were beginning to hate that word. You were beginning to love it.
Your hand slid up his chest, over his shoulder, then down his arm until your fingers found his forearm again.
Jack went still.
You traced the vein there, slower this time.
Meaner.
His eyes darkened.
You looked up at him. “You first.”
Jack stared at you.
Then he kissed you again.
Harder.
Hungrier.
His hand slid to the small of your back and dragged you closer until there was no polite space left between you, no careful inch, no pretending this was anything other than what it was. Your body pressed into his, and the sound he made into your mouth was so rough you felt it in your stomach.
You wanted him inside you.
The thought arrived fully formed, sharp and desperate.
You wanted his control turned loose.
You wanted his hands on your hips, moving you, guiding you, taking over.
You wanted to hear that careful voice go ruined.
Jack’s mouth moved to the corner of yours, then your jaw, then just beneath it.
Your head tipped back against the truck before you could stop it.
Jack froze for half a second.
Then his mouth touched your throat.
Once.
Open and hot.
Your breath caught so sharply it almost sounded like his name.
Jack heard it.
His hand tightened at your waist, and his mouth brushed your neck again, slower this time, like he wanted to learn exactly where the sound had come from.
“Jack,” you breathed.
He pulled back like the name had hit him in the chest. His eyes were dark. His mouth was wet. His breathing was no longer even.
Good.
You wanted him like that. You wanted him worse.
Jack looked down at you, pinned between his body and the truck, and something in his face shifted.
Not regret. Not hesitation. Control. Barely. Painfully.
He closed his eyes for half a second.
“Fuck,” Jack said.
You tried to catch your breath. “What?”
Jack opened his eyes. His hand was still at your waist. His body was still too close. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then dragged back to your eyes like the movement cost him something.
“We need to go,” Jack said.
Your fingers tightened in his shirt. “We are going.”
His mouth twitched, but it did not become a smile.
“No,” Jack said, voice rough. “We need to go now.”
Your pulse kicked. Jack leaned in until his mouth brushed your ear.
“Because I’m trying to do this properly,” Jack said. “And if you keep making those sounds, I’m going to fuck you in the back seat.”
Your entire body went hot.
Jack pulled back just enough to look at you.
His jaw was tight. His restraint was hanging by a thread, and you could see every inch of it.
“Understood?” Jack asked.
You swallowed. Then, because apparently you had no survival instinct left, you looked toward the back seat.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
Your mouth curved.
Jack’s hand tightened once at your waist. His voice dropped. “Get in the truck.”
You looked back at him. “Bossy.”
Jack opened the passenger door behind you. His gaze stayed on yours.
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I need Melanie to explain what exactly “a connection” means to her because she keeps saying she and sincere have this incredible connection that apparently transcends all of her self respect but she’s not actually explained what that is. Like there is more to a relationship than just connecting, connecting is the very first step not the whole relationship. Like what does a “strong connection” actually mean to you?? Same goes for everyone else in the villa like you say we aren’t seeing what you see in him so explain it, like why exactly are you all riding him so hard
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