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When your high-powered marketing career goes up in flames, you find yourself back in Texas and out of optionsâuntil your old childhood friend Tommy offers you a job at his familyâs growing construction company. The only catch? His older brother Joel, the project manager with a chip on his shoulder and zero patience for your city-slicker attitude.
You clash instantly: youâre clever, confident, and painfully corporate. Heâs quiet, rugged, and set in his ways. You push his buttons. He pushes back harder. But somewhere between long meetings, late nights, resurfacing memories, and hurt, along with one very unexpected work trip⊠the tension starts to shift.
What begins as bickering turns into banter. Glances linger. Walls crack. And neither of you is quite sure when things started to change.
⥠Side Stories (Don't read if you want spoilers!) :
T&C: HOLIDAYS OFF
Christmas fluff, post-main story, slight spoilers if you really read into it, family fluff
T&C: FIRST LOVE
Prequel Story, Raymond's POV, so much fluff it hurts, pregnancy, baby Joel
T&C: DRESS HIM UP
Sequel Story, family fluff, date-night prep, Joel's POV
T&C: LEARN IN MORE WAYS
Sequel Story, family fluff, almost smut, SC's POV, graduation season, parental fluff
⥠Fan-Extras:
⥠Moodboards, Fan Spotify playlist by @broknedits
⥠Fan edits by @evcrmoree
⥠Joel and Reader's son fanart, baby!Sarah + young!Joel by @krispykattv
⥠Happy couple things fanart, chapter 29, young!Joel's animal, Raymond + Lorraine + Baby Joel, Clause 37 Flashback, 13years!Joel+Sarah (mostly oc x t&c!Joel) by @hoziersguitarr
⥠Family Tree (contains spoilers) by @honey-moon-13
⥠Moodboards by @onlythehobi/@dilf-docs
⥠Fan Spotify Playlist by Justin
Summary: Joel Miller remembers dying. He remembers the swing, the sound of bone breaking, and Ellie screaming his name as everything went dark. So waking up in a clean hospital room makes no sense, especially when the world outside looks normal, Sarah is alive, Ellie is his daughter, and a woman is holding his hand like she belongs to him. Everyone says he was in a car accident and asleep for nearly two months. Joel knows that isnât true. Because he lived twenty years somewhere else. Now he has to face a life he doesnât remember building, a family that remembers him completely, and a woman who loves him⊠while he looks at her like a stranger. he's not her Joel, and maybe her boyfriend, the other Joel is died and Joel taking his body and his damn life.
Warnings â ïž : another life, age-gap (joel in his mid/late 40s, reader somewhere in lates/mid 20s), tons of angst incoming btw, post-TLOU2 Joel consciousness in modern AU, i named the reader (willow), memory loss / identity confusion, alternate reality disorientation, hurt/comfort (heavy hurt first), panic attacks & PTSD responses, canon-typical violence memories (non-graphic), emotional angst, family dynamics & grief, unintentional heartbreak, âyou donât remember loving meâ trope, a few of flashback, slow emotional recoveryâŠ.. thereâs eventually smut and stuff but Iâll make it slow burn.
little note (pls read me!): why do I hate writing first chapters so much đ I keep thinking abt whatâs next and imagining future scenes before I even finish the current one. I think this chapter might be a bit too angsty tho⊠so maybe next chapter thereâll be something cute w Willow or Joel getting softer and more comfortable around her.
leave the taglist here: @pleurspetal [ If anyone wants to be on my taglist too, just lemme know, okay? Luv yaâ€ïž]
chapter I:
JOEL
Joel, get up.
The last thing Joel remembered was the whistle of something slicing through the air and the crack that followed it, and then, just final blank. He feels like his bone meeting metal and the sound of something ending.
He's die.
He remembered Ellieâs voice tearing itself open above him.
get up, joel---
Get up.
Joel, get the fuck up.
fucking get up.
He remembered wanting to answer her. Trying to get up just for her, and only her. Wanting to say her name back. Get his head up from the damn floor. Wanting to promise something he wasnât sure he could keep, 'cause he already broke all his promise for her. But, thereâs nothing, just a dense, not quite it was a silence for suffocating pressure that erased the edges of himself until there was no border left between thought and dark.
When he came back, it was violent.
Itâs like air punched into his lungs and his chest convulsed and make his body jerked against something soft, and feels wrong under him. Too soft. There should have been cold concrete and smell of dust. Blood thick in the back of his throat.
Instead there was light above him. Something too white and flat to his eyes, almost hurt his eyes. also, He caught a faint smell of chemicals, something sharp and sterile, that pulled at an old memory of hospitals from back in the day.
He blinked, and the world did not shift into nightmare. It stayed clean and then he felt it.
Something that warmth. Warm from other person that live, not like fever or pain. But a hand? Like the hand hold his. Feel like live and soft? Wrapped around his own like it had been there for a long time.
His fingers twitched and brushed skin that did not belong to him. He move his finger again, itâs his index. He felt the curve of a cheek resting near his knuckles. A faint, even breath against his wrist.
He lay still, listening to the mechanical beeping near his ear and the hammering of his own heart, trying to reconcile the impossible fact of being alive.
He should not be alive.
He remembered the certainty of it. The way the world had tilted. The way he had accepted the end without ceremony. He had outlived enough people to know when his number had been called.
This did not feel like heaven.
Heaven, he thought, would be softer than this. It would not carry the faint, sterile sting of antiseptic in the air, sharp enough to settle at the back of his throat. It would not be this quiet in a way that felt watched rather than peaceful. And it would not, under any circumstance, feel gentle toward a man like him. He had never known what heaven was supposed to look like, never even tried to imagine it.
So the thought of this being heaven felt strange, almost absurd, like his mind had reached too far for something it didnât understand. no, if this were heaven, it had made a mistake, but it wasnât hell either.
Hell would have greeted him properly, maybe. It would have been loud, unbearable, honest in its cruelty. Fire, or something close to it. Pain that didnât leave room for doubt. In hell, at least, he would understand where he was. There would be no confusion, no slow unraveling of thought.
And he would have accepted it, because that, at least, would make sense to him. He wasnât a good man, after all.
He had done too much for anything else to fit. Too many faces that never left him, no matter how hard he tried not to remember. Too many moments where the line between survival and something darker blurred until it didnât matter anymore which side he stood on.
So this? this quiet, more silence with something live behind the door, this almost-kindness, felt wrong in a way he couldnât name it.
Like standing somewhere he hadnât earned.
He tried to move but pain hit him fast, sharp enough to knock the air out of his chest before he could brace for it. It tore up his side and settled there, heavy and throbbing, like something inside him had been pulled apart and stitched back wrong. A rough sound slipped out of him, low and broken, before he could swallow it down.
The air smelled clean more like chemicals and something bitter sitting at the back of his throat. His mouth felt dry, tongue thick, like he hadnât used it in days or months. There was a weight on his chest, or maybe just the feeling of it, pressure that made each breath slow and careful.
Something moved near his hand. Warm.
The weight shifted. A chair scraped lightly against the floor, the sound sharp in the quiet.
Joelâs vision dragged downward, slow and unsteady, like it didnât want to cooperate. The light hurt his eyes, somehow. Everything looked washed out, edges blurred, shapes not quite holding still. He forced his eyes to focus anyway.
There was someone there.
A figure at his side, close enough that he could see the outline before the details came in. Hair. Shoulders. A face that felt familiar before he could place it.
Ellie?
His throat worked, tried to say her name, tried to push it past the dryness, past the weight sitting in his chest. But nothing came out, just air.
A low hiss escaped him before he could stop it as he tried to lift his arm, wanting nothing more than to brush the hair from your face. The pain flared hot through his chest, pulling a rough groan from deep in his throat. He hadnât meant to wake you. In that half-second, a quiet sorrow settled over him, heavy and tender; he was sorry to pull you from whatever fragile rest you had found, sorry that even now, broken and useless, he still managed to disturb the one person who had stayed.
You stirred at the sound.
Your body tensed, shoulders lifting as if surfacing from deep water, and your eyes snapped open with the wide, startled clarity of someone who had trained herself to wake at the smallest sign of him. For a breathless moment you simply looked at him, hair tousled and falling loose around your face, the faint crease from the mattress still pressed into your cheek like a secret the night had left behind. The dim light caught in your eyes, turning them soft and luminous, and something in Joelâs chest tightened at the sight of you, impossibly alive in a world that had forgotten how to be gentle.
The slight flush still lingering on your skin. The way your lips parted, trembling just enough to betray the storm behind them. Everything about you felt etched with care, with sleepless hours and he drank it in without a word, letting the feeling settle somewhere deep where words could not reach.
"Joel?â you breathed. oh god, escaped from your lips.
The sound of his name in your voice slid through him like honey, low and trembling, almost fracturing on the second syllable. âJ-JoelâŠâ
It tasted fragile on the air between you, sweet and aching. He stared, the fog in his mind thinning slowly, and realized with a deep, visceral pull that you were not Ellie.
He didnât know who you were.
You moved toward him without hesitation. Your hand rose, and when it found his face, the touch was so unbearably soft it made his chest tighten. Your palm carried the faint roughness of calluses, yet the skin was velvet-warm, alive with the pulse of your blood. Your thumb traced his cheekbone slowly, deliberately, sending small sparks of sensation racing across his jaw and down his neck. He could smell you clearly now, something faintly sweet, like crushed herbs or the inside of your wrist after a long summer night. You leaned in closer. Your breath brushed his lips first, warm and humid, carrying the ghost of water and exhaustion. Then your mouth pressed to his forehead, soft and lingering, the heat of it blooming across his skin like sunlight soaking into dry earth. He felt the gentle pressure of your lips, the faint tremble in them, the way your hair fell forward and tickled his temple.
His eyes closed on instinct. His body remembered everything his mind had not yet reclaimed, the quiet thunder of your heartbeat so close to his. A slow shiver moved through him, deep and involuntary, like the first touch of skin after years of winter.
Joelâs mouth opened, the words already forming somewhere deep in his chest. Who the hell are you? Whereâs Ellie? What is this place? but nothing came. His throat was a dry riverbed, cracked and empty, the kind of desert silence that had swallowed whole towns back when the world still made sense.
He pushed again, harder, air scraping uselessly against raw tissue, and his brow pulled tight in that uneasy frown she knew too well, the one that carved lines between his eyes like he was bracing for a fight he couldnât even start.
he saw that you noticed right away.
âHey,â you said softly, thumb still moving in slow, steady circles over his knuckles like muscle memory. âItâs okay. The doctor just took the tube out. They said your voice is coming back, it just needs a little time. Just take it easy, okay?â
Tube.
The word hit him sideways. A tube? In his throat? The confusion sharpened, pressing in behind his ribs until it felt like something alive trying to get out. None of this lined up, He stared at you, eyes narrowed, trying to force the questions through the dryness anyway, but his lips only twitched uselessly.
you didnât wait for him to try again. you reached for the plastic cup on the side table, the condensation cool against your fingers, and slid your other arm behind his shoulders with the careful ease of someone who had done this exact thing more times than she could count. She lifted him just enough, no rush, no fuss, and brought the straw to his lips.
âHere,â she murmured, voice low and close. âDrink some.â
The water touched his tongue, and slid down his throat like forgiveness he hadnât asked for. He took small sips, eyes never leaving your face, the desert in his mouth easing just a fraction while everything else inside him stayed cracked wide open. you watched him the whole time, patient and steady and a little scared, like you were afraid the next thing he tried to say might break whatever was left of them both.
âwhere's Ellie?â he rasped. The word scraped out, dry and uncertain, barely more than breath.
Your expression faltered, just a small, exquisite fracture across your face. âSheâs fine,â you whispered, the words warm against his skin, heavy with relief and unspoken nights.
The answer didnât sit right. He doesn't know why? Just the word fine didnât belong anywhere near the world he remembered.
He frowned, pain tightening behind his eyes, and the idea unsettled him more than the pain.
He closed his eyes for a second, overwhelmed by the quiet intensity of your presence. The warmth of your skin. The steady brush of your thumb over his knuckles. The way your body leaned toward his without calculation.
He hadnât been touched like that in a long time. Not with softness that wasnât earned through blood or apology. Not with care that didnât feel conditional.
your forehead dipped gently against his temple, careful of whatever bandage lay hidden there.
âYou scared me,â you whispered. There was no anger in it, just exhaustion. your fingers tightened more securely around his, like you were anchoring him to something solid. âIâve been waiting for you to wake,â you said, he can hear the way your voice barely holding together. âYou canât do this to me. I⊠I canât do it without you.â
He felt like a man standing in a house that used to belong to him, but the furniture had been rearranged and he no longer knew where the doors were. and not knowing what to do.
He opened his eyes this time, when he feel you pull away from him. you were watching him with your doe- alike eyes like he might disappear if you blinked.
Joel studied you. The soft press of your hands lingered on his shoulders as you eased back, just far enough to study him. Your gaze moved over his face with careful, practiced intensity, as though you were reading symptoms written in the lines of his brow and the tension around his mouth.
âIs anything hurt?â you asked, your voice low and steady. âAny pain I canât see?â
He guessed you were a doctor, but the thought didnât quite fit. A nurse, maybe? No, that didnât sit right either. You wore a simple white fitted tee and jeans, nothing clinical about you. Still, there was something in the way you looked at him that made him wonder exactly who you were. He couldnât put a name or title to it, only that you felt like someone who knew how to look for what wasnât being said.
"Yeah,â he muttered. âYeah⊠thereâs pain.â His voice carried the heaviness of someone unused to admitting weakness aloud. Like the confession itself sat wrong in his mouth. He didnât even know why he was telling you this. Maybe because your hands had stayed still the whole time. Maybe because you looked at him like he was something breakable and not just a man stitched together by old violence and stubbornness.
Or maybe because, somehow, it felt right. Joel swallowed hard, eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder, toward nothing at all. âSide,â he added after a moment, the word catching slightly in his throat. His hand drifted unconsciously toward his ribs before stopping midway, fingers curling into his palm instead. âRight side⊠feels like itâs been torn open.â
The room settled around the silence between you. The low hum of the light overhead. The faint smell of antiseptic and rain clinging to his jacket. His breathing had gone uneven now, careful, measured, like every inhale needed permission first. âHead too,â he murmured quieter this time, jaw tightening. âKeeps poundinâ.â
And when he finally looked at you, it wasnât with embarrassment. Not exactly. It was something softer than that. Something almost boyish beneath all the exhaustion. Like he hated that you were seeing him like this.
âokay, okay. Youâll be okay,â you said. âAnd Iâll tell the doctor after this.â you sound somehow a little too excited for what Joel is about to see.
Joel stared at you for a second too long, and in that second he became suddenly aware of everything at once: the faint crease between your brows whenever you worried, the careful way your fingers hovered near him without forcing contact, the scent of soap and cold air lingering in your sweater. Small things. Forgettable things, maybe. Yet they reached him with startling precision, lodging somewhere beneath the ache in his ribs.
âYou saidâŠâ His thumb brushed unconsciously against the edge of the blanket draped over him, fingers tense, uncertain. âYouâve been waiting. For me?â
And God, the way he said it, almost hesitant, made the question feel larger than it was. As if he already feared the answer before hearing it. As if some part of him couldnât quite believe anybody would wait for him at all.
She nodded once, and the small gesture seemed to carry more weight than it should have. Two months, she said, and the number landed in him like a quiet shock, something too large to hold all at once. He looked at her as if the space between them had changed shape, as if her patience had been sitting there in the room all along, waiting with her. Her hand stayed around his, steady and unshowy, but it made him feel suddenly aware of his own pulse, the fragility of being touched with such care. He had the strange sense that he was being looked after in a way he did not know how to ask for, and maybe had never once expected. It unsettled him, and softened him at the same time. He wanted to understand why she had waited, why she had stayed, but all he could do was stand there inside the quiet of it, feeling the tenderness of her concern like something almost unbearable.
He was trying to summon something, a memory of her voice, her face, the way her thumb traced his skin like she had mapped it a thousand times.
âWhere⊠what hospital is this?â he asked.
âYouâre at St. Davidâs Medical Center,â you said
The thought flickered, distant and half-formed. His eyes shifted past you, taking in the room again. the steady light, and quiet, the way everything felt⊠intact.
âwhat? no, no, noâŠâ he started, then stopped. its just came out as a disbelife and whisper to himself.
His hand shifted against the sheets, slow, like even that took effort. He looked back at you, really looked this time, like maybe the answer was in your face instead of the room.
ââŠHow?â he asked finally, quieter now. âIs it still in Jackson?â
joel could see it in the way your breath caught, like something fragile inside you had been nudged out of place. your eyes searched his face, not for an answerâbut for how much he meant by that.
âNo,â you said after a beat, her voice gentler now. âItâs not in Jackson.â
Joel frowned.
The word no didnât settle right. It only made things worse. His gaze drifted again, slower this time, like he was trying to force the room to make sense if he looked at it long enough.
"Then where the hell am iââ he muttered, the curse fraying at the edges before it could even finish, stolen by the sudden weight of exhaustion that pressed down on him like wet concrete.
He swallowed, the motion pulling a faint wince across his face as fresh pain bloomed raw along his throat. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each inhale a careful negotiation, like his body was still learning the rules of this impossible place.
âyou're in Austin, Texas, joel....â you added.
That made him freeze.
This was not the quiet, measured stillness Joel had learned to carry â the kind a man develops after twenty years of surviving, when every decision could mean life or death. No, this was something altogether different. Sharper. Colder. It seized him completely, freezing the blood in his veins as though winter had come from inside his own body.
Austin. Texas.
The words echoed strangely in his mind, hollow and unnatural, like hearing someone speak your childhood language in a dream. Austin no longer existed. Not like this. Not clean and bright and humming with life, with machines that worked and lights that stayed on and warm hands holding his as if love were still a simple thing.
"...are you okay?"
In the world he remembered, Austin had burned. It had died screaming along with everything else â swallowed by infection and fire and the long, merciless collapse of civilization. It had taken his daughter with it. Sarah. To hear that name spoken so easily now, in this bright, impossible room, felt like a kind of blasphemy. As if someone had quietly dug up her grave and expected him to be grateful that the earth had given her back.
His eyes lifted back to yours, sharper now despite the haze still clouding the edges of his vision, the confusion hardening into something edged and dangerous.
ââŠWhat do you mean?â he said under his breath, the question low and rough, barely more than gravel dragged across concrete. Then the suspicion broke loose, raw and unfiltered, the old instincts clawing their way up before he could stop them. âAre you fucking kidding me?â His voice cracked on the words, still hoarse from the tube theyâd pulled, but the accusation burned through anyway. âAre you a one of FEDRA? Is the girl that shot me one of your people... or your leader?â
The questions hung between you, heavy and trembling, carrying every nightmare heâd lived through: the blue uniforms, the quarantine zones, the cold efficiency of people who called slaughter order. His fingers tightened in your grasp without meaning to, not pulling away but holding on like the contact itself might keep the floor from dropping out beneath him.
âJoelâŠâ Your voice came out small at first, cracked and uncertain. âWhat⊠what are you talking about?â
He didnât answer right away. The anger was already sharpening, turning his jaw to stone. He could feel it in the way his fingers flexed inside yours, but pressing harder, almost accusing.
"just tell me?" his voice getting angrier somehow
Because if this was some new game, if you were part of it, if the clean white room, the way you looked at him like he was yours were all just another way to break himâthen heâd rather the club had finished its swing.
Your breath hitched, the sound soft and unsteady. You leaned in closer without thinking, âIâm not with anyone like that. I'm willow, and Iâm yours. Iâve been yours for years.â Your voice cracked, confusion and hurt braiding together until it was impossible to tell which was winning. " y-you even give me this ring, remember?" the ring on your finger catching the light like a taunt.
willow
It started low, a slow burn behind his ribs, the kind that had kept him alive for twenty years. He watched the way your shoulders tensed, the way your free hand hovered halfway to his cheek before dropping, trembling. That look, wide-eyed and lost, like heâd just spoken in a language you didnât understand, only fed the fire. Because if this was real, if you really didnât know what the fuck he was talking about, then either the world had gone completely insane⊠or you were lying to him. And the thought that you, of all people, this woman who kissed his forehead like it was a promise, might be lying made something ugly twist tight in his gut.
âJoel, babe. Thereâs no... thereâs no one who shot you. It was a car accident. On the highway. You swerved to avoid a truck and⊠and you donât remember any of that?â you went on, words tumbling faster now, laced with a panic that only made his chest burn hotter. Your free hand rose again, hovering near his face like you wanted to touch him and didnât dare.
A car accident. The words sounded so clean, so ordinary, they made his stomach turn.
He let out a short, bitter breath that scraped raw against his ruined throat. âA car accident,â he echoed, voice low and edged with disbelief. The anger was fully awake now, crawling higher, licking at the base of his throat. âYou expect me to believe that? After everything? After the way the world ended? Youâre telling me Iâve been lying here two months and the whole damn thing was just some fucking fender-bender in Austin, Texas?â
âwhat?⊠please, tell me whatâs going on in your head. I donât understand any of this. We... we can get through this. Us. you, me, the girlsââ The plea only stoked the anger higher.
He could see it in your eyesâthe genuine bewilderment, the way you looked at him like he was the one breaking something preciousâand it made him want to shove the words back at you, make you feel the same fracture splitting open inside him.
âYeah, well I donât understand a goddamn thing either,â he rasped, the roughness in his voice turning sharp, ugly. His fingers tightened around yours, not gentle anymore, the grip almost bruising. âOne minute Iâm on the floor in Jackson with Ellie screaming my name, the next I wake up in some fairy-tale hospital with a woman Iâve never seen before telling me weâve got daughters and a life in a city that shouldnât even be standing. So forgive me if Iâm having a hard time buying the âcar accidentâ story while you sit there looking at me like Iâve lost my mind and throwing around some bullshit about usââ
You flinched this time, but you didnât pull away.
And that, more than anything, unsettled him.
Are you out of your goddamn mind, kid? he thought. If this body werenât already half-dead on me, I could put you down easy. But you stayed there anyway, close enough for him to feel the warmth coming off your skin, close enough that your hand still rested against him like you had forgotten it was there. Joel watched the confusion in your eyes shift slowly into hurt, quiet and unguarded, and the sight of it only made something uglier coil tighter inside his chest.
Because part of him had already begun to believe you.
âJoel,â you whispered again, voice trembling now, âIâm not lying to you. I swear Iâm not. I donât know what have you been through to this, or Jackson, or any of it. I just know Iâve been sitting here every day waiting for you to wake up and come back to me. To us.â
The room felt smaller suddenly, the beeping monitors too loud, the space between your faces charged with everything neither of you could quite name. His anger simmered there, hot and restless, while your confusion pressed back like a mirror, reflecting every fracture until it felt like the beginning of an argument neither of you had the strength forâbut both of you were already stepping into.
The word us hit him like a gut punch.
His face twisted into something ugly, something mean and disbelieving, the kind of look he used to give raiders right before he pulled the trigger. Who the fuck is us? The thought roared through him, hot and vicious. There is no us between you and me. There never was. He didnât know you. He didnât want to know you. This soft, pleading stranger with her ring and her tears and her gentle hands had no right to that word.
âNo,â he said suddenly, his voice rough and low. âNo. No, thatâs not what happened.â
you turned to look at him. Joelâs breathing had grown sharper, the anxiety clawing its way back up his throat. He pushed himself up slightly against the pillows, ignoring the burn in his side.
âSomeone⊠a girl,â he continued, the words tumbling out faster, more urgent. âShe shot me in the knee. Point blank. Then she beat the shit out of me. She had this goddamn club and sheââ His voice cracked, but he forced the rest out. âShe swung it at my head. Thatâs what happened. Iâm not crazy. I didnât get hurt in some fucking car accident. I know what I felt. I know what I saw.â
The room went completely still.
âJoel⊠hey, what are you talking about? There was no girl. It was a car crash on I-35. You swerved, hit the guardrail hard. They had to cut you out of the truck.â
Joel shook his head, jaw tight, eyes wild with frustration. âNo. Youâre wrong. All of it is wrong.â His gaze flicked toward you by the window, then back to you. âI was in Jackson. Ellie was there. She was screaming at me to get up. This wasnât some accident on a highway that doesnât even exist anymore. This was real. The blood, the pain, the way my leg gave out .... that was real.â
His chest was heaving now, the panic rising again, hot and suffocating. He looked between the two of you like you were both part of some elaborate lie meant to break him.
âIâm telling you,â he rasped, voice cracking with exhaustion and anger, âa girl beat me half to death with a golf club. She wanted me to suffer. Thatâs the last thing I remember. Not some fucking truck. Not Austin. Not any of this.â
The silence that followed felt suffocating. you glanced at him helplessly, clearly at a loss.
Joelâs hands were shaking where they gripped the sheets. He didnât know who to trust anymore. Everything he said sounded insane even to his own ears, but it was the only truth he had left.
You cut him off mid-sentence, voice desperate, trying to reach the man you thought you still knew. âJoel, pleaseâjust breathe. tommy, ellie, and sarah are all waiting for you to wake up, okay. all of them is fine, there's no such a things like that, â
"Sarah." the name landed like a blade between his ribs. "she so worried about ya,"
His eyes snapped to yours, the kind of look that had once made grown men step back. Anger surged through him in a white-hot flood, pure and blinding, drowning everything else. How dare you say her name? How dare you speak it so casually, like it was just another word, like you had any right to it? It felt like mockery. Like you were twisting the knife in the oldest wound he had, the one that had never healed, the one that still bled every time he closed his eyes. Sarahâhis Sarah, his little girl, gone in a spray of bullets and screamsâwas not yours to claim. Not like this.
âWho the hell do you think you are?â he snarled, voice low and trembling with fury, the words scraping out like broken glass. âYou donât get to say her name. You donât get to stand there and mock me with it. My daughter is dead. Sheâs been dead for twenty goddamn years. And youâre using her name likeâlike itâs some fucking game to you?â
You blinked, confusion crashing over your face like cold water, eyes wide and glistening. âWho?" you asks. "Ellie? Sarah?â The names tumbled out of you in helpless bewilderment, soft and uncertain, as if testing them might make any of this real. his eyes snapped at you. âJoel, IâI donât understand. Sarahâs our-" joel see when you corrected yourself. "....your daughter. she is at school right now with Ellie and Tommy waiting for the doctor to say you're awake. Sheâs been so scaredââ
His eyes snapped again at the second mention of Sarah, harder this time, the rage and raw grief colliding until his vision blurred at the edges. The anger was everywhere now, choking him, making his chest heave with the effort not to shout.
Part of him wanted to tear his hand from yours, wanted to shove you back hard enough to wipe that look from your face, to split the hurt between you so he wouldnât have to carry it alone. The instinct came fast, ugly, familiar. Like anger was easier to survive than fear ever was.
But the other part of him: the worn-down, splintering part that had been holding itself together by habit alone, couldnât stop looking at you.
At the tears beginning to gather in your eyes, shining stubbornly even as you tried to blink them away. At the way your voice cracked around his name, soft and trembling, as though it meant something sacred to you. As though he meant something.
It was unbearable.
Not because you were weak.
Not because you pitied him.
But because you looked at him like you still believed there was something left in him worth reaching for.
And God, that was crueler than anything. Crueler than the pain in his body.
The room seemed to draw inward around the two of you, walls bending closer with every sharp pulse of the monitors. The sound filled the silence too loudly, too steadily, until even the air between your faces felt alive with it, thin and electric and breaking apart by inches.
Joel kept staring at you with that same ugly lookâsuspicion tangled with anger, exhaustion sitting underneath it all like something ancient and incurable. His hands trembled inside yours despite himself, not with weakness alone but with the effort of holding everything in. And your expression only undid him further: the confusion there, the hurt slowly opening across your face like light through cracked glass.
You looked at him as though you could not understand how someone already half-destroyed could still keep choosing to wound himself further.
The feeling hit him again before he could outrun it.
Anxiety came down hard and sudden, vicious as a storm breaking through rotten wood. His chest seized violently, breath catching halfway in as though invisible hands had wrapped around his ribs and begun tightening, until even the smallest inhale hurt. A sharp pain bloomed beneath his sternum, hot and blinding, spreading with every frantic beat of his heart.
"you okay?"
For one terrible second, he thought his body might simply split apart from it.
Old grief rose first. Then fear. Then something worse than both.
Because beneath the panic, beneath the confusion and fury and pain, there was the unbearable feeling that he was losing something again before he had even remembered what it was.
And you were still there, holding his shaking hands like they belonged to someone worth saving. but then, âI donât know who the fuck you are, okay?â The words tore out of him, raw and cruel, each one aimed to wound. âI donât know you. I donât remember your face, your voice, that goddamn ring on your fingerânone of it. You keep talking about us and daughters and some perfect little life like Iâm supposed to just nod and play along. But I donât feel any of that. Youâre a stranger to me. Youâre a fucking stranger holding my hand like you own it, saying my dead daughterâs name like itâs nothing, and I canâtââ
He stopped, breath ragged, the anxiety clawing higher, tighter, making his voice shake with something ugly.
âI wake up and everythingâs gone. Jackson. Ellie. Tommy. My Sarah. And instead I get you. Some woman Iâve never seen before telling me Iâve got a whole family I donât remember. How the hell do you think that feels? Like Iâm losing my goddamn mind. Or maybe I already lost it and this is the joke.â
The words landed like stones. He saw them hit you â watched the way your shoulders curved inward, the way your lips pressed together to trap whatever sound wanted to escape. He saw the fresh hurt bloom in your eyes, bright and devastating, and still he couldnât stop the poison spilling out.
âYou want me to believe youâre mine? That I chose this? That I gave you that ring and built some goddamn white-picket life in a city that shouldnât exist anymore?â His laugh was bitter, broken. âI donât even know if I could love someone like that anymore. Not after everything. Certainly not someone I canât remember.â
But even as the venom left him, even as the anger tried to keep its grip, something inside his chest fractured wider.
He looked at your eyes: They were the saddest eyes he had ever seen in his life. for one brief second, felt something close to shame crawl beneath his skin.
Not just guilt but the terrible understanding that he was hurting someone who did not deserve to be hurt.
A tear slipped from your eye before you could stop it. Joel watched it trace a slow path down your cheek, catching the pale hospital light as it fell. And then came the flush blooming beneath your skin, delicate and sudden, spreading across your face like your body itself was embarrassed by the honesty of your grief.
You looked away for half a second, as if ashamed to be seen hurting in front of him.
That nearly undid him. Because beneath the exhaustion and the confusion and the anger twisting inside his chest, you suddenly looked unbearably young to him. Young in the way bruised things are open and exposed. Still foolish enough to care. And God, he did not know what to do with that.
Something tightened low in his stomach, sharp and uncomfortable, almost like grief but not quite. The sight of your tears made him feel clumsy inside his own skin, like his hands had become dangerous things without him noticing. Like every hard word he threw at you landed somewhere tender he hadnât meant to touch. For the first time since waking up, Joel looked at you not like a threat, not like a stranger hovering too close to his bedâ
but like someone he might already have ruined.
Joel watched as you lifted your hand and wiped the tear away roughly, almost angrily, like you were punishing yourself for letting it fall in front of him. The motion was jerky, ungraceful, nothing like the gentle way you had touched him earlier. It hurt more than he expected it to.
Then something buzzed in your pocket.
You pulled out a slim, sleek rectangle, a phone? but not like any phone or even radio they usually use, he remembered from before the outbreak. those thick and got keyboard on it. but now It look too thin as the screen glowing bright and alive with color. Just a perfectly functioning piece of the old world, as if the last twenty years had never happened. Joel stared at it, a fresh wave of unease crawling over his skin. Phones didnât work anymore. Not like that. Seeing it in your hand felt wrong. Unnatural. Like proof that none of this was real.
you glanced at the screen, hesitated, then answered.
âHey⊠no need, can you just come here, pleaseâ you said, your voice quieter now, trying to steady itself.
You turned slightly away from him, but not enough to hide anything. Joel could still see the shine of tears in your eyes, the way your free hand gripped the edge of the bed until your knuckles paled. âNo, heâs awake. He just woke up a little while ago.â someone on other side say something, and you says. "yeah, he talking, i mean we are,"
He watched you the whole time.
His eyes didnât leave your face, not even for a second. There was a tight, animal caution in his chest, the old instinct still working even though his body felt half-broken. Part of him kept waiting for the shift â for your hand to move suddenly, for something sharp to appear, for the gentleness to crack open and reveal what was really underneath. He wouldnât have been surprised if you pulled a gun. In his experience, that was how these things usually ended.
While you were still on the phone, he turned his head slowly to the side, jaw clenched against the pain that flared down his neck. Through the gap in the thin curtain, the window showed him the city. They were high up. Very high. Buildings stood straight and whole, lights moving along the streets below, everything clean and ordinary in a way that made his stomach feel hollow. It didnât look like a world that had ended. It looked like one that had simply kept going without him.
âOkay,â you said into the phone, voice quiet and tired. âCan you tell the doctor on the way here? Yeah⊠okay.â
You hung up and slipped the phone back into your pocket. For a moment you stood completely still, looking down at the floor like you needed the extra second to collect yourself. Then you lifted your head and met his eyes again.
Joel didnât say anything. He just watched you. The flush was still on your cheeks, faint now, and your eyes were red at the edges. You had wiped the tear away so roughly it was like you were annoyed at yourself for crying. He noticed the small things how your fingers kept gripping the edge of the bed rail, even after everything he had said, the way your shoulders carried a weight that wasnât just physical.
âTommyâs downstairs,â you said quietly, without looking at him. âHeâs going to come up in a minute.â
The squeaking sound of the chair cut through the silence like a small wound.
You dragged it back toward the wall with a slow, tired scrape, the rubber legs protesting against the linoleum. Joel tensed instantly, every muscle in his battered body pulling tight. His pulse spiked. For one sharp, instinctive second he was certain you were going to lift it â swing it hard across the room and bring it down on his head, finishing what the world had started. He braced for it, breath shallow, eyes never leaving you.
But you didnât.
You simply collapsed into the chair, throwing your body down as if all the strength had suddenly left your legs. The movement was heavy, defeated. You curled forward, back rounding like a question mark, elbows digging into your knees, and buried your face in your palms. The posture was so raw, so private, that Joel felt he shouldnât be watching. For a moment he was sure you were going to cry, really cry! the kind of crying that tore itself out of the chest and refused to be quiet.
He waited for the sound of it.
Instead, you stiffened, as though reminding yourself you were still in the room with him. You straightened your back just enough to look composed, though your shoulders stayed heavy and your head remained low. Your gaze fixed on the floor between your feet. Then, almost absentmindedly, your fingers began to move â tracing the band of the ring on your left hand, turning it slowly, nervously, around and around your finger like it was the only real thing left in the world.
Joel watched the small motion with a strange ache blooming behind his ribs. The way the light caught on the simple silver band as you twisted it. The way your thumb kept brushing over it, again and again, as if checking it was still there. As if checking he was still there.
There was something unbearably intimate about it. Something that made the air feel thick and warm between you, even with all the distance and silence and cruel words he had thrown at you earlier. He could see the exhaustion in every line of your body, the quiet war you were fighting just to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.
And still, those eyes, when they eventually lifted again, held that same devastating softness.
He didnât know what to do with any of it. The fear, the suspicion, the strange pull in his chest. So he simply kept watching you, silent and unsettled, as the fluorescent light hummed above you both and the city glowed indifferently beyond the window.
The silence stretched between you for a long moment, heavy and alive.
Then you lifted your head slightly, eyes still fixed somewhere near the floor, and asked in a voice so soft it barely disturbed the air:
âYou donât really remember me at all, do you?â
The question came out small and fragile, almost apologetic for existing. With it, a sad smile touched your lips â weak, trembling at the edges, the kind of smile that wasnât really a smile at all. It was more like surrender. A small, tired curve that knew it wouldnât reach your eyes and didnât even try. It made something inside Joel tighten painfully.
He stared at you, chest still aching from the earlier surge of anxiety, his body heavy against the hospital bed. The question hung there, simple and devastating. He could see the way your fingers kept turning the ring around and around, slower now, as though the motion could steady you.
For a second he didnât answer. He just looked at that weak, sorrowful smile and felt the strange weight of it settle deep in his stomach. It wasnât fair. None of this was fair. You were looking at him like he had once meant everything, while all he could offer back was confusion and suspicion and the cold certainty that he had never seen your face before today.
âNo,â he said finally, his voice low and rough, scraped raw from disuse. âI donât.â
Your sad little smile faltered but didnât disappear completely. It only became sadder, thinner, as if you had already known the answer but still needed to hear it out loud. Your eyes shimmered again, that unbearable softness returning full force, and Joel felt the now-familiar twist in his chest â guilt and something else he didnât want to name it.
You nodded once, barely perceptible, still playing with the ring like it was a lifeline.
âokay... â you whispered, almost to yourself. âat least you didn't forgot your family.â
You simply sat there in the chair, back slightly curved, wearing that small, broken smile like armor, while the city lights glowed quietly beyond the window and the distance between you felt wider than ever.
Joel kept watching you, unable to look away, the image of that weak smile burning itself into him long after you lowered your gaze again.
His eyes were fixed on you as you shook your head, then you let out a small, broken sound, almost like a chuckle in disbelief at what had happened.
âI donât know whatâs worse, Joel. That you donât remember me⊠or that some part of me still believes if I just wait long enough, youâll come back to me anyway. Even though I can see in your eyes that you already left.â
Joel felt the words sink into him like hooks.
Something heavy and painful lodged itself in his throat. He stared at you, at that small, devastated smile still clinging to your lips, at the way your shoulders curved like the weight of loving him was slowly crushing you. The anxiety in his chest tightened again, but this time it was mixed with a guilt so sharp it almost made him flinch.
Jesus Christ, he thought. How do you say something like that to a man who doesnât even know your name? How do you sit there and bleed like this for someone who looks at you like a threat?
He hated it. He hated how your sadness made him feel small. He hated that some broken part of him wanted to reach out and touch your hand anyway. Most of all, he hated that he had nothing real to give you.
âI donât know what you want me to say,â he rasped finally, his voice low and rough, almost angry at how unsteady it sounded. âI canât lie to you. I look at you and⊠I feel nothing. Not the way you want me to. Thereâs just this blank space where you say my life used to be.â
He swallowed hard, eyes dropping to your hands, to that ring you kept touching like a wound.
âIâm sorry,â he muttered, the words feeling foreign and insufficient on his tongue. âIâm sorry youâre hurting like this. But I didnât ask for any of it. I didnât ask for you to wait two months by my bed. I didnât ask for daughters I donât remember. I woke up and everything I know is gone⊠and youâre looking at me like Iâm supposed to fix that. Like Iâm supposed to love you when I donât even know who the hell you are.â
He met your eyes again, his own gaze tired and conflicted.
âIâm not him,â he said quietly, almost gently this time. âWhoever the man was who looked at you like you were his whole world⊠I ainât him. Not anymore. Maybe I never will be again.â
Joel looked away toward the window, jaw tight, the city lights blurring slightly in his vision. Inside his chest, the guilt twisted deeper. Because even as he said the words, even as he tried to push you away, a small, terrified part of him wondered if he was making the biggest mistake of his life by letting someone who loved him this much slip through his fingers.
You looked at him for a long moment with those blank eyes, eyes so full of sadness they seemed emptied of everything else. There was no anger left in them, no fight. Just a vast, quiet exhaustion that made the room feel colder.
Then a sudden scoff from you that broke the silence, almost a sneer, like you were disgusted with yourself for still caring.
âi hope you do a little better and put a effort when you see the girls,â you said, your voice low and flat. âTheyâre your daughters. Youâre their only hope right now.â
He stared at you as you said them. There was no longer any plea in them, only a weary resignation that somehow hurt more than any accusation. Joel watched as you pushed yourself up from the chair. Your movements were slow, heavy, like your body had grown too heavy to carry. You walked over to the large window he had been glancing at earlier and pulled the thin curtain open with one sharp tug. afternoon light flooded the room, softer and warmer than the harsh fluorescent glow. The city stretched out beneath you... alive, glowing, impossibly intact.
Joel stared past you at the view, his chest tightening again at the sight of a world that refused to match his memories. You stood there with your back to him, arms wrapped around yourself, silhouetted against the glass. The light caught in your hair and made the ring on your finger glint faintly. You didnât turn around. You didnât say anything else. You just stood there, looking out at the city like it might give you answers he couldnât.
Joel felt something shift uncomfortably inside him. Those blank, sorrow-filled eyes stayed burned into his mind even now that you werenât facing him. He wanted to look away, but he couldnât. The silence between you felt thicker than before â full of everything you hadnât said, and everything he didnât know how to feel.
He stayed quiet, watching the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders, wondering how much longer you could keep holding yourself together when he kept breaking you apart.
The door burst open.
Both of you turned at the sound, your body pivoting fully from the window in one fluid, instinctive motion, no longer offering him your back. The golden sunlight that had been outlining your silhouette now spilled across your front, catching in your eyes and illuminating the quiet exhaustion etched into your features. Joel felt the shift like a current passing through the room. Your gaze landed on him first before moving to Tommy.
Tommy came in fast, boots loud against the floor, breathing hard like he had run the whole way from wherever bad news lived in this too-bright city. The rush of air that followed him carried the scent of outsideâdust, engine oil, and the faint metallic tang of evening settling over concrete. His hair was disheveled, jacket half-buttoned, eyes wide with that familiar mix of panic and fierce love Joel almost recognized.
âJoelâJesus Christ, willow said you were awake,â Tommyâs voice cracked as he crossed the room in long strides, stopping short when he saw you standing by the window, rigid and silent. "Jesus, you scared the hell out of us." His gaze flicked between the two of you, reading the thick air, the way your arms hugged your ribs like armor. Something in Tommyâs face softened with understanding, then tightened again with worry.
Tommy obviously knew you. There had been no hesitation in his brother when he looked at you, none of that suspicion Joel had first clung to because suspicion was easier than the alternative. Easier than believing you were exactly what you said you were.
Because if Tommy knew you, really knew you, then you hadnât lied to him.
Which meant the look on your face earlier had been real too. The silence after his cruel words. The way your mouth parted slightly, as if you had almost said something back before deciding against it. He remembered it now with painful clarity. That quiet kind of hurt people try to hide because they donât think theyâre allowed to feel it in the first place.
And God, he had done that to you.
heâd rather die than speak to you now, knowing he was the one who hurt you.
...
YOU (WILLOW)
You sat in the parking lot with the food balanced on your lap, the paper bag already going translucent with grease. The Coke beside you had started sweating down the cup, dampening the fabric of your coat where it rested against your thigh. You could hear children somewhere outside laughing too loudly, backpacks slamming against lockers, car doors opening and closing in quick succession. Life continuing with this terrible ease.
when the doctor spoke, somehow made it worse.
Like if he had sounded alarmed, or uncertain, or visibly disturbed by any of this, maybe you could have matched his emotion properly. But he spoke in that careful, measured tone doctors used when they had already accepted the situation long before you had.
You sat across from him in the consultation room with your hands clasped so tightly together your knuckles hurt. There was a coffee stain on the sleeve of your sweater from two days ago. Or maybe three. You couldnât really remember anymore. Time had begun collapsing strangely since the accident. Nights folding into mornings without edges between them.
âHe remembers his brother,â you said. âhis daughters.â
The doctor nodded once. âYes.â
You stared at him. The fluorescent light above buzzed softly. Somewhere outside the room a phone rang twice and stopped. âBut not me.â
Another pause.
You hated the pauses most. The pauses were where reality entered the room.
âMemory retrieval after brain trauma can be selective,â he explained. âSometimes emotionally significant memories remain accessible. Sometimes certain relationships become⊠disconnected temporarily.â
Disconnected. The word made something sharp twist low in your stomach.
âHe knew me before,â you said.
âYes.â
âHe loved me.â you murmur.
The doctor lowered his eyes briefly then. Not avoiding the question exactly. Just moving carefully around it, like somebody stepping over broken glass.
âI understand that.â
âNo, I donât think you do.â Your voice sounded strange suddenly. âBecause if he remembers Ellie, and Tommy, and Sarah, then why not me?â
The question stayed there between you.
Why not me.
You realized then that you had been thinking it over and over since Joel opened his eyes.
Not: Will he recover?
Not: Will things go back to normal?
Just: Why not me.
The doctor folded his hands together on the desk. âThe brain doesnât organize memory according to fairness,â he said gently.
You almost laughed at that, not because it was funny, because the sentence felt obscene somehow. Fairness. As though this had anything to do with fairness anymore.
âHe looked at me,â you said after a moment. âLike I frightened him.â
The doctor didnât answer immediately. You kept speaking anyway because stopping felt impossible now.
âHe kept asking for Ellie. He remembered Sarah immediately. Tommy too. He remembered things that apparently donât even exist anymore inside his head. But when he looked at me,â your throat tightened suddenly. âNothing. There was just nothing.â
Your voice cracked slightly on the last word and you looked down immediately, embarrassed by it. The doctor waited. You hated that too. The patience. The gentleness. As though your grief had become medically predictable.
âBut he did know me,â you insisted again, quieter this time. âYou understand that, right? We've been together like... almost five years. seeing him every single day, and we-we going to married, and-and i don't know have another kid. He used toâŠâ You stopped.
'Used to' is the saddest phrases you could ever say. The phrase hollowed something inside your chest.
The doctor leaned back slightly in his chair.âMiss Grant,â he said carefully, âpeople often assume memory is purely factual. But autobiographical attachment is extremely complicated. Sometimes after trauma the brain preserves certain identities while suppressing others associated with emotional intensity, stress, or disorientation.â
You blinked at him. Suppressing others. The words sounded almost violent.
âSo Iâm stressful?â you asked.
âNo, thatâs not what I mean.â
âThen what do you mean?â
He hesitated.
And again you thought:
there it is.
That terrible little hesitation before somebody says something that changes your life permanently.
âWhat I mean,â he said slowly, âis that memory loss is not always random. Sometimes the mind protects itself in ways we donât fully understand.â
You stared at him for a long moment. Then shook your head immediately. âNo.â
He stayed silent.
âNo,â you repeated. âBecause that makes it sound intentional.â
âIâm not suggesting he chose this.â
âBut why me?â you asked again, suddenly unable to stop. âWhy am I the missing part? Why does he remember everyone except me?â
Your voice had gone thin now. Almost shaking.
You pressed your palms hard against your eyes for a second, breathing carefully.
âHe remembered his daughters,â you whispered. âDo you understand how strange that is? He remembers being a father. Just not being my.....â
The doctorâs expression softened almost imperceptibly.
And somehow that softness finally broke something in you.
âHe used to know me better than anyone,â you said quietly. âHe used to look at me andâŠâ You swallowed hard. âGod. He used to look at me like I was home to him.â
The room stayed silent after that.
Then finally, very softly, the doctor said:
âI know this is painful.â
And the strange thing was, hearing him say painful almost made you angry. Because painful sounded far too small a word for what this actually was.
Painful was a migraine.
A broken wrist.
Bad news over the phone.
Because if Joel truly felt nothing, this would actually be simpler. Cleaner. You could grieve properly then. People survived rejection every day. Survived divorce. Survived widowhood.
But this was something stranger.
He looked at you like there was something inside him trying unsuccessfully to reach toward you through locked glass.
And maybe that was the cruelest possibility of all. To still exist somewhere inside another person without them being able to find you.
...
You took another bite of the burger because your body needed something, even if your mind rejected the idea of eating entirely. The meat tasted too salty now. Or maybe that was just the tears reaching the corners of your mouth. You wiped your face with the heel of your hand and stared through the windshield at nothing in particular.
Itâs strange, you thought. How quickly a person can become lonely inside their own life.
Not even this morning, Joel had still known your name. Maybe not speaking it, because he was unconscious and machines had been breathing for him and the doctors kept using words like pressure and swelling and wait. But somewhere underneath all that, he had still belonged to you in the ordinary way husbands belong to their wives. His toothbrush still sat beside yours at home. His coffee mug still waited in the sink. The flannel he wore most often was still hanging over the chair in your bedroom because you hadnât washed it yet. It smelled too much like him.
And now suddenly you were somebody standing at the edge of his bed introducing yourself like a stranger.
The thought made your stomach turn violently. You laughed a little under your breath then, though there was nothing funny in it. What are you supposed to do with a relationship after only one person remembers it?
You kept thinking maybe there was a correct way to behave. Some proper version of yourself that would make this easier for him. Less frightening. Maybe if you had not cried. Maybe if you had touched him less. Maybe if you had not looked so devastated every time he stared at you blankly.
But then another thought came immediately after. No, because even if you had done everything perfectly, he still would not remember you.
That was the unbearable thing. You rested your forehead briefly against the steering wheel. You still had to pick up the girls.
Your eyes burned from crying.
You took another bite of the burger and forced yourself to eat half because otherwise Tommy would notice later. Tommy noticed things. Not in the way Joel did, quietly and immediately, but eventually. Like a storm warning arriving a little after the rain had already started.
The burger had gone lukewarm.
You chewed anyway.
People always say grief steals your appetite. This had never been true for you. Grief did not make you less hungry. It simply made eating feel absurd. The body continuing with its ordinary needs while the heart behaved like something mortally wounded.
You chewed slowly.
A girl crossed the parking lot holding hands with her father. She was laughing at something he said, head tilted back completely without caution, the way children laugh when they trust somebody absolutely.
You had loved Joel for years before you realized the frightening part of it wasnât losing him.
It was building an entire life around somebody until your memories no longer made sense without them inside it.
You thought about the hospital room again. Joel looking at you with suspicion first. Then anger. Then something worse afterward. Guilt.
That part stayed with you.
Because underneath all his fear, he had looked ashamed after making you cry. As though some instinct inside him still recoiled from hurting you even when his mind no longer understood why.
The thought settled into your chest strangely warm and painful at once. Maybe memory lived somewhere deeper than the brain. Somewhere inside the body itself. Or maybe you were becoming pathetic now. The kind of woman who searched for signs of love in tiny meaningless gestures because the larger thing had already disappeared.
You swallowed hard.
You rested your forehead briefly against the steering wheel. Your chest tightened until breathing hurt.
if you hold back on the emotions, if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them, you can never get to being detached. You stay afraid of them.
You wondered if that was true.
Because lately you felt like all you had done was feel.
Fear.
Hope.
Relief.
Then grief.
Then hope again.
Then grief again.
An endless cycle.
The doctor had told you memory loss was complicated. That emotional pathways could survive even when memories disappeared. That Joel might still feel connected to you in ways he couldn't explain.
Might. Such a terrible word and hope lives inside words like might. So does suffering, You took another bite, chewed slowly.
The truth was, you had spent two months preparing yourself for almost every outcome imaginable.
For a second you honestly considered driving somewhere else entirely. Just continuing down the highway without stopping. Leaving the city. Leaving the hospital. Leaving the terrible ache of being looked at by your husband like you were some woman who wandered accidentally into his room.
But the thought vanished almost immediately because there was nowhere you could go where your life would not follow you.
You closed your eyes briefly. For one absurd moment, you think it might be easier to choke on the burger and die right here in the school parking lot. Not because you want to dieâyou don't. That's the strange thing. You want tomorrow. You want coffee in the morning. You want Sarah yelling from upstairs that she can't find her shoes even though they're exactly where she left them. You want Ellie stealing fries and denying it with complete sincerity. You want Joel. More specifically, you want the version of Joel who knows you. But grief has a way of making death seem less frightening than absence. Because death, at least, is honest. Death closes the door and leaves you outside it. This is different. This is being invited inside and discovering nobody recognizes your face.
You imagine the burger catching in your throat, imagine the panic of it, the desperate search for air, and think how ridiculous it would be for your life to end over fast food and heartbreak. Then again, heartbreak itself feels ridiculous. You spend years building a life with someone. You memorize the way they take their coffee, the shape of their silences, the exact look they get when they're trying not to laugh. They become woven into your days so completely that you stop noticing where they end and you begin. And then one morning they wake up and look at you like a stranger.
You swallow hard and feel the food move painfully down your throat. No, you don't want to die. What you want is far more impossible than that. You want to walk back into that hospital room and have Joel look at you the way he did yesterday. You want him to remember why he loved you. You want, just for five minutes, to stop feeling like you're mourning someone who is still alive.
Then you heard knock on the car window and Ellieâs voice outside the car.
âWilly?â
You looked up too fast, wiping your face immediately with both hands, still chewing the last bite of burger like an idiot. Ellie stood a few feet away outside the passenger window, backpack hanging off one shoulder, staring at you with that sharp, observant expression that always made you feel transparently human.
For one horrible second neither of you said anything. Then Ellie frowned slightly.
ââŠyou okay?â
am i okay?
next chapter đč (still working on it⊠coming soon I promise)
Context: domestic fluff, mentioned: baby, kiss, age gap (not specific).
Oh my god, this is my very first written fanfic, and Iâm honestly so nervous posting it. I really hope anyone who reads it enjoys it. Sorry itâs so short, I have a lot more sitting in my drafts, Iâm just a little scared to share it (for now). đđđđ
They were tangled together on the bed in that lazy, end-of-day way, legs overlapping, pillows crooked, the room lit only by the warm spill of a lamp on the nightstand. He lay on his back, one arm stretched above his head, scrolling through Instagram with half-focus. She was beside him on her stomach, laptop open, tabs multiplying like she had no intention of stopping.
Every few seconds sheâd hum, or gasp quietly, or mutter 'oh wait this oneâs cute.'
He glanced over. âYouâre shopping like itâs a competitive sport.â
âIt is,â she said seriously. Then she turned the screen toward him. âOkay. Be honest. Would you wear this? Like, daily. Besides your band T-shirts.â
He leaned over, squinting, hair falling into his eyes. He studied it longer than she expected.
âI love the color,â he said finally. Purple. Black. White.
Her face lit up. âI knew it.â
She scrolled again, faster now, confidence unlocked. âAnd these, carpenter jeans. Tell me they wouldnât look sooo goooddd and hawt on you.â
The way she said hot came out all wrong, stretched and breathy and absolutely unintentional.
Then he paused, frowning slightly, thinking. âWhat do you young people call it?â
She looked at him, already laughing. âWhat young people?â
He pointed at the screen, nodding like he had it. âThat one. Oh, interest boyfriend?!â
She lost it, laughter spilling out of her as she fell back against the pillows. âPinterest boyfriend,â she corrected, still smiling too big.
âOh,â he said, pretending to absorb the information seriously. âThat sounds dangerous.â
He shook his head, smiling to himself, thumb still idly moving on his phone. For a moment it was just that, fabric, colors, the quiet intimacy of existing side by side.
Then, without looking up, she said, far too casually,
âSoooo⊠if we have babies,...â
He stopped scrolling and turned his head. âBabies?â he repeated. âPlural?â
She looked at him, offended. âSir, you interrupted me in the middle of my sentence.â
He raised his hands slightly, surrendering, amused. âSorry. Please keep going.â
She took a breath, suddenly more serious, eyes fixed somewhere past the screen. âYeah. Maybe two. Or three.â She shrugged, but there was weight behind it. âIâm fine with it as long as Iâm with you forever.â
That did something to him. He shifted onto his side, phone forgotten now, watching her carefully.
âI was an only child,â she continued. âItâs boring. You donât have someone to play with. Or argue with. Or make up with after.â She smiled softly, almost to herself. âSo yeah. More than one.â
He nodded slowly. âOkay,â he said. âKeep going, maâam.â
She laughed under her breath, then tilted her head. âSo. Names.â
He groaned happily. âOh, weâre really doing this.â
âBoy or girl,â she said. âDo they have to be Latino names or what?â
He didnât even hesitate. âI mean⊠Iâd like that.â
She rolled her eyes affectionately. âOf course you would.â
She watched him, melting a little, because his voice changed when he said them, softer, fuller, like he was already carrying something precious.
âAnd if itâs a girl...â He paused, smiling like this was his favorite part. âLucĂa. SofĂa. Valentina.â
Her entire body reacted before she could stop it. She groaned and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. âYou cannot say girl names like that.â
He propped himself up on one elbow, genuinely confused. âLike what?â
âLike youâre already in love with them,â she said, laughing, overwhelmed. âItâs illegal.â
He leaned over and kissed her temple, slow and sure. âI probably would be.â
Her chest tightened. She turned to look at him, smile small but real. âYeah,â she said quietly. âI know.â
But he wasnât done.
âCamila,â he added thoughtfully.
âIsabela.â
âAnd maybe MarĂa, no, wait," he corrected himself, and she broke into a wide smile, "...MarĂa Elena.â
She burst out laughing, rolling toward him and slapping a hand over his mouth. âYou stop. Youâre done. No more.â
He laughed into her palm, eyes crinkling, then kissed the center of her hand, slow and deliberate, just to make her laugh harder. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, still giggling.
âYouâre doing it on purpose,â she accused.
He gently pulled her hand away. âYou donât like it?â
âI like it too much,â she said.
He opened his mouth, clearly about to add another name.
She kissed him before he could lean in, quick and certain, as if afraid sheâd lose her nerve. His breath caught.
Pedro followed her instinctively, tilting his head, letting the kiss linger just long enough for want to show. His tongue brushed the seam of her lips, not pushing, just asking. She answered with a soft bite to his bottom lip, gentle but deliberate, a warning disguised as affection.
It pulled a smile from him, slow and helpless, like he already knew this was as far as they were allowed to go, and that made it worse.
He smiled into the kiss, one hand sliding to her waist, grounding her there. When they pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
âOkay,â he said, breath warm against her skin. âIâll behave.â
She smiled, eyes bright. âThank you.â
âFor now,â he added.
She laughed and kissed him again just to be safe, her macbook still open, shopping cart abandoned, both of them perfectly content letting the future stay right there between them, imagined and glowing, unrushed.
Iâm always open to requests, so if thereâs anything youâd like to see, feel free to tell me, Iâd love to write it. đ Thxxxx xoxo
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Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
MASTER LIST
Part 1
Disclaimer - I don't beta my work, and English is not my first language, so sorry if there are errors.
Joel didnât think anyone was there after him. He had thought the car next to his truck was a teachers. He felt so embarrassed that she saw him cry, though she was crying herself, it seemed. He had smiled at her, a sad, understanding smile that only a parent in his predicament could give another.
And she gave one equally sad, understanding smile right back at him.
If he had to guess, it was her childâs first day of school too.
See? Thereâs nothing to be embarrassed about, lots of parents felt sad on their childrenâs first day of school. So he wasnât exactly alone, nor was he dramatic.
He watched as the lady got in her car, took a deep breath, wiped her face and drove off.
He started his truck up to leave too, a smile suddenly appearing on his lips. The small, sad, reciprocating smile the lady gave him didnât leave his mind. Still kind and understanding despite her own sadness. He really should find her later, thank her for seemingly understanding his situation.
Maybe beg her to not blab to the other moms about him crying like a little girl in his truck.
Finding out what her name was wouldnât be a bad idea either.
Wait, who said that?
âHey Daze,â Joel greeted, swiping the newly fallen leaves off his wifeâs headstone. He was there just the day before with Sarah, and already the leaves were starting to cover her grave. Fall was definitely coming. His eyes fell to the base of the headstone, noticing the handful of daisies in the vase. He looked around, looking for anyone that might have been there before him, but saw no one.
He was there less than 24 hours ago. Itâs not even 10am yet. There was no flowers in the vase when he left yesterday. He had never left her flowers. She hated it when he bought her flowers. He wasnât exactly flush with money when they started dating, and she chastised him for buying her flowers for their first date, telling him it was a waste of money. Tommy wasnât in town, Tess just told him that she wasnât visiting until today, so it couldnât have been them. They never left her flowers, even if they visited.
So, who left the flowers?
Ignore it, youâre here to tell your late wife about your daughterâs first day of school, he told himself.
He rearranged the flowers, swiping more leaves off her gravestone, running his pointer finger through the petals, admiring them before he could help himself.
âYou have an admirer, it seems,â he joked. âShould I be jealous?â he laughed. âAnywayâŠâ he sighed.
Images of the crying lady he just saw at the school flashed in his mind.
What the fuck was that? You were at your wifeâs headstone, Joel Miller.
He was just emotional, is all. He related to her. She seemed sad to leave her child too, just like he was. Itâs nothing to feel guilty over. It was innocent.
âI just dropped our daughter at school. You should have seen how brave she was, Daze. She didnât cry at all. In fact, she was the one who coaxed me,â he laughed. âYouâd be so proud of her honey, shot out the door this morning before I finish cutting her sandwich crust off! She definitely didnât get that from me, I hated school. So, this is all you, honey, sheâs gonna grow up smart like you, thank God.â
He fell silent for a while.
âI canât even⊠you have no idea how much I wish you were here today. Iâm scared honey. Sheâs growing up so fast. I donât know if I can do thisâŠâ he said, his fingers picking up stray leaves and the off grass off the ground.
He was quiet for a beat, as if listening to someone. He huffed, rolling his eyes.
âDonât you start about that now. Tommy already gave me enough grief about that. You know he tried to introduce me to yet another one of his rejects? Sandy something. Or was it Samantha? I donât know⊠I just⊠I canât⊠I donât have the mental capacity for it anymore, honey. You know me. I donât do these things. You had to do it for me back then, remember? You decided to ask me out, you proposed to me, I just did what you wanted honey, I donât⊠I donât know how to⊠I just keep thinking â what if theyâre mean to Sarah? Sheâs all I have in my mind right now. I donât know. Iâm not thinking about it.â
It was true. He was too busy â his parents passed when Tommy was 16. He took over, didnât go to college, not that he was ever clever enough to go, got a job, and focused on getting his brother through life. He wasnât thinking about himself. Even when he saw Daisy for the first time at the diner where she worked, despite feeling as if he was electrocuted, he didnât do anything. Flustered so badly he kept dripping coffee all over his front whenever she talked to him. She finally put a stop to his clumsy attempts to show her how much he liked her by pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting directly across from him and promptly declared they were on their first date. And he hadnât looked at another since.
Five years. Sarah had gone to school, and he still hadnât been on a proper date. He had a one night stand with someone he met at a bar maybe three years ago, but he lay there in bed after, feeling so empty and guilty he just wanted to leave. And of course, he felt worse when he did. He didnât even leave her his number. Just disappeared and never went back to that bar.
He didnât have any connection with her at all. It was just sex, nothing like what he had with Daisy. People kept telling him that he should open his heart for another, Sarah was too young, she needed a mother figure. But even when thinking about his little girl, he couldnât do it.
He was simply not ready.
Eddie, his late brother in law had asked him over for dinner many times, him and Tess attempting to fix him up with this lady and that, the poor lady always ended up feeling hurt and annoyed by the time dinner was over. âThis was what Daze would have wanted for you, for Sarah,â Eddie had said, but he simply hugged his brother in law good night and left.
Tommy, on the other hand, was just interested in getting him laid. Simply because he was too grumpy to be around anymore. âMaybe if you take the edge off, youâd be in a better mood,â he had jested. âAt least do it manually. When was the last time you did that?â
Joel wanted to punch his brother. Sarah sleeps next door to him. He wasnât going to do that with Sarah next door. And he never locks his door at night, in case Sarah had a nightmare. He never locked the bathroom door either when he showered, in case Sarah needed him. What if she walked in? No⊠it was not worth the risk. And he was never, ever going to let Sarah have a sleepover at Tessâs or Tommyâs dingy bachelorâs pad.
So, no. No more women for him. Not until Sarah leaves for college. That, or until she meets a man and gets married, which, if things go according to his plan, wonât be until sheâs 50.
âAnyway⊠I just wanted to come by and let you know how today went. Tried talking to you in my backyard like Tess suggested, but itâs just weird. Talking to you here feels more⊠purposeful, you know? At least I know you are here. Iâll come back tomorrow and tell you about the after school news.â
He stood up, picking up his jacket from the ground. âLove you honey. See you tomorrow,â he pressed his fingers to his lips, pressing them to her name on the headstone, his eyes on the daisies. âAnd tell you secret admirer you have a husband, okay? No hanky-panky!â he joked, before turning around and leaving.
He doesnât cry for her anymore. He was all cried out the day he put her in the ground, that, and all the nights since that he cried himself to sleep in the year that followed, especially when he got overwhelmed. He found it frustrating, but he simply couldnât. It wasnât as if she could do anything about it. And knowing her, she wouldnât want him to waste his tears on her. He had Sarah to worry about now.
After a lot of Googling and arguing with Dina (who did the Googling for him), it turned out all he needed to cut the crusts of a sandwich without squishing the bread was a knife. Not just any knife, a serrated knife, it seemed. He didnât even know there was such a thing as a bread knife.
Sigh⊠yet one more thing he was lacking in the parental department.
So there he was, staring at knives at the local chain superstore, wondering how his life had come to this â standing in the kitchen aisle of a store, looking at knives to cut off the crusts off his daughterâs sandwiches.
Why were there so many different bread knives? He didnât even know these existed, and now suddenly there were so many to choose from? There were simple ones, fancy ones, cheap ones, expensive ones.
Holy shit.
He didnât know some knives could cost that much. Do the more expensive ones mean better sandwiches? Do the sandwiches make themselves? Would he still have to buy the ingredients or would the knives procure them out of thin air?
He must have been so obviously stumped. Someone with a cart full of boxes approached him and asked if he needed any help.
Hey, itâs you. That lady from the parking lot. The one who was crying, just like he was.
âYou okay, sir? You need any help?â
Joel found himself staring at you instead of the knives. Now that you were right in front of him, without the smeared glass that was his window and the tears in his eyes blurring his sight, your features struck him like lightning. Your skin, your eyes, your hair, your lips.
He found his tongue swollen, constricting his vocal cords. His face got all hot, he was pretty sure he had started sweating, all for no reason whatsoever.
The heck?
âSir?â
âAre you okay?â he dumbly asked.
You were startled by his question. âIâm sorry?â
Joel suddenly realized how dumb his question was. âSorry, I saw you this morning, in the parking lot, at school. Are you okay?â
Oh.
âYou were the man in the truck next to me,â you scratched your forehead, feeling embarrassed. âSorry, I didnât recognize you. I was too busy being a big baby,â you awkwardly joked.
He gave a small laugh. âI feel you. Was being one myself.â He was suddenly reminded that he himself was sobbing his heart out in his truck when he saw you. There might have even been a chance that he was crying a lot harder than you were.
Crap, you saw him sob his heart out.
The one time he found a woman attractive in five years, and she had seen him cry.
You must think him a wuss.
Wait, who said that?
He didnât find you attractive. Pfft. He must be out of his mind still from leaving Sarah at school this morning.
You smiled at him, and his heart almost stopped beating. Damn it, you were gorgeous. Maybe not in the drop-dead, supermodel way, but there was something about you. In your uniform, your hair just above your shoulder, very little make up, but still... striking.
âFirst day of school?â
âYeah,â he said, scratching his head.
What do you do with your hands when you talk to someone? What did he normally do? Why were his hands hanging by his side like some limp noodles? Could he still feel them?
He finally found the wherewithal to put his hands in his pockets, his shoulders rising to his ears from his own awkwardness.
You nodded, âSo, can I help you with something? Youâre looking for knives?â
âUh, yes. A bread knife,â he said, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing them on his chest. Wait, you might find him rude or think he was bored. He uncrossed them and placed them on his hips. Same thing.
Fuck, what do you do with your hands?
âWell, do you have a specific one in mind?â
Oh thank God, he didnât think he could survive another awkward moment. This was good. Talking is good. Questions are good. He wouldnât focus on his hands so much.
âJust, anything that could cut the crusts off a sandwich and not end up squishing the bread,â he said, his hands still hanging limply by his sides.
âOh, any of these will do,â you said. âDo you have a budget?â
âUh, not really, does it matter?â
âNot really. They should cut bread the same way,â you answered, taking the cheapest one off the shelf. âIn fact, the more expensive the knives, the more care they need.â
âAh,â he said, smiling, his hand taking the knife from you, suddenly functioning normally again. He studied the knife, âSo, just cut the bread the way you would with the usual knife?â
âNo, you saw the bread. Itâs why theyâre serrated. Like you would when youâre sawing wood.â
âWell, I know a little something about that,â he huffed a small laugh, immediately cringing when he saw the confused look on your face. âIâm⊠Iâm a contractor. And a carpenter. Part time, but you know, I saw things a lot.â
You gave him a slow nod, looking a bit awkward now.
âI mean wood, I saw wood. Not⊠people, or anything weird.â
Stop talking.
âLike, actual wood, from a tree?â
Oh my God, stop talking! Just take the damned knife and go pay!
You gave him another nod, an awkward smile on your lips.
Damn, even in the awkward situation you found yourself to be in, your smile made his heart skip a beat. What the heck was going on?
âSo youâre okay? Youâve decided?â
âTo keep my daughter in school?â he laughed, âI kinda have to, I am not the brightest. I have to let her go to school if sheâs ever going to have a chance,â he said.
You looked stumped.
âI mean, with the knife, youâre gonna get that one?â
Oh.
âUh⊠yeah, thank you for your help.â
Your smile returned, and you just like that, you turned your cart around and went on your way.
Joel found a pillar in the middle of the store and banged his head on it.
What the fuck was that? What happened?
God, he was being creepy, wasnât he? Who talks about sawing stuff off to someone they had never met? And why on earth was he correcting himself talking about sawing wood instead of people as if you had such morbid thoughts in the first place?
He wandered around the store for a while, picking up some berries and mini pretzels for Sarahâs lunch the next day, just for the sake of variety. He got stopped by the lady who was promoting some sort of luncheon meat at him, the woman smiling a bit too much, her eyelashes batting unnecessarily at him.
He never got why women did that with him. He didnât even brush his hair that morning, and all the confused and impatient hair clutching he did while listening to Dina tell him about the different types of knives couldnât have helped with the situation.
Daisy used to tease him about that. He would have conversations with women all the time, never once thinking they had ulterior motives. Despite his own crush on his late wife, he didnât realize she was flirting with him up until she instigated that first date, apparently much to the chagrin of the other waitresses.
After a few more rounds of such smiles and eyelash battings from the ladies in the produce section and the check out, Joel walked out of the store with a realisation.
You didnât do that. There was no eyelash batting or flirty smile from you.
For whatever reason, that realisation made his mood sour a little.
As he was about to start his truck, his eyes wandered around momentarily, glancing at the picnic tables by the play area. Sarah liked playing there, it was basically a weekly ritual â 30 minutes of grocery shopping, 30 minutes of play time for the little queen. Tit for tat. She sat still while he shopped, so he had to sit still while she played.
But that wasnât what he was thinking about when his eyes fell on the table he usually sits at as Sarah played.
You were sitting there, having a sandwich.
Before he could stop himself, he had turned his engine off and slammed the door behind him, walking towards you.
âHi,â he greeted, surprising himself that he actually talked to a woman without someone nudging him to, praying to God you wouldnât flinch from the creepy man who talked about sawing needlessly.
Thankfully, you didnât. You simply smiled, âHey, buyers remorse already? Are you returning the knife?â
Joel found himself so thankful that you didnât flinch or run screaming, he couldnât help but laugh out loud at your little joke.
âSad little tomatoes and cheese sandwich?â you offered, pushing your little Tupperware at him.
He raised his hand in a polite decline.
âUh, I actually just wanted to stop by to thank you, for helping me with the knife,â he said, telling you the real reason he went to see you. âMay I sit?â
You nodded, mouth full of sandwich.
He sat down, hands still awkwardly in his pockets. âIâm sorry if I came off as creepy,â he said.
You frowned at him, cocking your head a little, confused.
âJust now, talking about saws and wood and bodies⊠I just⊠I donât know what brought that on. I usually donât talk to people, I hope I didnât scare you,â he defended himself.
Ah, you nodded, seemingly understanding.
âIn my defence, I have forgotten how to talk to adults since my daughter was born,â he said, looking sheepish.
âOh,â you said, placing your sandwich on the Tupperware cover, âI hear that,â you took a drink from your water bottle. âSomeone was telling me about some actor she found to be hot the other day, and I kept thinking â was he in Bluey or Peppa Pig? Thatâs all that was playing in my household!â
He laughed, nodding, completely understanding what you were talking about.
âAnyway, donât worry about it. I didnât find you creepy. Maybe a little odd, but not creepy. Definitely not creepy,â you assured him, picking up your sandwich again.
Joel couldnât help but take a gander at your ring finger.
No ring, his heart rejoiced. Thereâs a ring line, though. New enough to be noticeable. So, unless you took it off to eat, maybe youâre a single mom? His left thumb absentmindedly scratched the pad of his left ring finger a few times without him realizing it.
âThank you,â he said, relieved. âWell, Iâll leave you then, let you have your lunch,â he got up. âMaybe Iâll see you around at pick up later.â
You nodded, giving him another smile, your mouth still full of sandwiches.
He nodded back, whispering another thank you, and began to walk away.
âOh, I almost forgot,â he said, turning back. âI would really appreciate it if we could keep what you saw in my truck this morning our little secret?â
Again, you looked confused.
âMe, crying like a little girl,â he whispered, looking embarrassed.
âAhâŠâ you laughed, miming zipping your mouth shut, locking it, and throwing away the key. âI wonât tell anyone if you wonât, remember, I was crying too.â
He shrugged, cringing while he was at it, âNot the same. I think women get a bit more freedom when it comes to crying.â
âWell, I think real men donât have a problem crying when they need to. Itâs healthy. But I get what you mean. I wonât tell a soul. I promise.â
He nodded, mouthing thank you, complete with his hands clasped together in front of his chest.
You gave him a slight bow in return, that smile still on your lips.
Joel got back in his truck and drove to the store with a smile. He went into his workshop and folded his sleeves up to get back to work, stopping just before he started, facepalming himself.
Damn it, he forgot to ask you your name.
âSarah!â he called out, waving his arm like a deranged person from outside the gate.
He heaved such a huge sigh of relief when he saw her come running out, glad she wasnât taking her own sweet time. The past ten minutes waiting in the yard with the other parents â correction â moms, was hell on earth for him.
How was it that he was the only dad picking up their children from school? Do the other dads not give a shit? He knew for a fact that even if Daisy was still alive he would have taken the day off to commemorate this special day rather than have her do the pick up alone.
Didnât help that the moms were eyeing him in a way that made his skin crawl. How was that okay? If a man looked at a woman like that theyâd be branded a pervert.
âDaddy!â Sarah came running out, her bag bouncing off her back, her water bottle swinging off her hand and the paper bag full of food he had given her flapping madly from one handle by its side.
He tried to pick her up to hug her, the girl squealing, not in a good way, and slid away from him. She wouldnât even let him take her hand to hold while walking across the car park.
Okay then, he thought, maybe she was embarrassed, lots of people there. He tried not to get emotional, but it might have been the hardest thing he had ever done. Â
âDid you have fun in school?â
Sarah nodded. âI made a friend. Her name is Ellie. She lives at the ceremony.â
âCeremony? Where is this Ceremony? Is it near here? I havenât heard of this Ceremony place.â
âNo, Daddy, you know the ceremony, we go there all the time,â Sarah sighed, sounding exasperated as she wrestled his hands away, buckling herself into the car seat herself. âThe ceremony, where Mommy is.â
âThe cemetery?â he asked, rather distracted, looking around the parking lot for your car. He hadnât seen you so far.
âYes, the ceremonytery.â
Joel turned around, forgetting about for momentarily. âShe lives at the cemetery?â
âYes. With her Mama.â
Joelâs head went cold. He had read about this, he feared this. Children like Sarah, ones who didnât socialize with other children too much, often had imaginary friends. He had wondered if Sarah would eventually have one. He lost count of the amount of times he had hidden behind walls whenever he heard Sarah talk to herself when playing, wondering if it had finally happened.
Of course, there was the strong possibility that his precious little girl had actually met someone at school who lived near the cemetery.
âYou mean, near the cemetery? Like down the road from the cemetery area?â
âNo, Daddy, she lives at the cemetery. With her Mama. Her Papa died too.â
Too? Her Papa died too? As in her Mama died, she died, and her Papa died too?
Oh God. This was worse than he thought.
His precious Baby Girl has a little girl ghost as an imaginary friend.
âDaddy! Ellie! Ellie is here! Hi Ellie!â Sarah excitedly cried, looking to her right, waving her hand rigorously.
All the hair on his body stood on end.
What the actual fuck. Thereâs a little girl ghost imaginary friend in his truck right now?
Uh⊠okay, okay. What would a good parent do?
Be supportive of your little girlâs little girl ghost imaginary friend, right? Make little girl ghost imaginary friend feel welcome?
He took his seatbelt off and turned his body around, looking directly at the empty seat next to his daughter.
âHello, EllieâŠâ he hesitated, giving the empty space a reluctant smile. âItâs really nice to meet you. Iâm Sarahâs Daddy, you can call me Uncle Joel,â he said, holding his hand out for the little girl ghost imaginary friend to shake. He shook his hand a little mid-air, his thumb and pointer finger pinched together as if grasping a little girlâs tiny hand. And then, feeling proud of himself at accepting his little girlâs little girl ghost imaginary friend, he looked at Sarah, a smug smile on his face.
Sarah was looking at him as if he had three heads.
âWho are you talking to?â she asked, looking a bit weirded out.
âYour friend, Ellie!â
âDaddy, sheâs outside, with her Mama.â
He turned to see, and his heart almost stopped.
Both with relief and excitement.
For one, there was a little girl and her Mama outside, two empty parking spaces over from his truck, the Mama getting the little girl in her own car seat, the little girl waving at Sarah.
So, Ellie was real. A real little girl, not a little girl ghost imaginary friend.
Phew.
Two, the Mama was you.
Before he could stop himself, he had unbuckled and left the cab of his truck, going around to greet you. But when he got to you, he found himself tongue-tied, unable to even make his presence known. He just stood there as you buckled your daughter in.
âMama,â Ellie said, warning you of his presence.
You turned around and saw him, hands in his pockets, shoulders up to his ears.
âHey, bread knife guy. Sawing guy,â you greeted.
His ears turned pink, a huge grin on his face. âIâm Joel,â he flustered, holding his hand out.
âAnna,â you said, taking his hand and shaking it.
âHi Ellie!â Sarah appeared out of nowhere. Wait, when did she get out of the truck?
âHi,â Ellie greeted, looking shy.
âThis is my daughter Sarah, she said she knew Ellie,â Joel told you.
âOh,â you squatted in front of her, âNice to see you again Sarah. Ellie told me all about you,â you said. âIâm Ellieâs Mama. You can call me Annie.â
Joel smiled at Ellie, and the little girl smiled back.
âSo,â Joel said as Sarah went around you to talk to Ellie, checking out her car seat, âOur daughters are friend, huh?â
âSat next to each other in class, I met her this morning, you know, before the waterworks started.â You put your hand next to your mouth and added conspiratorially, âI waited for the privacy of the parking lot for that,â you winked cheekily.
He laughed, nodding.
âUhm, this may be a bit weird, but Sarah told me you live at the cemetery?â
âOh,â you laughed, âSort of. Itâs a walk, but technically, yeah. I live in the area.â
âAh,â Joel said, âI just needed to check. Canât believe a five year oldâs claims, you know? Mine gets lost in translation a lot. She doesnât have many friends,â he explained. âItâs why I wanted to meet Ellie, itâs a long story.â
âWell, Sarah is more than welcome, weâre new here. We just moved here last week. So Ellie doesnât have many friends.â
âHello,â a friendly voice interrupted. Tess appeared, Daniel in tow, looking to be in less of a good mood. Joel gave her a peck on the cheek, giving Daniel a fist to bump, which the sulking boy ignored. Joel retracted his hand understandingly, rubbing his head instead, which the boy squirmed away from.
Okay then. Moody boy.
âAnna, this is my sister in law, Tess, and her son, Daniel,â he introduced. âTess is a teacher here.â
âAnnie, please. Nice to meet you, Tess. Hi Daniel,â you greeted, shaking Tessâs hand, waving to Daniel with the other hand.
Tess waved hi to Sarah and Ellie. The little girls gave her a shy smile back.
âMom, come on⊠I want to go see Dad,â Daniel whined.
âOkay honey, weâre going,â Tess sighed, rolling her eyes a little, looking at you and Joel for understanding, which she received. âSee you guys around. You want me to take Sarah? You going back to work?â she asked Joel.
âNo, I want to go with Daddy, Dina promised me ice cream,â Sarah interrupted before Joel could form a thought.
âOkay then, Iâll see you tomorrow, okay?â Tess said, holding her hand out for Sarah to high five. She waved to you and Joel and left, Daniel pulling her by her jacket.
âHer husband passed away a month ago, car accident,â Joel told you. âDaniel wanted to go visit, tell his Dad about his first day of school.â
âOh, Iâm sorry to hear that,â you sympathised. âWell, I wish I could stay and chat, get to know Sarah better, but I need to get going, Iâm still on the clock,â you excused yourself.
âOf course, so am I, technically. Iâll see you around,â Joel said, taking Sarah by the hand. She pulled away.
âBye Ellie!â Sarah waved as you drove away. âI like Ellie. Sheâs a lot of fun!â she told her Daddy, letting him pick her up to put in her car seat, but still insisted on buckling herself in.
âThatâs great, Baby Girl,â Joel sighed in relief as he put the truck into gear, relieved that Ellie was real, happy that he had an excuse to see you again if Sarah was this excited about Ellie.
Good parents become good friends if their children are good friends, right?
He kissed Sarah one more time before covering her little body with her blanket. She was growing far too quickly for his liking. Making decisions on her own now, going by the events of today.
Stall the growing up, Baby Girl, I canât let you go yet. Please.
He didnât want to admit it, but Sarah was acting a bit out of character since coming back from school. He was hoping it was excitement, but he couldnât stop wondering.
She refused to let him fuss over her at all. He had to stop and take deep breaths when she still wouldnât let him take her hand when walking. She kept her jacket on once she got to the store, even when she went into his office and settled on his desk to colour, even when she started sweating. He tried three times, but she didnât relent. He had opened his mouth to try the fourth time, but she put her pointer finger up at him, the way he did when he wanted her to behave and be quiet.
Okay then.
When they finally got home, she wouldnât let him help her shower, wouldnât even let him choose her pyjama that night. She wanted to choose one herself. She literally shut the door to her room on his face when he tried to go after her to help her undress. No Daddy, no. I can do myself. She picked a long-sleeved set with butterflies all over them, which surprised him. She didnât really like wearing long sleeves for sleeping. He often had to coax her into wearing one during winter, and now she had gone and worn a pair on her own volition.
He did, however, get the opportunity to tuck Sarah in, thankful that she at least didnât fight him on that, though it was not from the lack of effort on her part. She was practically passed out from exhaustion.
Thatâs what the other odd thing.
His daughter came home hungry.
She had gobbled up the ice cream Dina had bought her in no time at all and kept asking for snacks to eat at the store. And at dinner, she had two of her usual serving of mac and cheese. So she was really hungry, which was suspicious. The paper bag full of lunch was empty when she gave it back to him, so she had eaten lunch and the many, many, many snacks he had supplied her, so why was she still so hungry?
Joel didnât know if he should be concerned or happy. On the one hand, he was happy that she wasnât stressed on her first day of school and had the appetite to eat. He was often worried about her eating habits, their meals together more like an exhausting attempt from him to get her to eat any food at all. Knowing how hungry she turned out to be, heâs glad that he made sure there was enough food in her lunch pack. He shuddered at the thought of her going hungry if he hadnât.
On the other hand, he worried that his daughter might be eating a bit too much as well? Tess wasnât wrong, he knew he went overboard. That was a lot of food for her. He was just worried for her, giving her that much food was a way for him to gauge how much food he should give her. In his mind, seeing what was left would tell him how much to give her tomorrow.
But she finished all her food and was still starving.
Maybe she shared with Ellie, Daniel and her other classmates?
Maybe a different meal would be better. Instead of snacks and sandwiches and Lunchables, maybe he should give her a proper, filling meal? There was still some mac and cheese leftover from dinner, maybe he could give her those for tomorrow?
But cold mac and cheese? Not Sarahâs favourite. Even if he warmed it up before packing it, it would be cold before Sarah had the chance to eat it, wouldnât it? That girl was picky. No cold meals, but no room temperature fruits and drinks. God, everything would be warm or cold by the time she has them.
Sarah hates warm fruits. He always stored them in the fridge because she wouldnât eat them if they were room temperature. He had to figure out how he could keep the food cold or warm as needed.
He cleaned the kitchen, getting the fruits for Sarahâs snacks the next day ready. He got the oranges sliced up, taking the peels off so it was easier for her to eat, cut up the grapes into smaller pieces so she wouldnât choke on them. He washed the berries he got and put them in the Ziploc bags. Crackers and pretzels instead of cereals, peach yoghurt, jerky sticks, Jell-O cups (different flavoured than todays, of course), mixed nuts, juice boxes, all go into separate bags, ready for him to just toss into the bag for tomorrow. He realized by this point that Ziploc bags wouldnât do in the long run. Heâd be buying them out his nose at this point.
Surely, you would have a solution for that, right?
Maybe he should go back to the store to get one of those thermal containers. And if he gets overwhelmed, maybe you would help him. He wouldnât come off as being forward or anything, right? He would just be a customer needing help. And you would be doing your job. It wasnât as if he would be going to the store for the sole purpose of looking for you or anything. Of course not. What a crazy idea.
Plus, your daughters are friends. It would make sense for the two of you to be friends too, right? Right?
Anna. Annie. He liked that name on you. He looked forward to calling you by your name tomorrow. If, and only if, he needed your assistance, or if you happened to be around the area, obviously. He would never go looking for you in that huge store. Of course he wouldnât. That would be crazy. And creepy. He wouldnât want to be that guy.
But this predicament he was in was the perfect opportunity to see you alone once more. Not that he was thinking about being alone with you or anything.
In the meantime, Ziploc bags and whatever containers he could lay his hands on would have to suffice.
He scoured his kitchen for disposable food containers for the mac and cheese, which would have to do for tomorrow, found one and washed it. Lunchables would have to suffice for tomorrow, that, and maybe a couple toasts with Nutella. He even filled up her water bottle so he wouldnât have to do them the next morning.
He tried watching a show before bedtime, but found himself unable to focus, thinking about Sarahâs lunch packs. The girl hated repeats. He would have to think of a better system to make sure he got her a variety of foods, especially if she was going to eat up a storm like this every day.
Sheâs a growing girl. Boys eat a lot growing up, right? Nothing wrong with a girl eating quite a bit too.
He went to check on her one more time before bed, the little girl now splayed across her bed, her blanket half on the floor, her favourite butterfly plushie off the bed completely. He corrected her position, worried she might fall off, covering her with the blanket once more. He picked up the plushie and took her little arms to wrap around it, the sleeves of her pyjama now up to her elbows. He lifted her arm to put it back.
Wait.
Even in the dim nightlight, he could clearly see there was a noticeable bruise on her right forearm.
What?
That wasnât there that morning.
He ran his finger over it. It was huge. About the width of two of his fingers, maybe two inches long. Â
Could she have banged her arm on something? What could she have banged it on to produce a bruise that size?
His whole body went cold.
Did someone do this to his little girl? Did someone hit his Baby Girl?
He felt as if his body temperature had shot up to the sky, his heckles raised, his fangs bared.
Did someone hurt his Sarah? Who?
Oh⊠that person was going to get it from him.
Was it Miss Lydia? If it was, she will be fired beyond recognition. He would make sure of it.
Was it another child? That child would never know a peaceful life without a stern talking to from him. And their parents would know what happens to bad parents who couldnât control their children. He would make sure of it.
No one should play with Joel Miller when it came to Sarah.
They went camping once with Tommy and Tess and Eddie. A mosquito dared bite Sarah, and he spent minutes chasing that blasted creature, finally smacking it against the wall of the tent. Unsatisfied that the thing was flattened to death, he took it out between his fingers and burnt it in the campfire, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. But that wasnât enough. He immediately stomped off to the store for bug spray, sprayed his tent to infinity and beyond to make sure no other mosquito dared drink from his little girl, even placing mosquito patches on the poor little girl as double protection.
If he finds out who had hurt his little girl? That person will pay. They will regret ever breathing in the same vicinity as his Sarah. Â
He would go scorched earth for his Baby Girl. Yes he would. And no one can stop him. He would die before he lets someone lay a hand on his little girl. And whoever this person was, the one responsible for this horrendous bruise on his Sarahâs arm, they will pay.
Chapter summary: Harry finally faces his mistakes and tries to win you back. But an accident happens and you canât ignore him anymore.
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Chapter warnings: language, some blood and car accident description (barely), reader is on morphine, marriage falling apart, forced proximity(?)
Words: 5.3k
Notes: Welcome to another chapter of the story! I really like this one and I hope you will too. Do mind English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes. Please, do not copy my work. Thanks!
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âHarry?â you freeze when you see him outside Cassieâs building. You just left, wanting to grab some groceries. And heâs⊠heâs here. You take off your sunglasses not sure how to act, or what to expect.
The last few days since the girls night youâve been doing nothing, but thinking about him. You really started to lose all hope, that heâll come back to his senses. And seeing him now? You donât feel relieved, or hopeful. You feel irritated. It was supposed to be a good morning. You planned shopping, quick coffee with your publisher and maybe some visit on a market. Instead, your body fills with anxiety, your hands get cold as always when youâre nervous.
âYouâre busy?â he asks. And even if thereâs no hope in your eyes, his are definitely full of it. âUm⊠kinda. Was going to grocery store.â you say stiffly, your grip on your bag tightens. âWhat are you doing here?â
âI, uhâŠâ he huffs nervously, scratching his neck. At this time he usually would be in his office, so youâre surprised his workaholic ass isnât somewhere there, managing some stock crisis or other shit. âI came to⊠apologize.â
âHarry, donât you think weâve had enough of that already?â
âYou donât understand, I⊠Iâve been thinking. I get why you want the divorce. Thatâs part of the reason I didnât come earlier⊠or why I didnât try to reach you⊠Because I know you deserve better than me. And I was so focused on that⊠Iâm a piece of shit, baby.â you let his words linger. You look away at the people passing on the pavement across the street. You canât bear seeing your husband. All dressed up in a suit, but his eyes hollow like he didnât sleep few nights in a row. You donât want to wonder what kept him up. âAnd all that guilt made me forget, that mostly I am a piece of shit who still loves you so freaking much.â
That words make you look back at him. A lump forms in your throat. Harry knows heâs gonna need much more than what he said. But he made a move and he hopes itâll be a first nail in the new bridge heâs building in your direction.
âI know you probably need time, but⊠But we can fix this. I want to fix this. Because marrying you was the best decision in my life, it still is.â he takes a step closer, getting more certain with every word. âAnd hell rather freeze than I let you go. I will do anything.â
After the events of last week, Harry really realized he has to stop pitying himself. Because you wonât stay no matter what. Because youâre stronger than letting him treat you like that. He spent last few days watching old videos from your wedding, or holidays. And his heart instantly knew this were the best moments in his entire life. With you he was able to overcome his insecurities, or other struggles. He loved taking care of you, even if it was just holding you through your period pains, or cooking dinner for you after a tough day. Yeah, he used to cook for you, too. This was true happiness. In its most pure and magical form.
And he really couldnât lose it over his limitations.
âItâs just empty words, Harry.â you say quietly. âIâve heard similar things many times. And you have hell of a nerve to assume Iâll just fall for that.â The look you give him isnât soft, isnât lovesick like it used to be.
âDarling, I⊠I donât assume anything.â he reaches for your hand, he missed your touch so much. You feel your skin burn with the way it meets his. Your heart is conflicted. You waited for a similar moment, you wanted him to finally see he was wrong. And now that he seems to? Youâre hesitating. Youâre angry. All you wanna do is get away. Punish him even more for how he neglected you.
âIâm busy, Harry.â you step back. âI have to go.â
Without waiting for his reaction, you just turn away, walking as fast as you can. You hear him calling your name, but you just canât let him win. Maybe thatâs childish? But you feel so dissapointed in yourself, that after one sincere speech you feel ready to forgive him, despite how he treated you. You want him to learn something. And secretly⊠You doubt he will.
And you just donât want to get hurt again.
Because if you will?
Youâre not sure youâll pick yourself up the second time.
***************************
Since that conversation? Harry is everywhere you look.
Every day there is a new bouquet of flowers delivered to Cassieâs apartment. Every evening there are voice messages on your phone. Every morning you get your favourite coffee delivered, right to your door.
Every miserable attempt to prove himself he could think of.
Youâre slowly losing it.
Cassieâs apartment smells like a botanic garden. No that she minds.
And she definitely doesnât mind free coffee every damn morning.
But you do mind.
Youâre mad, because Harry thinks itâll be enough. At least it looks like it. It looks like he wants answers youâre not ready to give. Answers, you thought would be so easy. And in fact, all you are is confused.
You love this man so much, that you are sure youâre not gonna handle another heartbreak. And what are the guarantees there wonât be another? Your trust in your husband is so shaken, you actually are unable to make a sensible decision.
Two weeks pass like that. Two weeks of complete standstill in your marriage.
An absolute hell for Harry. The uncertainty is killing him and sometimes all he wishes is to give up again.
But he wonât. He trusts his gut, he believes everything will be alright for you two. Heâs known for his persistence in business. So why not use his abilities in gaining your trust back? Heâs really doing everything he can think of to get you to talk to him.
And it seems to not be enough.
Between meetings and video conferences he tries to figure out a way to convince you heâs willing to change. How to prove these are not just empty words? He has already done things to shorten his hours in the office. Heâs very watchful, always making sure to close the laptop at six. Yeah⊠small steps, okay? At least heâs falling asleep with a book in his lap, not a spreadsheet. He forgot how good reading a book feels like.
Now, sitting at his desk, he notices through glass office door, that heâs brother is approaching. He sighs.
Peter just came back to work after two-weeks-long trip to Seychelles with his wife. Heâs tanned, happy and everything Harry despises now that his own marriage is falling apart. He smiles in spite of himself as younger brother enters his office.
âHey, man.â he grins and Harry stands up to greet him properly. âGood to see you.â they pat their backs in the warm hug. Harry pulls away first and his brother notices the stiff reluctance in him. âSo⊠anything interesting happened while I was gone?â Peter drops onto one of the chairs in front of the mahogany desk.
âNoâŠâ Harry sits opposite him, but he wonât meet his eyes. âThe usual. Johnson&Hyde is doing good. The stock went up fifteen percent. You were right about this investment.â He chooses whatâs safer â work. Though, he shifts his focus to the post-its sticked to the frame of his monitor. Give Frances a rise. Call the HR meeting. Double check the numbers in the Melbourne file. Very interesting. Much more than his brotherâs observant gaze.
âYeah, I already heard. Mother told me.â
âSo⊠How was the holiday? Good?â Harry asks, trying so hard not to think about you, or the way to win you back. His fingers fidget with a pen, begging for a distraction. He missed his brother, he could at least show it, damnit. âGreat. The beaches were amazing. The sand was like a soft powder or something, really dreamy out there. Charlotte loved it. Weâll surely go there again one day.â
Harry nods, glad his brother had fun. He was really stressed before Seychelles, so itâs good to see him like this. Well rested and all. âNow that weâre back, Charlotte was thinking about throwing some dinner for family. She mentioned this Saturday. You and your wife got any plans?â
The moment these words leave Peterâs mouth, Harryâs hand stills. Of course. Of course his family-oriented brother would like to have a dinner with him and you. It used to be a norm. Laughing together over some delicious beef tenderloin in Bearneise sauce, or other fancy meal his sister-in-law cooks. And now? What the hell Harry is supposed to say? You and him seemed like a perfect marriage so far. He hates to admit heâs done something wrong. That he failed you.
Though, his pride suffered enough through last two weeks. He can handle some more humiliation. He deserved it.
âWe canât do this week.â
âOh⊠Okay, maybe next then.â Peter says, but he leans on closer in his seat, sensing the change in his brotherâs behaviour.
âNext week isnât an option either.â Harry says lowly, his eyes glued to some point above Peterâs shoulder. âUgh, but why? If you got other plans, itâs okayâŠâ
âShe moved out.â Harry cuts him off with his lifeless words.
The whole room stopped still. Younger brother stares at him, hoping he misheard. But having a better look at Harryâs face⊠He knows itâs true. His wrinkles seem to deepened, his hair is messier than ever. He looks like a kicked puppy.
âWhat? What do you mean she moved out? What happened?â
Harry tells him the whole story. How he neglected you, how he tried to act like it wasnât happening, like he wasnât pulling away. He tells him how he missed this one special dinner and how it pushed you to finally leave him. He tells him everything that happened and with every word he feels lighter. He actually needed to confide in someone and he knows his brother wonât tell a soul. Especially their mother. That would be the end of him. Lynette Castillo loves you. Sometimes he thinks she loves you even more than him. It would break his momâs heart to find out you left Harry.
âHoly shit.â Pete sinks into his chair after hearing the whole story. âYeah â holy shit.â Harry mutters defeated. âNow I send her flowers and coffee everyday, hoping sheâll finally try to forgive me. I would go and wait outside Cassieâs building, but I donât want to be overbearing. She suffered enough because of me.â
âAt least youâre giving her space. Thatâs⊠Thatâs good. I guess.â
âYeah, apart from the fact that her silence slowly kills me.â Harry rests his elbows on the desk and canât help but hang his head despairingly. âI miss her.â he admits quietly. The words sit between brothers, younger can only listen. He never saw Harry like this, because he rarely shows emotions. Even in childhood Harry was the composed one. And now his propriety sinks beneath desperate longing for his wife. âAnd I did even before she left. Just chose to ignore it.â
His voice laced with pain that only comes with the knowledge how awful person he actually is. How terrible you must have felt when he was leaving for another conference? How lonely you must have been in your penthouse. Maybe even scared? Long nights in a big apartment on your own. No one to talk to. No one to hear how your writing went that day, or how you got stuck in a choice between killing the main character, or give them a happy ending.
Goddamn, he knew it destroyed you.
He knew how badly you handled solitude, the lack of attention. You told him this just few months into your relationship. Because he made you feel like you could. Like he would carry that knowledge and keep it safe. Keep you safe.
âHi, baby⊠Pretty late isnât it?â one evening Harry rised an eyebrow as you entered his apartment. You took off your scarf and coat, he hung it in a wardrobe. âIâm sorry, I know I said Iâll be earlier, but the party got longer than I expected.â you kissed his cheek, your own flushed because of the cold weather outside.
âParty?â he followed you further into the apartment as you went to wash your hands. âOh, you know, I got promoted, so few people from my department thought we should celebrate over drinks.â you said as a matter-of-factly, when you dried your hands with a towel. Harry frowned. âYou got promoted?â he asked not surprised that you did, but that he didnât know anything about it.
âWell, yeah⊠I finally wonât be chasing after Anderson and make him coffee.â
âAnd when did you found out?â he dwelled on the topic, which you didnât quite understand. You just went to the couch, your gaze focused on some sitcom he watched on TV before you came. Harry observed you waiting for an answer. âThis Wednesday.â
Your boyfriend fell speechless for a moment there. Wednesday? That day was Friday. Youâve had plenty of occasions to tell him the big news. Why havenât you? And why were you acting like itâs not a big deal at all? He thought you would share something as great as the promotion. He sat next to you quite astonished and just⊠hurt.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â he asked and only then you looked at him, when you sensed the sharpness in his voice. The confusion was clear. On both sides. âI⊠I donât know. It just doesnât matter that much.â you shrugged and scooted closer on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. A quiet sigh of relief left your mouth. You were tired and glad to have him by your side. But Harry? Harry tried to deal with a sense of hurt that hit him.
âIt doesnât matter that much?â he repeated and had to lean back, so he could look at you. âBaby, you were talking about that promotion since we met.â he just couldnât understand why were you dismissing your success like that? You always wanted to build your career by yourself, even if your biggest dream was writing a book. Your asshole of a boss kept pushing your promotion in time and when you finally got it, you didnât even share the news with your damn boyfriend?
You bit your lip. Of course Harry saw that hesitation. He knew you quite well. âOkay⊠youâre right. Iâm happy about that promotion.â you admitted. âVery happy.â
âThen why on Earth I find out about it just now?â Harryâs gaze softened, his fingers absent-mindlessly caressed your arm. The way his eyes were locked on you, only you, had you melting. He was there, caring and asking questions. You never knew that feeling. âI just didnât think that youâd mind.â
His hand stilled at your words, did you really believe that? You did. Because thatâs what you were taught your all life. âYouâre my girlfriend. Of course I mind. Why would you even think otherwise?â he breathed. âBecause no one ever did.â you said simply and then continued. âIt just didnât occur to me that youâd care, youâre so busy yourself and it was just a small promotion. I know you have a lot of things on your mind. My parents had, too, when I was growing up. I just⊠I know not to take up more space than I need to.â you said and it sounded so sure, that Harry wanted to punch something. He didnât know your parents then yet, but he already knew he wonât like them once he meets them. He sat up, taking your delicate hand into his.
âListen to me very carefully now.â he said in a voice, that made your skin crawl. âIâm never too busy for you, love. You hear me? I want to know every single detail from your life. Damn it, I even want to know what pair of socks youâre wearing. Iâm your partner. Iâm intending to become your life partner. You canât just⊠Not tell me that you got promoted. Iâm so happy for you, for your success. You canât just keep it to yourself. I wouldâve celebrated with you. Go out for that drinks with you and your coworkers.â
You listened to his speech in complete silence and awe. Because you felt the power of his words. You felt deeply that he meant them. And it got to you. He cared. He truly cared.
âI⊠Iâm sorry.â you whispered looking at your joined hands, at the way his thumb brushed your skin. âI guess old habits die hard. My parents⊠were always occupied by work and my older siblings. I donât remember any situation, where I rushed into the room to tell about a good grade I got and they actually paid attention. They even missed my graduation.â you smiled sadly. âI⊠learned to be on my own quite fast. Even if all I ever wanted was them to notice me.â
âYeah, it makes sense. Youâre so independent all the time.â he said with a soft chuckle, but it faded as he added âBut⊠You donât have to be. Not around me. I really care about you, baby. I want you to feel it, to know you can count on me.â
You looked at him like youâve just discovered what true love should look like. Harry always made you feel safe, he had this protector element in him. Like no matter what would happen, heâll listen to you, be there. Just for you.
You leaned in to kiss him. His hand slid up to your back to pull you closer. âIâm so proud of you.â he whispered between soft brushes of your lips. He may be broken himself, but he has never let you feel like there was something wrong with you.
Because to him you were perfect.
Now, he canât stop thinking about that night. You were always the neglected child. And he was the one, who made you feel important. He healed that part in you. Only to destroy it himself few years later. You showed him this vulnerability and he closed his fist around it. How could he let that happen? He feels like a monster.
He thinks about it after Peter leaves to do his work. He thinks about it during another boring meeting.
The meeting is important though. The company is about to take over a big media conglomerate. Harry needs to be focused, because theyâre preparing for the negotiations of the terms. He sits at the head of the table, listening to his workers going through points of the meeting. Heâd rather be out there, trying to find a way to win you back. But he canât. Despite his best intentions, this thing needs his attention too. That is why he also gave his phone to Frances, his assistant. He always does it, when thereâs an important meeting. He canât afford to be distracted.
He really tries his best to listen to Jacob, one of the lawyers taking care of that deal. But his monotonous voice doesnât help his wandering mind. âOur legal team flagged some concerns regarding existing distribution agreements...â
His words get cut off by the door opening, everyoneâs attention drawing to Frances. Harry knits his brows. She knows not to interrupt meetings like this. âCan I help you, Frances?â he asks confused. âUm⊠boss, you have a phone call.â she says and itâs even more unusual. She is also well aware not to bother him with phone calls when heâs on a meeting. âWell, whoever this is, they need to wait until weâre done here.â
âSir, I think you want to answer that call.â she says and only now he senses a slight tremble in her voice. The urgency in the way she grips the door handle. He sits up concerned. âItâs from the hospital, itâs about your wife.â
The moment he hears that, the whole world seems to stop in motion. Wife. Hospital. You.
Heâs up in seconds, following Frances to her desk not even bothering to excuse himself to his employees. The meeting can go to hell. âI have them on the line.â she hands him the phone.
âHello?â he says rough and some female voice answers him. âHello, Iâm nurse Amy, Iâm calling from New York-Presbyterian. Are you Harry Castillo?â
âYes. I am.â he answers immediately. He sounds unnaturally stoic, though inside, everything screams at him to implode from fear. âYour wife was transported to us after getting hit by a car.â she says and he feels like heâs about to collapse. Hit by a car? You? His sweetest, strongest, most infuriating wife? Just few hours ago you were ignoring his messages, still mad at him for what heâs done. Now youâre lying in some hospital bed? Alone and afraid? Maybe even fighting for your life⊠âWhat do you mean? What do youâŠ? Is she okay?â
âWe canât tell for sure yet, theyâre running tests. But sheâs stable for now. If you, please, could come and fill in the documents?â
âOf⊠of course. Iâll be right there.â
Nothing in the world is more important than you. Not the meeting, not the awful traffic jam, or that he is so terribly scared for you. Stable. What the fuck does it even mean? Dying stable? Or just a scratch on a forehead stable? He drives as fast as he can. His mind flooded with the images of you in blood, lying on some street, unconscious⊠Jesus Christ. âCome on!â he roars in his car as he tries to get through busy Manhattan streets.
Once heâs finally there, panicked and desperate to see you, he has to go through an incompetent receptionist, busy elevator and a maddeningly long corridor. He tries so hard to keep his composure, but it gets harder with every minute of not seeing you. He left his blazer in a car, rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, because he felt so hot from nerves. Where the hell are you?
He ends up in a waiting room, some nurse told him to sit here and that your doctor will see him when he has time. He doesnât sit. He simply just canât. Instead he paces, as always when his head projects the worst case scenarios. The scent of sanitizer, so typical for the hospitals, doesnât help his rushing anxiety. God, how he hates hospitals. He remembers how at eleven he had to say goodbye to his grandfather, who was dying from cancer. Harryâs so afraid now itâs your turn to leave him. For good.
Finally the door open and a man in a white overall walks in, his eyes scanning the room until they stop on Harry. âMr. Castillo?â
âYes, itâs me.â Harry approaches him. âAny news on my wife? Is she okay?â
âHi, Iâm doctor Williams, Iâm treating your wife. Weâve ran the necessary tests. X-rays showed a shin bone fracture and a few fractured ribs on the left side. Fortunately, thereâs no serious brain damage, just a concussion.â he explains. âYour wife is very confused now, we gave her morphine for pain. Sheâll need a lot of rest, but everything looks quite well. She was lucky.â with every word Harry feels a weight from his chest lift. Youâll live. They have it under control. âSo⊠Sheâs fine, yes? Sheâll be alright?â
âEverythng looks like it.â doctor Williams says. âSheâs resting now, but you can go see her. Sheâs been asking for you.â
You were? Harryâs expression softens in slight shock. Despite everything he has put you through, he still was the one you wanted to see. Once again the hope bloomed in his heart.
He followed the doctor and saw you through the window of your hospital room. Lying there peacefully after the horrible accident you had. There are few scratches on your face, your leg already in a cast. But despite the awful, heartbreaking view before him⊠Harry feels such a relief. Youâre here. Breathing. Alive.
He enters the room and the moment your eyes land on him you grin. âHarry!â you say excited and a bit slurred. Yeah, youâre surely not yourself right now. Because you wouldnât be beaming seeing him. But for a second he lets himself believe that itâs you speaking, not the morphine. He approaches the bed, reaching his hand to gently caress your cheek. âHey, baby.â
Youâre not sure how the hell you got hit by a car. It was a normal day. You went out to get your heels from the cobbler. On the way, trying so hard not to think about Harry, or the way his persistence melted your heart more and more. You remember two things about you crossing the street. One â you looked both sides before stepping on it and there was no car. Two â you were in your head, contemplating whether youâre really angry at Harry, or youâre just ignoring him on purpose, because youâre stubborn. And before you could come up with an answer, a blue Mercedes grew out of nowhere before you. All you recall is a sharp pain in your leg and the gasps of the bystanders. You still havenât come to a conclusion about your husband, especially now that they drugged you.
But at least you feel great after that morphine. You donât even realize you just greeted Harry with the biggest smile on your face.
Itâll be so fun after it wanders off.
***************************
And it is.
âWhat are you doing here?â you say with aversion. You just woke up after God knows how long. Your head is pounding, your whole body sore. And now your eyes landed on Harry, who looks like he hasnât slept all night. His shirt, usually crisp and ironed, now all wrinkled. His tie set on the bedside table, instead of being tied around his neck. âWhere am I?â you try to sit up too quickly. Harryâs up in seconds, helping you settle comfortably.
âIn a hospital. You were hit by a car. You donât remember anything, darling?â he asks, pulling some strands of your hair behind your ear. Normally, you would be mad about it, but youâre too confused to care. âI do⊠I remember walking across the street and⊠and then I was on the ground⊠AndâŠâ you stop talking, because of the sharp, constant pain in your chest.
âHey, itâs okayâŠâ your husband grabs a bottle of water and opens it for you to drink. He takes a sit on his chair again. âYou have fractured ribs, you shouldnât be talking too much.â
You have a few small sips, you shake your head when youâre done and he takes it from you. Harry canât help, but look at you all the time. Cautious. Like he is bracing for something bad happening to you again. He still canât bounce back after these horrible hours. Heâs been here since you got to the hospital. Hasnât left your side for more than five minutes. Now itâs the next day, around 4 PM. Youâve been sleeping almost all the time after the meds. But he just sat there and watched you like some guard dog. Even during the night. He wouldnât be able to be here in the night, if he hasnât palmed the nurse on duty. But he couldnât leave you. Not when you are so vulnerable right now.
âDo you need anything? More morphine? Should I call the nurse?â heâs ready to stand up again, willing to do absolutely anything to help you. You just shake your head, feeling too weak to speak. âThe doctor says that theyâll keep you here for a few days. Then Iâm taking you home.â
You nod, because your brain isnât capable of processing that information right away.
It gets to you after few more seconds.
âWhat? You mean toâŠ?â
âOur penthouse, baby. Iâm taking you home.â he says calmly. You shake your head again, because no. Just no. You manage to speak through the haze of pain. âI live at Cassieâs now. Weâre not back together⊠Donât think that my accident changes anything.â
âI donât. But you must be crazy, if you think Iâll let you recover in a building, that doesnât even have a working elevator.â he says in a voice that doesnât leave room for refusal. âHow do you know the elevator isnât working, huh?â you mutter frustrated. You donât feel ready to live with him. Not after everything. âCassie came by, while you were asleep. She agreed that you need better conditions, especially that youâll be walking on crutches.â
You canât believe it. Fucking elevator. They couldnât fix in a whole damn month. And now, because of it you are sentenced to come back to the place, where all your misery grew. Youâre not gonna lie, you miss your home. But you donât miss the loneliness and feeling of abandonment. And this is what you believe will greet you there, if you come back. You just stare at Harry and he can see the reluctance in you.
âListen, I know it may be uncomfortable for you. I get it. But despite everything that happened between us, youâre still my wife and Iâm gonna take care of you.â
You look away at the window a bit too fast. You still feel dizzy with almost every movement. You wonder how are you supposed to live with Harry again. Why does he always have to be so responsible? Well, itâs one of the qualities you always admired in him. Also one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place.
But now?
Now it pisses you off.
Because you donât feel ready. Youâre scared youâll spend more time with him, get involved and then hurt once again. You want to fix your marriage, but you donât trust him. How can you rebuild something, when thereâs no trust? You sigh. âFine. But⊠Could you leave now? I want to be alone.â you glance at him and see his hesitation. He looks really worried and it makes your heart break for him a little. âPlease.â you breathe, trying to ignore the ache in your ribs.
Harry knows he should do as you ask. Hell, heâd do anything you like. But⊠leave you? Now? When youâre still in pain and he almost lost you? âDarlingâŠâ
âGo. Go home⊠have a shower⊠or sleepâŠâ you sound quieter and quieter, because it hurts to speak. He sees youâre struggling and he doesnât want to add to your pain. âOkay.â he whispers and takes a glance at his watch, you notice his jaw clenching slightly. âI have somewhere to be anyway.â
He stands up stiffly. The way his eyes linger on you tells you, heâs fighting with everything he has not to lean on and kiss you. And you actually wish he does that.
He doesnât.
Harry settles for squeezing your hand gently. You watch him leave, stuck in a hospital bed and in your confused head. âSee you laterâŠâ he stops by the door. His fingers tapping the surface like heâs considering to add something. Then⊠with one more hopeful look, he says. âI love you.â
At the exact moment the door close after him, a single tear rolls down your cheek.
Youâre not sure what hurts you more. Your ribs, head, or maybe itâs your heart that still belongs to that man?
Chapter summary: Both you and Harry try to figure out the way back to each other. You keep wondering if your marriage is really over. To cheer you up, your friend takes you for a girls night out.
Notes: Welcome to another chapter of the story. I see theyâre getting longer and Iâm kinda proud of myself. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Please, do not copy my work. Thanks!
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Harry missed the 2:30 call with Tanaka.
He missed the remaining few hours of work after that lunch.
And the next two days, too.
Divorce.
Iâll file for a divorce.
He canât believe the love of his life said that. He canât believe he might lose you for good. He thought it was temporary â the way he pulled away, or how neglected you felt. He thought it was fixable. An easy way back.
Divorce.
Divorced.
Him and you. Divorced.
He laughs tearfully in the empty penthouse. He was your husband for only two years and you already want a divorce. That tells a lot about him, huh? There are no words to describe how much he regrets everything he did.
But if he has to be honest? He always felt like it would end up like this. Heâs not a good husband material as it shows and now he has a proof. You always deserved better, but he just wanted to believe otherwise. He hoped maybe this one time in his life he could have something good. But he had to fuck this up, too.
His agonizing thoughts are interrupted by the elevator door sliding open. He looks up so quickly, hoping that itâs you. He walks over to the hallway and sighs.
âHey, there, asshole.â Cassandra says as she steps out the elevator. âI just came to grab some of her stuff.â
Harry freezes. Some of her stuff? Your stuff? He watches Cassie pass him, going further into the penthouse. âWhat? What do you mean?â he follows her, until she stops to look at him. Her eyes narrow, clearly sheâs on your side of the conflict. âHer things. She didnât pack enough the first time and now that her visit at mine is going to extend⊠She needs more.â
âCassie, you canât be serious.â he shakes his head. âDonât get involved in this. Itâs our marriage.â
Heâs pissed. You know heâs a bastard, thatâs enough for him. He doesnât need your friend to come here and tell him how much he screwed up. His hatred for himself is big enough. Actually, he thinks it canât get much bigger.
âYour marriage, yeah? Well, Iâm glad you finally remember about it. Just a little too late.â she says. âNow, can I, please, go to your closet and pack her things?â
Harry just looks at her. Heâs tired, he hasnât slept much since that lunch. Defeated, he nods. The second he does it, he sees Cassandra going down the hall to the master bedroom. Sheâs been to your place many times. At parties, dinners, or to just keep you company when Harry was working. She knows this penthouse like her own.
After a moment he heads to the closet. Cassie already grabbing some of your favourite t-shirts and pants, putting them in a bag. He watches her, leaning against the doorframe. Despite his previous anger, heâs⊠grateful that she came by. Even if itâs definitely not for him. Heâs just thankful for someoneâs presence in this dead penthouse. He was slowly getting crazy here.
And also⊠thatâs an opportunity to find out few things. He hesitates, not sure if he even deserves any information about you. âIs she⊠is she okay?â he asks finally.
Cassie doesnât seem to even register his question. She opens the drawer with your underwear. But instead of a simple piece, she picks a red lingerie set. She smirks, rising it, so Harry could notice what she has in her hands. âThink, Iâm gonna take that. It can be useful when Iâll drag your wife to a club. Maybe sheâll get lucky.â Cassieâs smirk only widens when she sees Harry clenching his jaw. So she did register his question and that was her answer to it. âOkay, okay, I got that.â he sighs. The mere thought of you with another man makes his blood boil. Though, he is sure you wouldnât do something like that. At least not until youâre married. âI deserved it.â
âYou bet you did. But Iâm taking it anyway. Just in case.â she smiles and puts the set in the bag. âCassandra, please. Just⊠Just tell me how she is doing. Iâm not gonna try to talk you into convincing her to come back, or anything.â
She huffs shaking her head and he doesnât understand. âYou know thatâs the part I donât get.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âYouâre not even fighting.â she throws another pair of socks to the bag. âI drove here thinking youâll be following me, begging me to talk to her. Or at least trying to stop me from packing more of her stuff. And here I am and nothing of that happens! What the fuck is wrong with you?â she looks at him, because thatâs not what she expected. This is not the Harry she remembers. The one madly in love with you, the one who didnât see the world except you.
âShe left, Cassandra. She wanted to. She doesnât feel happy with me, what am I supposed to do?â he answers frustrated. âAre you for real? Gosh, Harry, you make it so hard not to punch you right now.â she says trying to be calm, but heâs testing her patience. âShe told you what she wanted. She made it very clear. And itâs not her fault, itâs the only thing you are so scared to give her!â
Harry grits his teeth. How can he fight with that? Cassandra is right and his silence only gives a confirmation of her words. âYou gave up.â she breathes quite shocked. His eyes snap to her. âI didnât give up, I justâŠâ
âYou just what? Sit here and drown your mistakes in whiskey? Oh, yes, I saw the bottle in the living room.â your friend says, completely mad at him. âShe left that restaurant and you didnât follow. She said once about this damn divorce and you just took it without arguing. And now you sit here like some pathetic loser and ask me how is she doing? How do you think sheâs doing, Harry?â
Cassie grabs the bag and passes him, done with this conversation. Harry feels like he got caught. Because he did exactly what your friend described. He just accepted his fate. He thought that he didnât deserve fighting for you. That you were better off. He chose to beat himself up for your marriage. And also⊠Fighting for you would mean opening up to you. Heâs not proud of it, but he really chose the safer option. God, heâs such an idiot.
âCassie, wait.â he follows after the woman. With a sigh, she turns to him. âWhat do I do?â he asks desperate.
âI don know, man⊠Before she moved out, I was telling her that youâll wake up, that your workaholic phase was just temporary. I really believed that, because I like you. I really do. And now that you let her down, you let me down, too.â he listens to her, feeling more guilty and lost with every word. They head together towards the elevator. Much calmer now. Much more aware of the impossible situation Harry and you are in. âGet your shit together, Harry. I mean it.â Cassandra says as she waits for the elevator to arrive. When it does, he looks at her with remorse and also⊠gratefulness. âThank you for taking care of her.â he whispers. âAnytime.â
Cassandra left and that means Harry once again is alone with his own thoughts. He feels a weird deja vu. A not whole week ago it was you who were packing and leaving. He recalls that fight in his head. You were practically yelling in his face that you feel lonely. And what he did? He yelled back.
And at the lunch? You clearly asked him to open up. To change the way things are. You just wanted to be his priority, wanted your name on the top of his list again. Just how it used to be. And what did Harry do? He watched you leave.
Everything, but admitting he is wrong.
***************************
When you put Harry before a choice at Claireâs, you thought his answer would be immediate. That without second guessing he will choose you and opening up to you.
You couldnât have been more mistaken.
When he didnât follow you out of the restaurant, when he didnât call, or came in the middle of the night, banging to Cassieâs door⊠Another piece of hope died inside of you.
Because you know Harry. You know sharing details about himself and his feelings was always difficult to him. You know heâs a runner, you knew it early in your relationship. And despite it you stayed. You stayed, because you saw how hard he was trying to be good to you.
You remember like it was yesterday, only few months into your relationship. You both were insufferable, fighting then making up. Whispering tender words, then giving yourselves silent treatment, because of something irrelevant one of you said.
But that day⊠That day was perfect.
You spent the Friday night having fun at your mutual friendâs birthday party. You had drinks, you even convinced Harry to dance with you to your favourite song. You felt good about yourself, because of how he was eyeing you all evening. Protective and⊠in awe. He admired every move you made in that lacy little dress. And it wasnât just because you looked hot in it. Harry admired the way you laughed or smiled at him. Your skin glistened beautifully in the dim candle light and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. For the first time it felt heavier. Loaded with something unspoken. And you looked at him just the same.
After you came back to his place you made love. It was the first time it felt more than just sex. There was no hurry, no teasing. Just pure, deep⊠feeling. You both didnât say much, there was no need to. But what you did, was having your eyes locked on each other. He caught every little change in your expression as he filled you to the hilt. His mouth swallowed every soft gasp, or any delicious moan. Your bodies moved in sync you never knew before. It was the best release you ever experienced in your life. And it wasnât because of some flashy dirty talk, or filthy foreplay. It was because of the one word that both of you were afraid to address. Love.
And in the morning? You lied together, tangled up in sheets, laughing at some stupid joke he came up with. The sunlight got through the windows, catching your hair in the most perfect shade Harry ever saw. The morning felt slow, though you had to leave soon, because of some stupid emergency meeting at the publishing house you worked for. Some writer got accused of plagiary. Of course.
So you ate breakfast, Harry burnt the toasts a bit, but you just smiled. You had too good of a morning to be thinking about burnt toasts. And when your time to leave came, both of you hesitated. You grabbed your purse by the door. Turned only to find him already standing there. âIâm gonna miss you today.â you said quietly, that shy smile of yours ghosted on your lips. He took a step closer. âYeah?â since the party you saw something vulnerable in his eyes. You had a feeling what it might be, but you didnât wanna scare him off. âIâm gonna miss you, too.â he kissed your forehead. âSee you tomorrow.â
As you rode down to the lobby, you could hear your heart hammering in your chest. Relationship with Harry got more serious with every day and you were terrified. Terrified that maybe he wasnât ready for a commitment like this. Everything felt perfect, but you saw the way he was holding back. But also there were times, when you saw how he tentatively tried to step out of his comfort zone just for you. And this was giving you hope. Maybe you were delusional.
The moment you walked out to the lobby, you nodded at the doorman with a smile. You were just about to leave the building, but the familiar voice stopped you. âDarling, wait!â
You turned to see Harry running up to you. Was he⊠had he ran down the stairs from his floor? The elevator wouldnât arrive the second time so quickly. âHarry, something happened? I forgot something?â you asked. âYes. No⊠I meanâŠâ he looked at you the same way he did on a party, or like when you were in bed, or when you said goodbye. Your heartbeat speeded up, your eyes sparkled with hope and this feeling⊠On the other hand, he seemed so unsure, so afraid. But also determined. âIâŠâ Harry took a breath and you awaited. You felt he had something big to say, so you rested your hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly. He instantly relaxed and his mind sharpened just enough to say what he meant to. âI love you.â he confessed like itâs suddenly the most obvious thing he could say, like it wasnât the first time he said it to any woman. âGod, Iâm so in love with you. I couldnât let you go without you knowing that first.â he cupped your cheek with his big hand and you could notice the faint tears in his eyes. You were stunned. You felt almost drunk on his words, on his warm voice and the melted expression on his face. Completely lost in you. Utterly terrified of how strong his feelings are. Wondering if you even are on the same page.
âBaby, I⊠I love you, too.â you only whispered, because you didnât trust your voice at this moment. âI love you, too.â you laughed out loud and wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel him as close as you could. Your lips met his. The sudden lightness and joy in your soul were irreplaceable. His response was immediate, arms around your waist and lifting you up in the best hug you ever had. This confession must have meant so much to Harry, you were sure. Thatâs why it felt so important to hear from his lips. He really was willing to try for you. You kept laughing and with the corner of your eye, you could see the doorman grinning. You made quite a scene, but at this moment neither of you cared. A feeling like this couldnât be stopped by few gawks in the lobby.
Right now, as you recall that day, you feel nothing else, but longing.
Because it proves that your husband is capable of loving you desperately. And for some idiotic reason, he doesnât want to fight for you.
No, longing isnât the correct word for what youâre feeling.
Youâre outraged.
There are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. In grieving your marriage youâre in a stage two. Before moving out, you were caught in the longest denial state a mankind saw. Youâre so mad at yourself as you think how stupid you were then â Heâll come back earlier tonight. Heâll take me out to this new restaurant on Park Avenue. Weâll try for a baby. He felt so sorry after missing our dateâŠ
You feel nauseous as these sentences flood your mind. How the hell could you be so damn naive? It should be punishable.
âWe are going out tonight.â Cassie announces as she barges into the apartment with the bag full of your clothes and other stuff. âExcuse me?â you glance up at her from your laptop. Youâre definitely not in the mood for that. âYou heard me. You need to have some fun. Since you came to me, youâve been doing nothing, but contemplating about your shitty husband. Itâs time to forget about him.â
You stare at your friend for a longer second. She already sees youâre sceptic. âCome onâŠâ she drops the bag by the wall and sinks onto the couch next to you. âCass, I donât feel like forgetting about him. Itâs too early, donât you think? And besides⊠what did he say? Was he even home?â you ask despite yourself, because first of all â you want to cut the topic of going out. And second â you are curious. Too curious. Damn Harry and your poor heart.
âHe⊠was.â she sighs. âHe asked me how youâre doing.â
âAnd? What did you say?â you sit there completely on edge, you hate yourself for caring that much, but you just canât stop. âI⊠sort of took your lingerie and said maybe youâll use it later.â she winces and your face freezes in a stone-like look. âYou did that?â
âYes⊠Iâm sorry! But, god, you shouldâve seen his face. He looked like he was about to implode.â Cassie laughs and⊠to your surprise⊠you donât feel mad at all. Instead⊠a weird kind of satisfaction settles on your chest. Harry always seemed stoic and unproblematic. But you knew he had tendencies to be jealous. Suddenly, the idea of going out doesnât seem so bad anymore. You were so angry lately. Why not get this off your mind?
âSo where do we go tonight?â
***************************
The girls night out felt like a good idea. Some hurt part of you derives pleasure in fact, that Harry felt jealous after Cassieâs implication. Even if he has no way to find out about your evening plans. Just same knowledge that he would be pissed makes you smile widely. And, of course, youâll have a chance to spend some nice time with your friend. Cassie was right, you couldnât hide in her apartment forever.
So now, dressed up in a sparkly, long-sleeved, sexy dress, you enter one of the hottest clubs in Manhattan. Cassandra, hanging onto your arm, also looks like she is ready to rock this place.
The loud music hits your ears. The atmosphere in the club is full of joy and some electric force, brining everyone to the dance floor. Your hips sway automatically, God you missed dancing.
You head with Cassie to the bar at the side. Itâs long, a bit curved and you can see substantial collection of alcohol behind the talented bartenders.
âTwo Mango Margaritas.â Cassandra grins at the bartender after you finally pushed through to the counter. You sit at the free stools and soon you get your drinks. âSo? Isnât it fun?â your friend asks. âJesus, let me at least drink that one.â you chuckle, taking a sip and you scrunch up your nose a bit. Youâre not a big mango fan. At least tequila makes it better.
Soon, after getting a bit tipsy, both of you end up on the dance floor. Cassie dragged you here after hearing some Letâs Get Loud remix. And actually⊠you start to enjoy yourself. Your hips remember the moves from college, swaying to the rhythm. You laugh when your friend almost trips and falls into some handsome guyâs arms. The rest of the song she spends with him. Fortunately, you donât mind dancing on your own. At least not now. Now, you feel free. No worries, no duties, or a workaholic husband. Itâs just you and the music drumming in your ears.
After few songs you got tired. Hair stick to your forehead, smile is glued to your face. You need some water. Clumsily you make your way back to the bar.
As you wait for your order, your eyes search through the crowd to find Cassie. Youâre still too short on the stool, so you prop your hand on the counter, hoping itâll be enough to see a bit more. Youâre so busy with looking for her, that you donât feel your hand sliding further on the surface of the bar. Seconds later you push someone elseâs glass, spilling the drink. You gasp, finally fixing your attention on the situation. âOh my God, Iâm so sorry.â you turn on the stool to grab some napkins and rapidly clean the mess you made. âItâs okay, It wasnât good anyway.â you hear a male voice. Smooth and gentle. A bit amused. You look up at the face of the stranger whose drink you spilled. Well⊠he is handsome. Light brown hair and nice freckles. About your age. Youâre so captivated you forget youâre staring until he chuckles. âOh, uh.. Iâm sorry anyway. I was looking for my friend, I didnât noticeâŠâ once again you glance toward the crowd to search for Cassie, because you get worried despite the hot guy next to you. Finally you catch a glimpse of blonde hair. You sigh quietly with relief. Sheâs still dancing with the man from earlier. âDid you find her at least?â your companion asks and your attention is drawn back to him. âUh⊠yes. Yes, I did. Sheâs dancing.â you smile, but then it fades when you realize he has empty glass, because of you. âCan I buy you a drink as an apology?â
âI donât need an apology, but⊠Iâll help ease your guilt.â he smiles back. âIâm Seth.â he reaches out his hand. You shake it, giving him your name. You order him a new drink and you finally get your water, which you drink in few big gulps. Very nonchalant. âSo, tell me, youâre here on some special occasion, orâŠ?â he looks at you curious. You like the way his eyes linger. You see he likes you, but heâs being respectful at the same time. Itâs⊠refreshing. âNo, just a girls night out.â you answer.
You talk for a while. You find out heâs an executive in some store with luxurious musical instruments, also that he has a basset hound named Fredo, or that you both share love for Paddington movies. Talking to him feels good, itâs been a while since you had that comfortable conversation with a man. Despite the place being loud, you just donât seem to care. You only feel him leaning on closer to your ear, so you could hear him better. His warm voice makes goosebumps form on your skin. Youâre so caught up in the conversation with the newly met man, that you almost stopped thinking about Harry.
And just when you thought this night is going perfect⊠Seth asked the question that ruined it for you.
âHumor me, what a fool lets a beautiful woman like you go to the club alone?â he nods at your hand, exactly at the wedding band on your finger. Your grip on your glass tightens as you look away at the dancing crowd. You chuckle nervously. âThatâs a good questionâŠâ you sigh. âBut youâre right, he is a fool. I donât really wanna talk about it.â
âItâs okay. Sorry for being so straightforward.â unconsciously he rests his hand on your arm. You glance there, a short intake of your breath is the only reaction youâre capable of right now. Heâs being so nice to you, but⊠âI guess itâs complicated.â Seth continues. âYeah, you could say so.â you answer thoughtful. The loud music in the background canât jam your hammering heart. And itâs not hammering because of Seth. But because of the man, who hurt you so many times lately, that you lost your count on it. How the hell he has that big power over you? Why do you have to think about him even now? You were doing so good all night. But of course, Harry had to pop up in your head and now you wonât escape him.
âHeâs not worth of this sad face you have right now.â he says. You look at him, at his kind eyes. Itâs a really nice feeling, heâs not pushing. Instead he stands up from his stool. For a second youâre thinking heâs going to leave you, but he reaches out his hand. âDance with me.â
Together you end up with Cassie and the guy she met an hour ago. You dance in Sethâs arms, heâs pretty good at it and he guides your moves just perfect. Still respectful. And you try, you really try to have a good time. But your mind keeps drifting away to Harry.
Going out to a club was supposed to be your own small revenge on him. But it ended up turning against you.
How could you think, that youâll be able to get over the fact he didnât choose you in few days? Itâs impossible. You start to believe, that forgetting about Harry is impossible at all. Heâs like a cruel poison running in your veins. And you wish you could be mad at him, but you just canât. Harry gave you something no one ever has. Something no one ever could. And now your mind keeps drifting to this terrifying thought, that youâll end up as an old, lonely lady with five cats. Because you donât believe thereâs a good ending for you, if thereâs no Harry in it.
You fake your smile until Cassie states that sheâs exhausted and itâs time to head home. The relief, which floods your whole body, is undescribable. Seth and the other guy⊠you guess his name was Marcus, walk you out the club to your cab.
You turn to say goodbye, but then youâre surprised â Seth hands you his business card. âCall me.â he says and you swallow a lump in your throat. Your eyes escape to Cassie for a second and she only nods excitedly. Of course she is. But you⊠You are sure this is not the place where your heart lays right now. âSeth, youâve been a really good company tonight, butâŠâ you give him back the card. âI have a husband. And I love him.â
âI thought you had problems.â he says, rising an eyebrow in light insistence. âBecause we have. But that doesnât mean I want to see other men. Iâm not the one for you.â
âShame.â he cracks a small smile. âWell⊠I get it. Just tell him heâs a lucky bastard.â Seth leans on to leave a soft kiss to your cheek, you hold your breath until he steps back. âBye.â
After him and Marcus walk away, Cassandra swats your arm. You gasp in surprise and irritation. âThe hell?â
âWhy didnât you take that card?â she asks. âHe was so nice!â
âIâm married. Iâm not gonna get involved with other men, when Harry and I go through a crisis.â you answer and she just rolls her eyes as you get in the cab. âA crisis? Girl, you threatened him with divorce.â
âCassie, please.â you groan. âIâm really trying here. I donât know what Iâm gonna do with Harry yet. But I know Iâm not ready to flirt with other man. Could you respect that?â you feel a new wave of emotions youâve been trying so hard to kill. The alcohol mixed with conflicted feelings is never a good sign. Your friend must notice that. She just shuts up and wraps an arm around you as you drive home.
âGosh, I really hope this Marcus call later.â Cassandra sighs dreamy as you enter her apartment building thirty minutes later. Sheâs saying that now, because sheâs drunk. But you know for a fact, that sheâll change her mind in the morning. Thatâs how her love life looks. Youâre not sure, if sheâll ever learn.
As youâre about to get into elevator, a huge piece of paper taped to it reminds you itâs out of order. Both of you groan. Your legs hurt because of a long night in heels, you feel tipsy and heartbroken. And now you have to climb the stairs to sixth floor? Life really has fun playing with you. âRemind me to kill this janitor for not repairing this piece of junk.â Cassie swears under her breath. The elevator is not working for almost two weeks.
You climb the stairs leaning against each other, the only thing that keeps you going is a thought of a warm, comfy couch waiting in the apartment. You miss your bed. You miss it so much you might actually cry.
You miss your husband in your bed.
God, you really want to punch yourself. No more thinking about Harry â you promise to yourself.
đđ€đ€ When they killed Joel Miller in season two, I saw him die in such agony, when Abby hit him with the golf club. I was so disgusted. He was our father to some, our big brother to others, but for me he was both. I cried for 30 long minutes. My partner didn't move an inch, so I would have preferred a hug from him to calm my tears. I had to go out onto the balcony. Anyway, all this to say, enjoy your family while your grandparents are still alive because afterward it hurts, it hurts a lot. I'll survive it, but it takes time. Maybe I'll be wounded in the heart like Joel was for Sarah. Grandma, I love you, I'm going to miss you, I love you more than you'll ever be. đđ€đ€
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Notes: I wasnât satisfied with the previous chapter, so here you have another. I spent a whole day on it. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Please do not copy my work. Thanks!
series masterlist | next chapter
The moment you called, Harryâs heart filled with hope. He was already asleep, it was three in the damn morning. But when his phone rang and he saw it was you⊠Nothing else mattered. For a second he was afraid that something bad happened, since you were avoiding him, why would you call in the middle of the night?
And then you said you missed him.
You offered to meet for a lunch.
This short conversation got him so excited, so nervous. Heâs aware he fucked up and he wants to fix the damage. And this lunch at Claireâs seems like a chance.
He called off the meeting he had scheduled, just so he could be on time. He canât fail this time. He wonât.
In the morning he got up extra early. Took a shower, trimmed his facial hair just enough. Harry needed everything to be perfect.
So itâs no wonder he got stuck on choosing the right clothes. He stands still in front of the closet. Stares at all of his blazers, shirts and ties. Harry has a good sense of style. But this morning it seems to be gone. âCome onâŠâ he mutters struggling to choose between navy blue and crisp white shirt. Which one would you like more? Which one says âIâm sorry for being a shitty husband. Please, come home, I canât sleep without you.â? He sighs.
Thatâs what he means, when he thinks love makes him look like a fool. He feels silly for having a breakdown over shirts. And itâs all just because he really wants you back. Heâs desperate and he hates it. He hates feeling so lost.
âGet a grip. Itâs not that hard.â Harry says to himself, having a seat on an ottoman. He takes a slow breath in and out. He looks around the closet, thereâs so many clothes here. Yours too. All kinds of dresses, from evening gowns, to light cocktail ones. You looked gorgeous in all of them. You, you are gorgeous. And he was stupid enough to forget about that.
After long struggles, he finally picked the right outfit. Navy, cashmere sweater, dark pants and a watch. The one you gifted him on your first wedding anniversary. Custom made just for him. With the date of your wedding day inscribed on the back. Itâs still the best piece of clothing he owns.
Everything that happens before noon escapes his attention. He has some meetings and stuff in the office, but all he thinks about is a lunch on 1 P.M. Even his assistant notices something is off and that itâs better not to get into his way today.
âFrances, Iâm leaving for lunch.â he says stepping out of his office. The woman looks up at him. âWill you come back? You have a phone call with Tanaka scheduled for 2:30.â That makes him stop in his tracks. Shit, he forgot about that one. âCan you reschedule?â
âNot really, you know how busy he is with opening a new branch in Melbourne.â
âOkay, I⊠Iâll do my best. I will be on the phone.â Harry sighs, itâs not how itâs supposed to be, but he canât leave Tanaka hanging. Itâs the biggest partner to his parentsâ company. âBut now I gotta go.â
All nervous and hopeful he gets to the restaurant, which is only few blocks away from his office. Itâs lunch time, so itâs kinda busy here. But Claireâs has something, that even with the biggest crowd makes it seem peaceful. Thatâs why both you and your husband love it so much. He takes a seat on your usual spot, putting on the table flowers he bought on the way. White lilies and daisies. Sign of remorse and new beginnings. Thatâs what he read. He exhales hesitantly.
Youâre not here yet.
What if you changed your mind? What if it was some cruel joke to make him wait and regret his behavior even more? No⊠You are not like that. You never were. And it makes him feel even worse that he even thought like this. He taps his fingers on the table surface.
âHello, Iâll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order?â a young girl approaches with a small tablet. âOh, uh⊠Iâm actually waiting for my wife.â
âOf course, Iâll come later then. But maybe, while youâre waiting, may I offer something to drink?â
âUm, yeah that sounds good. Two green teas, please.â he says and the girl nods walking away. You love the green tea theyâre serving here. Actually, you love everything about this place. Floors and furniture covered in highest quality wood, the warm lighting that makes it feel more like home, than a restaurant. And that is why he loves this place too â it reminds him of you.
Why does it take so long?
He glances at his watch. Well, he came here before the right time, but you always liked to be earlier. Maybe you really changed your mind? Or something else happened? He looks around the restaurant while the familiar feeling settles in his chest. A fool, he thinks. Such a fool.
Harry remembers the drawings he made for his mom, but she was too busy to even look at them, building the empire he works for now. He remembers flowers he picked on the playground for a stranger girl and that she left them on the bench. He recalls the cruel times of high school, when both him and his brother were bullied for their height. They were the shortest students in their class. He remembers the day he asked his classmate, Laura, to the prom and she rejected him in front of the whole school. Their laughs still echo in his head.
A fool.
Love makes him one.
The only moment when he didnât feel like it, was when he met you. You never made him feel stupid for caring. But now heâs getting afraidâŠ
He glances at the watch again. When he looks up, he catches the exact moment you enter the restaurant.
Youâre breathtaking.
Classy, black dress in white polka dots, soft diamond earrings. He bought them for you in Paris, he recalls. But the clothes are not why his heart seems to skip a beat. Itâs that smile of yours, when you hold the door for a woman with a stroller. He admires every second of it, because he knows that when youâll look at him, this smile will fade away.
And thatâs exactly what happens few moments later. You catch his gaze and he can observe the change in your expression. You approach the table trying not to look hesitant. Harry immediately stands up.
âHey.â you say. âHi.â he says at the same time. You chuckle nervously.
He wants to kiss you, to hold you for just a minute. But heâs not sure if youâll let him. So he settles for handing you the flowers. âThese are for you.â
You feel a lump form in your throat. You keep looking at the lilies, because youâre not sure if you can handle the hopefulness in his eyes. The moment you stepped into Claireâs you knew itâll be so hard. Trying to be firm about what you need and not just accept anything heâs willing to give.
âThank you, theyâre beautiful.â Harry pulls out a chair for you and as you sit opposite each other, the weird tension from the phone call appears again. The silence stretches until itâs interrupted by the waitress bringing the tea he ordered. Two cups. For you and him. You nod, thankful for a distraction. Your hands wrap around warm glass.
âSo, can I take your orders?â
âUm, yeah. Two bagels.â Harry glances at you with hesitation. âWith salmon?â he asks. âNo, I⊠I donât feel like salmon. A bagel with Brie and fig spread for me, please.â
After the waitress walks away with your orders, the silence is welcomed again. You both feel like you want to say so much, but donât know how to begin. So you just take a sip of your green tea, looking around the restaurant. Itâs been a while since you were here with Harry. Your grip on the cup tightens. He notices that.
âYou look pretty. New dress?â he tries to start some conversation. âNo, I bought it like two months ago.â you answer and again he can feel like he missed something. Even if it was just a stupid dress. In the past, back when everything was alright between him and you, you used to do shopping hauls for him. After coming home, you would try on again every piece you bought and show him. He remembers the way you were twirling around and he admired everything you wore. He misses those moments. He misses you. And these thoughts make him finally speak.
âLook, I⊠I know I fucked up.â he looks at you with remorse and longing that makes your heart ache. âI said awful things, I missed the dinner⊠You deserve more than I gave you through last few months.â
âIâm glad we have that established.â you say. Youâre not sure if itâs just quiet, or maybe a little bitter. He sees that. He sees youâre hurt more than he realized, but he still believes he can fix this. You love each other, damnit. Of that, he is sure. âDarling, I⊠Just tell me how to make it up to you. How do I fix what I broke?â he asks and you take another sip of the tea to calm yourself. Youâre not sure how to put in the words what you want to say. Youâre a good writer, not a talker. âDo you believe that we can fix this right now? Here, during this lunch?â you tilt your head. You need his answer to know if heâs really aware of the damage he made. But then you notice his brows knit in slight confusion. âWhat do you mean? Of course we can fix it here. Weâre here to fix it, arenât we?â his voice gets this deeper tone you normally love, but now it just makes you want to roll your eyes. âYes, we are, Harry. But one talk wonât make our issues disappear.â
âIssues?â He sighs. âBaby, youâre hurt, Iâm aware. I was a dick to you.â
âNo, itâs not as simple as being a dick, Harry.â Your voice sharpens, but itâs still down, because you donât want to make a scene. You both despise arguing in public, that is why you chose this restaurant. You want a peaceful conversation. So you take a breath. Calm. You are calm. âYou made me feel unimportant. You worked so much, there were days I saw you only for fifteen minutes. Itâs not about that one dinner. Though, I have to admit, it was the last straw. No matter how many times youâll say you fucked up, or that youâre sorry⊠It wonât fix months of neglect. Marriage is not some project. There isnât any trial period, when you have to be a good husband and then after two years you can stop trying at all. Marriage is a constant work. On both sides.â
Before he can answer, the waitress brings you your bagels with a big smile on her face. You thank her politely, while Harry thinks about your words. When sheâs gone, he tries again as you take a bite of your bagel. You lost your appetite, but you havenât eaten breakfast, so your responsible part of you makes you eat it.
âOkay⊠you are right. I know it.â he admits, looking down at his plate. He hasnât even touched his bagel, but itâs the last thing he has on his mind now. He knows the situation is that bad, but this avoidant part of him still held on to that hope, that youâll forgive him easily. Your eyes soften, because you know that look on him.
âI need a change, Harry. Are you willing to change? For good?â
âBaby⊠Of course, I want to change. But itâs not that simple. I still have responsibilities. The company is in a crucial moment⊠I need you to understandâŠâ
âOur marriage is also in a crucial moment.â you say and that gets to him. He takes a moment to look at you carefully. âYou donât mean⊠You want a divorce?â the disbelief on his face is heartbreaking. Heâs making it harder with every minute. You finish your bagel and put the plate aside as he waits for your answer. âIâve been considering it.â you finally admit.
âNo.â he shakes his head. âWeâre not getting a divorce, you hear me? This⊠This can be fixed. I can be better, baby. Just trust me. We can⊠Fuck, Iâll even agree to a fucking marriage therapy, just donât⊠Donât do this to us.â he has never been that scared in his life. He canât lose you.
âDo this to us? Harry, you did that.â you slowly lose your patience. âWe donât need a marriage therapy, I just need you to open up to me, for Christâs sake.â you lean on closer over the table. âYou pulled away from me⊠I need us back together. I know, you know what I mean and youâre just running from the truth. Please, stop running.â you rest your hand over his. âFace this with me, if you really wanna fix our relationship.â
Heâs left speechless. For all the time he knew you, he thought he reached his maximum level of being honest about his feelings. You taught him a lot. You taught him enough, that he was able to admit he loves you. He was sure itâs enough. But relationships evolve, needs change. He started pulling away, when he realized heâs failing you. And now heâs not sure how to stop.
âI really⊠I donât wanna be like this. I love you.â he looks into your eyes desperately. His thumb brushes delicately over the back of your hand. Itâs been four awful days since he touched you. âItâs⊠IâŠâ
âI love you, too. More than youâll ever know. But I wonât be waiting for you forever. Iâm done with that.â you lean back, pulling your hand away from his. âI need something to change. If it doesnât, Iâll file for a divorce.â
It physically hurts you to say that. Your eyes glisten with unshed tears. You were firm about your needs, you stood your ground. You handled it perfectly. And yet thereâs a huge hole in your heart, left after saying these words. Harry seems stunned, too. Only now, he sees, that he canât keep going like that. That he pulled away so far, that you may not want him back. That it isnât some rough path. You are ready to give a death sentence to your marriage. To him.
âBabyâŠâ
You stand up from your chair. You canât draw your gazes away from each other. Eyes filled with tears and regret.
âThink about it.â you whisper. âAsk yourself a question whatâs worse. Losing me or letting me in?â
With these final words you grab your purse. Now the ball is in his court. And you pray heâll choose you. You can act all tough in front of him, but truth to be told youâre terrified. Because you know, no one will ever love you the way Harry did. Before he started neglecting you, you never felt more alive. He was the one, that made you feel valuable. The one who taught you your worth. And now⊠you have to use his lessons against him. And you will.
Because you believe your love is stronger than his fears.
******************
Right after you came back to Cassieâs apartment, you laid down on the couch and cried your eyes out for good thirty minutes. You hate what your life had become. You hate Harry. Hate him for making your marriage like this. You hate yourself for letting it go so far. What the hell got into you when you met him? What made you feel like emotionally unavailable man was a perfect husband material?
You scream into the pillow.
This is the exact moment, when your friend enters the apartment after work. âWoah, woahâŠâ she approaches worried and you sit up startled by her sudden presence. âWhat are you doing here so early?â you ask, your throat sore from crying and screaming. You probably look like a mess with your puffy face and smudged makeup. âI had a feeling youâd need a pep talk after this lunch, but⊠Well, I didnât expect this.â
You chuckle tearfully.
âHeâs an ass.â your voice cracks and Cassie sits down next to you. âHeâs an ass.â she nods, collecting you into her arms. Youâre so thankful for her. Cassandra is the type of friend thatâll pat your head and hands you a tomato to throw into your husbandâs photo even if she likes him. Right now, she wonât try to cheer you up, or give you lectures. Sheâs gonna hold you, rock you gently until your sobs quiet down. And then? Sheâll set a tequila bottle on the coffee table and let you drown your sorrows despite the early hour.
And that is exactly what you need. Youâll worry about the rest tomorrow. Today is for grieving. Today youâre resting after the hardest conversation in your life. Today youâre calling Harry names, so tomorrow you could worry if he chooses you.
âI love him so much.â you cry into her shoulder. âI hate that he made me love him so muchâŠâ
âI know, sweets, I knowâŠâ she hums softly.
Cassie also knows, she has never saw you in a state like this. Not after some collage breakups. Not after your parents missed your graduation. She also hates Harry at this moment, even if she used to call him a friend. Youâre the best person she knows and if he cannot see that, heâs a fucking fool.
Sheâs gonna be here for you now.
Later, she will deal with Harryâs sorry ass.
***************
next chapter
Ending chapter notes: Well it was a rollercoaster, but I had a lot of fun writing it. I feel the angst is angsting. I want to thank you all for reading! I love this community.
Hi there, I'm Mina, in my 30s and a dedicated writer - welcome to my slow burn hell fiction blog, for all of you who also crave slow tension building, thrilling plot lines and anticipated salvation (not to forget Pedro in all his forms). Let me introduce myself before we dive into the writing:
⊠she/her, writer of tension, indulging in smut and softness
⊠trope-lover (but only the good ones)
⊠emotional masochist (but a softie at heart)
⊠happy ends and smut as reward (so minors please dni)
I am always open for asks and prompts, love and reblogs! đ€
pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader
content warning(s): EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ MDNI), fake/pretend relationship, friends with benefits, two idiots in love and neither of them want to admit anything, sexual tension, lingering touches, harry puts sunscreen on you ;), description of alcohol/drinking, minimal physical description, smut - oral (f!receiving), protected piv, tipsy/drunk(?) + kitchen counter sex, dirty talk, no use of y/n.
word count: 7.2k
a/n: alright y'all, the entire look during this trip will be pedro from the corona commercials bc i think we moved on way too fast at how good he looked there lol. and the island they're on btw is the "kudadoo maldives private island"! anyway, it's only day one for these two... i wonder what'll happen next??? ;)
pt 1. - pt 3. || series masterlist. || read on AO3.
âAre you sure youâre packed?â Harry asked, looking over at you. âGot everything you need?âÂ
âYes,â you answered. âThanks to you.âÂ
He chuckled and nodded, leading you through the airport with both hands holding both of your luggages. You shouldnât have been surprised that he was such a gentleman, making sure he held the doors open for you first, holding your bags so that you could walk freely, but you didnât expect how it made you feel.Â
Even as he led you through the airport, Harry walked like he owned the entire place. With so many eyes on him, he kept his own either focused ahead of him or on you. It made you feel kind of special.Â
âAnd flying? You gonna be okay?â He asked.Â
âToo late to be asking me that. Shouldâve thought that before you asked me to be your pretend girlfriend,â you teased.Â
âItâs a long flight.â
âAnd I know you put us in first class, so Iâll be fine.âÂ
Harry sighed. âOkay, just let me know if thereâs anything I can do.âÂ
âOh, I see,â you said, arms crossed over your chest as you both were now checking in. âYouâre nervous.âÂ
âOf course Iâm nervous. Iâm lying to my family.âÂ
âCould end it before you even get on that plane,â you suggested. âBut Iâm keeping the clothes.âÂ
He scoffed. âIâm not ending it. Iâll be fine.âÂ
âYou sure? Because weâre not even there yet and youâre already stressed.âÂ
Harry sighed. âIâm fine.âÂ
You leaned in and whispered quietly, âmaybe we should join the mile high club. Iâm sure thatâd ease some stress.âÂ
His eyes narrowed as he pulled back to look down at you. âYouâre enjoying this.âÂ
âI am.â You watched him check in your luggages before taking your hand and leading you through the airport once again. âI promise Iâll behave once weâre with your family. I just gotta let it all out now.âÂ
He looked at you and tugged you to his side, his arm snaking around your waist protectively.Â
âYou better.âÂ
âOr what?âÂ
His eyes narrowed. âYou know what.âÂ
You smiled. âSee, you want me bad too.âÂ
âDonât I always?âÂ
You laughed and leaned against him, arm looping around his lower back too.Â
It took both you and Harry about twenty hours to arrive to the Maldives and it was already nighttime by the time you landed. He led you through the plane and airport effortlessly tooâhand resting on your lower back or his hand encompassing yours. Maybe this was his way of assuming the role as protective and doting boyfriend before you meet up with his family.Â
âTired?â He asked.Â
âYeah,â you answered. âJust glad I could stretch my legs. I donât know how Iâd be if I rode in coach.âÂ
âPoor you,â he teased. âWe can grab something to eat at the villa.âÂ
âVilla?âÂ
âOn the water.âÂ
âYouâre speaking in riddles.âÂ
Harry chuckled. âWeâre staying on a private island where the villa is on the water.âÂ
Your eyes widened. âAre you serious?âÂ
âYou know my parents,â he answered. âDid you think they wouldnât go all out for their anniversary?âÂ
âMaybe not like that.âÂ
âThen maybe you donât know them. Come on. Iâm hungry and I want a shower.âÂ
You nodded and followed him eagerly, spotting a driver holding up his name immediately. You reached for his hand and saw him look back at you with a furrowed brow.Â
âGirlfriend, remember?â You said.Â
He squeezed your hand and then tugged you closer. âGirlfriend.âÂ
You had fallen asleep on the car ride to the private island. It was Harry who picked you up from the car and carried you into your shared villa, setting you on the mattress carefully. He stared at you for a few seconds before leaving the bedroom to walk into the kitchen. He knew the rest of his family would be arriving soon, but they would be meeting you tomorrow. He poured himself a drink and walked towards the living area, sitting on the couch and staring out the large windows. The moon was reflecting against the water, casting a natural glow into the villa.Â
His mind drifted and wondered how this week was going to go. He knew itâd be easy to slip into such a normal dynamic with you, but he wasnât sure why he kept hearing his motherâs words in his mind.Â
I see the way you look at her sometimes. It lingers.Â
It lingers.Â
Lingers.Â
LingersâŠ
He sighed and set his drink down on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch. Harry wasnât sure what to expect for this week, but he was just hoping that itâd pass quickly. He pulled his phone out and sent a text in the family group chat to let them know that they arrived before grabbing his drink and walking back into the bedroom.Â
You had shifted your position, lying on your abdomen with your leg bent forward and your arms underneath the pillow. You looked so calm and at peace like this. Sure, heâd seen you asleep before but never like this.Â
And never in this type of setting either.Â
You awoke early in the morning to an empty bed. You sat up and widened your eyes at the room you were in, followed by the view just right outside. Harry wasnât lying, you were on the water. You stood slowly and looked around, noticing your luggage in the corner next to Harryâs but with him nowhere to be found. Pulling your hair into a messy bun, you stepped out of the room to see him fast asleep on the couch in the living area.Â
You furrowed a brow and sat at the edge of the coffee table, biting your lower lip as you looked at him. Harry had always been attractive to you. His deep brown eyes, dark curls and dimplesâyou wondered why he couldnât settle down, why he had such a difficult time finding someone to commit to.Â
Even now, with Lucy being just another failed relationship, you wondered what truly was wrong with him. Was he too picky? Did he have a side to him that he hadnât shown you? Was he just truly incapable of putting himself out there and being vulnerable?Â
You were taken out of your thoughts when you heard his voice. Deep and gruff from sleep.Â
âYouâre being creepy,â he mumbled.Â
âAm not.âÂ
âYouâre staring at me while Iâm sleeping.âÂ
âWell, youâre awake, soâŠâÂ
He opened his eyes and looked up at you. âI am now.âÂ
âWhy are you in the living room?âÂ
âWe donât sleep together, remember?âÂ
You sighed. âWe might have to break that rule for the entire week weâre here, Harry.âÂ
He sat up slowly and nodded, bringing a hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. âRight.âÂ
Then, you stood up and looked around with a smile. âItâs beautiful here.âÂ
He just answered with a quiet grunt. âDid you sleep okay?âÂ
âYeah. Did you carry me in?âÂ
âYeah,â he answered. âI know how cranky you get when youâre woken up.âÂ
You rolled your eyes. Harry stood and walked over to you. His body lingered, not quite crossing that threshold just yet. His fingers moved at his sides though, lightly brushing them over your hand.Â
âWant some coffee?âÂ
âYou gonna make?âÂ
âGonna try,â he answered.Â
âThen yes,â you smiled. âDo we have plans today?âÂ
Harry nodded. âGonna meet up with my family, have some lunch.âÂ
âGreat, so I have time to swim?âÂ
âGuess so.â
âWill you join me?âÂ
He shook his head. âNo.âÂ
âOh, come on,â you said, turning your body to face his. âYouâre on vacation. Try to relax and have some fun.âÂ
âIâm lying to my family about my love life,â he argued. âNothing about that screams fun.âÂ
âAt least youâre not lying to them with someone you barely know,â you pointed out. âCome on. We have to make this believable, right? Just⊠dip your toes in.âÂ
âDo I look like someone who just dips my toes in?âÂ
You leaned back to look at him, eyeing him up and down. âTruthfully, yes.âÂ
Harry chuckled. You felt yourself relax at the sight of him smiling.Â
âFine, but after coffee, okay?âÂ
You nodded and leaned in to kiss his cheek. âWeâre gonna have so much fun.âÂ
âDebatable,â he mumbled, but watched you turn away to go back into the bedroom.Â
Harry sighed and walked towards the kitchen, preparing coffee for the both of you. He glanced down the hallway and into the direction of the bedroom, watching you kneel down in front of the luggage to grab some change of clothes.Â
He grabbed his phone and noticed the messages from his parents and Peter, the rest of them saying they had finally arrived now too. He sighed and set down his phone, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard to pour the coffee in.Â
Harry just had to get through today. Day one. It would be fine, wouldnât it?Â
He almost spilled his coffee when he saw you walk out of the bedroom. It was a deep red floral print two-piece bikini with a short skirt in the same pattern tied at the side of your waist. You had your hair pulled into a loose braid with a few strands falling over your face.Â
Harry looked over your frame, eyes lingering on every exposed inch of your body. You set the towels on the couch and the sunscreen before you walked over to him, smiling broadly in his direction as you reached for your cup.Â
âThanks for the coffee,â you said, sipping it carefully like you had no idea the effect you had on him.Â
He rounded the corner to you and reached out to the side of your exposed leg, fingers trailing upwards. âThis is nice.âÂ
âYeah?â You smiled, staring at him from the rim of your mug. âYou like it?âÂ
Harry nodded, bringing his hand further up your leg until he started to play with the tie at your hip. âLooks good.âÂ
âThanks,â you said, setting the mug down. âYou paid for it.âÂ
He scoffed and then pulled back, clearing his throat as he looked at you from top to bottom again. âOf course I did.âÂ
âCan you hurry up and get ready so that we can go into the water together?âÂ
âIâm only dipping my toes, remember?âÂ
âSure⊠sure.âÂ
His eyes narrowed before he grabbed his mug from the counter. âIâll be quick.âÂ
âYou better. I need help with putting sunscreen on my back.âÂ
âAnd Iâm the help?âÂ
âExactly,â you grinned. âBut donât worry, Iâll do you too.âÂ
âWonât need it,â he said, beginning to walk down the hallway now. âIâm only dipping my toes in.âÂ
You laughed quietly to yourself and walked out of the villa onto the deck, inhaling sharply as you looked around. You couldnât believe you were actually here, on the water on a private island. You knew Harryâs family was rich, but this was on a different level.Â
Harry came out after a few minutes, dressed in dark navy blue swimming trunks and a white knit shirt, the buttons at the top undone to reveal his tanned and broad chest.Â
You looked over at him and smiled. âYou really should show your legs more often,â you said. âTheyâre nice.âÂ
âEven with my scars?âÂ
âYou made an investment on yourself,â you shrugged. âYou shouldnât be ashamed of that.âÂ
âMost people tend to look at you differently when you admit youâve gotten some work done to alter the way you look.âÂ
âWho says you have to tell the truth?â You smiled, grabbing the sunscreen from his grasp. âBesides, I think it makes you look hotter.âÂ
âThe scars?âÂ
You nodded.Â
âYouâre ridiculous.âÂ
âIâm being truthful.âÂ
âYouâre flirting,â he said simply.Â
âWhat can I say? Itâs easy to flirt with you when weâre in the Maldives.â You opened the bottle sunscreen and applied a small amount onto your hand to rub along your arms and chest.Â
âLet me,â he mumbled.Â
âI can get my front,â you said.Â
âThen turn around,â Harry replied.Â
âYou just want to put your hands on me.âÂ
âMaybe,â he smirked.Â
âNow whoâs flirting?âÂ
âYou make it easy,â he answered, hands resting on your hips and turning you swiftly until your back was facing him. Once you finished applying sunscreen to your front, you reached back to hand him the bottle.Â
âTry not to get all hot and bothered,â he teased. âI know what happens to you when I get my hands on you.âÂ
You scoffed. âOnly when weâre having sex.âÂ
Harry stepped forward and whispered quietly into your ear. âWe both know thatâs not entirely true.âÂ
You cleared your throat.Â
Harry started applying some sunscreen to your shoulders first, spreading it evenly along your skin.Â
A moan escaped you accidentally.Â
âTold you,â he chuckled into your ear.Â
âShut up,â you mumbled. âMaybe I just need a massage.âÂ
âThat can be arranged.âÂ
You rolled your eyes, but bit your lower lip to hold back another moan that wanted to slip out. His hands moved from your shoulders and down your back, thumbs digging softly I your muscles to relieve some of the tension.Â
Harry let his eyes deviate along your lower back and down to your backside, one of his hands coming up to undo the tie of the skirt to let it fall to your ankles.Â
âHmm,â he murmured to himself.Â
âYouâre staring,â you said. âAnd I can get my own ass, thanks.âÂ
âShame,â Harry whispered, stepping away from you to look at you from top to bottom. âI wouldnât have minded.âÂ
âUh huh,â you smiled, turning to kiss his cheek. âThanks, baby,â you teased before you turned back around to jump into the ocean with a splash.Â
Harry chuckled to himself and sat at the edge of the deck to watch you. He dipped his toes into the cool water, hands resting at either side of him as he watched you come up from underneath the water, stroking your hair back and away from your face now.Â
âYou sure you donât want to come in?â You asked, swimming slowly over to him. âIt feels great.âÂ
âIâm fine,â he said, gently kicking his feet back and forth under the water. âI can feel it just fine like this.âÂ
âWill you get in the water with me at some point this week?â You asked.
âIf youâre good,â he teased.Â
âIf Iâm good?âÂ
He nodded. âAnd if you behave.âÂ
âYou act like Iâm not a good girl,â you grinned, licking your lower lip.Â
âYouâre not⊠sometimes.â
 âMaybe thatâs intentional.â You laughed, moving to lay back against the water and you floated against the surface with the sun beating down on you and your body. âPlease just come into the water with me.âÂ
Harry shook his head. âNext time.âÂ
âWe both know there wonât be a next time.âÂ
He heard his phone ring from inside the villa. Harry stood up and looked at you. âIâm gonna get that. You stay⊠have some fun for the both of us.âÂ
âBoring⊠youâre boring, Castillo!âÂ
Harry chuckled to himself and gave you one last look before he stepped back inside the villa once he dried his feet.Â
When he looked down at his phone, he sighed. He hadnât told you that he signed up for Adoreâs matchmaking services and the message he thought would be from his family was instead his matchmaker telling him that there was a woman who would be perfect for him.Â
He heard your laughter from outside. Harry sighed and began typing. This wasnât real, you werenât his.Â
So, he told his matchmaker that he couldnât wait and to get something set up for when he would get back home.Â
Harry was seated on the couch, typing away on his phone to let his family that heâd be seeing them soon. He was dressed casuallyâa pair of tan linen shorts with a dark, olive-colored polo shirt. It was breathable, considering the heat.Â
âHey, are you almost ready?â He called out.Â
âComing!â You answered, walking out of the bedroom and down the hallway into the living area. He turned to look over at you, once again, shocked at what you were wearing.Â
It was a pale green strapless dress with floral print (again) that stopped just right above your ankles. It hugged your curves in all the right places and when you turned, he felt his throat go dry. It was a backless dress too.Â
âReady,â you said, running a hand through your hair. It was loose, purposefully undone to give that beach look.Â
âAnother one that I paid for?â Harry asked, standing up from the couch.Â
âThis one I actually owned already,â you smiled.Â
âOh? How come Iâve never seen it?âÂ
âBecause you never take me to places like this,â you laughed. âSo, weâre on the same page with our story, right?âÂ
Harry nodded. âYeah. Disastrous first date, butââ
âBut we had fun,â you finished.Â
âAnd you kissed me.âÂ
âYes, I did,â you smiled. Then, you took a step closer and moved a hand to his chest. âWeâll have to be affectionate.âÂ
âYeah,â he said. âBut we donât have to make it too obvious. Maybe some hand holding, a peck here and there.âÂ
âAlright,â you nodded, taking a deep breath. âYou feeling okay?âÂ
Harry shrugged. âJust gotta get through the week.âÂ
âRight,â you said. âBut hey, Iâll be right here with you.âÂ
He smiled.Â
Then, you caught him by surprise when you leaned in to kiss his cheek. âLetâs go, boyfriend.âÂ
He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled away to look down at you. âBy the way,â Harry whispered. âYou look beautiful.âÂ
You smiled and moved your hand from his chest to cup his cheek.Â
âFlirt.âÂ
He leaned in and lightly pecked your lips. âAgain, you make it easy.âÂ
You sighed against his lips before pulling away. âStop being charming. Letâs go.âÂ
He chuckled and nodded, moving a hand to your lower back as he led you out of the villa.Â
Harry wasnât sure how today was going to go, but surely it wouldnât be as worse as heâd expect it to be if he came alone.Â
He saw his mother first, looking as radiant as she always did. Harry wouldnât admit it, but his mother had always been a soft spot for him. Peter liked to joke around and say that he was a mamaâs boy growing up, always wanting to be near her and making sure that she was taken care of. Harry would argue and say it was just his way of protecting her, of making sure that she didnât work too hard.Â
But he knew there was some truth to it.Â
âTodayâs going to be very lowkey⊠but the rest of the week will ramp up,â Harry explained. âToday is just the immediate family.âÂ
âYou mean more people will be coming?âÂ
Harry nodded. âYes.âÂ
âGuess having a private island is worth it then.âÂ
Almost like he could sense your anxiety, he reached over and rested a hand on your knee. âItâs just lunch.âÂ
âI know, but I think itâs starting to hit me that Iâll be lying to your parents⊠and theyâve both been so good to me.âÂ
âHey, Iâve been good to you.âÂ
You looked over at him. âIn a different way.âÂ
He smirked. âWeâre both nervous,â he said softly. âI think thatâs okay. Makes it more realistic because meeting your partnerâs family for the first time should be nerve wracking.âÂ
âWill you hold my hand?âÂ
âYou know I will.âÂ
The driver put the car in park and he leaned down to kiss the crown of your head. âWe got this, baby.âÂ
You turned your hand to squeeze his own. âOkay.âÂ
The driver opened the door and Harry stepped out first, taking your hand to help you out as well. When you did, he stayed close by your side, keeping a hand resting on your lower back.Â
âHarry, honey,â his mother called out, greeting the both of you halfway.Â
âHi, ma,â he smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek.Â
She smiled and turned to you. âYou look gorgeous.âÂ
âThank you, Mrs. Castillo,â you smiled, leaning into Harry. âAnd thank you for having me. Itâs such a beautiful place.âÂ
âIâm just surprised Harry didnât say anything sooner about the two of you seeing each other,â she laughed quietly. âBut then again, he always was the quiet one anyway.âÂ
You looked over at him and smiled. âThis is actually a big step in our relationship, right, baby?âÂ
Harry looked down at you and nodded. He looked into your eyes a second longer than he needed to but he found it comforting, grounding, to have you here.Â
âThatâs right.â
âWell,â his mother said. âWeâre glad to have you here⊠and to be honest, weâre relieved that you both ended up with each other.âÂ
âMa,â he mumbled.Â
She smiled. âOkay, okay. I wonât say a word,â she winked.Â
âAbout what?â You asked, furrowing a brow.Â
âNothing,â Harry answered. âShould we head inside for lunch? Iâm sure you and dad canât wait to start all the festivities you have planned for the week.âÂ
âFifty years of marriage, honey,â his mother said. âThatâs a big milestone.âÂ
You looked up at Harry and nodded in agreement. âImagine where youâll be in fifty years, Harry,â you said.Â
âHopefully with you,â he blurted out.Â
Your eyes widened just slightly but he leaned in to kiss your cheek before you could say anything else. You wondered if it was just his way of playing the role as your boyfriend or if he was really telling the truth. Either way, you tried not to dwell on it too much.Â
Because that meant allowing yourself to think about life with him.Â
And that wasnât what you needed. It wasnât what you wanted either. Harry was, and always will be, just someone to pass time with. Nothing else. Nothing more. That was the agreement.Â
âCharmer,â you teased.Â
His mother laughed quietly. âHe does have a way with words, doesnât he?âÂ
âHe really does,â you answered, eyes narrowing slightly at him.Â
âOkay, Iâm starving,â Harry said. âCan we go inside now?âÂ
His mother nodded and led the two of you inside. She was a few feet away from the both of you, which gave Harry enough space to whisper into your ear without his mother hearing.Â
âSorry about that,â he whispered. âIt just kind of came out.âÂ
You looked up at him and nodded. So, he didnât mean it. He was just playing a role.Â
âI know,â you lied, forcing a small smile. âIt was smooth.âÂ
âGlad you thought so⊠because you looked a bit surprised.âÂ
âJust wasnât expecting it.âÂ
âBesides, fifty years of marriage sounds like a lot of work,â he mumbled.Â
âNot with the right person,â you replied too quickly.
âWhat?âÂ
âI just mean that when itâs with the right person, fifty years wonât be enough.âÂ
His eyes softened as he looked down at you. Harry opened his mouth to say something but realized he didnât have anything worth saying anyway. So, he shut his mouth and nodded.Â
Because in the back of his mind, all he could hear was Lucy.Â
Love is supposed to be easy.
He shouldnât have been surprised by the fact that you just fit in so naturally with his family. Harry was seated to your right with his arm draped over the back of your chair as you leaned against him. Throughout lunch, it was like your bodies knew just the right amount of space to give each other in certain moments or when to move in closer in others.Â
He ran his fingertips lightly along the back of your shoulder as you reached for your glass of wine, sipping it with a smile as you listened to the story of how his parents met. He tuned them out almost instantly, having heard the story before, but all he could focus on was how the two of you looked like to the rest of the family.Â
Could they sense any hesitation from either of you?Â
Did they have an idea that all of this was a lie?Â
Even Peter noticed that he wasnât all that there. So, he stood from his chair and pointed at Harry briefly, motioning him towards the bathrooms.Â
Harry furrowed a brow and then leaned in to kiss your temple briefly, excusing himself from the table to follow his younger brother towards the back.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âAre you okay?â Peter asked.Â
âIâm fine.âÂ
âYou donât look fine.âÂ
âJet lag,â he lied.Â
Peter rolled his eyes. âRight.âÂ
âJust thinking, Peter,â he sighed.Â
âAbout?âÂ
Harry shrugged. âEverything.âÂ
âHm.âÂ
âHm what?âÂ
âIf I can notice somethingâs wrong, then your girl will too,â Peter said.Â
Harry let out a sigh of relief. He thought Peter had called him away from the table to tell him that he knew just exactly what he was doing, but instead, he pulled him aside to just check in.Â
And he hated the way it made him feel when Peter called you his girl.Â
Because then he started thinking about it and something territorial came over him.Â
âIâm fine,â he sighed.
âOkay,â Peter nodded. âIf you say so.âÂ
âCharlotte looks good,â Harry said.Â
âYeah, weâre actually trying for a baby right now,â his younger brother smiled.Â
âOh?â
âNo luck so far, but itâs definitely fun trying,â he chuckled. âWeâre trying not to put too much pressure on it, you know?âÂ
âMakes sense,â Harry replied, moving his hands into his pockets. âWho knows? Maybe sheâll get pregnant during this trip.âÂ
Peter laughed quietly. âLetâs hope so. I know mom would love that.âÂ
âShe sure would,â Harry smiled. âShe and dad have been asking for a grandkid and we know itâs not gonna be me whoâs going to have a kid first.âÂ
âYou never know,â he winked.Â
Harry shook his head. âWeâre safe. We take protection very seriously,â he shrugged.Â
âTheyâre not a hundred percent, though.âÂ
âSure, of course, but itâs still much safer than just doing it without contraception.â Harry shook his head then. âAnyway, why the hell are we talking about my sex life?âÂ
Peter laughed. âSorry, sorry, letâs head back.âÂ
Harry nodded.Â
âBy the way,â Peter said. âYou look⊠happier,â he pointed out. âAnd different than when you were with Lucy.âÂ
He bit his lower lip as he followed Peter back to the table. He saw you talking and laughing with his parents and Charlotte and he started thinking just how easily you fit in.Â
Then, he remembered Peter calling you his girl.Â
And when your eyes met his, all Harry could think about was:Â
Mine.Â
Mine.Â
Mine.Â
Youâre mine.Â
Lunch soon turned into afternoon drinks back at his parentsâ villa. Obviously, it was much bigger than his own and Peterâs, but neither of them minded. They were used to their parents spending money on the finger things in life anyway.Â
âSoâŠâ Charlotte smiled, leaning back against Peter. âTell us how you two became⊠a thing.âÂ
âOh,â you smiled, looking over at Harry who was sitting next to you. âYou wanna tell it, baby?âÂ
âYou can, baby,â Harry said.Â
You held his gaze for a few seconds.Â
His parents were on the loveseat across from you, his fatherâs arm around his mother affectionately.Â
âOkay, Iâll tell it,â you said, turning back to glance at Charlotte. âWell, as you know, Iâve worked for the family for about five years now.âÂ
âRight,â Charlotte smiled. âDid you guys finally have some kind of epiphany during one of your gigs?âÂ
You shook your head. Harry kept his eyes on you.Â
âItâs funny, actually. We bumped into each other at a coffee shop one morning.âÂ
âCoffee shop?â His mother asked. âWhich one?âÂ
Harry cleared his throat. Neither of you established which coffee shop and didnât think anyone would ask.Â
So, Harry chimed in instead. âThe one near Central Park,â he answered.Â
You nodded in agreement.Â
Harry continued.Â
âIt was after Lucy,â he said quietly. âAnd we just⊠we started talking.âÂ
âSpent most of the morning just talking actually,â you smiled. âHe was⊠familiar, you know? A friend.âÂ
Harry smiled. âIt was easy,â he added.Â
âThen, I asked him out to dinner.âÂ
His mother grinned.Â
Peterâs eyes widened.Â
âYou made the first move?âÂ
âHe had just come back from Iceland. I figured Iâd⊠put myself out there and let him know that I was interested. Worst case scenario, heâd reject me.âÂ
âThatâs brave of you,â his mother smiled.Â
âVery courageous,â his father chimed in. âNot many women would do that.âÂ
You smiled and leaned further into Harry. âWe had a really great conversation.âÂ
Everyone laughed.Â
Harry relaxed just a bit.Â
âBut dinner was a disaster,â he continued. âNothing was working to our favor that night. Food took so long and when we did get our food, it wasnât even what we ordered.âÂ
âDefinitely a bad first date,â you teased. âBut not because of Harry⊠it was because of the circumstances.âÂ
âStill had fun,â he smiled, kissing your cheek lightly.Â
âI did too,â you said. âWe spent the entire night just⊠laughing together⊠so when he dropped me off, I kissed him.âÂ
âI knew I liked you,â his father laughed. âGoing after what you want, I like that.âÂ
âTook me by surprise,â Harry said, arm wrapping around your shoulders now. âWasnât used to that.âÂ
You looked up at him and smiled. âAnd weâve been together ever since,â you nodded.Â
âAbout two months, yeah,â Harry confirmed.Â
âWell, weâre glad that Harry finally found someone that makes him genuinely happy,â his mother said. âAnd we see the way you look at him too.âÂ
You cleared your throat and let out a nervous chuckle. âHe makes it easy,â you said quietly.Â
Harry suddenly stood up and then pointed to your empty glass. âWant a refill, baby?âÂ
You nodded and stood with him, taking one of his hands in yours. âYeah, Iâll come with.â You forced a smile and then, âdoes anyone else want a refill?âÂ
They all shook their heads.Â
âWeâre gonna head back to our villa,â Peter said.Â
âAnd your mother and I⊠have some other plans,â his father said.Â
âThat means itâs time to go,â you laughed.Â
Harry nodded. âOkay then, weâll see you guys tomorrow.âÂ
He released your hand to hug Charlotte and shake Peterâs hand before he walked over to his parents. He kissed his motherâs cheek and pulled her into a hug before doing the same to his father.Â
You followed him and felt his mother pull you into her arms. She had always been so kind to you, but this versionâthe version as your âboyfriendâsâ mother and not your bossâwasnât something you were used to.Â
âWe really are so happy youâre here,â she whispered. âYou look at him the way he looks at you.âÂ
You pulled back to look at her, confused. âWhat?âÂ
âYou look at him like thereâs something you want to say, but canât quite bring yourself up to say it.âÂ
âI donâtââ
âThereâs something you two arenât admitting to each other,â his mother said with a small smile. âBut thatâs okay because itâll come out sooner or later.âÂ
You didnât know what to do but just nod at her.Â
âGood night,â she continued.
âNight, Mrs. Castillo.âÂ
Back at your own shared villa with Harry, you had switched from wine to hard liquor. You downed a single shot of tequila when he came into the kitchen.Â
The air around the both of you felt charged now.Â
The lunch was successful, but both of you were thinking of different thingsâthings that made you both start wondering what this could really be like if neither of you were lying.Â
âCan you pour me one too?â Harry asked.Â
You nodded and grabbed another shot glass. You were barefoot now against the tiled floor, still in your dress, as you poured tequila in both glasses.Â
Harry walked over to you and took the shot glass, clicking it against yours softly.Â
âSalud,â he whispered, downing the shot with ease.Â
You did the same, feeling it burn in the back of your throat. You were tipsy now, so was Harry, and the tension between the two of you thickened.Â
âIt was a good day,â he said.Â
âIt was.âÂ
âYou did good.âÂ
âSo did you.âÂ
Harry looked down at you and reached out to the touch the fabric of your dress, letting out a quiet breath. âI like this on you.âÂ
You werenât sure if the warmth you felt was from the alcohol or from the way his compliments were hitting you harder than before. It felt like there was weight to it now, like Harry was noticing you in a different light.Â
âMakes me wonder what other dresses you brought with you.âÂ
âYouâll find out,â you whispered.Â
Harry nodded and used his free hand to pour himself another shot. He downed it quickly and refilled both shot glasses.Â
âDo you think they bought it?â He asked.Â
âI think so,â you answered. Your mind drifted momentarily to what his mother said: You look at him the way he looks at you. You werenât sure what she meant by that because nothing in the way Harry looked at you ever gave you a different impression that this was something more.
That maybe there always was.Â
âGood,â he said.Â
You grabbed your shot glass
So did Harry.Â
Another clinking of the glass.Â
You stared at each other as you both downed the liquor at the same time. Your eyes glanced at his lips. Harryâs did the same.Â
âYou looked good tonight,â you complimented. âAs much as I like seeing you in a suit, this type of clothing also suits you.âÂ
âYeah?â
You nodded. âYou seem more relaxed.â
âI am.âÂ
âYou are now,â you replied teasingly.Â
âIâm always relaxed when youâre here.âÂ
You cleared your throat.Â
He didnât have to say that and neither of you needed to fake anything behind closed doors, but the attraction you felt towards each other always felt so intense.Â
âYouâre flirting.âÂ
He just hummed. Harry stepped forward against until you turned to face him, back resting against the counter. He reached out and rested a hand on the edges of it, caging you in between his body and the kitchen counter.Â
âYou sure itâs okay to sleep next to you?â Harry asked, leaning down and brushing his nose lightly over your cheek.Â
You nodded as your own hands moved to rest on his chest. âYes,â you answered. âIâm sure.âÂ
âI promise Iâll keep my hands to myself,â he said quietly.Â
âWhat if I donât want you to?â You asked.Â
Harryâs gaze darkened. âYou want me to touch you?âÂ
You nodded slowly. âYes.âÂ
That was all he needed before he bent down to pick you up into his arms. Harry set you down on the kitchen counter, stepping between your legs as he leaned in to lightly press his lips against your own.Â
Your hands moved to his hair immediately, raking your fingers through his curls as you felt him lift the ends of your dress higher up your legs.Â
It was always felt like this with him.Â
Intense. Charged. Rushed.Â
Always like you both had limited time and tried to do as much as you could within that timeframe.Â
But now, now you both had an entire week with each other. No distractions and reality, at least for this week, wouldnât catch up to either of you.Â
His strong hands moved to grip your hips, tugging you roughly to the edge of the counter. Harryâs lips moved eagerly with your own, tongue sliding to meet yours. He felt your hands move to grab his shirt, tugging on it as he pulled back from the kiss to pull the shirt over his head.Â
âMm,â you grinned, leaning forward to press kisses along his collarbone and up his neck.Â
Harry groaned, using his free hand to unzip your dress before he pulled it down your body. He cleared his throat at the sight of your matching white lace bra and thong.Â
âGonna take those shorts off?â You teased, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra as you tossed it over your shoulder.Â
âYâYeah,â he muttered, pushing his shorts and boxers down in one swift motion. He looked down at himself, already hard and leaking at his tip.Â
Then, Harry reached up to tug down your thong until you were sitting on the counter completely bare for him.Â
âCondom,â you pointed out.Â
âNot yet,â he said, moving his hands to keep your legs spread apart. âWant a fucking taste of you first.âÂ
Harry knelt down before you and let out a loud groan at the sight of you already glistening wet for him. He leaned forward and licked a stripe along the length of your sex, feeling your hands immediately down to tug on his hair.Â
âGreedy,â he grinned.Â
You tugged on his hair and pulled him closer to where you needed him the most.Â
âDonât worry, baby. Iâll take care of her,â Harry winked. He didnât normally do this, at least not with other women, but for some reason, he felt crazed enough to do this with you. When he had tasted you for the first time, it was like he couldnât get enoughâhe spent that entire night between your legs, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you.Â
And the moans that escaped you always fueled him further. Youâd always try and push him away when you felt like you couldnât handle anymore, but he just kept going.Â
And going.Â
And going.Â
Because with you, Harry couldnât ever contain his excitement.Â
So, he leaned forward and lapped at your juices eagerly, keeping your legs spread with his large hands on your upper thighs. Harry flicked his tongue repeatedly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs.Â
You curled your hands into his hair, tugging on it roughly. Harry didnât stop though. He knew you were close, especially by the way your hands gripped his hair even tighter.Â
âFuck, Harry, waitââ
He growled against you and shook his head. He draped an arm over your midsection to keep you still as his other hand gripped your wrists.Â
It was obscene, the way he was holding you firmly against the counter and the wet sounds of him eating you out. You were so fucking wet that your arousal dropped down his chin.Â
Your back arched as you abruptly closed your legs around his head. Harry grinned against you, pressing himself further into your sex.Â
âFuck!â You exclaimed. Your orgasm hit you harder than you expected. You werenât sure if it was because of how good Harry was at doing this or if todayâs events always played a factor.Â
Harry pulled away from you and stood up, grinning down at you.Â
âAlways so fucking good,â he grinned.Â
You sat up and placed a hand at the base of his neck, pulling him to you roughly. You leaned up and gently nipped at his lower lip, feeling the head of his manhood brush against you.Â
âGonna need you to be inside me now,â you mumbled.Â
Harry growled. âGimme a sec,â he said. âDonât move.â He leaned down and grabbed his wallet from his shorts, pulling the condom from it. He held up the packaging for you to see before tearing it open with his teeth and sliding the latex down his length.Â
He stepped forward between your legs again and ran the head of his manhood along your sex, growling at the feel of your warmth and wetness against him. He slipped the tip of him past your folds briefly but pulled out just as quickly, repeating the motion several more times.Â
âStop teasing,â you said with a whimper.Â
Harry chuckled. âJust wanna open you up for me.âÂ
âI can take it,â you replied. âYou know I always can.âÂ
âYeah,â he said, sliding into you fully. âYou always could.â Harry filled you to the hilt, groaning under his breath at your tightness surrounding him.Â
You gasped loudly at the feel of him. You never could quite get used to just how good he felt. He leaned over you, lips brushing over yours, as he began moving his hips Â
âAlways so fucking wet for me, arenât you?â He mumbled, hands resting on the counter as he thrusted into you repeatedly.Â
âHarry,â you whimpered, moving your arms around his shoulders as his body pressed firmly against your own.Â
âGod, you drive me crazy,â he murmured, moving to rest his forehead against your shoulder. âSeeing you in that fucking bikini today and then that dressâŠâ Harry growled, teeth grazing your skin roughly.Â
âKnew it,â you smiled, wrapping your legs around his waist as you felt him slide deeper inside of you.Â
âThat your plan all along?â He asked, propping himself up just enough to look down at you as he delivered one hard thrust.Â
âItâs easy,â you grinned, lips parting as a loud moan escaped you. âItâs always easy with you, Harry.âÂ
He clenched his jaw at that. Something in him snapped. He moved one hand to the side of your neck and the other on your hip, slamming himself into you repeatedly.Â
The sounds of your moans mixed in with the sounds of skin slapping against one another and it echoed throughout the villa.Â
There was something unsaid between the both of you. Something that started brewing the moment you both got to the Maldives, and maybe even something that had been lingering long before that too.Â
Because you were looking at each other like you both never had before.Â
âFuck, baby,â Harry said, moving both hands to your hips now. He used it to brace himself, to keep a tight hold on you as he continued his hard and fast thrusts.Â
Heâd usually be able to last longer, but Harry just felt something overcome him. Something he wasnât willing to admit because after this week, you both would go back to just being friends who occasionally had sex with each other.Â
Nothing else.Â
Nothing more.Â
He felt you tighten around him first.Â
His thrusts picked up in speed.Â
And Harry only lasted another minute or two before he came. Hard. He filled you to the hilt and felt his body tremble as his own orgasm took over.Â
It wasnât ever like this.Â
This intense.Â
Filled with so many things that neither of you cared to admit.Â
âFuck,â he muttered, looking down at you with heavy breaths. Harry leaned down and pecked your lips before he slid out of you, pulling the condom from his length carefully and tying it at the ends before he tossed it into the trash.Â
âIf Iâm being honest,â you said breathlessly. âI didnât think weâd hook up that fast.âÂ
Harry chuckled. âNo?âÂ
âI thought maybe at least day three,â you smiled, sitting up from the counter. You pulled him to you and kissed his cheek lightly.Â
âWell, I thought that I did pretty good.âÂ
âOh yeah? How so?âÂ
âWell, I wanted to fuck you the minute you came out this morning in that fucking bikini and skirt,â he smirked, pecking your lips once more.Â
âWow,â you laughed quietly. âPracticing some restraint, I see.âÂ
His eyes narrowed. âYou complaining?âÂ
âKind of. I wouldnât have minded you fucking me earlier,â you grinned.Â
Harry shook his head and bit back a smile, gently patting your thighs. âWe should probably try and get some sleep. Tomorrowâs another day.âÂ
You nodded and hopped off the counter, fingertips trailing along his chest and abdomen. âDay one done, right?âÂ
âDay one done,â he agreed. âJust six more days.âÂ
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[SUMMARY: Joel secretly keeps a close eye on you after finding out youâre pregnant and isnât ok with how youâre treated by your mother Marlene.]
Angst, child birth
PART TWO
Your mind couldnât stop thinking about Joel now being around. He did as he said he would and kept his distance but you would feel his eyes on you every now and then. Ellie and you had both grown somewhat close for the last few weeks and so she helped you that morning make breakfast.
âDo you actually like doing this?â Ellie asked just as you felt a strong kick from the baby distracting you from answering her.
âOuchâ you chuckled as Ellie looked over at you.
âHow does it feel?â she asked curiously staring at your belly.
âUmâŠa little weird but Iâve gotten used to it nowâ you shrugged.
âWanna feel?â You turned towards Ellie allowing her to place her hand on your belly. Her eyes widening in amazement as she felt your baby move. You had no idea that your motherâs friend Victor was watching you in the doorway in a way you would have never expected. Joel soon walked in the front door wiping his hands off with a rag after doing some work for the day. Just as he looked up he noticed Victor down the hall. Joel noticed how he licked his lips as if he was looking at something that bought him pleasure, thatâs when he heard your voice and realized he was staring at you. A crease forming between Joelâs brows, he cleared his throat purposely making Victor look back at him. Distracted with Ellie you hadnât heard a thing as Victor walked towards Joel with a chuckle.
âSomething about a pregnant woman I just findâŠsexyâ he looked back over his shoulder.
âIâll see you outsideâ he patted his back and walked out not realizing the threatening glare Joel had given him.
Joel took a step closer overhearing you speaking to Ellie.
âDo you think itâs a boy or girl?â Ellie asked as she continued to help you.
âI donât know, I kind of hope a boy. Even though Iâd be happy with a girl tooâ you shrugged with a giggle. Joel couldnât help but smile as he heard the excitement in your voice.
You would see Joel through out the day but kept away from him at all timesâŠanything to avoid any suspicion from your mother.
That evening you surprisingly all sat together during dinner, something that wasnât done often let alone with Joel. Ellie sat beside Joel whom she didnât really know but she seemed to be the only one to notice how he would sneak a look at you.
âSo youâre getting close to having the baby huh?â Victor pointed out making Joel look up. God you wished there could have been anything else as a topic other than your baby.
âMhm, eight months now and she still managed to not tell me who the hell knocked her upâ your mother spoke sarcastically. You swallowed nervously taking a sip of water and remained silent until you felt a sharp pain.
âOwâ you gasped practically dropping your cup on the table. Joel eyes were alert with concern looking directly at you.
âAnd that proves me rightâ Marlene laughed ignoring the discomfort you clearly felt. It had been about a week now since you began feeling these sharp pains.
âMaybe you should lay downâ Joelâs voice made your mother, Victor and Ellie look his way.
âI um-I think I willâ you quickly responded as Victor quickly stood up.
âHere, let me take you to the roomâ Joel, not being able to say a word narrowed his eyes on Victor as he walked you out not even realizing Marlene was speaking to him.
âMiller!â She yelled out snapping him out of it.
âHmâ he looked at Marlene.
âHow are you holding up here?â She asked with a squint of her eyes.
âJust fine, why?â She looked down at his plate and noticed he hadnât touched any of the food.
âJust making sure our guest is comfortable.â Joel wasnât a stupid man, he could tell she wasnât genuine in what she said but in that moment he didnât give a shit. His only thought being you and Ellie could tell.
âI think Iâm gonna go make sure sheâs okâ Ellie quickly stood up and walked out of the room as Joel crossed his arms.
Victor had left you in the room and didnât really say much. Of course, too distracted with your discomfort you didnât pay attention to the way he had looked at you.
âI got it from here, thanksâ you smiled at Victor just as Ellie showed up at your door.
âHey you ok?â Ellieâs voice made you look up.
âIf you need anything, call for meâ Victor left the room as Ellie looked at him strangely.
âIâm fine. I think just tired from being on my feet all dayâ you sighed.
âSo why donât you get more rest?â She asked.
âAsk my mother, she doesnât think me being pregnant means I canât do the same amount of work. I think itâs her way of punishing me.â You shrugged.
âThatâs stupidâ Ellie whispered.
âWell, you get some sleep, Iâll make sure everything is cleaned up, Iâll see you tomorrowâ Ellie was pretty sure you had already fallen asleep and quietly closed the door letting herself out.
Once she came back to the kitchen, she found Joel alone cleaning up. Joel was hesitant but itching to ask Ellie if you were ok but before he even asked she already knew.
âSheâs fineâ she suddenly spoke taking him by surprise.
âSheâs asleep in bedâ she turned and began to clean as if she had said nothing. Joel stopped and looked at her strangely.
âBeg your pardonâ he attempted to somehow act confused.
âWhat, you donât think I notice the way you look at her? What is she like your girlfriend or something?â His silence making Ellies eyes widen.
âWait! Is that your kid?!â
This girl was smarter than he expected.
âShut upâ Joel whispered looking behind him to make sure no one heard her.
âJust donât repeat whatever we speak ofâ
âI knew it!!â
âDonâtâ Joel warned her.
âDuh, Iâm not stupidâ Ellie chuckled as Joel looked at her unsure whether to feel anxious that a child knew your deep secret or relieved that he now had another way to keep an eye on you.
âSo she say anything else lately?â Joel proceeded to ask as he pushed a chair in.
âUmâŠsheâs scaredâ Joel of course knew this but to hear it was different.
âMarlene is kind of a-â
âI knowâ Joel cut her off.
âSometimes she doesnât feel good and Marlene doesnât let her rest. Like today, the only reason she let her go to the room was because you said something, she keeps her on her feet all the time. She thinks her mom does it on purposeâ Ellie noticed the way Joel crossed his arms, chewing on his inner lip, anything he could do to not show Ellie how what she said truly pissed him off.
âDo me a favor alrightâ he whispered.
âSureâ
âKeep an eye on her for me, you come find me if anything. Understood?â
Ellie nodded as the two of them continued cleaning up.
The next morning you woke up to your mother barging into the room loudly telling you to wake up.
âTime to get up, itâs a big day, lots of work to do and-â
âMom-â you rubbed your eyes half asleep. An ache in your back that wouldnât go away, your feet as swollen as can be.
âMomâŠI donât think I can todayâŠreallyâ
âAh ah, honey. Now you know you donât get to make those decisions.â
âMom, please itâs not an excuseâ she unexpectedly leaned over you with a look you knew you couldnât dare answer back to.
âGet up and get yourself ready, today youâre working with Joel. Nobody told you to get pregnantâ she left the room slamming the door shut expecting to see you outside very soon.
Of course today you would be working with Joel, how much worse could the day get?
Waddling to the room Joel was in, you saw him already stacking boxes. More cans of food had come in and needed proper organizing the way your mother liked. Joel turned not expecting to see you and instantly noticed you didnât look right.
âWhat are you doinâ here?â
âIâm here to help youâ you shrugged as you walked around the table towards the boxes beside him until he took a step in front of the them blocking your way.
âOh no you ainât, you better get back to bed. Nowâ
âJoel, I canâtâ
âWhy the hell not?â You could see the frustration clear on his face.
âMy mother-â before you could finish your sentence Joel cursed under his breath looking away.
âLook, you donât know her. I canât just ignore her and go to bed-â
âThen Iâm gonna say somethinââ
âNo!â You screamed.
âYou donât know what that would do to me, pleaseâ you whispered desperately. Joel could see the fear you felt and as much as he didnât want to listen to you, he did.
âFineâ he grabbed a chair placing it beside him.
âYouâre gonna sit right here and not do a damn thingâ you sighed and gave in. Sitting down sounded like absolute heaven.
Joel watched as you sat in the chair and leaned your head back taking a deep breath with your hands on your belly. A black tank top fixed tightly around your belly as it poked out beneath.
âYou alright?â
âYeah, just exhausted. Iâm barely sleepingâ
âShould be on bed rest not no damn heavy liftinâ-â
âWhat the hell is going on here?â Your mother walked in to see you sitting back comfortably.
âMom-â you tried to sit up.
âIt was me, I told her to sit down. She shouldnât be out hereâ
âAnd who the hell are you to think you could tell her what to do?â In that moment Joel so badly wanted to tell her who the hell he was.
âIâm sorry mom, I just-â
âI donât wanna hear a word. You can help Victor take crates off the truck-â
âYa gotta be kiddinâ meâ Joel uttered making your mother turn to him.
âThere a problem, Joel?â
âNoâ you quickly answered for him but he had enough.
âSheâs eight months pregnant, youâre gonna send her into a damn early labor-â
âOh please, Joel. I did more work when I was pregnant with her than sheâs doing nowâ Marlene rolled her eyes.
âThe world ainât like it was back then, she donât have proper care, she donât have a doctor-â
âWe have a doctor here and heâs made clear sheâs perfectly healthy and capable to do her part.â She turned to you with a threatening glare.
âLetâs go.â
Silently you walked past Joel obeying your mother. He watched in frustration knowing there was nothing he could do, not yet at least.
You knew your mother had lied to him, never had you been approved by any doctor to do any of this amount of work while pregnant. If anything the âdoctorâ who saw you recommended for you to be on bed rest. You knew your mother knew how weak you had been lately. Something she purposely chose to ignore.
It had been almost an hour packing up the truck with Victor. Your back in unbearable pain, your ankles swollen as Victor handed you a box ordering for you to bring it inside. With a sigh you took hold of it and did as he asked.
Walking down the hall you passed the room Joel was in, his eyes unexpectedly meeting yours as you walked past the door.
âHey-â he ran up behind you as you took a deep breath. His hand taking hold of your arm and gently turning you to him, seeing how exhausted you look he brushed his hand over his face in frustration.
âJesus ChristâŠlook at youâ
âI have to take this to the back-â he took the box from your hands and put it on the ground not caring about what task needed to be done.
âEnough is enough with all of this already-â
âJoelâ you whispered shaking your head.
âIf you ainât sayinâ somethinâ I will-â
âNo!â Your eyes widened.
âLook, I donât give a shit who your mother thinks she is. I ainât gonna sit back and watch what sheâs doinâ to you and my babyâ his words leaving you speechless.
âMy babyâ
This was actually happening, you were pregnant with Joelâs child. Your lips opened to speak but before any sound came out an overwhelming sharp pain struck you making you lean against the wall with a gasp. Joelâs eyes were instantly filled with concern as he moved in your direction.
âWhatâs wrong? What is it?â He asked eagerly. You shook your head taking a deep breath.
âI donât knowâ the pain slowly subsiding.
âItâs fine, Iâm fine. It stoppedâ you breathed in relief.
âNo it ainât fine, what if youâre goinâ inta labor or somethinââ
âIâm not going into labor, Joel. Look I know youâre worried about me but Iâm fine. Now let me just-â
âIâll take the box. Go lay downâ you knew he wouldnât accept any other response and so you quietly nodded and walked away.
The next few days Joel had Ellie stay close by your side making sure you werenât over working yourself. Anything Ellie could do to make a task easier for you she would do when your mother wasnât watching.
âEllie, you really donât have to helpâ you assured her.
âBut I want toâ she responded confidently.
âYes but itâs not your job, youâre a child, Ellieâ
âAnd youâre pregnant. Joelâs right, this is too much for you-â
âJoel?â You squinted your eyes at her.
âHeâs the one who put you up to this?â
âUh, no, uh I mean..heâs just worried.â she tried to explain.
âDonât tell him I told youâŠpleaseâ
You sighed and assured her you wouldnât tell him a thing as much as you wanted to.
âWell, let me check what needs to be done outside.â
As Ellie and you walked together, Joel watched from afar. Relieved that Ellie was beside you yet still wanting to stay close by.
Ellie and you laughed together before being interrupted by your mother walking towards you.
âIâm assuming all your projects are finished since you have time to take a stroll and laughâ she stopped before you crossing her arms. God your mom could really be such a bitch at times.
âI did finish most, I just was taking a minute-â
âWe donât have time for you to take a minuteâ she rose her voice making Joel look up.
âMom, Iâve been working all morning-â
âAnd youâre still not finished. Get back to workâ she began to walk away as you sighed and rolled your eyes.
âSee what I meanâ you whispered to Ellie making your mother turn back to you.
âWhat was that?â Before you could even say a word, your mother yanked you by your arm making you turn towards her, Joel immediately stopped what he was doing.
âMarlene..â Ellie spoke hesitantly.
âGo ahead, tell me what youâre mumbling on aboutâ she continued.
âMom, I donât know what else to do. You have a problem with anything I do or donât do, youâre being ridiculous-â Marlene unexpectedly smacked you making you gasp. Just as Joel was ready to head to you Victor stopped him blocking his way.
âYou gotta let them be, donât get in the middle of thatâ Joel shoved Victors hands off him and walked to you ignoring his calls.
Marlene turned to see Joel pacing her way with a clear look of anger.
âWhat the hell do you want?â
âJoel-â you whispered but he wouldnât look your way.
âJoel, I suggest you mind your business this has nothing to do with youâ
âBut it doesâ Joel responded low.
Marlene furrowed her brows placing a hand on her hip as she took a step towards him.
âAnd how on earth would that be?â
Joel took a deep breath swallowing hard before his eyes turned to you and thatâs when it hit herâŠ
âOh my GodâŠ.â Your mother whispered.
âMom-â
âYou mean to tell me youâŠyou did this.â
âMom-â
âSo this is why youâre here now? Is this your way to âhelp herâ after leaving her the way you did? Got what you wanted from her and you were on your way huh?â
âIt wasnât like thatâ his nostrils flared as he spoke before your mother continued.
âJoelâ you attempted to speak again but neither listened. Ellie standing beside you noticing something seemed off with you. She watched as you slightly stumbled to the side with a wince.
âHey guysâ Ellie tried to catch their attention but once your mother began going off it was hard to get her to stop.
âI ainât the one mistreatinâ her while sheâs got a damn baby growinâ-â
âOh screw you, Joel!â
âGuys!â Ellie yelled making them both look your way. Joelâs face instantly changed when he noticed your discomfort and rushed to you.
âHey, look at meâ he tilted your face up to him as you winced.
âItâs the same pain as before, I donât know whatâs-â
âSheâs being dramaticâ your mother could be heard mumbling in the background.
âSheâs been doing this for the past few daysâ
âAnd you didnât think to stop pushinâ her so damn much?â Joel yelled looking back at her.
âShe just does this to get out of work and-â
âOh God I think my water broke!â Joelâs face turned pale as he looked down and noticed the clear liquid running down your legs.
âShit-â he whispered as you grabbed onto his jacket. Ellie looked at you in shock. Your mother could be heard saying things that you couldnât make out. Joel stared down at you giving his all not to panic as pain slowly began to build within you.
âIâm takinâ you to Jacksonâ
âExcuse me?â Your mother spoke loudly as Joel lifted you up in his arms.
âSheâs cominâ with me and so is sheâ he motioned toward Ellie as Joel walked past Marlene.
âLike hell they areâ she yelled out following him as he got into his truck, sitting you in the back.
âEllie stay next to herâ he moved quickly as he got into the drivers seat as Marlene ran to his door. You could barely speak as the pain escalated.
âYou canât do thisâ
âI already amâ he slammed the door shut before speeding off.
Thankfully Jackson wasnât far from where your mother now was. It didnât matter to you, you didnât want to be near your mother any longer.
âHow she doinâ back there, Ellie?â Before she could respond you suddenly wailed as you felt pain like you had never felt before. Ellie raised her brows unsure of what to do as Joel sped as fast as he could.
âWeâre almost there, baby I promiseâ he looked up at the rear view mirror and could see you in agony as tears streamed down your face. His hands tightening on the steering as focused on getting you to Jackson as fast as he could. Your screams growing louder as Joel cursed at himself hearing the panic in your voice.
âItâs hurts so badâ you cried.
âI know it hurts, baby, I know-â Joel tried not to panic. He tried his best to remain calm for you.
Finally arriving to where Tommy would be Joel quickly jumped out of the truck and opened the back door. Carrying you out with Ellie beside him he ran to the entrance screaming for the door to be opened.
âTommy!â He yelled running inside making his brother look up.
âHoly shit..â Tommy whispered before running towards Joel to help him. Tommy led them to a room and quickly helped Joel lay you down as he realized what was going on.
âPlease help me, Tommyâ his brother could hear the desperation in his voice, he could see the desperation in his eyes.
âHere, I got herâ Tommyâs girlfriend Maria walked in and proceeded to help you remove your pants as Ellie quickly covered you with a blanket. Maria proceeded to explain that she would check where the baby was, a slight relief feeling that you were with someone who seemed to know what they were doing. Joel quickly went around the bed pulling Tommy aside not wanting you to hear what they spoke of.
âTheyâre gonna be cominââ
âWho?â Tommyâs brows furrowed.
âMarleneâŠall of them-â
âGuys sheâs crowningâ Maria announced loudly making both men quickly turn to you.
âWhat does that mean?â You cried as Joel rushed to your side.
âThat means the babyâs coming nowâ he explained taking your hand as you shook your head.
âItâs not suppose to! Not yet!â Joel could see the fear you felt, the shock in your eyes.
âYou can do this, Iâm right hereâ he spoke with genuine reassurance.
âAlright, on a count of three I want you to push really hard ok?â Maria instructed. Anxiously you nodded and proceeded to do as she told you once she asked you to push. The pain was like nothing you had ever imagined, the agony you felt you wanted so badly to be done.
Just ten minutes of pushing exhausted you when Maria finally yelled that the head was out. Your body weakly leaning to the side against Joel as you struggled to find strength to continue.
âCome on, one more push ok?â Joel whispered as he held one leg while Ellie held the other. Tommy standing behind Joel watching everything unravel so quickly when suddenly a babyâs cryâs made everyone silent.
In shock you looked down at the baby in Mariaâs hands as she looked up at you with a smile.
âYou have yourself a boyâ
Gently cleaning him off she wrapped him up in a blanket and lay him on your chest.
âOh my GodâŠâ you whispered looking down at your baby who quickly calmed down once you held him against you. Joel had tears filled in his eyes as he looked down at him, his hand gently covering yours. You felt his hand shaking making you look over at him. In that moment it felt like it was only the three of you in that room. Joel slowly looked up at you and with eyes so sincere began to speak..
âI promise you I wonât let nothinâ happen to our son or you.. Iâm sorry for the way things happened, it was never my planâ he whispered. Quietly you nodded as a tear rolled down your cheek.
âMy mom-â
âIâll deal with herâ he assured you before pressing his lips to your forehead and staying close to you both..
[SUMMARY: Joel sleeps with Marleneâs daughter and leaves without saying a word to her only for her to find out sheâs pregnant a month later.]
You froze at the doorway as Joel looked in your direction and instantly noticed your visible baby bump. His jaw clenching as he thought about the last time he saw you..
Smut unprotected sex angst
Everyday felt like a strict rule book you had to follow. Chore after chore, rule after rule, your mother Marlene didnât play any games and you sure as hell didnât get a special pass just because you were her daughter.
If anything she expected the most from you.
You hated it.
Today was a little bit easier, she had left to do God knows what. All you cared about was that you finally had a break from her.
Sitting in a room by yourself organizing extra food that was found and placing them in boxes you were startled when Joel Miller practically ran into the room a sweaty mess.
âWhere is she?!â
It wasnât often when you would see Joel but youâd be lying if you didnât enjoy the times you did.
âMy mom? Sheâs not here, are you ok?â You walked around the table towards him to see there was blood on his shirt. Something was obviously wrong, Joel wasnât expected back for another few days.
âIâm fineâ he responded in frustration.
âYouâre bleedingâ he looked down at where you looked and noticed he had been cut down his forearm.
âItâs nothin-â
âLet me take a lookâ you insisted. He watched as you gently lifted up his arm taking a better look at his wound.
âWhereâs your mother?â
âShe should be back any minuteâ you reached over for the first aid kit.
âThat ainât gonna be necessary darlinâ Iâm in a rushâ
âIt is absolutely necessary unless you want an infectionâ you proceeded to clean up his wound as your mother walked in.
âThe hell are you doing back so soon?â She instantly raised a brow watching as you wrapped up his wrist.
âYou, you sent me to the wrong place. Ainât no damn car where I went to-â
âCanât beâ she responded confused pulling out a map she had in her back pocket to go over the route.
âShitâ she whispered realizing she indeed did send Joel the wrong route.
âOkay, all doneâ you pulled his sleeve back down as he looked down at you and gave you a nod.
âThis has to be itâ Marlene circled an area with a marker.
âYa sure, I ainât got time to be playinâ games. Itâs either there or it ainâtâ Joel responded clearly frustrated making you look down. Your mother never responded too well with someone speaking down to her. Marlene snatched the map off the table and turned to Joel slamming the paper to his chest.
âIâm sureâ she spoke with a threatening tone.
âMom-â you whispered before she turned back to you with a threatening glare.
âY/n donât you have more things to do than to patch up a cut. Letâs go, things arenât gonna get done themselves.â Joel watched as you silently nodded. Just as you attempted to walk past them your mother stopped you by your arm.
âYou donât stop working unless I say, you understand?â
âShe was just helpinâ meâ Joel attempted to defend you. No one had ever attempted to stand up against your mother.
âShe is my daughter and she does as I sayâ she responded without bothering to look back at him. Silently you nodded and left the room.
You hated how controlling your mother could be, you hated what little freedom you had. She treated you like you were twelve although you were twenty-one. She never had respect for your ideas or opinions and simply looked at you as another worker.
Working in another room you carried heavy boxes to the top shelf, you hadnât noticed Joel stood in the doorway. Making sure your mother was nowhere near he looked back before stepping inside.
âThanks for beforeâ you gasped at the sudden sound of his voice before turning to him.
âOh. It was nothingâ you smiled at him as you picked up another box from the floor, this one seemed much heavier. Tip toeing to place it on the shelf Joel unexpectedly grabbed the box standing behind you and put it on the shelf you were attempting to reach.
âThank youâ you turned back to see him grabbing the last two boxes making you quickly look to see if your mother was around.
âUm, itâs ok. I can get thoseâ you assured him.
âWhat she gonna do? Stop me from helpinâ ya?â He placed each box in its place as you silently watched.
âThank you, Joelâ you smiled as he turned to you.
âListen, I know it ainât none of my business but Iâve seen you around long enough to see enough of it. Sheâs your mother but that donât give her the right to down talk you like that, honey. It ainât rightâ you nodded looking down.
âI know but I have no choice but to deal with it nowâ you shrugged.
âItâs fine, Iâm used to it at this pointâ
Joel pressed his lips together before silently placing his hand on your shoulder and leaving the room. You watched as he walked out wondering if youâd ever see him again. You knew how much Joel couldnât stand being there, only came by because he knew it was his only chance to getting a car that would lead him to his brother.
Going on about your regular routine as days went by you continued your work when you heard a man tell your mother Joel had returned and this time with his brother, Tommy.
You smiled with happiness for him, he mustâve been so relieved to find his brother, you wondered what made him come back.
A little while later your mother returned, she remained silent as she wrote something in a book. Curiosity killing you to know why Joel had returned, you hesitantly looked up at her before deciding to speak.
âJoelâs back?â
âMhmâ her tone had a hint of frustration.
âDid he leave already?â
âUnfortunately he wonât until tomorrowâ
âBut he found his brother, so thatâs good news isnât it?â She looked up at you with a raised brow.
âYou know we donât trust the Millers. Not hereâ
âYes but-â
âBut nothing- heâs staying until the morning and thatâs it. As a matter of fact take them that small box of supplies. Leave it at there door, they are next to Leoâs roomâ she explained before looking back down at her book. Doing as she said you grabbed the box and made your way to their room.
The door was closed when you arrived, quietly you placed the box in front of their door when suddenly someone opened it. Looking up you looked directly at Joel unexpectedly.
âHiâ you quickly stood up.
âMy mom wanted me to leave this for youâ
âGod that woman is such a bitch, Iâd rather be without the damn car and out in the night if it meant I didnât have to be stuck with herâ you heard another manâs voice in the background as he appeared beside Joel.
âThis is Tommyâ he looked at his brother as he took a deep breath.
âSorryâ Tommy apologized not realizing anyone was around.
âItâs fine, I know how my mother is. Well, this is for the both of you. If you need anything, you know where to find meâ you looked at Joel with a polite smile before walking off.
âSheesh, maybe staying here wonât be too bad after allâ Tommy whispered watching you walk as he stood beside Joel who quickly shut the door.
âDamn man, couldâve left it open a little bit longer-â
âDonâtâ Joel narrowed his eyes on him.
âWhat?â Tommy asked before an expression of realization came to him.
âOh you like her?â Joel quickly turned with irritation ignoring his brotherâs question.
âYou do, donât you? Ohhh man and you say Iâm always after the younger ones huhâ Tommy laughed as Joel opened the box continuing to ignore him.
âShut up and get some damn sleepâ he mumbled under his breath.
After a few hours, Joel was laying down staring at the ceiling. His brother across from him asleep when he heard something just outside his door.
When Joel opened the door he was surprised to find you walking down the hall, he furrowed his brows realizing you were wiping away tears.
âYou alright?â
Joelâs voice startling you, you quickly stood up straight and wiped away any other evidence of tears.
âYes, Iâm sorry if I woke you-â
âYa didnâtâ he began to walk towards you.
âEverything ok?â He asked once more.
âYeah-â you chuckled slightly embarrassed.
âItâs just, your brother is right, my mother really can be such a bitch-â
âSomethinâ happen?â
âNo, just every day usual things.â You sighed.
âI never get a chance to just let it out and I didnât want her to find me in my room like this so-â you waved your hands up as you looked up at him. Thatâs when you noticed the way he was looking at you, intrigued by the way you moved your lips. The look he had making you feel butterflies in your stomach. Why the hell did you have to find Joel attractive of all men?
âFor whatâs it worth, youâre doinâ a great job hereâ his response only pulling you to like him more. Maybe it was you being caught up in your emotions, maybe it was your loneliness, but suddenly you did the unthinkable. Grabbing Joel by his shirt you pulled him towards you, you tip toed and planted your lips delicately on his.
Caught off guard, his hands still immediately took hold of your waist before you quickly pulled away.
âIâm sorry-â you whispered as he looked at your lips in a daze. Too distracted by your embarrassment you brushed your hand through your hair as you took a step back.
âI shouldnât have done thatâ you whispered, the man was old enough to be your father, what the hell were you thinking? He didnât hear your apology, it was as if you had awoken an animal in him and he abruptly pulled you back against him. His tongue pushing through your lips and moving along with yours, you moaned softly against him when you heard a door open. Quickly he pulled you into his room and closed the door. Joel continued kissing you until you felt yourself run into his bed.
It was dark in the room but you knew his brother was there, the thought making you nervous as you pulled your lips away.
âWhatâs wrong?â he whispered.
âYour brotherâ
âHeâs a heavy sleeperâ he kissed your cheek softly, kisses leading down to your neck quickly distracting any thoughts you had. Rolling your eyes back you brushed your fingers through his thick hair feeling him push your pants down. Unbuttoning his shirt you threw his flannel to the side as he quickly pulled his under shirt over his head. Taking your hand he placed it on his bare chest. The tingly sensation you felt in your stomach traveling down to your womanhood was something you had never felt beforeâŠnot this way at least.
Joel kissed you as he lifted you up on to the bed. Laying yourself back you felt him crawl over you and gently kiss you over your shirt till he reached your collar bone.
âWhat if-â
âShhâ he whispered as you heard the sound of him unzipping his pants before he placed himself between your legs and pressed himself against your opening. Your lips parting as your hand found his face and brushed along his facial hair. This was the same man you had seen come by for the past two years, the same man who would steal subtle glances at you whenever he could without you realizing. And now he was on top of you, feeling how ready you were for him. Joel eased his way inside you slowly as you felt his body press against yours.
âOh my godâ you whispered.
Never had you had sex with a man without a condom before. The feel of his bare cock thrusting inside you was something new and you didnât want it to stop. The silhouette of his body above you as he took your legs and placed them on his shoulders. His arms holding him up as he slammed himself into you, grunting loud enough for you to hear. You moaned grabbing onto whatever part of him you could hold as he pushed deeper making sure you felt every inch.
âJoel-â you whimpered
âGet on top of meâ he whispered against your ear. Without giving you a chance to respond Joel let your legs loose and flipped you over. You gasped, your hands falling onto his chest as you felt him prop his legs up. Slowly you began to ride him, his breathing was heavy and deep as you found your rhythm.
âAtta girlâ he whispered out of breath. You bounced on him as a moan escaped your lips louder than you meant it to. The sound you made making him grab your hips and ride him harder. The bed squeaking as you both moved as one when he cursed at himself and held himself still.
âGet up-get up-â his body tensed up as you felt him quickly pull you up with one arm while relieving himself with his free hand.
âAhh-â his cum poured out of him by your thighs as he struggled to remain as quiet as he could. Your hand brushing up his chest only sent more shock waves through his body. Joel fell flat back on the bed as you slowly lay beside him. He lay with his eyes closed when he felt you get up from the bed.
âWhere ya goinâ?â He sat up facing you.
âI canât stay hereâ you whispered as you quickly looked for your clothes.
âIâll see you tomorrowâ you assured him as you dressed yourself when Tommy began to groan in his sleep, you quickly kissed Joel and ran out of the room.
Your heart pounding hard in your chest as you tried to look as normal as you could walking down the hall. You couldnât believe what had just happened. Sleeping with Joel Miller wasnât something you ever thought would actually happen. Lost in your thoughts you hadnât noticed your mother walking in your direction down the hall, until she stopped you.
âWhere have you been at this time of the night?â She placed her hands on her hips looking down at you.
âI um- I was just making sure all exits were covered. Couldnât sleepâ she looked at you strangely noticing how sweaty you were but didnât say a word. Silently she nodded her head and walked past you.
Joel sat at the edge of his bed half dressed. Leaning forward he brushed his hand over his face thinking about what he had just done. He knew it wasnât a smart move, he knew it was best for him to leave in the morning without seeing you, without speaking a word of it although he knew damn well he couldnât stop thinking about it.
He couldnât stop thinking about you.
The next morning you woke up eager to see Joel. You knew he was leaving but still you wanted to see him before he left.
Early in the day your mother caught you walking down the hall and stopped you as she usually did to go over the days work.
âI need you to count how many antibiotics we have and organize them.â
âOk, no problemâ you nodded.
âOh and make sure the Millers didnât leave anything behind-â her words making your heart drop.
âWhat do you mean?â You asked with a puzzled expression.
âCheck the room they stayed in, make sure itâs clearâ
âThey left?â You asked with a little more emotion in your tone than you meant to.
âMhm, earlier than I expected them to. Get to work, I have a few things to take care ofâ your mother walked off as you stood there with an ache in your chest you werenât familiar with.
You felt gutted.
Sure, you knew nothing would come from what happened, yet still you didnât expect him to take off the way he did.
Organizing the room as your mother asked, you looked at the bed Joel and you had sex on.
You found yourself feeling angry at his sudden absence. Anger that he never said a word.
âAre you finished?â Victor, your motherâs current boy toy stood at the door distracting you from your thoughts.
âUh yes, Iâll be right there.â
Days turned to weeks and Joel had never returned, not that you really expected him to. He only came by when he and your mother needed to work together on something that would work for them equally.
It had been four days now and you found yourself still with a horrible stomach virus. Throwing up at the most random times of the day, you could barely keep anything down.
All you could do was stay in bed.
âGet upâ your mother abruptly walked in pulling the covers off you.
âMom, I really canât. I know Iâve been in bed for a few days but Iâm so dizzy and-â
âHave you gotten your period?â She asked with a raised brow.
âWhat? Of course I have-â
âWhen?â
âIt was um- a little over 3 weeks agoâ you sat up realizing you couldnât really remember.
âGet up. Nowâ
âWhat are we doing?â You asked as you slowly stood up.
âYouâre going to take a pregnancy testâ
You sighed rubbing your forehead.
âI really donât think thatâs necessary-â
âLetâs goâ she responded in a threatening tone.
Standing in the bathroom with your mother you stood anxiously waiting to look at the stick.
âOk, times upâ your mother crossed her arms patting her elbow nervously as she leaned forward and saw the clear positive sign.
âGod dammit!â She yelled making you jump.
âIt canât beâ you whispered.
âWho was it? Who the hell did you sleep with?!â Your mother cornered you as you panicked backing into the wall.
âHow could you be so stupid?!â
âMom I-â
âI donât want to hear it.â She walked out slamming the door shut, leaving you in tears.
Feeling completely alone and terrified you sat on the floor and cried..
Laying in bed you stared at the wall, here you were pregnant with Joel Millers child and you couldnât even tell him. It was his fault you couldnât tell him, never appearing again after he slept with you. How convenient that he suddenly no longer needed your mother. This only made you more angry, and ashamed. You regretted so deeply sleeping with him that nightâŠ
Five long, lonely months went by as your belly began to show. Your mother as cold as she could be towards you while she made you continue to work around the area. A young girl named Ellie had now joined where you lived, you didnât know much about her other than the fact that your mother seemed very occupied with her. Your mother never knew this child belonged to Joel Miller and you didnât want her to know.
Today was like any other day, you went over supplies, writing down inventory and what was needed. Finishing up writing in the book you finally closed it with a deep breath and went off to leave it with your mother.
âMom, I finished writing the-â just as you walked in you were met with the last thing you ever expected to see.
Joel Miller speaking with your mother.
You froze at the doorway as Joel looked in your direction and instantly noticed your visible baby bump. His jaw clenching as he thought about the last time he saw you.
âThe what?â Your mother caught your attention making you look up at her.
âI finished writing all of our inventoryâŠ..may I lay down. I donât feel too wellâ you asked your mother without looking at Joel yet you could feel his eyes burning into you.
âGo aheadâ she responded as she took the book from you. Quickly you walked out as you felt your heart racing practically beating out of your chest.
Joel didnât take his eyes off the doorway as you walked out. Your mother distracted going over the information you wrote in the book until she looked up and noticed Joelâs expression.
âI know, shocking isnât it? Damn girl got pregnant and she doesnât tell me who the hell knocked her upâ Joel quickly turned to her as she laughed sarcastically.
âHow far long is she?â
âAbout six monthsâ Marlene sighed.
Joel gulped looking away, just around the
time he was last here.
âMarlene, they need you down the hallâ Victor suddenly appeared at the door making Joel and her look up.
âWhat is it now?â Marlene walked out leaving Joel to himself. For a moment he stood wondering what his next move should be before he stepped out and looked behind him to see Marlene disappearing into the distance. Slowly he began to walk down the hall, checking each door as he passed when you unexpectedly walked out almost running into him. Softly you gasped before quickly walking away from him as he followed.
âHey!â He called out to you as you walked faster, opening the door to your room you attempted to let yourself in and close the door shut but before you could, Joel blocked it with his boot.
âWhat do you want?â You whispered in clear frustration. Joel narrowed his eyes down to your belly then back to your eyes, he knew you were pissed that he left without saying a word.
He knew you were pissed that he suddenly wasnât coming around as often as he used to.
âIm sorry that I left the way I didâ
âYou can keep your stupid apologyâ you snapped.
âLook I know youâre pissedâ he leaned in towards you.
âAnd I know youâre scared, shit ya mustâve been terrified when you first found out and Iâm sorry I wasnât there-â you chuckled sarcastically looking away.
âI didnât need you thereâ you lied through your teeth. Joel tightened his lips together as he took a deep breath, he knew it wasnât going to be easy trying to get through to you.
âLook, Iâm gonna stay here now-â
âOh no youâre not!â
âOh yes I amâ he took another step towards you.
âNo,for what? To make my mother suspicious-â
âI wonât go near you, Iâll just make sure youâre alright. I ainât leaving knowing youâre pregnant.â Hearing him say it only made it more real for you. You hated how persistent he was, the last thing you needed was your mother wondering why Joel was suddenly so concerned about you. How was he supposed to hide it? Would your mother even allow him to stay?
âMy mother might not even want you hereâ
âLet me worry about that.â He seemed to always have an answer for something.
âHow do you even know itâs yours?â Of course you knew it was his, he knew it was his. Yet, you tried to say anything to piss him off enough to leave. Joel stood silent, clearly he didnât like even the thought of it.
âWhy do you have to make this harder than it has to be-â
âBecause I donât need you here, Iâve gone six months perfectly fine without you knowing anything. Leave me aloneâ you slammed the door in his face holding in your tears. You were angry at him but part of you still wanted him to stay, you needed him to.
Joel walked out angrily towards Tommy who waited for him by the car.
âChange of plansâ his words making Tommy raise a brow.
âWhat cha meanâ
âIâm gonna stay here, you go back to Jackson and-â
âStayinâ here? Why?â Tommy didnât like the sound of it.
âI got some things I need to take care of-â just as he spoke Marlene appeared behind him with her arms crossed.
âWhere exactly are you staying?â She asked curiously.
âI want to stay here, I can help with whatever it is you need me to do. I wonât be troubleâ Marlene squinted her eyes at him as she thought over his offer.
âYou know, it might be good having a Miller here. Help keep these boys on trackâ Joel showed relief that she didnât give him a problem to stay. Tommy couldnât help but wonder what the hell would make his brother want to stay here.
A few hours later you came out to see Joel helping some of the guys move boxes from the truck. Your mother coming up beside you as you watched.
âJoel will be here for now, I donât know what the hell made him want to stay but we could use his skillâ
âI thought you didnât trust him.â You responded softly.
âI donât. I will keep a close eye on himâ your mother walked off as you stood silently thinking how any of this would play out until Joel looked up directly at you. Quickly you turned away as he watched you walk inside.
Sitting in the room alone you could feel your baby kicking, tears rolling down your cheek as you thought about the reality of your situation. You had no idea the kind of man you were dealing with, Joel was going to make sure you and the baby would be taken care of properly even if it meant risking his life.
Joel Pascal @joelmillerpascal - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
