littledesires

• Jack comes back to the hospital after a tactical call-out with the PPD SWAT team. He’s cold, smelling of rain and smoke, and adrenaline-fueled, looking for comfort only in Y/N

The rain was coming down in sheets outside Pittsburgh Trauma, blurring the city lights into soft halos of amber and red. Inside, the quiet hum of the night shift was shattered the second the double doors slid open.

Jack stepped into the triage bay, looking like a total force of nature. Dressed in his heavy dark tactical gear as the PPD SWAT physician, he carried the rugged scent of ozone, damp wool, and faint smoke. He looked intimidating as hell to anyone else a big, stoic tactical doctor with his tactical vest resting heavy on his broad shoulders and rainwater dripping from his dark hair.

For four agonizing hours, you had been pacing the corridors, checking your watch every three minutes, unable to focus on a single chart. The call-out had been dangerous, a standoff downtown in the freezing rain, and your heart had been lodged straight in your throat the entire night.

The moment Jack scanned the room and caught sight of you, every drop of his hardened, adrenaline-fueled tactical exterior completely melted away.

He didn't stop to debrief with the charge nurse. He didn't even drop his tactical gear. He bypassed three different doctors attempting to hand him patient charts, walking with long, deliberate strides straight toward you.

"Jack!" you breathed, relief flooding through your veins like a tidal wave. "Oh thank god, you're back are you okay? Did anyone get hurt? I was so worried—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jack reached out with his big, heavy hands, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and tugging you flush into his chest. A soft, breathless gasp left your lips as he buried his face straight into the crook of your neck, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of utter relief.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he rumbled, his voice deep, gravelly, and raspy from the cold air. "I'm right here. I'm okay."

He smelled like rain and night air, his cold cheek pressing against your warm neck. Even through the thick tactical vest, you could feel how hard his heart was thumping, settling down only as he held you close.

"You're freezing, Jack," you whispered, wrapping your arms right around his broad back, trying to envelop his massive frame as best as you could.

"M'cold," he mumbled softly, his nose nuzzling against your jawline, completely unbothered that half the ER was watching the notoriously tough SWAT doctor cling to you like a giant, needy golden retriever. "Needed my personal heater. You have no idea how much I missed you out there, baby."

He pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes sparkling with absolute adoration. He took your hands and gently placed them right against the bare skin of his neck, right above the collar of his tactical shirt. You flinched slightly at how icy his skin felt, but you instantly began rubbing your warm palms against his chilled neck and broad shoulders, massaging the stiff, tense muscles.

Jack let out a low, contented hum, dropping his heavy head forward so his forehead rested right against yours. He relaxed his whole body, letting his weight lean into you, relying entirely on your strength to keep him grounded.

"Better," he murmured, a soft, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. "You're so warm, princess. I swear you're magic."

"You're a menace, Dr. Abbott," you teased softly, though your heart was melting into a puddle. "You can't just run around in the freezing rain without proper gear. I was out of my mind thinking something happened to you."

"Aww, were you worrying about me?" he purred softly, nudging his nose playfully against yours. "I told you, nothing's gonna happen to me. I always come back to you."

"Still," you murmured, stepping back just enough to look at his hands. They were still clad in stiff, wet tactical gloves. "Come here. Let's get these off."

You led him by the hand to a quiet nook near the breakroom, out of the main hallway traffic. Jack followed you like a puppy, his gaze locked onto your face, completely smitten. He stood patiently as you carefully unstrapped the velcro of his heavy gloves, gently pulling them off one by one to reveal his large, calloused hands, red and stiff from the bite of the storm.

You brought his hands up to your mouth, blowing warm air over his knuckles before holding them between your own. Slowly, gently, your fingers began to knead into his sore palms, massaging away the tension from gripping heavy gear for hours.

Jack just stood there, towering over you, looking down with an expression so soft, so helplessly in love, it made your stomach flutter with a thousand butterflies.

"What?" you asked softly, looking up from his hands to meet his dark, melting eyes. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Because you're cute," Jack murmured instantly, a tiny, teasing dimple showing on his cheek. "And because I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve you sitting here warming up my hands after a shitty shift."

"Jack..."

"I mean it, honey," he whispered, stepping closer until there was no space left between you, his thumb coming up to softly stroke your cheekbone. "Out there, it's just noise and chaos. But coming back to you? Seeing you waiting for me? It's the best part of my day. Every single time."

He leaned down, closing the small distance between your lips. The kiss was slow, impossibly sweet, and full of deep, quiet affection. It wasn't rushed or desperate it was warm, tender, and lingering, tasting like home.

When he finally pulled back, he wrapped both his arms around you again, resting his chin comfortably on top of your head while you wrapped your arms around his waist beneath his vest.

"Now," Jack murmured into your hair, his hands stroking your back, "as soon as my shift is officially over, you're coming home with me, getting into my bed, and letting me cuddle you until tomorrow afternoon. Deal?"

Jake Abbot beat clingy headcanons 🤭

1. The Couch Cushion Rule: At home, a regular sofa is never utilized as intended. No matter how large or expansive their living room sectional is, Jack treats it as a single-person seating arrangement the second Y/N walks into the room. If she tries to sit on the opposite end to fold laundry or check her phone, Jack will pat his lap with an expectant, non-negotiable look. The moment she sits down, his large hands immediately lock onto her waist or hips, hauling her flush against his chest like she weighs nothing at all.

The heavy front door clicked shut, the sound muffled by the deadbolt sliding home. Jack dropped his leather medical bag onto the entryway floor with a dull thud, letting out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in his chest for the last fourteen hours. The ED had been an absolute war zone, a relentless cycle of traumas and codes that had left him running on pure adrenaline and cold coffee.

All he wanted the only thing that had kept him upright through the final stretch of the shift was the quiet, steady anchor of home. Specifically, of Y/N.

He walked down the dim hallway, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his work shirt and loosening his tie. When he pushed open the living room door, the tension in his shoulders instantly melted, replaced by a sharp, sudden heat that flared low in his stomach.

Y/N was sprawled out across the sectional sofa. She had commandeered one of his old, worn-out cotton t-shirts the fabric faded and impossibly soft, hanging loose over her shoulders and falling just mid-thigh. Underneath it, she was gloriously, completely braless, the soft weight of her shifting with every slow breath she took. Her legs were bent lazily at the knee, kicked up over the arm of the couch, revealing a flash of bright, silky pink panties that contrasted sharply against the dark cushions.

She was entirely absorbed in a paperback, one hand idly tracing the edge of a page.

Jack stopped dead in his tracks, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. A slow, predatory smile curved the corners of his mouth as his eyes devoured the view. He was bone-tired, but looking at her like this soft, unguarded, and wearing his clothes made his blood run hot.

"Don't get up, honey," Jack murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly purr that cut through the quiet room. "Continue to read."

Y/N jumped slightly, looking up from her book with a start. Before she could lower her legs or shift the hem of the oversized shirt, Jack was already moving. He crossed the room in three long, silent strides, shedding his jacket and dropping his keys on the coffee table along the way.

He didn't give her a chance to speak. Instead, he knelt down between her knees on the edge of the cushions, hooking his large, calloused hands behind her calves and slowly spreading them apart.

Y/N's breath hitched, her fingers tightening on the spine of her book. "Jack..."

"Keep reading, sweetheart," he commanded softly, his dark eyes burning into hers with an intensity that made her pulse spike. He leaned in, pressing a hot, lingering kiss to the bare skin of her inner thigh, right where the soft cotton of the t-shirt ended. "I want to hear your voice."

With agonizing slowness, Jack hooked his fingers into the delicate elastic waistband of her pink panties. He nudged the silk aside with the back of his knuckles, his thumb brushing over her sensitive folds, finding her already wet and trembling for him. Y/N gasped, her hips twitching upward instinctively, but Jack anchored her down with a firm, heavy grip on her hip.

"Ah," he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and damp against her core, making her shiver violently. "Book, Y/N. Don't stop reading."

With a shaky breath, Y/N forced her eyes back down to the printed page, her vision blurring as Jack’s tongue flicked out, tracing her from root to tip in one long, devastating stroke.

"Chapter..." she started, her voice embarrassingly breathy and cracking around the edges. She swallowed hard, trying to steady the tremor in her chest. "Chapter four. The rain... the rain continued to fall against the glass, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and—oh—"

Jack had sucked her neatly into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing her sensitive bundle of nerves while his tongue swirled in a relentless, hypnotic rhythm. The vibration of his low groan against her sent an electric shock straight up her spine. The book shook violently in her hands.

"Keep going, honey," he murmured against her, pulling back just an inch so she could catch her breath, though his lips remained hovering over her slick heat. "If you stop reading, I stop. Those are the rules."

"You're a—unh—you're a bastard," she panted, her chest heaving under the loose cotton of his shirt.

Jack chuckled, a low, rumbling sound of pure satisfaction. "Maybe. But if you're a good girl and finish the page without losing your place, you'll be rewarded. Read."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut for a second, fighting the white-hot haze clouding her brain, and forced her gaze back to the words. The letters swam in front of her eyes, completely devoid of meaning, but she forced the sentences past her lips.

"He... he reached for her, pulling her close—God, Jack—pulling her close against his chest, refusing to let go..."

Jack didn't give her a second to finish the sentence. He devoured the rest of her words, his tongue driving into her with a sudden, merciless hunger that sent her hips bucking off the couch. The steady, wet friction of his mouth combined with the heavy weight of his hand sliding up her thigh, pressing her open to him, stripped away every coherent thought in her head.

The book slipped from her fingers, tumbling silently onto the rug.

"You stopped," Jack whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at her, his lips dark and glistening, his dark eyes fierce with desire. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face as he watched her chest heave, her hands clutching blindly at the leather armrests of the sofa. "Rule was, you stop, I stop."

"Jack, please," Y/N whimpered, her back arching off the cushions as her inner thighs spasmed. "Please."

"Ah-ah. What did I say about being a good girl?" He leaned back in, his voice dropping an octave, rich with absolute authority. "You want your reward, sweetheart? Earn it."

Before she could beg again, Jack buried his face back between her legs, driving two thick fingers deep inside her while his tongue lashed mercilessly against her sweet spot. The combination pushed her over the edge with terrifying speed; a choked cry tore from her throat as her vision went white, her entire body locking up around his hand as wave after shattering wave of heat ripped through her.

Jack caught every broken gasp of her name against his mouth, drinking her in until the tremors finally subsided, leaving her utterly limp, sweaty, and boneless against the cushions.

Slowly, he shifted upward, crawling over her body until he was caging her in, pressing his warm chest against hers. He braced his weight on his forearms, looking down at her flushed face, his hair messy from the day, a triumphant, impossibly tender smile curving his lips.

The midday sun beat down hard on the asphalt outside the Pitt’s ambulance bay, casting a bright, unforgiving glare over the busy courtyard. Jack Abbott stood near the edge of the loading zone, looking every bit the part of a heavily armed, authoritative force. He was off-duty from his morning sector patrol but had dropped by to walk Y/N down to her car after a grueling fourteen-hour shift.

He wore his police uniform, the heavy duty belt fitted snugly around his waist, radio clipped securely to his chest, and his broad, imposing shoulders filling out the crisp shirt. Standing at nearly six-foot-four with built-up muscle and a naturally stoic, unreadable expression, Jack cut a terrifyingly striking figure.

A few feet ahead of him, Y/N was walking toward the parking lot, completely oblivious to the world. She wore a pair of high-waisted linen shorts and a fitted crop top, looking impossibly small against Jack’s massive, towering frame. Whenever she turned back to say something to him, the sheer height and size difference was comical she barely reached his shoulder, looking like a delicate sparrow being trailed by a mountain of tactical granite.

What neither of them realized was that a local news crew doing a quick segment on emergency services integration had caught the tail end of their walk on tape.

Two days later, the clip was live on TikTok.

Whitaker was the one who found it. It was mid-afternoon in the Pitt’s staff breakroom, and Whitaker was leaning against the snack machine, scrolling mindlessly through his phone while eating a bag of pretzels. Suddenly, he choked, a loud snort escaping his nose as he stared at the screen in absolute disbelief.

"Hey. Hey, Robby, drop what you're doing right now," Whitaker hissed, waving frantically across the room.

Robby looked up from his chart, walking over. "What?"

"Look at this," Whitaker turned the phone around, hitting play.

The video was a slickly edited TikTok transition. The first half showed the local news footage of Jack in full police uniform, walking slow, heavy, and deliberate down the sidewalk, radiating absolute protective energy. Then, the clip seamlessly cut with a hard bass drop to the booming, viral audio: She don't want no puppy, she want a big dog.

Another video was as well to the sound: Look at me, habibi, the video zoomed in on Y/N walking right in front of him, turning around with a bright, carefree smile, before panning back up to Jack, whose dark eyes were locked entirely on the back of her head with a look of such intense, possessive devotion it practically melted the screen.

The caption read: POV: You’re a tiny doctor dating a 6’4 tactical boyfriend who treats you like national security.

The comment section was already sitting at half a million likes, filled with frantic typing:

• WHO IS THIS OFFICER AND DOES HE HAVE A BROTHER

• The size difference omg she is literally a pocket-sized human next to a tank

• He is looking at her like she’s his religion pls

• Bro is built like a brick wall and she's just skipping along, I love them

"Oh, this is gold," Robby crowed, a massive grin splitting his face. "Absolute gold. Abbott is going to lose his mind."

Just as the words left Robby’s mouth, the breakroom door swung open. Jack walked in, having just come off a morning patrol shift. He tossed his keys onto the table, unbuttoned the top collar of his uniform shirt, and reached for a paper cup of water, looking like he needed a twelve-hour nap.

Whitaker immediately shoved his phone right into Jack’s face. "Explain yourself, big dog."

Jack stopped midway through lifting the cup to his mouth. His dark eyes flicked down to the screen. He watched the news clip play on loop, heard the booming she don't want no puppy, she want a big dog echo off the breakroom walls, and watched himself look like an absolute guard dog trailing behind Y/N.

The room went dead silent. Robby and Whitaker waited for the legendary Abbott scowl the sharp, intimidating glare that usually shut down any teasing immediately.

Instead, Jack slowly lowered the cup. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then, a very slow, deeply satisfied, deeply arrogant smirk curled the corner of his mouth.

He crossed his massive arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter.

"Well," Jack drawled, his voice a gravelly, pleased hum. "The internet finally got something right."

Before Robby could crack another joke, the breakroom door opened again, and Y/N walked in, holding a fresh chart and looking exhausted.

"Hey, guys, has anyone seen—" She stopped, noticing the weird, highly amused energy in the room. Her eyes flicked to Whitaker’s phone, which was still looping the video at full volume.

Y/N froze. Her face instantly flushed a brilliant, burning crimson. She stared at the screen, listening to the audio blaring look at me, habibi right as the camera zoomed in on her walking in her shorts.

"Delete that," Y/N gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks as she lunged for Whitaker’s phone. "Delete that right now, Whitaker, I am begging you, I will never bake you another cookie as long as I live—"

Whitaker deftly yanked his phone back, laughing wildly. "Too late, Y/N! You're viral. The people have spoken. You belong to the big dog now."

"I am going to die," Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I am going to quit medicine, change my name, and move to a remote island."

Before she could retreat out the door, a heavy, familiar arm banded securely around her waist. Jack closed the distance between them in two long strides, pulling her flush against his solid, uniform-clad chest. He towered over her by a solid foot, making her look even smaller as he rested his chin comfortably on the top of her head.

Jack looked down at her, his dark eyes burning with warm, undisguised adoration, completely ignoring Robby and Whitaker who were watching them like they were front-row at a movie theater.

"Don't listen to them, sweetheart," Jack murmured, his deep voice vibrating right against her spine as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her temple. "They're just jealous they don't have a big dog guarding them."

Y/N peeked out from behind her hands, looking up at him with a mix of embarrassment and a fond, helpless smile. "You are never allowed to wear your uniform near a news crew again, Abbott."

The midday sun filtered through the sprawling oak trees of the local park, casting dappled, golden light over picnic blankets, lawn chairs, and a cluster of off-duty ER staff who looked entirely bizarre without scrubs and stethoscopes.

A large, portable charcoal grill was already smoking near the edge of the pavilion, over which Dr. Jack Abbott stood like a man preparing to perform open-heart surgery. He wore a fitted black t-shirt, dark sunglasses, and an expression of absolute, unyielding tactical focus as he flipped a row of thick beef patties with surgical precision.

A few feet away, Y/N was kneeling beside a heavily laden cooler, carefully unlatching the lid to inspect her masterpieces. She had spent half the morning baking: a massive, homemade Lotus biscoff and another strawberry cheesecake, layered with crushed cookie crust, rich cream cheese filling, and topped with a glistening, ruby-red crown of fresh strawberries and a heavy drizzle of cookie butter.

She stood up, brushing flour off her hands, and immediately spotted a very familiar, tall silhouette hovering behind her shoulder.

Jack had abandoned his post at the grill for a split second. His dark eyes were locked entirely on the cheesecake, gleaming with the unmistakable hunger of a man who viewed Y/N’s baking as a top-tier medical necessity.

"Abbott," Y/N warned, narrowing her eyes and slapping the lid of the cooler shut just as his long fingers crept toward the edge. "Step away from the desserts. They are for the entire department, not for a rogue attending who skips lunch to stress-eat my crusts."

The bathroom was already a fog-filled, steaming sanctuary by the time Jack pushed the glass door open, pulling Y/N right in with him.

The air was thick and heavy, smelling of condensation and the crisp, cedar-and-pine body wash he used. Without a word, Jack backed Y/N up against the tiled shower wall, letting the cascade of hot water beat down over their shoulders, soaking them instantly. The sudden shock of heat made Y/N gasp, her wet hair plastering itself to her neck and back.

Jack didn't give her a second to catch her breath. He caught her face in his large, water-slicked hands, tilting her chin up, and kissed her hard. It wasn't the slow, lazy kiss of a Sunday morning; it was hungry, desperate, and heavy with the culmination of a brutal week. His tongue swept past her lips, tasting of pure heat, while his thumbs swept soothing, possessive circles over her cheekbones.

"God, you look incredible like this," Jack murmured against her mouth, his voice rough and deep as he pulled back just an inch, water dripping from his dark eyelashes. "Completely soaked. Completely mine."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her hands sliding up his broad, slippery chest, nails digging lightly into the taut muscles of his shoulders. "You're ruining your hair, Abbott."

"Don't care," he muttered, a wicked, lopsided grin touching the corners of his mouth before he captured her lips again.

His hands dropped from her face, sliding down the wet curve of her spine, mapping every inch of her skin before gripping her hips firmly and lifting her up. Y/N reacted on instinct, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and locking her ankles at the small of his back. Jack stepped closer, pressing her flush against the cool tiles, though the chill was instantly obliterated by the friction of their bodies and the scalding water rushing over them.

"Hold onto me, honey," Jack commanded softly against her ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive lobe just enough to make her shiver.

"I've got you," she breathed, tightening her grip around his neck as Jack adjusted his stance, pressing the thick, heavy length of his erection right against her soaking, trembling core through the thin barrier of water and space.

The friction alone made her hips buck forward with a sharp, involuntary gasp.

Jack groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated straight through her chest. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for a bar of soap, lathering his hands before sliding them down her waist, mapping the curve of her hip and sliding between her thighs to prime her. When his thumb brushed over her slick, swollen bundle of nerves, Y/N cried out, throwing her head back against the tile as white-hot lightning spiked straight down her spine.

"So wet for me," Jack praised hoarsely, his thumb sliding inside her effortlessly, matching the heavy, rushing rhythm of the showerhead. "Look at how good you take me, sweetheart. Look at me."

Y/N forced her heavy eyelids open, her vision swimming as she stared into Jack's dark, dilated eyes. He looked half-mad with desire, his chest heaving, water cascading down his sharp jawline.

"Jack, please," she whimpered, her fingers knotting frantically into his wet hair. "Please..."

"Asking like a good girl," he growled approvingly.

He didn't make her wait. Shifting his grip, he aligned himself at her entrance and slowly drove upward, filling her completely in one smooth, devastating thrust. The sensation of him stretching her tight, hot heat while the water beat down on their backs stole the last coherent thought from Y/N's head. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, a muffled sob of pure pleasure tearing from her throat.

"That's it, baby," Jack murmured, his lips pressing frantic, worshipping kisses against her wet skin as he began to move. "Take it all. Take every inch."

The rhythm he set was relentless, driven by the slick heat of the water and the desperation of skin against skin. Every upward thrust of his hips hit the exact spot that made her toes curl, his hands gripping her thighs tight enough to leave bruises, anchoring her to him as he pounded into her.

The tiled walls echoed with the sound of their heavy breathing, the slapping of wet skin, and Jack’s low, gravelly voice pouring endless praise over her.

"Good girl. Fuck, you're so tight, honey... look at you taking me so well. Keep moving for me, baby, just like that..."

Y/N matched him stroke for stroke, her body tightening around him with terrifying speed as the friction built into an unbearable, blinding crescendo. The world narrowed down to the heat of the water, the strength of Jack's arms holding her weight effortlessly, and the fierce, unyielding adoration in his voice.

When the climax hit, it tore through her with the force of a tidal wave. Y/N cried out his name against his skin, her entire body locking up, spasming around him in violent, wave-after-wave convulsions.

The sound of her undoing shattered Jack's remaining control. With a raw, ragged roar, his hands gripped her hips so hard she would surely bruise, driving into her three final, punishing times before he spilled deep inside her, his head dropping onto her shoulder as he rode out his own shattering release.

For a long time, the only sound in the bathroom was the hiss of the shower and their harsh, ragged breaths.

Jack didn't put her down. He just stood there under the steaming water, holding her tight against him, his face buried in her wet hair as his breathing slowly leveled out. He pressed a long, lingering kiss to her collarbone, his hands smoothing soothing, slow circles over her lower back.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he murmured softly, his voice thick with lingering exhaustion and absolute contentment.

Y/N let out a boneless, shuddering sigh against his chest, nodding weakly. "More than okay."

Part 1- The things we don’t say

Part 2 - The things we pretend not to feel

Part 3 - The things that change

Part 4 - The things we refuse to admit

Part 5 - The things we can’t take back

Part 6 - The things we say too late

Part 7 - The things that stay

Part 8 - The things that we find again

Part 9 - The things that matter

Part 10 - The things we could no longer hide

Epilogue - Love Finally

This is the last part my lovelies let me know your thoughts, what would you like to see next, what I need to improve etc 🤍🤍

Months had melted into a rhythm that felt entirely theirs. The vanity teasers and late-night dinners were no longer rare treats; they had become the backbone of their routine. Slowly, almost seamlessly, Sophie’s things began invading Jack’s apartment. A toothbrush here, a delicate lace bra hanging in his bathroom, and an ever-growing pile of her favorite books on his nightstand.

But Jack’s favorite part of her soft takeover was the clothes. Sophie had a habit of raiding his wardrobe, swimming in his oversized t-shirts that hung off one of her delicate shoulders, the hem brushing the middle of her thighs. To Jack, who was broad-shouldered and built like a fortress, seeing how small and soft she looked wrapped up in his clothes made something deeply possessive and fiercely tender bloom in his chest.

He was completely, utterly addicted to her touch. Whether they were lounging on his couch or standing in his kitchen, Jack unconsciously needed her close. If she walked past him, his arm would shoot out to hook around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. When they cooked together which usually involved Sophie attempting a complex pasta sauce while wearing one of his faded band tees and Jack standing right behind her, arms wrapped around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder he barely let her breathe without kissing her cheek or whispering something filthy in her ear.

He loved the contrast of their sizes, loved how easily his large hands spanned her waist, and adored the way she melted whenever he leaned down to murmur how good she smelled, or how easily he could carry her straight to his bed.

And that bed had become her sanctuary. The first time she slept over, she had audibly gasped, burying her face into his pillows and complimenting the ridiculously soft, high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. Jack had just smirked, crawling over her to pin her down, teasingly whispering that he only bought the best sheets so she’d never want to leave them. Even in his deepest sleep, his instincts never turned off; he would subconsciously reach out in the dead of night, gathering her small frame against his chest, tucking her head under his chin as if guarding her from the world.

That protective streak was infamous, even at work. Having officially earned her title as a full-fledged ER attending, Dr. Sophie stood side-by-side with Jack on the night shift. They were a seamless team in the trauma bays, but Jack’s eyes were always secretly on her, his body language shifting into high alert whenever a patient grew aggressive or a situation turned chaotic. But no matter how hard Jack tried to be the unbreakable shield, the night shift had a way of pulling at old wounds.

It happened on a quiet Tuesday at 3:00 AM. Sirens blared as a gurney burst through the double doors, carrying a young, twenty-year-old soldier straight from a training explosion. The smell of copper, scorched fabric, and ozone filled the trauma bay instantly. As the paramedics shouted out the stats, Jack froze. The sight of the shredded military fatigues, the specific pattern of burns, and the young boy’s panicked, ragged breathing pulled Jack right out of the ER and threw him backward into the blinding dust and agony of his own combat injury. The monitors started blaring, but for a terrifying second, Jack was drowning in his own PTSD, his knuckles turning stark white against the edge of the metal cart, his breathing shallow and tight.

Sophie caught it instantly. She stepped in, flawlessly taking over the airway and directing the nurses to stabilize the kid. As soon as the patient was wheeled off to emergency surgery, she turned. Jack had slipped into an empty, darkened supply closet nearby, trying to pull himself back together.

When Sophie pushed the door open, Jack was leaned over a stainless steel counter, his head low, trembling. Hearing her enter, he choked out a gruff, desperate voice. "Sophie... please. Give me a second. Just... give me some distance."

Before, Jack would have pushed her away completely, locking his pain behind a steel wall. But Sophie didn’t step back. She stepped forward. "Not a chance, Jack," she whispered softly, refusing to leave him alone in the dark. She walked right up to his back, wrapping her arms securely around his waist, pressing her face against his broad back, letting him feel her warmth, her pulse, her absolute presence.

Jack stiffened, but the touch broke the dam. Instead of pulling away, he turned around, buried his face into the crook of her neck, and broke down. For the first time, he let her hold him while he wept, his heavy arms wrapping tight around her small frame, clinging to her like a lifeline. Sophie just held him, her fingers running through his hair, whispering endless softly spoken words of love until his chest stopped heaving and his breathing aligned with hers.

He needed her, completely and unapologetically, and showing that vulnerability only brought them closer.

The fierce bond they shared was no secret to their ER colleagues, though the couple still tried and failed to keep a professional boundary outside the hospital. A few months later, the department organized a mandatory weekend retreat at a mountain resort. Naturally, the administration booked separate hotel rooms for everyone to keep things "professional."

That rule lasted approximately twenty minutes.

The moment the hallway cleared, Sophie slipped out of her assigned room in her silk sleep cami, tiptoeing down the carpeted floor, and tapped on Jack’s door. The second it unlocked, Jack pulled her inside by the wrist, shutting the door behind her and hoisting her straight up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. "You took too long," he growled against her lips, kissing her deeply before dropping her onto the massive king-sized bed happily noting her approving sigh as she rubbed her hand over the luxurious hotel sheets.

The real test of their composure came the next morning when the team had to take a single, cramped rental SUV to the conference center. With six adults and a mountain of luggage, there simply weren't enough seats.

"Well, someone has to take the next shuttle," one of the senior residents groaned.

Before anyone else could speak, Jack climbed into the leather backseat, looked straight at Sophie, and patted his thigh with a wicked, teasing glint in his eyes. "Get in, Doc. Problem solved."

Sophie didn't hesitate for a second. With a subtle smirk at her blushing colleagues, she climbed into the back and settled comfortably right on Jack's lap. His arms instantly locked around her waist, his hand sliding high up her thigh under the guise of "keeping her steady" as the car started moving.

He leaned close to her ear, his deep voice a hot whisper that sent shivers straight down her spine. "You feel way too good sitting here, baby. If you keep shifting around like that, we're skipping the conference and going straight back to my room."

1. The Pocket Notes: Jack is a man of few words when it comes to expressing his deep, mushy feelings out loud at the hospital, so he resorts to covert operations. He will slip tiny, folded sticky notes into Y/N’s coat pockets, lunch containers, or purse before leaving for his early shift. They usually just say mundane things like "Eat lunch, love you" or draw a little smiley face next to a makeshift heart monitor blip.

2. The Back-of-the-Neck Warm-Up: Whenever Y/N is curled up on the couch reading or grading papers and gets cold, Jack doesn't just hand her a blanket. He will walk up behind her, cup his large, warm hands directly against the back of her neck, and rub slow, soothing circles until she melts backward into his chest with a happy sigh.

3. The Midnight Blanket Tuck: Even when Jack crawls into bed dead tired at 3:00 AM, his muscle memory instantly takes over. He will automatically peel the heavy duvet away, guide Y/N flush against his side, and meticulously tuck the blankets around her shoulders so zero cold air can get in, all while completely half-asleep.

4. The Customized Coffee Drops: Jack knows Y/N’s coffee order down to the exact number of pumps and milk temperature. On mornings when they are both rushing out the door for long shifts, he will miraculously have a fresh travel mug waiting on the counter for her with a handwritten “You’ve got this, sweetheart” taped right across the lid.

5. The Unconscious Hair Twirling: During movie nights on the couch, Jack’s professional, ultra-focused surgical demeanor completely vanishes. While staring blankly at the screen, his fingers will mechanically and absentmindedly wind themselves into Y/N's hair, gently twirling strands around his knuckles over and over again like a human comfort object.

6. The Jacket Shield: Whenever they walk outside and the weather suddenly turns chilly or starts drizzling, Jack immediately strips off his jacket without breaking his stride and drapes it over Y/N’s shoulders. He doesn't even pause to ask; it's an automatic reflex, and he'll spend the rest of the walk keeping his arm securely around her waist to pull her into his side.

7. The Sound-Asleep Forehead Kiss: Jack always wakes up earlier than Y/N. Before he quietly gets out of bed to head to the kitchen or prep for the day, he will pause, lean over, and press a long, lingering, incredibly gentle kiss right to the center of her forehead while she's still dead to the world, just to start his day grounding himself in her.

8. The Grocery Store Cart Chauffeur: Whenever they go grocery shopping, Jack refuses to let Y/N push the cart or walk on the outer side of the aisle closest to foot traffic. He gently guides her to the inside lane, and if she's tired, he'll jokingly nudge her to hop onto the bottom shelf bar of the cart so he can push her around like a giant kid while smuggling extra snacks into the basket.

9. The Soundless Laugh: Jack is usually quiet, stoic, and composed around everyone else, but whenever Y/N does something goofy or funny at home, he gets this specific, chest-deep, soundless laugh where his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle completely shut, trying desperately to muffle his amusement so he doesn't break character.

This is the last part of the series my babies + the epilogue🥹🤍

It was ridiculous, really.

He had walked into rooms where lives depended on his decisions.

He had handled impossible situations, difficult conversations, and moments where everyone else looked to him for answers.

Yet somehow standing outside Sophie’s apartment, waiting for her to open the door, made his heart beat faster than any emergency ever had.

This was simply Jack.

The man who had spent months trying to convince himself he could keep his feelings under control.

The man who had failed.

The door opened.

And for a moment, everything else disappeared.

Sophie stood there looking at him, and Jack forgot every sentence he had prepared.

She wasn’t dressed extravagantly.

She wasn’t trying too hard.

She was simply Sophie.

And somehow that was what affected him the most.

The woman who laughed with him during impossible shifts.

The woman who challenged him when everyone else backed down.

The woman who had somehow become the first person he wanted to see after every difficult day.

His eyes softened.

“You look unbelievably beautiful sweetheart.”

The words came out quietly.

Sophie immediately looked away, the familiar blush appearing on her cheeks.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true, pretty girl.”

The nickname made her smile.

And Jack loved that he could still do that.

After everything between them.

He could still make her smile.

“You look quite handsome yourself you know”

“Oh I know” he said confidently.

“You know,” she teased, “you seem very confident for someone who was nervous five seconds ago.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“I was not nervous.”

Sophie smiled.

“You absolutely were.”

“I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how unfair it is that you can make me forget how to speak.”

The honesty caught her off guard.

And Jack immediately laughed softly.

“There she is.”

“What?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you don’t know what to do with a compliment.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You know me too well.”

His expression softened.

“Yeah.”

A small pause.

“I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening felt different from anything they had shared before.

For the first time, they weren’t trying to avoid the difficult conversations.

They weren’t pretending certain moments hadn’t happened.

They weren’t carefully choosing words because they were afraid of what the other person might hear.

They were simply two people who had finally stopped running.

They talked for hours.

About fears.

About things they had never admitted out loud.

Sophie told him about the pressure she placed on herself.

How she always felt like she needed to prove she belonged.

How sometimes she gave everything to everyone else and forgot she was allowed to need care too.

Jack listened the way he always did when something mattered.

Fully.

Completely.

Like the rest of the world could wait.

“You know what your problem is?”

Sophie looked at him.

“What?”

“You think being strong means you never get tired.”

Her expression softened.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You think being strong means you never need anyone.”

Jack went quiet.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

Not even a little.

Sophie reached across the table and took his hand.

The gesture was simple.

But it meant everything.

Neither of them moved away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The conversation naturally shifted as the night continued.

Eventually, they reached the part they had both known they would have to talk about.

The night of the kiss.

The argument.

The distance.

Sophie looked down at their hands.

“You really hurt me.”

Jack’s expression immediately changed.

Not defensive.

Not uncomfortable.

Just sad.

“I know.”

His voice was quiet.

“I know I did.”

She looked up.

“I spent so much time wondering if I had imagined everything.”

Jack immediately shook his head.

“You didn’t.”

The certainty in his voice made her pause.

“You didn’t imagine it, Sophie.”

A breath escaped him.

“I was just afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No.”

His eyes met hers.

“Of how much I cared.”

The honesty made her chest tighten.

Jack looked down briefly.

“I should have told you that.”

A pause.

“I should have been honest instead of making you feel like you had done something wrong.”

His fingers tightened gently around hers.

“I’m sorry.”

Sophie stayed quiet.

Jack continued.

“I’m sorry for pulling away when you were brave enough to come closer.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry for making you feel rejected.”

Another pause.

“And I’m sorry for making you question whether you were enough.”

Sophie’s eyes softened.

Because that was exactly what she had felt.

And hearing him acknowledge it meant more than she expected.

“You weren’t foolish,” Jack said softly.

Her eyes lifted.

His thumb brushed over her hand.

“You weren’t wrong for feeling something.”

A pause.

“You were just brave enough to say it before I was.”

A small smile eventually appeared on Sophie’s face.

“You know what still makes me laugh?”

Jack smiled slightly.

“What?”

“The fact that I told you to fuck off.”

Jack immediately laughed.

“I remember.”

“I was so angry.”

“You were terrifying.”

She gasped.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m being honest.”

She laughed.

“You deserved it.”

“I did.”

The admission surprised her.

Then his expression changed.

The amusement softened into something deeper.

“Sophie?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to tell you something.”

The way he said it made her immediately focus.

Jack looked down for a second before meeting her eyes.

“When you said that…”

A small smile appeared.

“When you looked me straight in the eye and told me to fuck off the ER yourself…”

Sophie covered her face.

“Oh my God.”

“No, listen.”

She lowered her hands.

Jack smiled.

“I know it sounds insane.”

“It does.”

“But that’s when I fell even harder for you.”

She stared at him.

“Jack.”

“I’m serious.”

He squeezed her hand.

“Everyone else is intimidated by me.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is a little true.”

She laughed softly.

“But you weren’t.”

His expression softened.

“You were hurt.”

A pause.

“And instead of breaking down or letting me make you feel small, you stood there and defended yourself.”

His eyes remained on hers.

After a moment, Sophie took a breath.

“There is something I never told you either.”

Jack looked curious.

“What?”

She hesitated.

Then smiled slightly.

“One of the reasons I ended things with William…”

Jack immediately became quiet.

Not jealous.

Just listening.

“I kept comparing him to you.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“What.. noo, you didn’t sweetheart…”

“I didn’t mean to.”

She laughed softly.

“It just happened.”

She looked down.

“William was nice.”

“He was.”

“He cared about me.”

“He did.”

“But every single time we were together, I kept thinking…”

She laughed again.

A little embarrassed.

“A little pathetic, honestly.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Sophie ignored him.

“I’d think things like…”

Her smile widened.

“‘Jack would’ve noticed I was tired by now.’”

The expression on Jack’s face softened immediately.

“‘Jack would’ve remembered I hate lavender sent.’”

That earned a quiet laugh.

“‘Jack would’ve made me laugh by now.’”

The laughter faded.

And her voice softened.

“‘Jack would’ve held my hand.’”

Something emotional flashed across Jack’s face.

Sophie saw it.

Felt it.

And continued anyway.

“Eventually I realized it wasn’t fair.”

“To William.”

She nodded.

“It wasn’t.”

A pause.

“Because he wasn’t competing against another man.”

Her eyes locked onto his.

“He was competing against someone I already had feelings for.”

For a moment Jack couldn’t speak.

Because hearing those words from her felt dangerously close to everything he had wanted and everything he had been afraid of at the same time.

Sophie smiled softly.

“And honestly?”

Jack swallowed.

“What?”

The playful look that appeared on her face made his heart stumble.

“He wasn’t as funny as you.”

Jack laughed.

“That’s harsh.”

“It’s true.”

“He’d probably disagree.”

“He’d be wrong.”

Jack shook his head.

The smile refused to leave his face.

Sophie stepped slightly closer.

“He wasn’t as attentive as you.”

The smile softened.

“He definitely wasn’t as stubborn as you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

A pause.

Then Sophie looked directly into his eyes.

“And he definitely wasn’t as hot as you.”

Jack immediately choked on his own laughter.

“Jesus Christ.”

The rare reaction made her laugh harder.

“I’m serious.”

“Sweetheart.”

His face had actually turned red.

Something Sophie had never witnessed before.

“I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“You don’t have to.”

Her smile softened.

“Just know it’s true.”

For a moment they simply looked at each other.

And Jack realized he might spend the rest of his life falling in love with this woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Because beneath the happiness was still something he needed to say.

“I need to apologize for the way I acted when William came around.”

Jack sighed.

“I was jealous.”

The admission was so direct that she almost smiled.

“You really were.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I was.”

A pause.

“I saw him making you happy.”

His eyes dropped.

“And instead of being mature, I let my insecurity turn into anger.”

Sophie squeezed his hand.

“I made comments.”

“I pushed you.”

“I made you feel like you were doing something wrong when you weren’t.”

His voice softened.

“I’m sorry.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Sophie noticed his expression change.

The walls lowering.

The fear underneath everything.

“What is it?”

Jack looked away.

Then back at her.

“My age.”

The words surprised her.

“Jack…”

“No, let me say it.”

He took a breath.

“Fourteen years is a lot.”

A pause.

“And sometimes I wonder if one day you’ll wake up and realize you deserve someone who can give you more.”

Sophie’s expression immediately softened.

“Jack.”

“And then there’s everything else.”

He looked down.

His leg.

The thing he rarely spoke about.

“I’ve already lost someone.”

His voice became quieter.

“My wife.”

Sophie reached for his hand tighter.

Jack swallowed.

“When you lose someone you love, it changes the way you see everything.”

A pause.

“And when you came into my life…”

He smiled sadly.

“I realized I had someone else I couldn’t imagine losing.”

His eyes met hers.

“And that scared me.”

Sophie felt tears forming.

Jack continued.

“Then there is my leg.”

He looked down.

“The prosthetic.”

A pause.

“Some days I don’t even think about it.”

Another pause.

“Other days I remember everything.”

The combat.

The injury.

The recovery.

The pain.

“I spent a lot of time thinking maybe eventually you’d realize I’m not what you deserve.”

Sophie’s heart broke.

Because she had never once seen him that way.

She lifted his face gently.

“Jack.”

He looked at her.

“Do you know what I see?”

He stayed silent.

“I see the man who makes sure I eat breakfast after a twelve-hour shift.”

A small smile appeared.

“I see the man who makes everyone around him feel safer.”

“The man who keeps showing up and not just for me but for everyone.”

Her thumb brushed his cheek.

“I see you.”

Jack’s eyes softened.

“Not your age.”

A pause.

“Not your leg.”

Another pause.

“Not the things you are afraid make you less.”

Her forehead rested against his.

“Just you.”

For a moment Jack closed his eyes.

And when he opened them again, the fear was still there.

But it was smaller.

Because she was there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Jack drove her home, neither of them wanted the night to end.

The conversation continued all the way there.

Their hands occasionally finding each other across the center console.

Their smiles appearing for absolutely no reason.

The kind of happiness that made everything feel lighter.

When they finally stopped outside her apartment building, neither moved.

The city around them had gone quiet.

The world seemed smaller somehow.

Like it only contained the two of them.

Jack turned toward her.

Sophie's heart immediately skipped.

Because the way he was looking at her...

It wasn't subtle anymore.

There was no hesitation.

No walls.

No fear.

Only love.

The kind that had been growing quietly for some time now.

The kind neither of them could hide anymore.

Jack reached up slowly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers lingered against her cheek.

And Sophie instinctively leaned into the touch.

The small action visibly affected him.

His eyes darkened slightly.

"You have no idea what you do to me."

The confession came out almost as a whisper.

Sophie's breath caught.

"Good."

A surprised laugh escaped him.

"Good?"

She moved a little closer.

Close enough to feel his warmth.

Close enough to hear the slight change in his breathing.

"Because you have no idea what you do to me either."

For a moment neither spoke.

Neither moved.

The tension between them was almost unbearable.

Not uncomfortable.

Beautiful.

The kind that only exists when two people want the exact same thing.

Jack's hand slid gently along her jaw, histhumb brushing her cheek.

"Can I kiss you, pretty girl?"

The nickname immediately made her heart melt.

Sophie's eyes never left his.

"Yes."

The answer barely left her lips before Jack closed the distance between them.

The first kiss was impossibly soft.

Tender.

Almost careful.

As though he wanted to memorize the feeling.

As though he had imagined this moment so many times he was afraid to move too quickly and break it.

Sophie's hand found his cheek.

Her fingers sliding into his hair, into his soft curls.

And she felt the small sound that escaped him against her lips.

The kiss deepened naturally after that.

Months of longing.

Months of missed chances.

Months of pretending.

All melting away.

Jack's hand settled at her waist, pulling her slightly closer, and Sophie found herself smiling into the kiss because somehow it felt exactly the way she always imagined it would.

Safe.

Warm.

Certain.

Like coming home.

When they finally pulled apart, neither actually moved away.

Their foreheads rested together.

Their noses brushing.

Jack's eyes remained closed for a second longer as though he wasn't quite ready to leave the moment.

When he finally looked at her, the expression on his face stole what little remained of Sophie's composure.

“Hi”

Sophie smiled softly.

“Hi handsome”

His hand gently cupped her face.

"You’re the woman I've been in love with for a lot longer than I was willing to admit."

And for the first time, neither of them ran from the truth.

“I love you too”

This is part 9 my lovelies we’re getting closer to the end 🥹

The morning after Sophie fainted, she fully expected to wake up to several messages from Jack reminding her to eat properly, drink enough water, and stop pretending that coffee counted as a meal.

Instead, she woke up to a single text.

Jack: I’m outside.

For a few seconds she simply stared at the message, convinced she was still half asleep and imagining things.

Then she checked the time.

Her shift wasn’t starting for another hour.

And Jack had finished a twelve-hour night shift less than thirty minutes ago.

Immediately, she called him.

The phone barely rang once.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

The familiar nickname wrapped around her heart in a way she was becoming increasingly unable to ignore.

“Why are you outside?”

“Come downstairs and you’ll find out.”

“Jack.”

“Sophie.”

She could already hear the stubbornness in his voice.

The same stubbornness that had spent weeks driving her to work after a full night shift.

The same stubbornness that refused to let her skip meals.

The same stubbornness that seemed reserved entirely for her.

“You should be sleeping.”

“I know.”

“You worked all night.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you sitting outside my apartment building?”

For a moment there was silence.

Then she heard him laugh softly.

Just enough for her to hear the warmth in it.

“Because we’re getting breakfast pretty go get ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Sophie stepped outside and immediately spotted him leaning against his car with two coffees in his hands.

The sight made her chest ache in the softest possible way.

Because he looked exhausted.

There were faint shadows beneath his eyes.

His shoulders carried the familiar weight of another difficult night in the ER.

He should have been home sleeping.

Instead, he was standing there waiting for her.

Again.

When she reached him, he handed her the coffee without a word.

Made exactly the way she liked it.

Exactly as he had done countless times before.

Only now it felt different.

Because she knew how much effort it was costing him.

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

Jack opened the passenger door for her.

“I know.”

The answer immediately made her smile.

The same answer.

Always the same answer.

“You say that every time.”

“That’s because you ask every time.”

Sophie shook her head, trying to hide her smile as she climbed into the car.

“You need sleep.”

Jack closed the door.

“You need to eat, priorities.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first, breakfast had simply been breakfast.

A quick meal before work.

An excuse to make sure Sophie was eating.

Nothing more.

At least that was what Jack claimed.

But somewhere along the way, it became something neither of them wanted to give up.

The first few times they sat across from each other.

Two cups of coffee.

Two plates of food.

Simple conversations.

Nothing unusual.

Then one morning the diner was unusually crowded.

There weren’t many seats available.

So Sophie slid into the booth beside him instead.

Neither of them mentioned it.

Neither of them made a big deal out of it.

Yet somehow neither returned to sitting across from each other after that.

From that day forward, Sophie always sat beside him.

Close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed.

Close enough that their knees sometimes touched beneath the table.

And every single time it happened, neither of them moved away.

Not once.

The contact became so natural that eventually neither of them seemed to notice it anymore.

At least not outwardly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The breakfasts themselves became Sophie’s favorite part of the day.

Not because of the food.

Because of him.

Because for one hour every morning the world felt quiet.

No emergencies.

No patients.

No expectations.

Just Jack.

Sometimes they talked endlessly.

Other mornings they simply sat together enjoying the comfortable silence.

And somehow those mornings became even more precious.

One particular morning, after an especially difficult week, Sophie found herself unusually quiet.

The emotional exhaustion from work had been building again.

Nothing dramatic.

Just the normal weight healthcare workers carried every day.

The kind that accumulated little by little until suddenly everything felt heavier than it should.

Jack noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

Without saying anything, he shifted slightly closer.

A simple movement.

Barely noticeable.

Yet somehow Sophie felt the invitation in it.

Before she could overthink it, she leaned her head gently against his shoulder.

The action surprised both of them.

Not because it felt wrong.

Because it felt so natural.

Jack didn’t tense.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t even hesitate.

Instead, after a few moments, Sophie felt him tilt his head slightly and press a soft kiss against the top of her hair.

A small gesture.

Tender.

Protective.

Affectionate.

The kind of gesture that somehow meant more than grand declarations ever could.

Sophie’s eyes immediately closed.

And for the first time all week, she felt herself relax.

Completely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few minutes later she looked up at him.

“You know this is insane, right?”

Jack looked down.

“What is?”

“This.”

She gestured between them.

“The fact that you’re finishing a twelve-hour shift and then spending another hour driving across the city to pick me up.”

His expression softened immediately.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

Her voice grew quieter.

“You must be exhausted.”

Jack studied her for a moment.

Then smiled.

A genuine smile.

The kind she loved most.

“Maybe.”

“Jack.”

“No, sweetheart.”

His voice softened.

“You don’t understand.”

Something about the way he said it made her chest tighten.

He looked away briefly before continuing.

“This helps.”

Sophie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“Being here.”

His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of his coffee cup.

“The breakfast.”

“The conversations.”

A pause.

“You.”

Her heart immediately betrayed her.

Jack laughed softly when he saw the look on her face.

“I’m serious.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised her.

“After some nights…”

He shook his head.

“You know how this job gets.”

Sophie nodded.

She knew.

“Sometimes I leave work carrying things I don’t know what to do with.”

His eyes met hers.

“And then I spend an hour with you.”

A small smile appeared.

“And everything feels quieter.”

Sophie’s chest physically hurt.

Because she understood exactly what he meant.

Jack leaned back slightly.

“This relaxes me.”

The words were simple.

Yet somehow they felt more intimate than almost anything else he had ever said.

Because Jack Abbott wasn’t someone who relaxed easily.

And the fact that she was one of the few people capable of giving him that peace meant more than she could explain.

So instead of answering, Sophie simply reached for his hand beneath the table.

And held it.

Jack immediately intertwined their fingers.

As though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Neither of them let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks later, after countless breakfasts, countless shared coffees, countless mornings spent talking about everything and nothing, Jack finally asked her out properly.

Not because he suddenly developed feelings.

Those feelings had been there for a long time.

But because for the first time, neither of them was hiding anymore.

For the first time, they weren’t trying to fix something broken.

They were simply choosing each other.

And when Sophie said yes, Jack smiled so widely she could actually see the relief in his eyes.

A relief that made her realize something.

He had been just as scared as she had.

Maybe even more.

Because loving someone had never frightened Sophie.

Losing them had always frightened Jack.

And yet here he was.

Choosing her anyway.

Just as she was choosing him.

Sophie was sitting at the vanity getting ready for their dinner, carefully fixing her hair while Jack watched her from behind, his gaze heavy and unapologetic. He loved these moments more than he would ever admit seeing her completely relaxed, wearing nothing but one of his oversized button-downs, humming quietly while she got ready.

She caught his eyes in the mirror.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring again,” she murmured, her lips curving as she met his reflection.

This is part 8 my lovelies 🤍

The weeks that followed settled into something neither Jack nor Sophie had expected.

Not a relationship.

Not quite friendship either.

Something in between.

Something that needed time.