wannabewordsmith

"Fox Two!" Coyote's voice called across the airwaves, though Jake's graze remained locked. The two planes weaved and dodged through a hail of bullets, the roar of their engines echoing off the mountain ranges. 

"Splash One! Oh shit, there are three on my six! Where the hell are they coming from?!"

With a sudden burst of energy, the bandit made a sharp turn, skimming the treetops in an attempt to shake off its pursuer. But Jake was not so easily deterred. With a fierce determination, he pushed his plane, closing in on the bandit's tail once more. And then, with a well-timed burst of fire, Jake's bullets found their mark, hitting the bandit's plane squarely in its engines. Sputtering and smoking, it seemed to glide for a moment before plummeting towards the ground below.

Jake pulled up, taking cover in the clouds momentarily as he scanned the radar and skies for signs of Coyote or the other enemy aircraft.

"I can't shake them, Hangman. Get 'em off me."

Jake pushed the throttle forward without hesitation, sending his plane racing after his wingman. As he drew closer, he saw two enemy planes, their wings glinting in the sunlight as Coyote weaved and dodged a barrage of gunfire.

"Hang in there," Jake replied, "I'm coming."

Jake closed in on the two enemy planes, finger poised on the trigger as he waited from missile lock. "Fox Two!"

The missile made contact, and the enemy aircraft erupted in a fiery explosion. Promptly switching to guns, Jake unleashed a hail of bullets that hit his target with deadly accuracy, ripping the wing from the body of the second craft and sending it spiralling towards Earth. "Splash One! Splash One!"

Coyote let out a cheer, "Nice shooting, Hangman!"

Before Jake could reply, a piercing tone rang through the cockpit. Jake glanced in his rearview mirror, and at that moment, the world seemed to stop as he watched two missiles drop from the wings behind him. Jake could feel the sweat trickle down his forehead, hear the familiar sounds of his best friend's voice coming through his radio and see the wispy smoke wafting in swirling patterns outside his cockpit. Everything seemed to move frame by frame as he filled his lungs with one final breath. Then, in a rush of technicolour, time flashed forward as he scrambled to deploy his flares.

"Coyote, break left!" The sounds of deafening explosions drowned out Jake's words of warning, and Jake's plane shuddered violently. Alarms blared, and every warning light in his cockpit seemed to scream at him. Jake wrestled to regain control of his F-18. Smoke billowed from the engine as Jake fought to keep the plane aloft.

With a sudden jolt, the plane lurched to one side, and Jake knew that he had to eject. With a deep breath, he pulled the lever and was launched from the cockpit, the sudden rush of air knocking the breath from his lungs.

Jake frantically pulled the cords on his parachute as he hurtled towards the ground. A flurry of green was zipping up to meet him. But it was too late. His chute deployed momentarily before a gnarled branch seemed to reach out and snatch it from the air. Jake slammed against the weathered monster with a sickening smack, his body bouncing off the rough bark as he dropped, air rushing from his lungs as his stomach threatened to climb through his throat at the rapid descent.

His body jolted to a sudden halt a few feet from the ground. Pain shot through him, from his head to his toes, and despite his best efforts at blinking it away, darkness rapidly stole away his sight and consciousness.

It felt like only moments, but it could have been days before Jake regained awareness of himself. A small part of his brain warned of danger and screamed at him to wake up, but the pleasant feeling that had taken control of Jake's body squashed this concern.

Jake felt as though he was floating, weightless, through a sea of clouds. The warm sun kissed his skin, and a gentle breeze filled his ears.

Opening his eyes, he found himself lying beneath an old oak tree. Its branches stretched skyward like the arms of a loving mother. He shifted his attention from the sun-dappled leaves towards the sound of a soothing melody. 

You sat reclined against the trunk, singing softly as your hand combed gently through his blond locks. Your voice was like a lullaby, soothing and comforting. Jake smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. You looked at him with a tender expression, your eyes full of understanding, making his heart overflow with love for you.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too," you replied, voice still soft and sweet.

He touched your face, the smooth skin soft beneath his calloused fingers. You had spent the last day together precisely like this. A pang of longing overwhelmed him as you continued to sing, and he closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him like a warm breeze.

As the song ended, he felt himself being lifted up into the air as if by invisible hands. He came to stand, drawing you up after him and into his arms.

"I'll find my way back home to you, darling," Jake murmured into your ear, taking the opportunity to commit your perfume to memory. You giggled, pulling away from him slightly to lock eyes with his shining green orbs.

"You always do."

Honey lips danced against his in a timeless embrace, filling him with a burning desire as his eyes slipped closed. You were his paradise.

Like a cold shower, reality plunged him back into a bright world of pain, ripping him away from the memory of your warm curves. Jake groaned, trying to bring the world around him into focus. Everything ached, but the memory of you remained despite his throbbing head.

Jake took a moment to try and catch his breath, which seemed more challenging than usual. His vision swam, so he took a moment to assess his tired body, wiggling his toes and ankles before bending his knees.

Legs - check, feeling pretty good for a guy who wiped out on a tree.

He wiggled his fingers and attempted to lift his arms only, but the right arm barely budged. Jake turned, inspecting the twisted knot of strings that currently entrapped his limb. A sharp pain blazed up the back of his neck, making him hiss. The parachute's strings held his arm in an awkward upright position as though he were a child, signalling for help in a classroom.

“What a mess.”

Jake grimaced as he reached for his knife. First, he'd have to cut himself free.

With a bit of juggling, Jake managed to open the knife and began sawing away. The strings gave way under the onslaught of his blade, and he managed to free his arm from the tangle.

The relief was almost instantaneous, along with the flood of pins and needles that pricked at his fingertips.

Arms - sorta working.

Clumsily, Jake worked on detaching himself from the parachute. Clink. His harness disconnected, dropping him unceremoniously on the forest floor below.

A flood of pain sent stars dancing across his eyes, and it took a minute for him to catch his breath again.

"Alright," Jake sighed, looking up at the dull light of dusk as the day's rays faded from view, "Gotta get yourself moving, Jake. Gotta get home."

A rumble of an engine reverberated through the trees, almost muffling the sound of orders barked in a language that was not English. His shoulders slumped momentarily as that information sunk in.

“Fuck. This day just keeps getting better.”

"So much for a good day," you muttered, pressing your palms against your eyes to wipe the tears before they fell. With a sigh, you stood, eager to leave the company of your own mind in search of a distraction. 

Padding out of the room, you descended the stairs, admiring the collage of framed family photos that lined the wall. You couldn't help but pause at each one, from the radiant bride, Grace Seresin, beaming at her groom to the bronzed-skinned boy waving from atop his first pony with a little girl tightly clinging onto his waist. The next featured two sunshine-haired children snuggled up against their silver-haired Gran in matching green sweaters. But the one photo that never failed to bring a smile to your face was one of you and Jake, both in swimsuits, holding melting red popsicles, baby faces giggling at the camera.

The bottom step groaned as you moved off it. You paused to survey the empty living space, fidgeting with the ring on your right hand as you gnawed at the sensitive skin inside your cheek. It was the first time you found yourself alone in the house since... you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Taking a deep breath, you pushed aside the memories. For the past week, Jake's family had taken you under their wing, providing a haven of comfort and security that allowed your body to heal. Their kindness had been a lifeline that you felt you'd never be able to repay.

The chug of a tractor engine piqued your curiosity. Instinctively you followed the noise, stepping out onto the back porch. The sight of the man who made your heart skip a beat greeted you. He had donned his signature Stetson and expertly maneuvered the tractor towards the stable. You couldn't help but feel excited at the mere sight of him, and you eagerly waved in his direction as he flashed you a charming grin.

With a loud shout that barely made it over the grumbling noise of the machine, he announced, "I'll be in soon!" You acknowledged him with a sweet smile and a casual wave, leaning comfortably against the post. Your eyes couldn't help but admire his physique as he climbed from the tractor and began hauling the bales inside.

For a brief moment, you imagined a future with Jake on the farm - days spent working the fields and raising cattle. Although it was a nice fantasy, Jake had already confided his aspirations of following in his Grandfather's footsteps and becoming a pilot, preferably for the United States Navy. Thus, your future together would involve something other than the rustic charm of farm life.

Thirsty, you returned indoors, grabbing a clean glass from the drying rack and filling it with water from the tap. As you took a sip, you spotted a note affixed to the refrigerator: 'At Evie's swim meet. Be home late.' 

Evie, Jake's sweet little sister, was a rising star in the world of swimming, and her parents were incredibly supportive of her pursuit of Olympic greatness. You were sure it wouldn't be long before people everywhere would cheer her on from the comfort of their couches.

Suddenly, a feeling of unease washed over you. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but something seemed amiss. Your senses were heightened as a tickling sensation crept up the back of your neck. Your skin erupted in goosebumps as you caught a glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. The air in the room disappeared, and you slowly turned, coming face to face with the one person you never wanted to see again - your father.

His eyes appeared hollow, filled with ominous darkness, and his scratched face twisted into a malevolent snarl resembling a rabid dog. It wasn't the expression on his face that made you drop the glass you were holding, but the sight of the smooth metal object glinting menacingly in his hand. The smell of tequila and something else - something unidentifiable - hung heavy in the air, and his sour breath made your stomach churn. Frozen in fear, you dared not move a muscle, afraid that even the slightest twitch might provoke him to advance. You were trapped and vulnerable, alone.

"Where is he?" his words held a murderous tone. You felt your throat dry, struggling to control your breathing in his intimidating presence. He moved a step closer, his towering figure looming over you as though his proximity would make you crack. "You hear me, girl?" he bellowed, making you cringe, "Where is that son of a bitch?"

Stalking forward, he waved the pistol in your face kicking your heart rate into overdrive as you edged backwards, eyes flittering nervously from side to side in search of something.

"Pa, just listen, listen to me. This isn't you," you urged, wracking your brain for the best way to handle this hostile negotiation. "We can go home, and we-"

"No!" he growled. Spittle flew from his mouth, landing on your cheek. "I know what you'll do. Wanna get me locked up after everything I've done for you." 

You recoiled another step back, trying to use your words to persuade him to stop this foolishness. "No, there's no need for us to call the cops. It's just you and me, Pa. So, please, put the gun down," you brokered.

From the corner of your eye, you spied a cast iron skillet lying on the kitchen bench. A foolhardy idea flashed through your mind as a reckless rush of courage burned within you, daring you to take action rather than play the victim. Indeed this plan was crazy, but was it wild enough to work? You were about to find out.

He wavered at your words, glancing down at his hands with a look of helplessness and internal conflict. Your moment of opportunity had arrived, and you leapt into action, clutching the handle of the heavy pan and swinging it at him. TWANG! The frypan collided with his fingers, sending the gun flying. It landed with a clunk and skittered across the timber floor toward the back door. Your tormentor let out a howl of agony. A sense of satisfaction welled within you as you ducked behind the kitchen's island bench, attempting to place as much distance between you as possible. 

"Fucking bitch!" the monster roared, stomping around the corner in pursuit. You yelped, scrambling back, skillet raised like a sword before you. Something sharp pierced at the tender flesh of your right foot as you reached the other end of the counter, and you tried not to cry, focusing instead on the predatorial movements of the man you had come to hate. 

His eyes scanned you from top to toe, and a hideous smirk stretched across his face revealing his yellowed canines.

Ever the opportunist, he swiped up a carving knife from the block as he passed, welding it firmly in his right hand. Your pulse kicked into hyperdrive, sending blood whooshing through your ears as your knuckles tightened on the handle. "I'm going to make you regret that, little girl." His threat held intent, making you gulp at the lump forming in your throat. Fighting the panic that bubbled under the surface of your bold facade, your eyes narrowed into a glare as you battled to stop the trembling of your sweaty hands. The squeak of the back screen door went unnoticed as the beast of a man lunged at you, knife held aloft. He swung it down towards you, and you screamed, swinging your weapon to parry with a clang. The power of his movement slid you back across the floor, sending a burning pain radiating up your leg. He roared in frustration, drawing the knife away quickly to thrust it towards your chest. You dodged back away from the blade and prepared to swing again.

"I'm gonna-" BANG!

A shot rang out somewhere behind you, forcing your body to freeze while your eyes clenched shut instinctively. You exhaled, noting that you felt no additional pain, so you allowed your eyelids to lift, refocusing on the man before you.

A patch of crimson red bloomed from his chest. You gasped, jaw dropping open as you watched the scene unfold. His eyes widened like a deer in headlights as his rage melted into surprise. The blade tumbled from his fingers with a clatter and landed innocently on the floor. A wet gargle bubbled from his throat as his gaze locked on something over your shoulder. Your brain and body appeared to disconnect from each other as you gaped in horror, mouth opening and closing like a fish while your mind raced with a million thoughts. The man before you swayed from side to side, clutching at his chest before his knees weakened and he sagged to the floor. His glassy eyes studied you as his lips moved wordlessly.

An inharmonious rush of relief and child-like despair swirled within. Do something! You willed yourself, but hot tears burst from your eyes in response. You tried to move but remained rooted in place, shuddering breaths escaping your lips.

With an exhale, he dropped to the floor. A sense of finality rang out in the silence, and the air seemed to rush back into the confines of the room. After what felt like an eternity, the numbness receded, returning control of your body. You pivoted in the direction of the shooter.

Your saviour stood a few steps away, pistol extended in front of him. His face was pale, eyes wide, chest heaving as though the air alone was insufficient for him to breathe.

With adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Jake lowered his trembling hands and let the weapon slip from his grasp with a dull thud. His green eyes darted back and forth between you and the scene before him, filled with disbelief.

"Jake?" 

You cautiously stepped towards him, raising your hand slowly as you might towards a spooked animal. Your voice seemed to snap him out of his daze, and he turned to you with a look of concern. His eyes frantically searched your body for any signs of harm, and he pulled you towards him in a tight embrace, his left arm around your waist and his right hand cradling your head. 

Tears streamed down his face as he repeated his apologies over and over again. You could feel his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions, and you held him close, offering comfort. Despite the dangerous situation you'd both experienced, a sense of tranquillity washed over you. It was as if nothing else mattered as long as you had each other.

Finally, you pulled away from him, taking his face in your hands and looking deeply into his eyes. The gravity of the situation was not lost on you, and you couldn't help but feel deep gratitude for his quick thinking. You owed Jake a debt that you could never fully repay.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "For saving my life." 

Jake looked at you with a sincerity that filled you with awe, solidifying what you already knew.

"I promised," he explained, his voice filled with a solemn determination. As he pulled you back into a tight embrace, you knew that this was not the end of your journey together.

Tag List:

@thegirlnextdoor23

"It's not too late to change your mind. Homeroom starts in five minutes, but we can cut school and play hooky if you'd prefer. It's a right of passage."

You scoffed at the idea, "Your mother would whoop your butt if she found out you were even considering the idea."

He shrugged, flashing his signature devil-may-care grin, "I reckon I could take her." 

The thought of Jake facing off against his five-foot-three mother was almost comical, knowing full well that Grace Seresin was a no-nonsense kind of woman who would happily put her six-foot-tall son back in his place.

You shook your head, shooting him a brief smile. "I'll be fine, J."

The blond had already spent most of the morning offering a host of alternatives to school, going so far as to tempt you with a road trip to get ice cream from your favourite place in the next town over. But, regardless of the extent of his bribery, you were determined to face the day head-on.

With a huff and a curt nod, Jake reluctantly accepted your stubbornness. Your smile did little to assuage his worries, for the harrowing experience of that night had replayed in his head on repeat, and a montage of horrific what-ifs had plagued his dreams.

The tumultuous emotions stemming from your abrupt exit had gnawed at his psyche, and as Jake strode into the kitchen through the backdoor, his mother quickly noticed his unease. She carelessly cast aside her oven mitts and focused on her son. 

"Jake, baby, what's wrong?" she inquired, her tone heavy with concern. Jake fidgeted nervously, struggling to articulate the gravity of his apprehensions.

"What is it, son?" His father's gruff voice called from the hallway, his curiosity piqued by the commotion. He strode into the kitchen, his presence resting over the room like a security blanket. Jake stood resolutely, rallying his strength to make a weighty accusation. "Ma, I've got a bad feeling," he began, his voice laden with trepidation, "Y/N got this look on her face like she'd seen the devil himself and fled home. We need to check on her." His parents exchanged uneasy glances, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation before his father nodded solemnly. 

"Alright, son. Let me get my boots. We'll head ov-" Jake spun on his heels and bolted out of the backdoor, his long legs propelling him towards the front door of your home, his heart heavy with apprehension.

"Papa, please don't!" The sound of your terrified voice pleading with your father had ripped Jake apart, filling him with a primal fear that burned deep within him and triggered a protectiveness he had never experienced before.

The fingers of Jake's left hand flexed and clenched tighter to the steering wheel as his eyes scanned the road ahead, taking in the familiar sights of the white picket-fenced houses that skirted the town.

You lived in one of those tiny places where news burned through the town like wildfire. Heads turned as Jake's truck rolled down Main Street, each person eager to glimpse you in the passenger's seat as their lips whispered rumours of the events you had lived. You sunk lower in your seat, hiding from their judgemental eyes.

"Hey, Sweets," he squeezed your hand, offering a gentle smile, "Pay them no mind." His words were reassuring, and you knew he had your best interests at heart. You nodded, glancing out the window again as the Sheriff's cruiser passed. The blue light glinted in the morning sunlight, plunging you back to the aftermath.

The darkness was thick and all-consuming, but the piercing red and blue lights of the police car cut through it like a hot knife through butter. You couldn't help but feel uneasy as you caught a glimpse of your father's face in the backseat, illuminated by the eerie glow. The intensity of Sheriff Brown's interrogation only added to the overwhelming sense of panic that gripped you. Your heart raced as you tried to maintain your composure.  

The frigid chill in the air seemed to seep into your bones, leaving you numb and helpless. Mrs Seresin was there to offer some comfort. Her hand ran up and down your back, trying to soothe your trembling form. Your mind was hazy, your head hurt, and your throat felt like it was on fire, making it difficult to recount the specific details as you struggled to piece together the events that led up to this moment. Jake was nearby, speaking with the deputy, detailing every movement and account of the events he had witnessed. As more and more details came back into focus, you began to feel the full gravity of the situation. You had nearly died at the hands of your father. The weight of the admission hit you like a ton of bricks, and at that moment, you felt a little piece of you die inside.

"I appreciate your cooperation, Miss. We're going to take your father down to the station. Do you have someone we can call that could take you over to the hospital and get you checked out?" asked Sheriff Brown as he closed his notebook and carefully tucked it into his pocket.

"I'll take her," Mrs Seresin answered, gently taking your arm, "Let's go get you checked out, dear." You glanced back at your boyfriend, who remained detained several yards away. He spotted you looking his way and halted in his story, giving you a quick nod of reassurance. Grace Seresin, with the observant eyes of a mother, spotted the exchange and clucked her tongue, lightly patting your hand as a smile spread across her face, "Don't you fret. He'll be along soon..." You allowed her to lead you away from the scene, half listening to her yabber on in a way that seemed to ease her anxiety, "We'll get you checked out first, then once we get an all-clear, you can stay with us. Get you a shower and some clean clothes and something decent to eat-"

The truck rumbled to a halt in the high school parking lot. Jake pulled the handbrake on, slowly extracting the keys from the ignition as though he was dragging every action out to prolong his time with you and delay the inevitable stares and sympathetic glances he knew would plague the final days of your senior year. 

Noticing his hesitancy, you leaned over and kissed his freshly shaven cheek. At the feeling of your soft lips, his face transformed into a soft expression you had only seen him wear around three people.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," you assured, "I'm gonna be okay."

Green eyes met yours searching their depths for any hint of reluctance, and when he found none, he nodded, "Alright, Sweets." 

As the warning bell rang, you promptly grabbed your backpacks and slid from his truck. Jake dashed to your side of the car, holding your hand as you sprinted towards the front door of the old two-storey building.

After homeroom, you and Jake parted ways, following virtually different schedules. Your favourite subjects seemed to fly by while the others dragged on, but you were thankful for the routine that allowed your body to work autonomously. By free period though, you had grown tired of the questions and glances of your concerned peers and well-meaning teachers, taking refuge in the Art Room to finish working on the last-minute confetti the Prom Committee had decided was necessary.

"So this is where you've been hiding," the tinkling voice of Adaline Jones interrupted your mindless painting. You turned to face the raven-haired cheerleader, who grinned at you from the doorway, a brown paper bag with the words Betty's Diner printed on the front. "I got your favourite, so don't lie and say you don't want it." She bounced over to you, plopping down on the floor and dropping the bag in your lap. Your stomach growled as the aroma of warm maple syrup filled the room. You dug the container out of the bag and cracked the lid. A mountain of fresh berries sat atop a fluffy golden waffle, and you had to stop yourself from licking your lips.

"Have I told you that I love you?"

Adaline snorted, "Don't let Jake hear you say that. He might think he's got some competition." You rolled your eyes at her comment, stabbing the fork into a strawberry and shovelling it into your mouth. "So, what are you doing with all of this?"

You sighed, glancing down at the mess of paper scraps that littered the floor, "I'm making confetti. Jasmine insisted that we had to have biodegradable confetti but accidentally ordered sheets instead of precut paper. So I volunteered to do it."

She gasped, eyes widening, "You volunteered for this? Girl, I wasn't going to ask, but are you sure you're feeling okay?" She moved as though to check your temperature, but you battered her hand away, huffing at her teasing. 

Adaline had moved to town two years ago and had been one of the few girls you could tolerate. Everyone else tried to be the cookie-cutter version of the all-American girls next door, complete with fake smiles and hollow words, but Adaline had been a breath of fresh air and quickly joined your shortlist of friends.

"So, did you and Jake find a place?" she inquired, pinching a blueberry and tossing it into her mouth. You confirmed with a nod, savouring another morsel of food. 

"It's a modest studio apartment, about three blocks from the university."

You and Jake were accepted to the University of Texas by some miracle. He'd dreamed of studying Aerospace Engineering since he was little, spending hours of his summers sketching rockets and planes in painstaking detail. You, however, were still deciding on your major, flitting back and forth between Medicine and Education.

"That's fantastic!" she exclaimed, "You deserve to break free from this insipid town. Austin will be good for you, even though I think you're insane for turning down NYU." You crossed your arms, staring at her with an irritated glare.

Adaline had gone berserk when you broke the news about turning down NYU. In her opinion, leaving the state was the only way to make something of yourself. She had been almost hysterical when you disclosed that being with Jake had influenced your decision. She had spent days spouting percentages proving the transience of high school relationships and making bold declarations about college and self-discovery, all of which you had ignored.

"I understand that it may be difficult for you to accept Lin, but I love Jake, not puppy love, not infatuated love. I love him because he's my person," you calmly stated, your eyes meeting hers in an effort to convey the sincerity of your words. She moved to rebut, though you quickly raised your hand, halting her verbal onslaught. A mix of frustration and despair bubbled up inside you, but you did your best to keep your emotions in check.

When you spoke again, your voice held a hint of desperation. "Look, if, in ten years, when we return for our high school reunion, you turn out to be right, I promise I'll let you spend the entire night telling me how wrong I was. But for now, can't you support my decision and be happy for me, the same way I'm happy for you? After all, besides you and Jake, no one else cares enough about me to be happy for me."

As you made your plea, Lin's blue eyes widened in surprise, and her expression shifted to one of shock. The room fell silent.

"Oh," she said softly, the syllable echoing in the emptiness around you. A beat or two passed before she continued. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to upset you. Forgive me?"

You smiled, feeling relieved that Lin had finally come around. "Thank you, Lin. It is the right decision for me. You wait-” 

RING!

The final bell of the day signalled the end of classes. Hallways soon flooded with excited students, all chattering eagerly about their various extracurricular activities and afternoon plans. Adaline climbed to her feet, offering a hand up which you quickly accepted, grabbing your bag as she hoisted you to your feet.

You made your way out of the classroom and spotted Jake laughing and joking with his buddies from the football team. He seemed entirely at ease, effortlessly blending in with the crowd. It was a sight to behold.

Adaline nudged you playfully. "Oh look, it's lover boy!" she teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. You swatted at her arm, but she dodged out of the way, laughing all the while. "Well, I better get going. I have another shift at the diner," she said, offering a quick wave before heading off.

Jake seemed to sense your presence and turned to face you as you approached him from behind. With a warm and welcoming smile, he tucked you against his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. In his usual affable manner, he greeted you with a genuine inquiry, “Good day?”

You nodded in response, feeling reassured by his presence. "I told you I would be alright," you murmured. Jake grunted in acknowledgement, leading you outside. 

As you and Jake made your way towards the parking lot, your eyes caught sight of Sheriff Brown, causing both of you to halt in your tracks. The lawman acknowledged you both with a nod, respectfully tipping his hat.

"Jake, Y/N," he greeted, his voice calm and measured.

"Good afternoon, Sheriff," you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

"I'm afraid I have some news for you," the Sheriff continued, his expression grave. "Your father has been charged with a Class C misdemeanour, which carries a fine. Thanks to his lawyer, he was released just this afternoon. I thought it best to inform you."

Upon hearing those words, a chill raced down your spine, and you felt Jake stiffen beside you. His jaw clenched so tightly that you could see the muscles bulging in his neck, and his eyes blazed with disbelief and anger. You tried to take a deep breath, but your throat felt like it was closing up as panic set in.

"How is that possible?" Jake demanded, his voice low and dangerous. You could feel the tension in the air building with each passing moment, and your heart pounded so hard that you thought it might burst out of your chest.

"Jake, I know you're upset," the Sheriff said, his tone conciliatory though it did little to ease the palpable tension in the air. Your vision swam, and you struggled to maintain your balance as you willed air to fill your lungs. 

“Jake.”

"You're cute when you're trying to be serious." 

His baritone timbre pulled you from the depths of the plotline, brow wrinkled in confusion as your gaze met his. "Hmm?" 

Jake grinned, "You get this little pout and do this thing with your eyebrows." His index finger brushed against a spot above your brow before trailing it downwards, drawing a touch of warmth to your cheeks.

You poked your tongue out at him in jest, "Well, unlike some people, not all of us can be cute 24/7."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he burrowed his face into your neck, "Nope, you're cute all year round, Sweets. I can't get enough of you." You squirmed at the feeling of his chapped lips against your sensitive skin but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your cheeks as he pressed a series of open-mouthed along your neck, his teeth applying a delectable amount of pressure that curled your toes and shuttered your eyes.

"You're too good at that," you gasped, hands tracing the length of his back to tangle in his sunshine locks, pulling just enough to redirect his lips to your own. Heat began to stir within you as you lost yourself in the electric feeling of his touch, strong hands and calloused fingers finding their way under the soft fabric of your shirt.

"Y/N, where are ya, girl?" Your father's voice echoed from below, jolting you back to reality. Although it was barely audible, you knew from his tone that he was mad. You shoved the blond away, scrambled to your feet and hastily collected your books.

Confused by your sudden actions, Jake stood, watching as you stuffed your things into your bag. "Whoa, where's the fire?" 

"I gotta go, Jake. See you tomorrow at school?" you replied, smiling at him from the doorway. 

Concern marred his face as he stepped towards you, emerald eyes studying your face. "Are you sure everything is okay, Sweets?"

A weight like lead settled upon your chest, and your breath caught in your throat as you contemplated the impossible. Should you? The options and their scenarios swirled around your mind. On the one hand, Jake had a hot temper, but on the other hand, your father was a mean drunk with a temper that was even worse. You didn't want to witness the fallout if they ever clashed. You shuddered at the thought. No, you could wait it out. In three weeks, you'd be leaving with Jake. You could endure.

As you spoke, your gaze shifted away from Jake's piercing stare and landed on a nondescript spot on the wall behind him. With a resigned tone, you uttered, "Fine. I just can't keep Papa waiting." Without giving him a chance to respond, you swiftly descended the ladder and sprinted across the vast field, leaving Jake with a sense of unease instead of the customary goodbye kiss. 

As you made your way towards your humble abode, you could hear your father's muffled mutterings, his words slurring into a mess of indistinct syllables under the influence of his poison of choice. Moving stealthily along the side of the house, you clambered through your bedroom window, eager to avoid his alcoholic rage. 

Since your mother's death, your father had found solace at the bottom of a bottle. You had done your best to carry on, counting down the days until graduation, staying under the radar and doing everything to keep things running smoothly, but lately, it had been getting worse.

Relief flooded you as your feet met your bedroom floor. You gently placed your bag on the ground and inspected your attire. A pesky cobweb clung to the fabric of your shirt, the only evidence of your clandestine entrance. You brushed it off, praying that it wouldn't smudge.

Creak! Floorboards strained under the weight of the figure that had come to rest in your doorframe. The foul stench of toxic home brew oozed from every pore of his body. Yellowed teeth clenched as bloodshot eyes pinned you in place. The monster's left hand clutched the neck of an almost empty rum bottle while his right held the butt of the shotgun. 

"Papa?"

The golden brown liquid sloshed as the enraged beast invaded the only sanctuary you knew, propping his gun against the bedroom door. He struck like lightning. Heavy calloused palm met tender skin with a clap that echoed like thunder, rattling your teeth as your body careened into the wall. Flashes of light and colour danced across your vision as you pushed to regain your footing, a ringing noise overwhelming your senses. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you gazed towards your father. His towering figure shot back into focus, glazed eyes glistening with a tempest that rivalled hell itself.

"You ungrateful little whore!" He lunged, fisting the neck of your shirt and wringing the fabric into what felt like a noose as he slammed you back against the wall. Your scream ended in a gurgle as air rushed from your lungs. With a tug of inhuman strength, he hauled your body upwards against the rough surface of the wall. Your feet scrambled to find purchase on anything that would allow you to push yourself up onto your tiptoes and relieve the pressure that squeezed around your throat. "I told you to stay away from that boy." He growled, pressing his face closer. Your heart pounded a deafening rhythm, almost drowning out the sound of your captor's words. "I warned you what would happen if I caught you." He threw you down onto the floor and turned back toward the door.

A terrible montage of imaginings flittered through your frantic mind. Your enraged father storming towards the Seresin family home, your unsuspecting boyfriend answering the door with his warm, confident grin, expecting to find you but instead being met by the barrel of your father's gun. The thought ripped at your heart, and your mind screamed at your body to move, speak, and do something that could prevent that terrible vision from becoming a reality. A wave of something like adrenaline ignited a fire within you that you had never felt before.

"No! Papa, please don't!" Your voice was raw, as though the words had torn your throat in their hast to escape. You scrambled to your feet, your hand clutching onto the material of his shirt and tugging it with every ounce of strength you could muster. Your father tumbled into the corner of your desk with a thunk. He shook his head and pulled himself to his feet, gaze zeroing in on you again. His eyes glinted with something predatory, something you had only seen once before, and at that moment, you knew that you were no longer his daughter. You were his prey. He raised the rum bottle above him and brought it down towards your head. Your arms shot up to cover yourself as you flinched and curled in on yourself.

SMASH! Pain radiated through your arms and across parts of your head as the bottle fractured into a shower of chunks that rained down upon you. The entire world spun and warped into a kaleidoscope of colours and patterns as you clutched the closest thing to keep yourself standing. Your head throbbed with every 'lub-dub' that echoed from your chest, but you refused to let yourself stop to lick your wounds. You blinked as the room around you focused, and your eyes lifted towards the demon whose rage did not seem dampened.

"Papa, please. Please don't," You pleaded, tears streaming down your bruised cheeks.

Ignoring your pleas, he stepped closer, glass crunching underfoot as he stalked you back into the corner. Two large hands locked like a vice around your throat. You thrashed and poked at his eyes, scratching at his face in an attempt to try and break free. Five seconds. Six. Seven. A dark ring started to fill the edge of your vision as your eyes darted frantically in search of…

BANG!

The deafening blast of a shotgun was the last thing you had expected. Bits of plaster rained down around you forcing your attacker to reel back, pivoting in search of the shooter. You sagged in relief, sliding down the wall and sucking in deep breaths, grateful for the distraction.

"Get away from her!" Jake's voice hinted at murder, though his arms tremored slightly as he lowered the barrel to be level with your father's chest.

"You don't have the balls, boy!" he taunted, though he remained frozen in place.

Jake's lips pulled into a snarl as he stepped towards the older man, pressing the gun's muzzle firmly against your father's chest before directing his following words towards you.

"Sweets, it's time to go. You gotta get up." 

You nodded, grabbing the edge of your bed to pull yourself upwards. Stumbling over to your saviour on wobbly legs, you wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his back as hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Slowly, Jake navigated you out of the house and into the cold night, careful not to let his guard or aim lower.

Once in the safety of your front yard, Jake allowed himself to relax a little as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into a tight hug, holding you to him as his lips whispered words of comfort and promises of safety.

"Hush now, Sweets. I got you. I promise I'll keep you safe." Jake's words held a profound truth that soothed your soul. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to bask in the warmth radiating from the eighteen-year-old you loved so dearly.

"Jake? Son, what happened?" Mr Seresin's booming voice was a boon to you, for it meant that you and Jake were no longer alone.

You first met Bradley at a neighbourhood party during Orientation Week at UVA. He had been wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt and was regaling your roommate Natasha with some wild story about a time he’d “borrowed” a motorbike. You had squeezed between a few burly-looking guys and skirted around a table of snacks, careful not to spill anything on yourself as you came to stand beside the confident brunette. As you’d passed Natasha her drink, Bradley’s attention had flickered over you quickly, then after a few seconds, had settled on you with an intensity you felt deep within you. You offered him a nervous smile, trying not to interrupt as his story came to a halt. Before continuing his story, Bradley offered you a charming grin and an introduction. The rest of your story had led you here - engaged and following Bradley around the country as he trained to be a Naval Aviator.

A ding resounded from the device’s speaker, interrupting your reminiscing. With a groan, you shifted your finger over the touchpad to pull up your inbox again. You were sure that even your email inbox was overwhelmed by the multitude of wedding-related correspondence.

Subject: Confirmation of Guest Numbers

A small wedding. The thought was almost laughable. You frowned, glancing at the stack of RSVP cards you had received. There would be more to follow. Thanks to your families (mainly yours), the guest list had become a joke. You had yet to learn who three-quarters of the listed people were, but that didn’t bother anyone else. Were you becoming a bridezilla? Surely not. What you had initially wanted seemed outrageously unobtainable now. Not that anybody seemed to care.

Sighing, you yanked your glasses from their perch and let them rest on the keyboard as your free hand attempted to rub the tension from your brow.

When you’d said yes to Bradley, you hadn’t realised that you had agreed to participate in a giant chess game. That’s what wedding planning was. The only difference was that your opponent was the crippling weight of expectation that overwhelmed you as you navigated the delicate diplomatic task of conciliation.

You could feel the knots in your shoulder tighten at the thought of having another conversation with your relatives about why certain people could or could not come to the wedding. Those calls always left you feeling sick to your stomach, so much so that Bradley had come home to find you hunched over on the bathroom floor on more than one occasion.

“Oh darling,” he murmured, lowering himself to sit beside you on the grey tiled floor, drawing you into his comforting embrace, “It’s okay to say no. It’s our wedding, not theirs.”

You nodded, doing your best to stem the flow of tears and breathe through the knot of nausea in the pit of your stomach.

“I just don’t want to hurt or disappoint anyone.”

He hummed in understanding, running a hand over your hair as he pressed gentle kisses to your temple, “I don’t care about them. I care about you. Baby, you don't have to please everyone."

Before you could lose yourself in that particular memory, your phone vibrated beneath the glossy mountain of bridal magazines, its ringtone slightly muffled by the clutter. You haphazardly shoved the bits and pieces aside, scrambling to retrieve the device before it diverted to voicemail.

A picture of your mother in her favourite red Christmas sweater stared up at you as you hit the answer button.

"Hi Mama," you greeted, wedging the phone between your shoulder and cheek as you leaned against the back of the timber dining chair, eyes skimming over the contents of the caterer's email.

"Hi, honey. I’m just calling to see how you're going. Is Bradley home yet?"

You absentmindedly shook your head. "No, Mom. Not yet, but he shouldn't be too far away. We're doing OK, they're working Bradley hard at training, but he loves it. As for me, I have nearly finished the last of my classes and have been finalising details for the wedding."

"Ah, yes," your mother began, her voice shifting into her 'I’m-about-to-ask-a-question-that-isn't-a-question’ tone. "So, Aunt Betty told me that her two children didn't get an invite to your wedding. Surely if you invite Wayne and his two kids, there will also be room for them?"

The knots in your back twinged as your shoulders tensed even more at her statement. A dull throb pulsed at the back of your skull as your fatigued mind rushed to figure out how best to handle the situation. 

“It’s okay to say no. It’s our wedding, not theirs.”

Bradley's words echoed in your mind as something within you snapped and the words you'd previously swallowed came storming out of your mouth. "No. I didn't invite them. You did! Bradley and I have changed venues twice because everyone kept inviting people. At this rate, we'll start our married life in thousands of dollars of debt!"

Somewhere behind you, the familiar jangle of Bradley's keys in the front door alerted you to his return which only encouraged you further.

"It's not fair that you all keep telling us to add people to the list. We wanted a small wedding, but the last unofficial count says we have a couple hundred people coming!" 

Closing the front door behind him, Bradley kicked off his boots and set his keys on the side table, allowing the day's worries to melt away as the comforts of home embraced him. His sock-clad feet padded across the floor towards you as he listened in on the conversation. Observant eyes watched as your body seemed to vibrate with nervous energy. His brow twitched upon hearing your statement. He could barely list a hundred people, let alone a couple hundred!

Your patience had worn thin. Surely there must be a way to avoid all of this nonsense. You just wanted to be married already. An exasperated sigh spilled from your lips as your head came to rest in the cradle of your hand. "I don't know if I want to do this anymore. I wish it were all over. Maybe we should just-!" 

A spark of an idea flashed across your mind drawing your rant and last train of thought to a halt. Vegas! It was the perfect solution. You and Bradley could go for the weekend - just the two of you, maybe a couple of your friends - and get married. It didn't have to be fancy - a chapel, dinner at the buffet, some drinks, but most importantly, Bradley. Then instead of a ceremony and reception, you could hold an ‘after party’ or something.

"Hello? Are you still there?" Your mother's concerned queries pulled you from your brainstorming. "Maybe you should just - what?"

You leapt to your feet as the weight and tension disappeared instantly. "Sorry, I've gotta go." You hung up the phone before she could protest and tossed it down onto the table, turning to face Bradley. "Hey, honey!" you greeted, hurrying over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you buried your face into his chest, "Welcome home. How was your day?"

Bradley clasped his hands onto your shoulders and drew you away from his body.

"Sweetheart, I want you to be real honest with me here and tell me how you were going to end that sentence 'cause it sounded like you were about to call our wedding off."

Your teeth trapped your bottom lip preventing anything from spilling from your mouth as you tried to figure out how best to pitch your spontaneous idea. Your gaze dropped to the floor, and you took a step away from the brunet.

He was right. You were about to call the wedding off, or, rather...

"No, well, I need you to hear me out," you began.

Bradley nodded, his right hand reaching for yours, a mask of concern plaguing his features.

"Let's elope to Vegas."

Your words echoed around your apartment for a moment before Bradley sighed in relief, his broad shoulder sagging as the air escaped his lungs.

"You sure know how to keep me on my toes, honey," he chuckled, drawing you back into his arms as he glanced down to study your face. "Are you sure about this? I know how much the proper wedding meant to you."

A flash of heat sparked in his chocolate eyes as they darkened at your words, a Cheshire grin tugging at the pilot's lips. "I'm yours. However you want me, wifey."

You nodded fervently, determined to show him exactly how sure you were. "I realised I don't need any of that. I just need you, Bradley. I need to call you my husband, finally."

Jake chuckled, drawing you against his chest as he pressed a kiss against your nose, “I know you, honey. You always peek. What’s a man to do? I had to keep those pretty eyes of yours closed somehow.”

You scoffed, prepared to fire back a retort but stopped, settling on a pout instead as you realised that your husband was, in fact, correct. His warm lips found yours in a kiss, drawing a bright smile to your face before he continued directing you towards your destination.

“It took me a while to finish it, and I know I’m a little early, but since I won’t be here for our anniversary, I decided to give this to you before I leave,” Jake explained, using his hands to maneuver you to stand beside something. His warm breath brushed against your ear as he began a countdown. “Three, two, one. Surprise!” 

The blindfold was pulled away, revealing a beautiful wooden rocking chair painted to match the rustic white theme throughout the house. A gasp of awe escaped before your hand could stop it as your eyes soaked in the intricately carved pattern of vines and flowers that decorated the arms and twisted up along the back and top of the chair.

“Oh, Jake,” your fingers carefully traced before you turned to face your husband of almost five years, tears brimming in your eyes. A look of panic flashed across his face for a moment before you leapt toward him, barely giving Jake time to catch you as you pulled him into a tight hug, littering his face with kisses. You settled your forehead against his as his green eyes locked on yours. 

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, “Since we’ll need one in about seven months.” Jake’s brow furrowed slightly as his mind took a moment to process your statement. You offered a secretive smile as realisation washed over him, and a childlike exuberance overwhelmed his features.

“Seriously?!”

A smile tugged at your lips at the memory of Jake’s pure delight. He really was a fantastic father who simply adored Leo, but more importantly, he was your partner in every way.

When you were younger, you had never pictured yourself as a wife, let alone a mother. You’d always been fiercely independent and had hidden away behind the façade of being “happy” on your own until you’d literally fallen for and sufficiently drenched one ridiculously handsome, arrogantly confident, yet surprisingly sweet man. Your best friend still loved to remind you of that particularly mortifying moment in your life, but you thanked your lucky stars for sending Jake into your path.

A soft coo drew your attention back to reality. Wide green eyes observed you with a look of awe that still struck you with a tremendous sense of wonder. “I’m sorry. Was I ignoring you, little man?” you quizzed, placing a soft kiss upon his brow. Leo gurgled a response trying to communicate his annoyance at your distraction as he kicked his feet and squirmed into a more comfortable position. This had become your tradition in the months since you’d come home from the hospital. Welcoming each new day with your little boy nestled in your arms. He was his father’s son, a perfect little replica down to the golden tufts of hair that adorned his head and the bright smile that melted your heart and flooded you with irrevocable love. 

The soft glow of the night light that illuminated your sanctuary complimented the melody of the lullaby you began to sing as you gazed at the beautiful little boy in your arms.

Jake’s eyes shot open as he jolted awake, a gasp breaking the room’s silence. His heart thundered in his chest like a stampede of wild horses, and his chest heaved as though he’d run a marathon. His eyes scanned the dark surroundings of the bedroom as he tried to push away the terrible images that had plagued his dreams. Usually, on rare occasions like these, you were quick to soothe him, reassuring him that everything was fine though you were surprisingly absent.

Jake stretched his hand towards your side of the bed, taking note of the coolness of the cotton against his palm. Based on his rough calculations you'd been gone for well over fifteen minutes, the thought both a comfort and a concern.

In the faint moonlight, he could make out the various features of the room. Nothing seemed amiss, and that eased some of the anxiety that swirled within his chest.

Flicking off the sheets, Jake rolled out of bed, sucking in a hiss of air as his bare feet landed on the cold floor. The logical side of his brain knew that you were most likely in the nursery, though the other side needed to see you to reassure himself that you were safe and well within the four walls of your home.

Jake padded across the room and down the hallway, following the golden light trail leading to the door of his son’s room. As he reached the entrance, the familiar tones of your voice washed over him, soothing and calming him in a way that he still struggled to comprehend despite the years you’d spent together. 

The floorboards creaked beneath him as he settled against the door jamb, but you continued to serenade the dozing baby in your arms as though you two were the only ones in the entire world. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you holding your little boy. In truth, part of him still couldn’t believe that after all these years, he was finally a father.

As the song ended, you slowly stood and carefully returned Leo to the crib making sure to tuck him in properly. You went through the motions of making sure everything was just right, before you turned back towards the door.

It was a picturesque afternoon. A cool breeze danced through the grove of magnolias that bordered the property, gently perfuming the air with a scent ingrained in the depths of Jake’s memory. Congregated on the lush, green lawn were his (and your) closest friends and family, chatting animatedly amongst themselves as they enjoyed the pleasant weather. 

Jake stood at the end of the aisle, in front of the grounded floral arch, hands buried in his otherwise empty pockets to try and hide the anxious twitching of his fingers. Javy and Noah stood to his left, trading stories with each other, as Jake did his best to keep from rocking in his spot while he waited.

The crunching of gravel under multiple shoes drew his attention to the parking lot as a buzz of excitement shot through him.

Bad luck was the only forecast that seemed to be on the horizon. At some point during the day, you had lost the ‘something borrowed’ component of your outfit - a Seresin family heirloom. The antique bracelet was priceless and Grace Serensin had insisted that you, like all Seresin women would wear it on your special day.

Guilt, like thick tar, sloshed in the depth of your stomach as your heart shattered a little more. How could you have lost Meemaw Mary's treasured bracelet? The thought alone was horrifying. The reality felt ten times worse.

You had been confident that you’d left it on the table beside the flower girls' petal pouches, but it had been nowhere in sight upon your departure. After ten minutes of searching, you had insisted that the rest of the bridal party depart for the wedding venue. In your stubbornness, you’d taken one last glance around the bridal suite though it had resulted in zero success and meant that you were running a little late. Then, as though being late to your wedding wasn’t enough punishment for your carelessness, your car had decided that the middle of nowhere was the perfect place to add engine troubles to your list of woes. Jinxed. Surely that could be the only logical explanation.

Hot tears began to well in your eyes as dual feelings of dread and panic squeezed at your throat. Part of you was grateful that you hadn’t eaten anything since 9 am. It meant the nauseous feeling in your stomach would not amount to much. The other side of you was doing its best to remain calm. A rush of air filled your lungs as you tried to compose yourself again. 

Jake glanced at his watch for the seventh time in the past five minutes. It was nearly twenty past three! The depths of his stomach felt like a tangle of knots as he swallowed his nerves. A hundred different scenarios buzzed through his mind. Did you get cold feet? Had something terrible happened?

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw his brother gesticulating to his wife, who wore a look of worry as she conversed with the other bridesmaids. She dramatically shrugged at Noah before holding a hand up as though telling him to wait. Jake frowned. To be precise, he'd been waiting for the past nineteen minutes and seventeen seconds. He wanted answers and was going to get them.

As though reading his mind, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, halting any attempt Jake could have made to pursue the raven-haired woman as she turned and hurried toward the table that housed everyone's phones. His fingers twitched along with his tapping foot as he did his best not to fret at the fact that you still weren't here.

"Emma's got this," Noah assured, patting him twice on the shoulder.

You could only imagine how ridiculous you appeared. Not that anyone had passed by the entire time you’d been stranded. 

You had given up on repairing the vehicle and instead focused your energy on seeking a rescue. The driver leant over the car's front end, trying to perform a mechanical miracle, your father beside him offering his expertise.

"If Emma doesn't answer, I'm walking," you declared, tapping on Emma's number again and clutching the phone tightly in your hand. Someone responded to your comment, though you were busy concentrating on the irritating tone that seemed to trill on and on. Your heart rate had steadily increased, with the growing sense of panic that bubbled up from your chest. 

As the seconds ticked by, you prepared to hear the inevitable sound of your best friend's voicemail.

"Where are you?!" A voice cut through the constant ringing that buzzed in your ears.

"Emma? Oh, thank heavens you answered!" You almost sagged in relief. "Can someone please come and pick us up right now? The car broke down on the road into the venue, and I feel like I’m ten seconds away from being a mess. I am not missing my damn wedding!"

"It's OK, relax. I'm coming now," she assured, a jangle of keys filtering through the line.

"Thank you!" Your gratitude went unreceived as Emma hung up the phone, leaving you to continue waiting.

Your father wiped his hands clean on a rag, taking a moment to observe you. You offered him a brief flash of a smile as you tried to calm your anxieties. A nostalgic look washed over his features as he sighed and moved to grab your wildflower bouquet from the car's back seat.

You ran your hand along the fabric of your dress, smoothing out the invisible creases and doing your best to refrain from fiddling with your engagement ring, which sat in its usual spot on your finger.

Bouquet in hand, your father stepped towards you. His free arm encircled your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting hug. The smell of his soap and aftershave serving as a slight balm on your frazzled nerves.

"It's ok, baby girl. We'll get you to the end of the aisle." You glanced up at him but could only offer a wobbly smile as you felt everything bubble to the surface.

Jake turned away from the crowd, focusing on the familiar profile of his best friend and wingman.

"Everything is fine. Right?"

Javy nodded, "Right. If it wasn't, Emma woulda run towards you, not away from you." 

Jake's face contorted in a pained expression as alarm filled his eyes.

Noah nodded in agreement, "Don't worry, Jake. Y/N is head over heels for you. It's kinda sickening how crazy you are for each other. She'll be here."

"That's right, man," Javy concurred, "Besides, maybe she's just fashionably late."

Jake wanted to laugh at the phrase. You had never been this fashionably late before.

"I swear if she's making me wait on purpose..." A flicker of a memory from earlier this morning flashed before his eyes, halting his statement.

The dim glow of morning tried to creep around edges of the room's blackout curtains stirring Jake from his slumber. You lay curled against his side, his old high school sweatshirt riding up, allowing him a glimpse of the dip of your waist. You looked serene, a small smile gracing your lips even in sleep.

 He shifted onto his side, careful not to disturb you as he settled his arm around your hips, long fingers drawing random patterns against your smooth skin.

A smirk pulled at his lips as he soaked in the feeling of you in his bed.  Mornings like this, when he beat your obnoxiously loud alarm to wake you up, were the best.

Slightly chapped lips lazily skimmed along your neck, pressing delicate kisses into your supple skin.

Your lashes fluttered slightly as your breath shifted. A sound between a whimper and a groan slipped past your lips as you burrowed deeper into Jake's shoulder and your pillow. His warm palm settled at the centre of your back as he gently pulled you closer, basking in your warmth.

"G' morning, darlin'. I love you." His voice was gravelly, but Jake loved that these were his first words every morning.

"Mornin'." Your smile stretched into a full-blown grin as your eyes fluttered open, meeting his vibrant green in the darkened room. "Love you more."

Jake shook his head as his hands raked over the spot that made you squirm and erupt into giggles, "Not possible."

"No, Jake! Stop!" Your laughter made it difficult to voice your demand. "Uncle!" you wiggled, trying to escape his onslaught, resorting to poking his side.

He chuckled, returning his hand to rest against your back as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

A beat of silence fell over the room as you lay together, relishing in the joy of each other's company.

"I can't wait to be your husband." Jake's declaration came from the depths of his soul. He had been patient and played his cards perfectly; before the sun set today, you would finally be his wife.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips, "You've waited this long, Jake. A little longer won't kill you." 

A frantic knock resounded from your suite's door, acting as a summons from your bridesmaids. Jake grumbled in disappointment, tightening his hold on you.

"Don't go." 

You offered him a soft smile, pressing a final kiss to his lips as you pulled yourself from the bed.

"I'll see you later, handsome. I'll be the one in white."

"I'll be waiting," he called after your retreating figure. You offered him a wink as you pulled the door closed behind you, leaving him alone in the empty suite.

You'd been doing it your entire relationship, making him wait, taking things relatively slow in comparison to anyone Jake had ever pursued in the past. You made him work hard for even the smallest things, which made each of your surrenders that much sweeter.

A lovesick smile fell across his face as Jake embraced the warm feeling that radiated from deep within his soul from the memory. Beside him, Noah and Javy shot each other looks of concern as they contemplated whether or not to delve further into the meaning behind Jake's words. The pair silently conversed, faces twitching into a mix of expressions, their shoulders rising and falling with subtle hand gestures. Noah was given the short straw with a final jerk of Javy’s head.

"I'm gonna check in with the girls and see if they know what's happening. Wait here," Noah blurted, practically scrambling off in that direction.

A low growl was Jake's automatic reaction to the word. "I swear, if someone tells me to wait one more time, I'm gonna lose my mind." Javy bit back a chuckle though he refrained from commenting further as they watched Noah speak with the bridal party.

Jake's gaze shifted from the conversing adults to his adorable, identical nieces who stood by the edge of the garden arguing about something. Melanie frowned at her twin and pointed rather forcefully in Jake's direction. His brows furrowed as he strained to hear what had started the quarrel.

"-now or I'm telling," she threatened, looking anything but with her flower crown.

Molly's tiny shoulders slumped as she pivoted and began plodding towards him, shoes dragging along the ground as though that would prolong her journey. After a minute, she stopped in front of him, eyes fixed on the ground as she began to mumble a greeting.

"Hi there, sweet pea," Jake greeted, lowering himself into a half crouch before his niece, "What's got you so down?"

Her hand disappeared into her silk flower pouch for a moment as she searched for something before offering it up to him, hand extended like a silver platter. Jake's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened as his brain registered what Molly was holding.

"Is that Meemaw Mary's bracelet? Where did you find this?"

She shrugged, "I found it on the table when we got ready. It was near my flowers, so I put it in my bag. Mellie says I stealed it, but I didn't, Uncle Jake." Big round tears began to glisten in her little eyes as her bottom lip began to tremble. Jake took the offered treasure and pulled the little girl into a hug. "Hey, don't cry. You did a good thing by giving it to a grown-up. Thank you, Molly. I bet Y/N will be so happy to know you kept it safe for her." 

Molly pulled away, and a small, hesitant smile flashed across her face as she peered up at Jake. "Really?"

"Really." Jake nodded as he returned to his regular height. "Say, why don't you and Mel go and see if they’re ready for you at the back." The little girl nodded eagerly and gestured for her sister to join her.

In the distance, a car door slammed, and Jake's attention swung toward the parking lot. In a whirl of colour, Emma reappeared, marching her way down the aisle, a phone clutched in her hand. Noah followed only two steps behind, quizzing his wife the entire way.

Jake blinked in surprise as your best friend halted before him, shoving the device at him. 

"You need to talk to her." Emma's voice held no room for argument. "She's working herself into a state over a bracelet, something about bad luck or being jinxed."

Jinxed? What on earth happened to you since this morning? Jake took the offered device, lifting it to his ear.

"Darlin', what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Jake. I- I lost your grandmother's bracelet. It was my ‘something borrowed' to wear. Since I lost it, I've had so much bad luck. I don't want anything to happen to you, too, and I-"

Nervous energy crackled under Jake's skin as he tried to comprehend what was happening.

"What? Do you mean Meemaw Mary's bracelet?"

A noise between a whimper and a 'yes' echoed down the line.

A burst of laughter accompanied the overwhelming sense of relief that doused the fire of concern within him.

"Oh honey, have I got a story for you? There’s no need to panic. I have the bracelet."

"You do?!"

He nodded, "But here's the deal. To get it back, you'll have to meet me at the end of the aisle." You hummed your acceptance in response, taking a deep breath, then another which encouraged Jake to continue. "You've left me waiting for too long, and I'm all outta patience. I can’t wait any longer to give you my last name." He hung up, handing the phone back to its owner.

Before anyone could say anything, the sound of soft instrumental music sent a hush over the crowd, drawing their attention to the end of the aisle. Emma darted around the side to take her position. Jake's two adorable nieces meandered down the aisle, sprinkling magnolia petals as they went, clearly pleased with their role in the entire affair. Jake had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling as they gave a final twirl. His sister hastened them to their seats, gently chastising them for their antics.

Next came your bridesmaids, Emma and another one of your best friends. Emma shared a relieved smile with Noah, who flashed her a subtle thumbs-up as she made it to her spot opposite him.

The music changed slightly, and you appeared before him like a mirage. The air whooshed from Jake's lungs as his eyes carefully studied your figure, taking his time to commit the vision before him to memory. Your smile was radiant, and your eyes glistened in the afternoon light. A stray bead of moisture rolled from the corner of Jake's eye though he promptly wiped it away, stepping forward to meet you at the end of the aisle.

"Sir." Jake greeted your father, offering a charming smile as he extended his arm to you.

Your father offered him a stern look, "You look after my girl, Jake."

Jake nodded solemnly, "I will."

With a soft smile, your father gently patted your arm twice before allowing you to take Jake's hand in yours. You smiled at the man who raised you, mouthing an 'I love you' before he turned and settled into his seat beside your teary-eyed mother.

"Hi," you greeted, glancing shyly up at Jake through your lashes, cheeks warming at the look he offered.

He grinned at you, "I never realised you were such a diva. All this over a little bracelet." The teasing tone of his voice couldn’t go unpunished. You lifted your right hand and playfully smacked his arm.

"Cut me some slack," you huffed, "I was sick with guilt thinking I'd lost something that's been in your family for five generations, Jake. I was starting to think I was cursed."

He laughed, holding the bracelet out for you to take, "Oh darlin', I'd marry you anyway."

With the antique Seresin knick-knack firmly affixed to your wrist, Jake led you the remaining few steps to your final destination. 

As you stood hand in hand with Jake, eyes locked on each other's, you finally felt calm settle in your bones. You were home. Come what may, you knew that Jake was it for you.

Jake flashed you a cheeky smile as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your cheek. "Good thing you didn't keep me waiting forever."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him as your cheeks stretched into a beaming smile, "Oh cowboy, I know you’d love me even then."

After yesterday’s long drive, Jake had expected to awaken to find you curled up against his chest, softly snoring in the early morning light. Instead, his only companions had been your cold pillow and empty spot.

Your voice and the smell of fresh coffee coaxed him towards the kitchen.

Jake paused in the doorway, leaning carefully against the archway to observe the scene before him. You looked adorable in your favourite sundress and his Memaw’s old frilly apron. Standing with his mother at the stove, you watched as the mixture began to bubble. The relaxed demeanour of your shoulders reassured Jake that you were enjoying the menial task.

Admittedly it wasn’t your first visit to the Seresin family ranch. You'd both made an effort to come back home to visit everyone as often as possible, much to his mother's delight. Since the last visit, his mother had been dropping hints of rapidly decreasing subtlety, all of which emphasised the same message - Jake needed to stop mucking about and marry you already.

The thought of calling you his wife did something to Jake. For years he had imagined having a family of his own. Now, with you, he could see it. Kids with his green eyes and your smile, giggling as they ran with their cousins amongst the piles of autumn leaves. The pair of you watching from the front porch with your youngest nestled safely in his arms so they didn’t miss out on the fun.

Jake shook his head, returning his focus to the sight before him. You looked incredibly comfortable standing in his childhood home, chatting animatedly with his mother as you traded your favourite recipes and tips.

“The secret is the yoghurt. It reacts better with the baking powder, which makes the pancakes fluffier,” you explained as you diligently flipped the pancakes in the skillet. 

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever tried that before, sweetie,” his mother hummed, gently compressing the pancake with the back of a spoon and watching in amazement as it sprang back into place. “Well, blow me down! You simply must give me your recipe. The ladies at church are going to be so impressed!” 

Your laughter filled the room as you added the last pancake to the stack, turning off the stove and making your way over to the sink.

“Oh, absolutely, Grace! As long as you share your brisket recipe with me, I want to try and surprise-” you turned, spotting your boyfriend in the doorway. “Jake!”

His mother turned, offering him a gentle smile. “Good morning, baby. Big day planned?” 

Pushing himself from his spot against the wall, Jake shuffled the two steps over to his mother and wrapped her in a hug. 

“Morning, Momma,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek, shooting her a nervous glance, “Nothing too crazy.”

You stood watching the sweet exchange, a smile stretching at your cheeks as your heart warmed with affection for the man you loved. Jake released his mother and made his way to you. A sigh of contentment escaped your lips as he pulled you into his muscular arms, letting his lips press their usual morning greeting into yours. 

“Morning, darlin’. Having fun?” Jake’s voice still held a bit of its morning huskiness. You nodded, offering him another smile, as you rested your head against his chest, relishing in the warmth that radiated from him. “Any plans after breakfast?” You shook your head, enjoying the familiar weight of his hands on your lower back. “Good,” he declared, “I wanna take you riding.”

“Alright, you two. It’s time for breakfast,” his mother called from the dining room as she set the plates of pancakes and tray of bacon and eggs on the dining table. “Jake, will you go fetch your Father? I think he went to feed the horses.”

Jake nodded dutifully, flashing a wink as he pulled away from you, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As Jake stepped out of the house, pulling on his boots, the butterflies he'd been holding at bay fluttered to the surface again. After breakfast, he was taking you out for a ride along your favourite trail. Then, assuming Noah and Emma arrived on time, there would be a picnic waiting for you by the old oak tree. Once you had enjoyed lunch together, Jake would ask the question that had been on his mind for the better part of six months.

The warm midday sun flickered through the tree branches, covering the picnic blanket in a dappled patch of shade. Red and orange leaves cartwheeled along the ground, painting the entire field in a fiery palette of autumn. The remnants of your picnic lunch lay scattered around you. As Jake reclined against the old tree's trunk, his right hand absentmindedly played with your hair as you rested against his chest, recounting something about your week. Jake felt like a stuffed teddy bear full of sweet strawberries and chocolate pastries.

"-instead of doing something about it, they decided not to tell anyone." You fiddled with one of the blanket's tassels, an edge of exasperation tainting your voice as you recalled the chaotic event. "Anyway, they were so impressed with my work that they mentioned something to my boss, and she called this morning to offer me a promotion! Now I have the freedom to work from home or wherever!"

The excited lilt of your voice pulled a mumbled response from your boyfriend. You peered up at Jake through your lashes, letting out a little huff of annoyance.

"Are you even listening?"

Jake nodded, green eyes flicking down to observe you.

"I’m proud of you. You’ve worked so hard. It’s about time they realised you're exceptional."

You rolled your eyes at his compliment, a blush heating your cheeks. He smiled.

A flash of something drew your attention towards the horses that stood munching on the patches of green grass beneath the carpet of leaves. You sat up, eyes scanning your surroundings.

“Did you see that?”

Jake shook his head and adjusted to sit upright, attempting to spot your distraction.

“There!” you pointed to a spot across the creek, hoisting yourself up from the ground to investigate further. You dusted your jeans off and turned to offer him your hand, “Are you coming or not?”

Jake almost pouted at the thought of having to move from his comfortable spot. “Fine, but only because I love you."

You laughed, helping to hoist Jake from his seat. With a groan, he stood to his full height, then bent slightly to press a kiss to your lips. You offered him a dopey grin before clasping tightly to his hand as you led the way towards the creek.

"What do you think it was?" Jake quizzed, helping you balance your way across the half-submerged rocks that dotted a path across the narrow stream of trickling water.

"Well, we aren't near the beach, so my first guess of buried treasure is probably wrong."

Jake nervously chuckled as he did his best to remain calm. Your suggestion wasn't too far off, assuming his amazing sister had managed to pull off his crazy idea.

"So, I'm going to go with my second guess, which is that a bird has built its nest and filled it full of shiny-" you stopped mid-step as your eyes spotted what had caught your attention. 

Dangling as if suspended by magic from the branches were five intricate geometric glass terrariums. Four contained beautiful miniature succulents, moss, flowers and twinkling fairy lights resembling something of a fairytale garden. Hesitantly you took a little step further, eyes inspecting the centre one which sparkled more vibrantly than the others.

It was a ring!

Your right hand flew to your lips as a gasp tried to escape.

"Jake, I think someone was planning a proposal." Your voice held a twinge of guilt, "We'd better go. I'd hate to ruin-"

You turned in search of the blond only to discover him on one knee before you, your hand still clasped in his. "Oh." A flash of realisation washed over you. "Oh!"

Your eyes had widened almost comically, and Jake had to stop himself from laughing, swallowing once before his green eyes settled on you.

"Darlin', I told you once or twice that I'd wait for you. But I've been waiting my whole life for you, and I can't wait any longer to make you my wife. So, wanna spend the rest of our lives together?

The most beautiful smile that Jake had ever seen stretched across your face as something between a chuckle and a sob bubbled past your lips. 

"Yes."

With a tug of your hand, you pulled Jake to his feet. Your arms flew around his neck as your soft lips melded against his, short-circuiting his brain. A whoop of joy resounded from somewhere nearby though you both chose to ignore it, losing yourself in the feeling of each other, this magical moment, and the idea of forever.

A part of him couldn't fathom how he had gotten so lucky. A first date had turned into three; that had been six months ago. Jake considered himself a pragmatic man and hadn't really believed in luck until he met you. Since Noah's engagement party, life had felt like a series of fortuitous events. As it had turned out, like him, you had left your hometown, ending up in California, only a couple of hours away from his posting at Lemoore.

Tonight you looked as pretty as a picture dressed up in a floral top and black jeans that hugged your figure like a second skin. It was one of the first Friday nights you'd had free in ages, and you had made the journey to him.

Your knowing eyes scanned the room as though you could feel his gaze. Rosy red lips quirked into a dazzling smile as you spotted him mouthing an 'I love you' as you kept the rhythm of the song. Jake couldn't help but respond in turn as he offered you a wink. Your cheeks heated in response, drawing a grin to his face. 

The clink of beer bottles against the bar forced Jake to turn away as he promptly gathered up the next round. When he turned back, your attention was firmly focused on the game.

"Come on, Javy," you called, "You're taking so long your beer's going hot." Eda chuckled at your playful barb. Javy took his shot, firing you a look as it clipped the second lowest ball on the table rather than the one he'd intended.

"Alright, hot shot, it's all yours," he handed off the pool cue to you, "Don't choke."

You grabbed it, smirking as you stepped up to the table, sinking the ball Javy missed before moving on to the next. You flashed a triumphant smile at the pair before you began picking the balls off one by one. 

A look of frustration twisted Javy's face as he pulled the last swig from his beer. Eda whispered soft words of consolation as he dropped into the empty seat beside her.

"You coulda warned me before I made a bet." Javy's words sliced through Jake's occupied thoughts as he set the latest round on the tiny table.

Jake shrugged unapologetically at his friend, "I figured this'd be more fun."

Javy's nose and brow scrunched in unison. "For who?"

"Me," he smirked, taking a sip of his drink. Eda chuckled at the remark, running a comforting hand across Javy's shoulders as he grabbed up his new beer.

"At least you know for next time." Javy shot his girl an unimpressed look which caused Eda to chortle, hand flying up to her lip in a half-hearted attempt to hold in her laughter.

"And that's how it's done," you declared, almost strutting back towards the group. "Your turn to break, Eda. Blow us away!" you cheered, handing over the pool cue. Eda offered a nervous grimace as she made her way to the table. Javy followed closely behind her, suggestions spilling from his lips in a blatant attempt to coach his girlfriend into making the best shot.

"Hey cowboy," you greeted, sliding up to Jake as you grabbed the glass bottle of Coca-Cola from its perch and took a sip. 

Jake's arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into his side so that he could press a kiss to your cheek.

"Are you gonna call him out on his coaching?"

You shook your head, glancing down at your watch. His smile slumped in the same manner as his shoulders. A feeling of dread seeped into Jake's chest at your action, already knowing exactly what your following words meant.

"It's almost ten o'clock."

Your observation hung in the air, spoiling the joyful ambience that Jake had enjoyed all evening. Large hands clasped your sides, gently squeezing your waist as he buried his head into your shoulder. A grumble of protest reverberated from his chest, though his words were mumbled into your soft skin.

This was the most challenging part about you living so far away. Most times, when Jake offered for you to stay, you had a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why your response had to be no. On nights like those when you would leave to return home, Jake would be left waiting anxiously by the phone for your call to say that you had arrived home safely. Sometimes though, his charms would win out, or your schedule would allow you to be as flexible as you desired resulting in entire weekends curled up in his bed as you explored every square inch of each other. He wanted more of the latter.

"I hate this part, darlin'," he sighed, wrapping his arms around you as if that alone would keep you here. You peered up at Jake through your long lashes, sighing at his look of disappointment. His eyes studied your face closely, watching something flicker in your eyes, but you appeared to swallow it down before it could escape your lips.

You stood chest to chest, his green eyes trailing down to your lips. His right hand rose, skimming your cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair back into place behind your ear. Then, as though you were the only two in the bar, his lips captured yours in a slow kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. You pulled away from him with a soft gasp, your brow arched in question. Jake didn't give you time to comment, clasping your hand in his.

"Alright," Jake acquiesced, intertwining your fingers, "Let's go."

Growing up, your mother had warned you to guard your heart. Despite her words of wisdom, you could feel your resolve crumble a little each day as you fell more in love with the emerald-eyed Texan who had been patiently pursuing you for months.

The drive to Jake's place wasn't long, and it usually flew by with his company. He was charming in a classic southern boy way that made time melt away. Tonight though, your usual banter and easy conversation had been replaced with a deafening silence. A whirlpool of nerves settled in your stomach in response to the serious expression that marred his handsome face. The blood slowly drained from your cheeks, and a tightness squeezed your chest as you pulled your car into one of the available parking spots in front of his apartment complex.

"Is everything alright?"

Jake nodded absentmindedly, green eyes darting to glance out the window. 

You shot him a disbelieving look, "Please don't play poker with my brother. You're terrible at bluffing, Jake." 

He exhaled, raising your interlaced hands to press a kiss to your knuckles. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"About?" you enquired, hand gently squeezing Jake's left hand.

He cleared his throat, the serious expression returning as he adjusted himself to sit a little more upright. "Wouldn't it just be easier if you stayed?" 

You hummed in contemplation, teeth tugging lightly on your bottom lip as you weighed up your options. "As tempting as the offer is, it means I would have to be up at four to drive back in time for-"

A look of frustration twisted on his face as your words appeared to blow right past him. "No, I mean, what I'm trying to say is it doesn't matter how long I have to wait, Y/N. I wanna come home to you."

It took a minute for his words to register in your mind. Your eyes widened in surprise, jaw popping open of its own accord as your lips pursed in a perfect o.

"You want to come home to me?"

Jake nodded.

"Like you want us to move in together?" You clarified, trying to catch up with this change of topic. 

Jake nodded again, hand digging into his jeans pocket in search of his keys, an anxious prickle forming at his collar as words began to spill from his lips like water from an overfilled jug. "Darlin', you know I love you. But at the moment we only get to see each other twice, maybe three times a week? That's if we're lucky! We've been seeing each other for six months, and at the moment, it all depends on whether one of us can-"

"Yes."

Jake's verbal onslaught halted as his own mind scrambled to comprehend your response, replaying it in his mind as his keys jangled free from the confines of his pocket. "What?"

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, a bright smile stretched across your lips, "I said yes."

A rush of air escaped his lips as his cheeks stretched into a cheesy grin. "I, uh, have something for you." His left hand fiddled with something for a second before it extended towards you, a gold key glinting in the dull streetlights. "Your key, milady."

Content. That was the only word that could describe the warm, peacefulness that settled in your bones as you took the key.

"I hope you don't mind an early start in the morning, Romeo."

Jake hummed in mock contemplation as he clambered out of the car, "I don't mind at all, but you might have to break the news to my spare pillow. Let it know it's been replaced."

A giggle was the only response you could offer as Jake dashed around the front of the car, pulling open your door with a grand flourish and a mischievous smile. You took his hand in yours, allowing him to lead you upstairs.

It was hard to admit, but Jake was your addiction, which worried you a little. The more time you spent with Jake, the more you wanted to be with him. You just hoped that he wouldn't break your heart.

“Hello. I have a delivery for Y/N.” Hank's eyes flicked back up from his page as he observed you.

You smiled, glancing over his shoulder at the truck that had reversed into your driveway. “That’s me.”

“Sign here, please.”

With a pen flourish, you handed the signed paperwork back to the man. He adjusted his glasses, sliding them up his nose as he turned and gestured to the team waiting by the truck. Hank turned back toward the door, carefully observing the entrance and the hallway.

“Is everything OK?”

He muttered something to himself for a second before offering you a nod. “Nothing to worry about, dear. We’ll make it fit.”

Your forehead crinkled slightly at his statement. What did he mean by that? You had already measured the dimensions of the piano and your front door. It was going to fit. You just hoped it would be inside the house before Bradley returned home.

“Do you need me to do anything?” you called after Hank’s retreating figure, though the older man ignored you, firing directions at his team to begin unloading the precious cargo.

You shrugged, pinning the front door open as you left the crew to their own devices.

Bradley had told you countless stories that proved how much music, mainly the piano, meant to him. He could still vaguely remember his father and mother sitting at their piano every evening and how his father, Nick, would hold Bradley on his lap as he played and sang along with his wife. After his father had died, Carole had nearly sold the piano. That is until she had apparently stumbled upon her boy one night, little legs swinging back and forth as he used his two index fingers to hit randomly at the keyboard.

Bradley’s impending birthday, and selfishly, the thought of someday watching your little one sitting at the piano, had sparked your entire plan.

Since moving in together, you and Bradley had discovered a local music store, Rolling Tones. It was one of the most incredible places in town. Were you being biased because the store’s owners, Mick & Charlie, were some of the first friends you had made when you arrived? Absolutely. Though it honestly was a great place to hang out. You both looked forward to your monthly visits to the shop, where you’d spend hours flicking through their infinite record collection or mucking around with the diverse and bizarre array of instruments. It was also here that you truly came to understand exactly how much music meant to your boyfriend.

Each time, just before you left the store, Bradley would play something for you. Sometimes he would serenade you with one of his favourites or a song from the expansive repertoire he remembered from his childhood lessons. Though on the rare occasion Bradley would play his own melodic masterpieces. His face always held an equal measure of concentration and passion as he played, skilful fingers fluttering over the keys as though they belonged there.

You clutched the ukulele to your chest, strumming a short pattern of chords to create your own jingle as Bradley intermittently struck the vibraslap, a faux look of concentration etched upon his face. Distracted by the zest with which he played, you fumbled the next chord causing the string to produce a very dissonant note compared to the rest of the melody. A snicker escaped your lips as Bradley’s face contorted in a playful glower.

“One job!” he cried in a fake European-sounding accent, “You had one job. Gah, they make me work with amateurs.”

You couldn’t help it. Your laughter erupted as you doubled over at Bradley’s ridiculousness.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he scoffed, placing his hand over his heart as though my laughter actually wounded him. “I am a professional.” He struggled to maintain his serious expression, a smile breaking through as he, too, began to laugh with you. You took a deep breath allowing the chilly air of the store to cool your flushed cheeks as you returned the instruments to their places.

“Alright,” you sighed, “I suppose we’d best get going.”

“Not yet. I still have one last thing to do.” Bradley took your hand in his large calloused one and led you through the aisles of instruments towards the performance room. It was a relatively large room, considering it only housed a baby grand piano and a few chairs which skirted the walls. Glorious beams of natural light rained down upon the room from the skylights, giving the polish an extra gleam. Bradley pulled the duet bench out from the piano and directed you to sit beside him.

“What are you going to play for me today, maestro?”

Twinkling brown eyes gazed at you for a moment before focusing on the ebony and ivory keys as Bradley settled his hands into position.

The memory drew a smile to your face as you returned to your seat at the dining room table.

Since his mother’s passing, the Bradshaw family piano had sat abandoned in Bradley’s childhood home. So, last week you had taken a trip to “see your sister” and had made all the arrangements while Bradley was distracted by work commitments. You could only hope he liked this year’s birthday surprise as much as you imagined.

Buzz! Your phone vibrated on the bench. You tapped on the message, eyes skimming over its contents.

Bradley:

The guys and I are grabbing a beer after work for Scott’s birthday. Don’t wait up. I love you!

You blew out a huff as your shoulders slumped. You’d forgotten that it was Scott’s birthday today, and most likely, Bradley would be out until midnight celebrating with his best friend. Not that you minded. You were both firm believers in maintaining friendships and social lives outside of each other. It was just a shame that you wouldn’t get to see Bradley’s reaction as soon as you’d anticipated.

A chorus of grunts and a mechanical whirring sound were the only clues that the delivery team were still busily manoeuvring the beautiful instrument inside. You shook your head in an attempt to clear your mind and refocus on responding to the inundation of emails you had received.

Silence had fallen upon the house by the time Bradley arrived home. All of the lights were off, engulfing the house in darkness. Bradley fished for his house key amongst the collection on his key ring and blindly felt for the slot. With a twist and a click, the front door fell open. He stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. Careful to avoid some of the creakier spots on the floor, he crept along the right-hand side wall retracing the familiar path from memory. One step, two steps.

SMACK!

Bradley’s knee collided with the edge of something, pain radiating from the point of contact. His eyes clenched shut as he mentally cursed his luck, blindly reaching to feel the object. Whatever it was compressed beneath the weight of his hand.

“What the?”

Tink, plink, DUM! Music resounded through the quiet house. An upstairs light flickered on in response.

“Bradley, is that you?”

Your voice held an edge of sleepiness as you called to him from somewhere upstairs.

“Yes, Y/N, it’s me. I think I ran into a piano?” Bradley explained, confusion overrunning his thoughts. Surely he hadn’t had that much to drink? “Honey, since when have we had a piano?”

The downstairs light flickered on as you appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a sleepy smile stretched across your face. Bradley’s lips immediately copied yours offering you one in return. He loved seeing you in your pyjamas, hair messy and body relaxed in comfort. It gave him some deep satisfaction knowing that you felt comfortable with him.

You stepped closer, gesturing to the literal instrument of his pain. Bradley’s eyes refocused on the timber structure, widening in recognition.

“It’s not,” he gasped, hand running gently along the polished timber, “Is this my Dad’s piano?”

You nodded, coming to stand beside him. “I was trying to decide what to get you for your birthday. I was almost going to buy the piano at Rolling Tones. But then I thought about it and remembered you telling me you had one at your parent’s house. So I snuck out there last week to organise moving it, and well… here it is.” You gnawed on your bottom lip, doing your best to look anywhere but at Bradley. “Do you like it?’

Fragments of a dozen different conversations flooded Jake's mind as he wove through the crowd, following the distinct tinkling laughter that could only belong to his mother.

“Uncle Jake!”

The cry of his name was the only warning Jake received as his adorable twin nieces collided with his legs. His left arm shot out, grabbing ahold of the nearest table, quickly correcting his balance as the girls wrapped their arms around his legs.

"Ah, my favourite troublemakers," Jake greeted, "What mischief are we up to tonight?" A flourish of girlish giggles erupted as he crouched down, wrapping the pair in a bear hug as he hoisted the five-year-olds up, setting them one on each hip.

"Uncle Jake, we found a pinata under the table in the corner. Want to help us sneak some candy?"

Jake chuckled at the pair, their blue-green eyes resembling a puppy's, as he contemplated how to respond. "I have a better idea. Why don't we wait a little while, and we'll be able to smash the pinata." Molly and Melanie shared a skeptical look before turning their attention back to their favourite uncle.

"But, if we take some now, we can also have some later, and Mom won't know that we've already had some."

Leah, his sister, appeared from the crowd, her green eyes twinkling with mirth, "What won't Mom know?"

The twins jolted in surprise—heads whipping around to offer their mother matching smiles and innocent expressions.

"Nothing, Mommy."

"We were just saying hi to Uncle Jake. Right, Uncle Jake?"

Jake did his best to wipe the smirk off his face as he settled the girls back onto their feet, offering his sister a nod as the twins dashed away into the multitude of guests.

Leah shook her head and offered her open arms in a welcome home greeting. “It's good to see you."

Jake squeezed his baby sister gently, "It's good to see you. Those two are trouble."

She sighed, sharing a small smile.

"Jake!" Noah and Emma cut through the crowd like a knife through butter, "You made it!"

“As if I'd miss it," Jake grinned, wrapping the pair in a hug, "Congratulations!"

A squeal of feedback sliced through the room's din, causing everyone to flinch as an overly perky voice blasted from the speaker.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to get our first game underway. Everyone is about to get a ‘Find the Guest’ game board. Your job is to meet, mingle and learn a little about our To-Be-Wed’s nearest and dearest. For those who are wondering, a prize is up for grabs.”

One of the servers carrying a tray of canapes stopped in front of them, handing a sheet of paper to everyone. Jake took it, scanning the grid containing a selection of random prompts - is engaged, doesn’t drink coffee, is the youngest here, is left-handed. The list went on.

A kick of competitiveness thrummed through his veins at the possibility of winning something. Leah grabbed her sheet and began scribbling away. Jake, however, had a different plan that involved his best debonair smile and the wonderful group of ladies that stood by the dancefloor.

It didn't take him long to get the majority of the answers down. All, except one. Jake huffed and settled against the table, taking a sip of his beer as he listened to the M.C. explain the rules of the latest game. Eagle eyes scanned the room again, looking for someone who could fit the description of the final box - ‘went to elementary school with the bride’.

At first glance, a few people could fit the description though he had already spent the better part of the evening questioning them.

A flash of lightning illuminated the night outside the window as the restaurant's door swung open, and a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped inside, stripping off their jacket to reveal a stunning red dress. Jake’s gaze trailed the silhouette as it fell along the length of her body, eyes flicking back to ruby lips. Lord, have mercy! He stood from his chair, ensnared by a pair of beautiful eyes.

“Y/N, you made it!” Emma smiled exuberantly and ran to embrace the newest arrival with an excited squeal and a kiss on the cheek. The enthusiastic greeting told Jake exactly how you two were connected. He’d been waiting for the better part of an hour for your arrival, but here you were—the girl who had gone to elementary school with the bride.

Deserting his beer, Jake swaggered towards you, an extra spring in his step and his soon-to-be winning game board clutched in his hand.

Your focus quickly shifted from your friend to him as you realised he was making a beeline for you. Emma turned to see what had captured your attention, a mischievous smile stretching across her face as she promptly bowed out, leaving you at Jake’s mercy.

“Hello.” Your voice was soft, almost unsure, as you offered him a shy smile.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” Jake greeted, offering his hand, “My name’s Jake, but you can call me tonight.”

Your body froze, lips pursed for a second as his words washed over you. Jake's stomach flipped at the thought of his pickup line sending him crashing-and-burning. But then, as though a dam wall had burst, laughter streamed from your lips. Not just a polite giggle but a full-blown belly laugh, head tossed back in pure joy. He grinned at you as you offered him your hand.

“I’m Y/N, and that was equally as corny as it was smooth.… but I’ll give credit where it's due, Jake. A+ for effort.” You grabbed the pencil and paper from his other hand and scribbled your number in the space under the last remaining empty box. “I look forward to your call.” You winked, handing his things back to him before making your way over to a group of ladies who had assembled at the bar.

He grinned, watching your retreating figure disappear behind a wall of people. A spark of something ignited in his heart as he watched you interact with your friends.

Throughout the night, Jake had caught you glancing at him - firstly over the shoulder of one of your friends, then over the rim of your glass, and now from your spot on the dancefloor. He clenched his hand tightly around his beer bottle and tried to refocus on the story his father recounted to the men who had congregated around the table.

You offered him a teasing smile the next time his eyes found yours across the room. Your body moved with the rhythm of the music, and you crooked your finger in a come-hither gesture. Jake cleared his throat and lowered his beer to the table. "Excuse me."

In five strides, Jake had crossed the room to you and outstretched his palm. "Dance with me, Y/N."

Your right brow arched as your chin cocked in response to his blunt request, though you consented, placing your soft hand in his much larger one. Your other hand came to rest gently on his shoulder as the music changed to something a little slower.

"I thought you'd keep me waiting all night."

Jake was driving himself crazy. Your number sat on the screen of his phone for the hundredth time, the green call button illuminated below it. For the past 24 hours, he had been battling with himself, trying to build the courage to call you. He'd contemplated texting you, though the thought of being left on ‘Read’ was too much to handle. Jake needed an answer immediately, and the only way to get it would be to call you.

Butterflies flickered about in his stomach as he finally hit the call button, listening intently as the network tried to connect him to you. His right leg began to bounce as the ringing filled his ears. The chirp repeated itself a few times as the seconds ticked on. Jake’s shoulders slumped. You weren’t going to answer. A click promptly halted his train of thought.

“Hello, this is Y/N.”

Your melodic voice sent Jake’s heart into a weird staccato rhythm, and he had to clear his throat before responding, “Uh. Hi, it’s Jake. How are you?” His inquiry was genuine but was not the sole purpose of his call. The pair of you made small talk for a few minutes before Jake finally worked up the courage to ask what he had initially called to ask. “Are you free tonight? I’d love to take you out. Maybe we could get dinner and go bowling?”

A hum sounded across the line, as though you were deciding whether or not to accept his offer. He silently crossed his fingers, praying that you would agree to his somewhat cheesy idea.

“Alright,” you agreed, “How does six sound? I’m staying with my parents while I’m back in town. I’ll text you the address.”

Jake almost leapt from his spot in celebration, nodding his agreement, “Six sounds great.”

Jake prided himself on being calm, calculated, and patient, but he struggled to maintain his typical demeanour as he prepared for the night ahead. He spent half an hour pestering his brother for his recommendations of restaurants in town. Jake had then quizzed Emma about your favourite flower, promptly heading to the local florist to grab a bouquet. The remainder of the day seemed to drag on forever as he counted the hours until he would see you again.

At 5:55 pm, Jake left the comfort of his beloved black 1969 Pontiac Firebird and climbed the weathered stairs to your family’s home. Knocking thrice on the wooden front door, his left hand clutched the green stems of the flowers a little tighter as he dried his sweaty right palm on the leg of his jeans.

The door opened with a squeak revealing a stern-looking face and piercing gaze that stared into his soul. A cold sweat began to form at the back of Jake’s neck as the older man eyed him scrupulously, a frown tugging at his red cheeks. Was this how the prize pig felt at the county fair? Jake ignored the urge to pull his shirt collar and offered a polite smile, “Good evening, sir.”

The man’s arms crossed, making his shoulders almost double in size. “So, you’re Jake. My daughter mentioned you’d be coming.”

Jake nodded, offering his right hand in greeting, “Jake Seresin, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A harrumph filled the air as your father clasped his hand, shaking firmly. A small flash of something crossed his face before he stepped back, granting access inside. “Come in. Y/N shouldn’t be long.”