A/N: I'm back. Life has been so hectic and in the middle of wedding planning this has very much taken a backseat. I hope if you're still reading this, you enjoy this update. This Chapter is a continuation of the timeframe from Chapter 2. Just a small little filler chapter. Feedback is so appreciated!
THE NEXT MORNING
The sheets are warm.
That's the first thing Bria notices when she wakes up in the morning
The second thing is that she’s not alone. Nate is still asleep beside her, sprawled out on his stomach, one arm slung across her waist like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. His face is half-buried in the pillow, dark lashes casting soft shadows over his cheekbones, mouth slightly parted as he breathes deep and steady.
He looks… peaceful. Content.
Like he belongs here, tangled up in her, wrapped around her like she’s something his.
Bria swallows hard and looks away. Because that’s not what this is. Not really.
She should get up. Should slip out before he wakes, before he can look at her with those quiet, stormy eyes and make her feel things she shouldn’t feel—things she doesn’t let herself feel.
But she doesn’t move. Not yet.
Because this—the warmth of Nate's body, the safety of his bed, the way he always lets her in without question, without hesitation—this is the part Bria likes.
The part where she’s wanted. The part where someone is choosing her. Bria just… doesn’t like what comes next.
Because what comes next is always the same.
Bria's never been the girl who stays. And Nate—he’s the kind of boy who wants her to.
It's a tale as old as time. One that has been played out a million different ways with the same predictable ending.
Bria presses her lips together and carefully untangles herself from him, inching out of his hold. His fingers twitch like they don’t want to let go, but he doesn’t wake.
Good.
She rolls out of bed as quietly as she can, gathering her clothes, trying not to think too much about last night.
But the memories came anyway as she felt the dull ache between her legs. Bria couldn't deny the way her body reacted to Nate, how full she felt with him.
The way Nate's hands had held her like she was something delicate, even as he pushed her further down into the bedsheets with every thrust. The way his lips had brushed over her shoulder, slow and reverent, like he meant it, when his hips snapped deeper into her, basking in the way his name rolled off her tongue. The way Nate had looked at Bria, as he spilled deep into her, pressing his thumb to her clit to help guide her through her own climax. And afterward how he looked with his eyes heavy-lidded and aching with something she didn’t want to name.
And then, his voice, thick with sleep, barely above a whisper:
"I’m not going anywhere."
Bria swallows hard. Because of course he’s not.
Nathan MacKinnon has always been there. Always waiting. Always reaching for her first, always opening the door, always letting her take—his time, his affection, his love.
And she does take.
Bria takes and takes and takes, but she never stays.
Because if she stays, then it means something.
And if it means something, then one day it’ll break. Like it broke with her high school boyfriend, and the boyfriend after that...and the next two after that, oh and most recently Chandler.
And Bria has never been good at surviving broken things. That's why she doesn't force herself to.
Bria exhales, shaking off the weight in her chest. She doesn’t let herself hesitate, doesn’t let herself look back at the bed, at Nate, at the life he might offer if she just let him. He knew what she needed when he answered the door last night and is okay with it. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have let her in, he would break the cycle. Nate needed this just as much as Bria did. At least that is what she tells herself.
Instead, Bria pulls on her clothes from the night before, steps into her shoes, and leaves. Leaves Nathan sleeping in the bed that they had previously shared.
LATER
Bria doesn’t check her phone all morning. Not because she doesn’t want to, of course she does. Like a majority of the world, Bria's entire life is on her phone.
She hesitates on checking her phone because but because she already knows what she’ll find. Or worse—what she won’t.
But when she finally does, there’s a single text waiting for her.
Nate: Where’d you go?
Bria stares at the message, heart stuttering.
It’s not a demand.
Not an accusation.
Just a question.
A simple, quiet question from a boy who has spent years letting her break his heart.
Bria's fingers tighten around her phone.
She could tell him the truth.
Could tell him she left because she had to, because she doesn’t know how to be the person he wants her to be, because she’s selfish and scared and incapable of loving him the way he loves her.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she types:
Bria: Didn’t wanna make it weird.
Three dots appear.
Then disappear.
Then appear again.
And when the reply finally comes, it’s just:
Nate: You didn't, B.
Bria's stomach twists.
It’s too easy. Too simple. Too… final.
Like he’s decided something. Like he’s done something. Like maybe, for the first time, Nate isn’t waiting for her anymore.
And that should be a relief. Shouldn’t it?
She tells herself it should be. That this is what she wanted—needed, even. She can’t have him waiting for her, holding space for something she can’t bring herself to name. He deserves more than that. More than her.
Still, her fingers tighten around her phone, staring down at the message one last time before she forces herself to act like it doesn’t matter. She exhales sharply, jaw clenched, and throws her phone onto the bed.
She doesn’t let herself think about it. Doesn’t let herself analyze the way his words felt too careful, too measured, like he’d already made peace with something she hadn’t realized was slipping away.
She doesn’t let herself wonder if he meant it.
Instead, she does what she’s best at.
She moves on.
Or—at least, she tries.
But then, two weeks later, she’s at some party, tipsy and reckless, and suddenly everything feels wrong. The music is too loud, the people around her too unfamiliar, and she feels untethered, adrift in a way that makes her skin itch.
And before she can stop herself, she’s in an Uber, watching streetlights blur past her window, the address she rattled off so instinctively making her pulse pound in her throat.
And then she’s there.
Standing outside his door, heart racing, stomach twisting, fingers curled into fists to keep them from shaking.
She shouldn’t be here. She knows that.
But that’s never stopped her before.
She knocks once, then again, shifting on unsteady feet as she waits. And when the door finally opens, and she sees him—sleepy and soft and just Nate—it almost undoes her.
He doesn’t ask why she’s here.
He just lets her in.
Bria tells herself it doesn’t mean anything.
Nate lets her pretend as he takes her to his bed.
And that is it continues.
The pattern. The push and pull. The taking and leaving.
Bria never staying long enough to see what could be real. Nate never asking her to.
Only now, it grows. Becomes something heavier, something quieter. The warmth between them edged with something neither of them says out loud.
Bria leaves, and Nate doesn’t ask when she’ll be back.
Bria returns after finding herself in chaos and needing comfort, and there’s something different in his eyes as he refuses to make eye contact as he pounds into her.
Something is slipping. Something she doesn’t want to name.
Because naming it means acknowledging it, and acknowledging it means facing the truth Bria has been running from for years.
But It’s late when Bria stirs against Nate after the latest episode of her finding herself drunk and at his door. She is barely awake, barely thinking. The room is quiet, the only sound his steady breathing, the warmth of his arm draped over her waist. Bria should leave. She always does.
But right now, wrapped up in him, it’s too easy to stay.
“Nate?” she whispers.
He hums, half-asleep.
Bria swallows, pushing a piece of his hair out of his eyes. “Why do you let me do this?”
There’s a pause. A long one.
Then, softer, quieter—like it’s not even meant for her to hear—he murmurs, “I’d wait for you, you know.”
Her throat tightens.
Because he would.
She doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to doubt. She knows, deep in her bones, that if she turned around months from now, years from now, he’d still be here.
Still hers, even if she was never really his.
She closes her eyes, leans into him. “Don’t wait for me, Nathan.”
But he just huffs out a quiet laugh, presses a lingering kiss to her temple.
Nate doesn’t make her any promises.
And maybe that’s the moment she should realize.
Maybe that’s when she should understand that he’s already stopped waiting.
Because the next time she leaves, he doesn’t ask when he’ll see her again.
And the next time she comes back, his touch is still familiar, still warm—but there’s something different in his eyes.
Something distant. Something like acceptance.
And the next time after that—there is no next time
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Summary: After transferring to the Pitt in the middle of your fellowship, you manage to impress PTMC's meanest surgeon with your bubbly confidence, leading to you both catching feelings.
Tags/Notes: fluffy fluff, silly trope time, idiots in love, grumpy/sunshine, misunderstanding trope, kiss cam trope, getting together, cutesy feminine reader, kind of an airhead outside of medicine, also described as short sorry tall baddies, praise kink, oral (m), fingering (f), size kink, piv, riding/cowgirl, mini hitachi, doggy style, headlock during sex uwu, biting, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, creampie, D/s if you squint, aftercare
Content: medical (and hockey) inaccuracies out the wazoo, canon-typical
A/N: that mean doctor has bewitched me and i actually had so much fucking fun writing this fic
Word Count: 14.2k
While you finish preparing your patient presentation for the incoming orthopedic surgeon consult on the case you’ve been working all day, Dennis Whitaker, who’s been assisting you, groans under his breath as he catches an imposing figure approaching. “Fuck, our consult’s the Shark.”
“Of course it is.” Shen, who’s been in the corner half-supervising you since he completely trusts your work as a fellow, tells Whitaker, “This kind of damage? He eats up cases like this. The Shark’s never gonna let someone else-”
You turn to both of them, hold up a hand to shut them up, and ask, “Who?”
“Dr. Brendon Park,” Shen explains like he’s telling you about an upcoming horror movie. “He’s the head orthopedic surgeon.”
“Haven’t met him yet,” you reply. Drawbacks of circumstances forcing you to change hospitals in the middle of your fellowship; you don’t know the whole team like you did back in your residency. With a final few glances through your day’s meticulous work, you wrinkle your brows and check, “I thought Torres was head of orthopedic surgery.”
“No, she’s the nice orthopedic surgeon. The Shark only deigns to come to what he calls ‘the butcher shop’ for juicy cases.” Shen shakes his head and says, “I’m gonna dip before he gets down here. I’ll grab Robby to supervise.”
“You’re leaving? Why?”
“Park can actually stand Robby.” Shen shrugs and tosses his gloves in the trash. “I made the mistake of suggesting an amputation when it was possible to salvage a limb and the Shark’s always down my throat when we work together now.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Three years.” Shen pushes the door open and says before heading over to the hub to grab Robby, “That thing you’ve heard about sharks having three-second memories? Not accurate. PTMC’s Shark never forgets. Don’t fuck up your first impression.”
Your wide eyes turn to Whitaker. “Well, that was comforting.”
Jesse, who’s been supporting you on and off when you needed more hands than just Whitaker’s, tries to offer, “Park’s not so bad.”
“Yeah, because you’re a nurse,” Whitaker replies. “He likes nurses. Respects them. It’s other doctors he thinks are stupid.”
You screw up your face with confidence and nod sharply. “Then I won’t be stupid.”
“Good luck with that,” a deep, clear voice says behind you. You turn and nearly bump into the center of a very broad chest. Very broad. With matching biceps and traps threatening at the fabric of his blue scrubs. He’s easily a whole head taller than you. And his face. Oh. Good face. Lots of masculine, rugged angles. It’s not that the ED is lacking in arm candy, but most of the doctors down here aren’t so…biteable. You’re fighting not to ogle as his voice draws your eyes back up to his mouth. Which is a nice mouth. Under a nice nose. And a heavy brow with pretty blue eyes so sharp you feel a little light-headed under their intensity. “You’re new.”
Robby slips into the room behind him and hugs the wall, posture much straighter than you’ve seen. He doesn’t look scared the way Whitaker does, but there’s a clear expectation about what the interaction’s going to be: Efficient, intense, clear. Robby says bluntly, “New fellow. Recent relocation.”
Park’s eyes narrow, taking in your pink shoelaces, perfectly applied makeup (including shimmery gloss) despite being elbows deep in the shift, and the pastel-heart-patterned long sleeve beneath your scrubs. “We haven’t met.”
You take one quick, deep breath and remind yourself there’s no reason to be scared. You don’t play hospital politics like the residents. You’re a fellow, a real goddamn doctor. This is your case. Your save. You’ve got it. So you introduce yourself with a friendly smile and explain, “I started here last month. Just haven’t had a big sexy skeletal trauma to dangle in front of you until today.”
Park cracks what almost appears to be a smirk. Committing your name and your pretty face to memory, he says, “Welcome to the team, pipsqueak. Try not to butcher any bones and we’ll get along fine.”
“No problem.” You bounce slightly on your feet. “Shall we get started here?”
His chin cocks slightly to one side. You’re not shrinking. Not bashful. You’re smiling. That’s rare. He doesn’t mind. Arms crossed over that massive chest, he orders, eyes sweeping the room, “Tell me what we’ve got.”
Whitaker looks to Robby. Robby looks to you. You nod and list off, “Mr. Jacob Westman, thirty-seven-year-old green energy tower technician, brought in by ambulance after falling from an electrical tower. Freak accident. Alert and responsive on arrival but no sensation in lower extremities. Lead doctor on the case – that’s me; I’ve been point for Mr. Westman all day – chose to sedate for pain management and stabilization once significant spinal injuries were identified. The most severe salvageable damage is in the cervical and thoracic, but I don’t necessarily agree with the interpretation from the ortho radiologist that-” Robby clears his throat to stop you there. Sheepishly, you finish, “Vitals are within safe range for operation to correct cervical and thoracic fractures and dislocations."
Robby offers, “So essentially, the approach is-”
“Hold on.” Park looks up from the chart and focuses squarely on you. “What did the radiologist say? Why did you stop there?”
You glance over at Robby, who’s shaking his head with pleading eyes. But it’s your case. You’re the one who gave up your lunch break to pore over the imaging. So you let your eyes rove back to Dr. Park’s and tell him firmly, “Your radiologist feels that the lumbar injuries causing Mr. Westman’s paralysis are completely inoperable through traditional methods. I was advised to defer to his opinion.”
Brows furrowed, he eyes you seriously. Almost…amused. Like he’s watching a puppy try a new trick. “What’s your opinion, doctor?”
Behind Park, you see Whitaker shake his head and grimace like you’ve just signed your own death certificate. Even Jesse is gripping his clipboard a little more tightly.
“I suggested that, even though it may be riskier, a series of nerve grafts and transfers could return the patient’s ability to walk.” Your voice lowers a bit and you try not to let your wobbly ‘bleeding heart baby doctor’ voice come out. “Mr. Westman is a highly-trained, highly-educated specialist in a type of engineering only a handful of people in the country can do. Work that’s absolutely critical for the development of renewable energy sources. When I was going over everything with his wife, Jenna, she told me that he loves his job more than life itself. That he would risk everything to regain use of his legs.” You swallow hard and pinch back tears. It’s something that always annoys you; whenever you really, really care about something, you start to cry. Eyes averted, you wrap up, “I know that the kind of procedure I’m suggesting would be much longer and much riskier on several levels and that it’s not at all my place to-”
Park shakes his head and cuts you off, “Show me the scans.”
You quickly brush past him to the nearby screen and blow up the images.
Dr. Park lets out a low whistle as he flips through the X-Rays, head tilted slightly as he gives the scans his full attention. He asks you a handful of questions and you answer them as best you can, all the eyes in the room burning the back of your head. You watch the wheels turning behind Park’s eyes; this is his passion, his favorite thing, his reason to wake up. You love seeing people in that state where all they’re thinking about is what they do best.
Finally, he turns to you and says, “I don’t care what your title at this hospital is. If a goddamn janitor can propose a valid surgical approach for an ‘inoperable’ injury, I want to hear it. Complex spinal reconstruction with multiple fusions, laminectomy, discectomy…fuck, ‘just-about-everything-ectomy.’ Plus nerve transfer. Now that’s sexy. I like it.” Before Robby can thank him for taking over, Park looks you up and down – just a little slow to be completely professional – and asks, “Pipsqueak, you wanna assist?”
You stand up straighter and turn your attention to Robby with wide, hopeful eyes. Looking nothing short of shocked, he nods and does a ‘sure, why not?’ type of gesture. You give a big, adorable grin and say, “Yeah, that would be awesome. I’ve always wanted to see autograft harvesting and transfer firsthand.”
Whitaker shakes his head and mutters, “Freak.”
“Go to the bathroom, eat a snack, and scrub for OR three,” Park tells you, ignoring everyone else. As you nod eagerly and excuse yourself, he slaps Robby on the back hard enough to make him stagger and mutters, “Congrats, Mike, you finally matched a competent fellow.”
Dumbfounded, Robby just says, “Ah, thanks.”
Coming out of the surgery thirteen hours later, you’re glowing like you haven’t been awake for thirty-four hours in a row. Following tight on his heels, you’re practically skipping as you beam, “Dr. Park, that was so amazing. I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity.”
“You’re good,” he says simply, walking through the halls of the surgical wing like he owns the place. “Great calls like that deserve great rewards. Would’ve given you a gold star sticker, but I’m not as soft as Robinavitch.”
“I wish Robby gave out stickers,” you reply wistfully. “That might actually convince me to stay here after my fellowship is up.”
You’re about to say something else when Park turns around and puts one baseball-glove-sized hand on your shoulder. “Unless you want to see my dick on our first day working together, you should probably stay on that side of this particular door.”
You startle backwards as you realize he’s pushing into the men’s room. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry; I sometimes kinda space out when I’m excited.”
Park lets out a laugh. An honest-to-god laugh.
He has a handsome smile.
Even though your face is now about a thousand degrees, you still nibble your lower lip, grin, and call through the door, “By the way, it’s technically our second day working together since that was an overnight surgery.”
Park’s amused, loud voice hollers back, “Go home and get some sleep, pipsqueak.”
When you clock in for your next shift two days later, Dana waves you over right after you’re done putting your things away. She says, “There’s something in your mailbox, if you’d believe it.”
“Really?” You worry a hangnail on your thumb. “Don’t tell me I’m getting served or something.”
“You? Come on, you’re Miss Bedside Manner USA.” She nods over to the doctor’s lounge and explains, “It’s from ortho. Something about that surgery you sat in on last week.”
“Huh, okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
You scurry off to your mailbox, which you’ve only even looked at once, the day you started. They’re a relic from the days of fax machines and printers. Inside your cubby is a blank, hospital-issue envelope. Upper left corner: Brendon Park, MD, FAAOS. In the middle, in his scratchy handwriting: Pipsqueak. With your lips pursed in curiosity, you rip the top of the envelope and remove the contents.
Inside a folded piece of notebook paper, there’s a card-sized sticker sheet with eight big, cutesy stickers on it. A happy sun, baby ducks, a strawberry, a stuffed bunny. All things sweet and girly. The theme is white, baby pink, sky blue, and light yellow, the same colors as the heart-patterned shirt you’d been wearing under your scrubs. In between the big stickers, a few pastel stars serve as filler.
With a little squeal, you unfold the note and read. Couldn’t find one with a gold star. Close enough. Good job. Happy you’re here.
Underneath, he’s drawn a tiny shark in lieu of a signature.
You melt – just a little.
Riding the elevator up after your lunch break, it’s kind of embarrassing how much your heart is pounding. You’re really not supposed to be doing this. It’s a total violation of protocol – not the sort that would get you in real HR trouble, but definitely the kind that could permanently piss someone off.
But you do it anyway. You gently knock on Dr. Park’s door after checking with the ortho receptionist that he’s in. He makes a sort of grunting sound that you interpret as ‘yes, what?’ Pushing the door open just enough to slip into the opening, you say, “Hi, Dr. Park. Robby asked me to page ortho down for a follow-up on the Westman case, but I thought it would be nice to ask you directly so that they could have consistency of-” When Park doesn’t even look at you, eyes staring intently at the file on his computer, you shrink into the doorway and shake your head. “Sorry; that’s silly. I’ll get back downstairs and send a page like I should’ve to stop annoying you.”
His eyes flick to yours for half a second. His eyebrows go together almost imperceptibly. “You’re not annoying me.”
“Oh. Thanks.” You bite your lower lip and stare at your shoes for a moment. Purple sneakers today, Park notices. Matching the lavender polka dots on your long sleeves. “So, yeah, if you have time today to come down and check his repeat images with me, that would be really amazing. I’m working until six, so no rush. No pressure. I know you’re really busy. And I can definitely just ask Torres if you-”
“I’ll do it,” he interrupts urgently. “Don’t ask Torres. Or anyone else. I’ve got it.” Then he adds, hasty, “Patient outcomes improve when they have a consistent care team. You’re right about that. You can come get me about Mr. Westman whenever you need to.”
At that, you absolutely beam. His eyes go to your lips. Your cupid’s bow and the way it stretches when you smile. A pretty smile, he thinks. Really pretty. You glow, “Okay, perfect, I will. Thank you.”
You linger for a second, one hand on the doorknob as you debate whether or not to say something. He hasn’t returned to his computer screen, eyes just roaming around the room and occasionally spending a second on you, so you take it as an invitation.
“I also wanted to, um, to say thanks for the stickers, by the way.” You lift your water bottle and show him the doodle-style pink star you’d picked out to grace it among your collection. “I really like them.”
“Good.” He’s tempted to lie, say it was someone else’s idea, act like he found them somewhere in the hospital, but he can’t when he’s looking at your delighted schoolgirl smile. “Saw them at Target and thought of you. It was nice to work with someone so…competent.” You swear there’s a slight blush in his cheeks, but it must be a trick of the light. It must be. Then he clears his throat and adds, “I’ll come down to see you- for Mr. Westman’s follow-up in an hour, alright? I have to finish this report and my dyslexia’s fucking killing me today.”
Physically unable to stop yourself from being helpful, you offer, “I could type it up for you, if you want.”
“I didn’t mean to tell you that,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have this disarming thing about you. It’s jarring.”
“Um, thanks?” You tilt your head like a puppy. “Are you not supposed to talk about it or something?”
He shrugs, definitely blushing now and pretending not to be, and replies, “People hear their doctor has a learning disability and get a little antsy. So if you don’t mind, keep that to yourself.”
“No problem, Dr. Park, I’m the picture of discretion,” you assure him seriously. But then you keep spilling out, “But, y’know, I actually read this study from the Royal College of Surgeons that showed people with dyslexia make better surgeons than their peers because of their well-developed spatial reasoning skills, attention to detail, and problem-solving ability – not to mention the resilience and creativity that inherently come from- Aaaand I’m word vomiting. Shoot. Sorry. It’s- it’s chronic, my word vomit. I see a specialist.”
He raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Do you now?”
“Yup. My likelihood of remission is incredibly low. Lifelong struggle, really.” You swallow hard and tell him gently, “Um, I had this undergrad student I tutored. He was in biology – pre-med – but he didn’t think he could do it because he was dyslexic. So I did a bunch of research and presented it to him. I’m not, like, one of those cool photographic memory people who remember every study on earth or something.”
“People with photographic memories freak me out,” he says with a chuckle. You wonder if you’re the only person in the ED who’s heard him laugh. More than once, even. Then he says something that actually does manage to shock you: “I’d love the help, if you have time.”
“Yay!” You do this little bouncing thing that makes his head spin. “I’m still on my lunch, so I have a few minutes.”
Voice sounding almost protective, he checks, “Did you eat?”
“Yeah, of course. But I get bored if I don’t have anything to do after my leftovers.” You scooch around his desk and slide between him and the computer, your perky ass directly in his face. With your fingers hovering over his keyboard, you lilt, “Alright, big man, what are we writing?”
It takes Park fifteen seconds to recalibrate, ten of those seconds spent memorizing the way he can see the outline of your tiny thong when you lean forward slightly, the fabric of your scrubs taut over your ass. Then he hastily stands up and puts himself behind the chair, his nosy dick safe from being seen, and says, “Why don’t you take my spot? You’ll be more comfortable.”
You shrug and sit down, throwing your head way back to look up at him with perfect, sweet blowjob eyes. “Whatever you say, Shark.”
The next time Park’s in the ED, his crush on you is completely and totally solidified. It’s horrifying, the way the feeling swirls around his stomach and makes his cheeks hot. It’s not a feeling that’s ever dared encounter him in the workplace and, honestly, not in a hell of a long time outside of it, either.
It’s because you’ve got Ogilvie backed up against a wall, your pointed finger in the center of his chest. He’s a head taller than you, even slouching, but you’re dwarfing him with your energy. Park’s never seen you so brutally animated, eyebrows knitted together and posture perfectly straight. He lingers a bit too close, hugging the corner so he can listen and watch.
Ogilvie’s hands are up in the air, waving, frustrated. “I didn’t do anything wrong! All I did was-”
“Oh my god, how many times do I have to tell you to shut up and listen to me?” With your feet planted firmly in your white sneakers with red laces and your arms crossed in your cherry-printed sleeves, you go on, “I get that I’m a woman. I get that I’m short and cute and girly. I get that you think you’re god’s gift to medicine.”
“I don’t think I’m-”
“I wasn’t done. I get that you struggle to respect me. Idiotic men often do. But let me make one thing abundantly clear: You are a slug of a man-child, James. You leave a trail of slime behind yourself in the form of problems everyone else needs to clean up, you hide whenever things get hard, and you need to blot the oil from your T-zone so you’re less shiny. And invest in a frizz-control shampoo.” While Park stifles a snorting laugh, you go on with the most pointed, cruel voice he’s ever heard from a woman so painfully adorable, “If you ever speak to me like that again, you will envy the corpses you practice on. All you will do clinically is change infected necrotic dressings and disimpact bowels and every other moment of your day will be dedicated to administrative scut so monotonous it makes your vision blurry. I will ask to have you on my service every day just so I can torture you until you question your entire career path. Do we have an understanding?”
Ogilvie is too stunned to speak for thirty seconds straight. Then he swallows and stammers out, “Yes, doctor. I- I understand.”
You nod tightly and add, “I’d like an apology now.”
“I’m sorry,” he says right away. It sounds more afraid than earnest, but that’ll get the job done. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”
“Good. I forgive you.” Then you give him a warm, friendly smile and a pat on the head that you have to rock up onto your toes to execute fully. “Now let’s get back to Mrs. Andrews so you can get another lumbar puncture under your belt before your next evaluation, alright?”
Ogilvie manages to get out, “Thanks,” before you turn around and lead him back to the ED. He looks like a scolded toddler, lip pouted and cheeks red, while you have that familiar unshakeable pep in your step.
And Brendon Park is smitten.
The next week, as you’re sending off a list of prescriptions, you hear Langdon’s voice from the other side of the ED. “Sharkbait, get over here!”
You turn toward Langdon and point at yourself. “Me?”
His eyes are big and begging. “Yeah, c’mon, I need you.”
“I have work to do, Frank.”
“Please?” He clasps his hands in front of his chest like a prayer. “Park’s going to kill me when he sees the state of these ribs.”
Exasperated, you cut back, “What the hell does that have to do with me?”
“You’re Sharkbait,” he replies, mimicking your expression. “When you’re in the room, he’s less of a dick.”
Several craving any time with Brendon, you roll your eyes and stomp over, telling him, “I’ll give you five minutes. Get me up to speed.”
He runs through the patient history with you while you gently palpate the chest.
“Jesus Christ,” you breathe as you feel the myriad of fractures all over the ribcage and sternum. “LUCAS?”
“On an elderly osteoporosis patient. Dumbass firefighter meatheads.” He shakes his head and mutters, “It’s basically a bag of bone soup in there.”
“Sounds promising,” Park announces, always knowing when to cut into a conversation. When he sees you, he sighs in relief, “Pipsqueak, thank god you’re on this, too. I don’t have the patience for dealing with Ken on my own today.”
As Langdon talks to Park with you just sort of standing there as an emotion diffuser, Santos and Whitaker watch in wonder from the hub.
Trinity, whose last interaction with the Shark ended with him saying she should switch to a career with no skeletons involved, scoffs and murmurs, “Why hasn’t he ripped her head off? She’s brand new; she doesn’t know how to placate him.”
“Her aura powers are unknown to us,” Whitaker mutters back. “She has some kind of sorcery ability incomprehensible to the masses.”
“I mean, she has nice tits,” Trinity reasons. “She’s smart. Made some good calls in front of him.”
Whitaker argues, “Baran’s brilliant and has great tits. He called her an imbecile last week.”
Amused, Trinity raises her eyebrows. “You think Dr. Al-Hashimi has great tits?”
“Not the point.” A minute later, Park leaves the room with a smile in your direction. You swish over to the hub to grab a new chart and Dennis asks, “What’s the deal with you and the Shark?”
Humming gently, you ask him absently, “What do you mean?”
Trinity cuts in to reply for them both, “Well, I mean, he likes you. Are you two fucking?”
Your eyes startle wide at the idea – tantalizing but impossibly far away. Park is so wildly out of your league you can barely entertain the thought. “What? No! Of course not. Brendon’s not as bad as you guys think. You just have to get to know him.”
Trinity mouths to Whitaker, Brendon?
Whitaker shrugs, baffled, and then muses as the three of you watch Park head toward the OR, “I didn’t realize that was a possibility.”
You chuckle and tease, “Maybe try being a better doctor next time?”
“Brutal, Sharkbait. Brutal.”
That weekend, the Pittsburgh Penguins hosts its annual Medical Worker Appreciation Night. Because Dana’s been nominated as a spotlighted nurse, the hospital sprung for discounted tickets in the name of staff morale.
Robby shepherds you and the other newer ED staff who’d gotten their hands on a ticket down to the PTMC section. When he checks seats, pointing everyone in the right direction, he frowns at yours. “Kid, do you wanna trade spots with me?”
Your brows furrow. “What? Why?”
“Look.”
Your eyes follow Robby’s pointing chin. At the end of the long row, Park’s perched on the edge of his seat, staring down the players doing warmups. He’s wearing a black Penguins hoodie, a black Penguins hat, and a pair of jeans that his meaty thighs battle for dominance with. You’ve never seen him outside of scrubs and it’s becoming a problem very quickly. You shrug and tell Robby, “I don’t mind.”
“You sure?”
“We get along great, actually.”
“That explains the new nickname,” he chuckles under his breath. “I figured it was because you’re a sacrificial lamb.”
Park catches your eyes and waves you over, his lips flirting with the concept of a smile. He can’t bear to say it out loud, can barely even tolerate the thought in his own head, but he’d looked over the seating chart on the HR receptionist’s computer and basically threatened Ogilvie’s life to switch with him (and then swore him to secrecy on similar conditions).
You plop down next to him and nudge him in the bicep. “Hi, Bren, I didn’t think you came to things like this.”
Bren. Nobody’s used a nickname besides ‘Shark’ for him in decades. He shrugs like his heart rate isn’t picking up at the way your arm has to touch his because of how broad he is. “It’s hockey.”
“It’s team bonding,” you tease. “You hate bonding. And teams that aren’t sports.”
“But I like free Pens tickets,” he replies simply. Then he notices your outfit. You’re wearing pants, at least – leggings, because fuck him, he figures – but your arms are agonizingly bare from the elbows down, your yellow tee not doing much to protect your skin. He frowns and asks, “Did you bring a jacket or something? You’re gonna freeze to death in here.”
You shake your head. “It’s not that cold; I’ll be okay.”
“Give it a period.”
“I’m not on my- Oh. They’re called periods in hockey?”
Biting back a mean joke because of your sweet, innocent eyes, he says, “Yeah. Periods. Three twenty-minute periods with intermissions between.
“You’re gonna have to explain everything to me,” you say as you stare at the different parts of the stadium. “I’m not from a hockey town.”
“I don’t mind,” he admits after a second. He adds carefully, “I never get to talk hockey outside of work.”
“No gym buddies to gab with?”
“No gym buddies,” he confirms.
“That’s shocking, considering the biceps of it all.” And the pecs you would honestly motorboat. And the big veiny hands. And the thick thighs you could bounce on for hours. You swallow hard, thankful you don’t have a dick to give away your thoughts. “Are you one of those douchey guys who puts in his AirPods and focuses on his form in the mirror? Oh my god, do you film yourself so you can make sure you-”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he laughs, raising his hands in defeat. “You’ve got me pegged, sweetheart. I have to be strong because I crack femurs all day. And you have to focus on form if you want to get strong and don’t want to get hurt.”
“So no time for gym buddies.” You lilt, sweet and easy, “Maybe you can show me some time. I could use a little more muscle and a little less-”
“No, you definitely don’t need ‘less’ anything,” he protests way too quickly as his mouth goes dry. He can barely tolerate the sight of you in leggings this close to him; he’d burst a blood vessel if you were in bike shorts and a sports bra like his brain immediately supplies. With his neck going splotchy pink, he course corrects, “Lifting isn’t about losing weight or visible muscle. It’s about building practical strength.”
And your body is fucking perfect. If you wanted to change it out of insecurity, he’d drop to his knees and kiss your feet until you realized you shouldn’t change a thing. Your thighs are just the right thickness, your ass downright juicy, your stomach spectacularly soft, your breasts-
Park sucks in a sharp, deep breath and shakes out the thoughts. “I’m gonna grab something to eat before the game starts. Can I get you anything?”
After a second of thinking, you ask sweetly, “Do they have cheese fries?”
“They have every disgusting, greasy sports food you could ever want,” he confirms. “I’ll be right back with some goodies.”
You occupy yourself by playing social butterfly, introducing yourself to everyone you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. When Park returns, he takes a second to admire you running around spreading your sunshine. Then you return to his side and squeal when you see a mountain of loaded cheese fries that make your mouth water in the best way.
Before sitting down to share them with you, Park shoves a folded garment into your arms. “Put this on. I won’t be able to focus on the game if you’re shivering next to me the whole time.”
“Aw, Bren, thank you.” Your voice borders on a whimper as you unfold the classic lacer pullover, black with yellow and tan bars around the lower hem and arms, the iconic penguin himself at the center of the chest. “Just let me know how much I owe you for it – at least for half.”
He rolls his eyes. “Shut up; it’s a gift.”
“Okay, thank you so much, that’s so sweet, but the suggestion to shut up is incredibly offensive given I disclosed my word vomit diagnosis to you,” you reply seriously, glaring at him.
Park clutches his chest and tells you, “I apologize for making light of your vulnerability with me.”
“I forgive you because of the cheese fries.” You examine the back of the thick, cozy hoodie and observe, “Crosby. Is he your favorite? Or just the cheapest sweater?”
Park smirks (it’s the most expensive sweater) and replies, “Sid the Kid. Best player Pittsburgh’s ever had. Best player in the league, if you ask anyone with a brain. Rumor has it he’s retiring soon; I think that’ll be my first true heartbreak.”
You balk at the idea. “You’ve never had your heart broken? I get my heart broken ten times a month.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You go on that many dates?”
“No, no, no, no dates,” you quickly reply. Too quickly. A little desperately. “But it breaks my heart when I see sad puppy commercials or old people eating alone at restaurants or trailers for romantic dramas at the movies. One time I cried because I could only find one of my favorite socks. I tried and I tried but the second one was just…gone. I couldn’t look at the single one without getting so sad it was hard to-”
“Team introduction’s starting, then the national anthem,” he interrupts gently. Reluctantly. Like he’s actually invested in your rambling. “Put a lid on the word vomit for ten minutes and I’m all yours for a full sock eulogy.”
You giggle and salute as the whole stadium stands. “Yes, sir.”
He rolls his shoulders and pretends that doesn’t go straight to his dick. When you cheer extra loud for Sidney Crosby as he skates to center, jumping a tiny bit like your smile is too big to hold in your body, Park damn near swoons. He wants to sling his arm around your waist and pull you into him, to kiss the top of your head, to, fuck, put you on his shoulders and parade you around or something. He can’t even name everything he wants to do with and to and for you. It’s agony.
Once the game starts, Park takes care to make sure you understand what’s going on. “That’s Ovechkin. You’re gonna see one hell of a game. He’s Crosby’s biggest rival.”
“So we hate him,” you reply obediently. “Got it.”
He smiles at you and confirms, “Yeah, we hate him. Mostly because he’s really fucking good.”
You nudge him with your shoulder and tease, “That’s why people hate you, so it’s good company.”
He barks out a laugh. “Is that why?”
“That or because you never show off that handsome smile.”
With a pout, he counters, “I smile plenty.”
“He said, frowning.”
“I’ll smile when the Pens win,” he promises.
But, despite his best efforts, he does, actually, get caught smiling before the end of the game. In a big, obnoxious way. After the end of the second period, with the game tied 1-1, you watch the kiss cam flying around the arena with dopey heart eyes so precious Brendon can’t rip his eyes away from you. It’s too cute of an expression not to memorize.
You don’t notice he’s staring, too wrapped up in loving to see people in love, until his face lights up the big screen. You’re so shocked that you don’t process just how bright and intent his eyes are, his lips soft and slightly upturned, everything about his expression and posture screaming ‘god, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ It’s the kind of expression kiss cam operators gravitate toward; only men who adore their girls look like that.
Before he can even truly realize that it’s you and him on screen, his eyes widening, you grab him and plant a big fat shimmery lip gloss kiss on his cheek. Then you grin, following it up by blowing a kiss and winking to the camera.
And Brendon Park smiles wide enough to power the whole arena, the apples of his cheek glowing neon pink and he drops his eyes and shakes his head in delight.
The video is immediately saved and sent to the ED group chat by none other than Trinity Santos, naturally. One of the nurses proceeds to forward it to the nurses chat, where it makes its way to the ortho chat. By the time the camera even pans away, the moment has been forever cemented in PTMC history as the first time Park the Shark has smiled earnestly – innocently, even – in front of his coworkers.
Only the whoops, cheers, and laughs from your nearby ED coworkers drops him back onto earth from cloud nine. Park frowns as he rubs his cheek with a napkin, pouting, “You got lipgloss on my face.”
“What was I supposed to do?” You gesture to Trinity and Whitaker, who are pumping their fists in their air victoriously. “Leave my adoring fans hanging?”
With a sheepish wave in their direction to get them to fuck off, he mutters, “I think you’ve permanently damaged my tough guy reputation.”
But you just reply in a sing-sony voice, “You didn’t have to blush.”
“Involuntary response to relevant stimulus.”
“Whatever you say, big guy.”
If he’s honest with himself, his smile isn’t half as bright when the Penguins win an hour later. It only warms back up to critical heat when you wrap him in a hug, gleefully jumping up and down as the puck hits the net right as the buzzer goes off. He’d kiss you for real if you weren’t surrounded by the PTMC staff.
Still, with your arms around the back of his neck, he can’t resist doing something. So he keeps it simple and asks, “It’s been a while since those cheese fries; want to grab dinner with me?”
When you say yes, his heart sings.
After the hockey game, there’s a definite shift in your friendship with Brendon. It’s more playful. Less guarded. The two of you grab dinner together after your shifts whenever Park doesn’t have a late surgery and, if you miss out on dinner, he insists on coffee in the morning. He tells you about his personal life and you do the same, not that it’s hard on your end. Gradually, you start to notice the differences that everyone else in the ED picked up on months and months ago. The way his face goes from hardened to soft when he sees you entering a room. The way his texts have emojis instead of periods. The way he accepts your hugs instead of turning them into handshakes.
Right when you’ve gotten up your confidence to actually ask him out, you overhear him and Robby talking in hushed tones inside Park’s office. The door’s cracked and you’d come up specifically to ask him to go out with you in a few days on Saturday because you both actually have a weekend off.
With an X-Ray in hand, Robby pushes, “Are you sure you can’t do the revision yourself on Sunday? I know you’re not scheduled to be here, but the family trusts you now, and it might be-”
“I told you, man, I’m surprising my girlfriend on Sunday. I’ve been sitting on these ballet tickets for weeks already and I don’t do shit like that,” Park tells him sternly. No room for argument. “You’re in good hands with Torres; she’s as good as me any day – maybe better since people actually like her.”
You don’t wait for Robby’s response. Losing your ability to breathe, you scamper to the nearby staircase and start stamping your way down to the ED. Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces. No, a million. They fall down the stairs like glass, so heavy you’re surprised you can’t hear them echoing.
Stopping just shy of the ED entrance, you tuck yourself away underneath the staircase to catch your breath, trying not to let yourself cry. Park’s just one of those guys, you figure. Guys with ultra-secure girlfriends who don’t care if they have female friends who drool all over their biceps. Guys who don’t mention their ultra-secure girlfriends because they know what they have at home and they probably don’t even realize you’re flirting because they’re so enamored with their great, successful, probably gorgeous girlfriend who knows exactly what she’s doing in bed and always satisfies him and-
There are the tears.
Feelings of inadequacy and sadness well up and spill over. It’s hard to keep your sniffles and sobs quiet enough not to draw attention when all you want is to ugly sob over a tub of ice cream and your favorite movie. Only one more hour in your shift. You can make it. Right?
Upstairs, you hear the door squeak open and heavy footsteps traipse down toward you. Familiar footsteps. Of course. He probably saw you running away from his office and is coming to find you because you have the luck of a worm after a rainstorm.
When Park comes closer, he spots your elbow sticking out from behind the staircase. Hiding. You’re still crying, unable to stop yourself until you get it all out. Silently, yes, but with puffy eyes and tiny whimpers and sniffles that escape every once in a while. Tucked up underneath the staircase, you blot at your cheeks with the sleeve of your daisy-patterned turtleneck.
Rage devours Brendon’s insides. He beelines for you and demands with a level of anger in his eyes you’ve never seen before, “What’s wrong? Did someone make you cry?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” You try a shaky smile and wipe your face again even though more tears just fall in their wake. “Just, um, I’m on my period and I’m emotional.”
Which isn’t not true. It’s the last day or two and you are emotional. It’s definitely not helping the situation. Park’s a little taken aback you admitted that so freely, but he’s a doctor, dammit, so he doesn’t let it faze him. Instead he offers, “Okay, well, um, do you, ah, do you need anything? I have some ibuprofen in my office if-”
You start crying harder, ugly sobs now at how nice he’s being when he just unintentionally and unknowingly turned you into a 12-year-old girl having her first heartbreak.
Park stammers, unsure how to deal with this situation. “Okay, ah, maybe just a hug, then?”
You nod ardently and he pulls you close with his strong arms. You nestle your face in his chest and breathe deep. If this is the closest you’re gonna get to having him, you’re gonna milk it for all it’s worth. With your nose pressed to his muscles as you start to calm down, you whimper, “You smell really good.”
Still tentative, Brendon murmurs, “It’s Dior. My mom bought it for me.”
Then you start crying even more.
That night, after making some lazy excuse to Brendon for why you can’t get dinner like usual, you curl up on your couch and vow to set some darn boundaries with the guy. You’re only going to get yourself hurt if you indulge in dinners and coffees and stolen gazes and elevator conversations. So you put his messages on silent, only returning them when you actually have a second instead of carving out time. You make a point of ducking into other rooms when you know he’s coming down for a consult, ignoring the desperate calls for Sharkbait from your hapless coworkers.
And by the time you’re clocked out on Friday night, you almost feel better about the situation. Well, that’s a lie. You actually don’t feel better at all. If anything, you feel much, much worse because you don’t have your best friend to hang out with anymore. You’re going to have to resort to drinks with the Pittlings if you don’t find another attending soon.
But at least you have the weekend to wallow.
Walking to your bus stop with Celine Dion blasting in your ears, you try to focus on the pretty sunset and the wins of the shift instead of letting your brain drift to-
Fuck.
Brendon’s standing at your bus stop with his stance wide and his arms crossed like a bodyguard, forearms looking extra delectable in the sunset. He’s not a hallucination from your lovesick mind nor a hologram designed to trip you up on the way home.
You scurry up to him with averted eyes and ask, “What are you doing here? You drive a Rolls-Royce.”
“Yeah, and that Spectre is my damn baby, but you take the bus when you’re ignoring my offer for rides. So here I am.” His eyes drill through your forehead and your resolve. “Can we talk now?”
Weakly, you mutter back, “My bus is in five minutes.”
“You’re not taking the bus. I’m driving you.” The firmness of his voice makes your knees wobble. He nods over his shoulder toward the small park next to the hospital. “We’re talking. Come on.”
Then he takes your hand – you want to throw up – and leads you through the park entrance to a shaded spot under a tree where the light makes his chiseled features agonizingly beautiful. Like a fucking Roman marble sculpture. He doesn’t wait for you to say anything, instead taking charge and launching in, “What’s going on with you? Why have you been ignoring me the last few days? If I did something to hurt you, tell me and I’ll fix it. I know I’m a dumbass about the feelings stuff sometimes, a lot of the time, but I’m not going to mess shit up with you, so you have to let me know what I need to do better.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” you whimper. You hate how pathetic you sound. How downtrodden and heartbroken. But Brendon looks hurt, too, which makes you feel ten times as bad. So you rush out a hasty version of the truth, “I came up to your office on Wednesday to ask you on a date this weekend, but then- then I heard you telling Robby about your girlfriend who you’re surprising on Sunday and it just, like, crushed me so bad even though I know it was so silly for me to think I’d ever have a chance with someone like you in the first place since you’re this sexy strong surgeon and I’m so not but I thought maybe in the last couple months-”
“Woah, pipsqueak, hey.” Brendon cups your cheek in his hand to cut you off once the shock of your words wears off. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Unable to meet his eyes, you start to feel the tears coming. Dammit. You stare at your pink sneakers – the same ones you were wearing when the two of you met, you realize – and let them fall to the ground. After a minute, you manage to admit, “I just- I don’t think I can be this close to you if you have a girlfriend. It’s great that she’s so cool about you having female friends, but I’m just so sensitive and I know that’s not your fault but-”
“Hold on.” Brendon places both hands on your shoulders, staring at you like you’re an alien making first contact. Baffled beyond his wildest dreams, he explains slowly, “You’re my girlfriend.”
Between sniffles and shaky breaths, you whimper out, unable to process anything, “Huh?”
“My girlfriend. Who I’m surprising on Sunday. That would be you.”
Now it’s your turn to go catatonic, eyes wide and shimmery. “What are you talking about?”
“I asked you out to dinner after the hockey game,” he tells you, exasperated in the cutest way you’ve ever seen. Like you’re dumb but like maybe he’s also dumb. “I paid for your dinner. I insisted you get dessert. The whole thing. And we- Sweetheart, what do you think all the dinners we eat together are? Why else would I always be inviting you for coffee? Why would I always pay? I don’t just dump a couple hundred bucks a week on casual coworkers.”
Starting to feel silly instead of sad, you cover your laugh and protest, “I don’t know; I thought you were being friendly! You make $500,000 a year; you should be paying for all your friends’ coffees!”
“$650,000, actually, I have a sub-specialty in pediatric surgery,” he replies as though you wouldn’t drop your panties right here in the park. “More importantly, I am the least friendly person in the entire hospital. Maybe the entire city.” He runs a hand through his hair and replies a bit bashfully, “I kind of figured you like that about me or we wouldn’t be dating.”
The last two months recontextualize in your head in rapid succession. Little moments appear lit up by neon lights that blare, HEY DUMBASS! Brendon tied your shoes last week instead of telling you they were loose, dropping down on his knees right outside the ED where anyone could see just to make sure you wouldn’t trip. He always takes your backpack from your shoulders before walking you to the parking garage and opening the door of his gorgeous navy blue sedan for you. Even the way he looked at you at the hockey game.
God, you’re an idiot.
With your lips parted and your eyes rapidly blinking, you come up with a new protest: “You’ve never even tried to kiss me, Brendon. What the fuck? You should be kissing me all the time! You could’ve been jumping my bones ever since the hockey game; that would’ve made things pretty clear to me!”
“Jumping your bones?” He suppresses a laugh since you’re still flustered. He just kind of scoffs and explains with a shrug, “I guess I’m still old-school about that. A gentleman. I wasn’t picking up signals that you wanted me to, y’know, make a big move. Figured we should take it slow. I mean, you’re new to Pittsburgh, you’ve had some big life changes. And I have a history of being too, ah, too intense for some women. I didn’t want to mess that up with you.”
“That’s actually really sweet, Bren,” you reply, sniffling back tears. Waving a hand in front of your face to cool down your burning cheeks, you pinch your eyebrows together and point out, “Okay, well, then we never did, like, a ‘what are we?’ talk.”
“That’s because I’m 38 years old,” he replies bluntly. “When I’m with my woman, she has my full attention. My devotion. Everything. I don’t need to have that talk.”
My woman. The phrase makes you feel kinda bubbly like soda. You smack him on the chest and poke him, “Clearly you do, dummy!”
After you nudge him, Park catches your hand in his, fingers enveloping yours. Fuck, his hands are so big and sturdy. Then his eyes soften and he kisses your fingers. He leans down slightly to make better eye contact. “Okay, I’ll have that talk if you want it.” Crystal clear, blue eyes positively sparkling with amusement and adoration, he asks, “Would you like to be my very, very official girlfriend?”
You let out an absolute squeal. It’s delighted and silly and so cute his stomach turns. God, how did a girl like you get your claws in him? When you throw your arms around his neck and he spins you around, he doesn’t care why or how. He just cares that the first words out of your mouth are, “Yes, of course, obviously.” You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, feet barely touching the ground, and murmur against his ear, “This is my favorite night ever.”
“You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, princess,” he assures as he sets you down on your own balance. Then he holds your face in his palm and finally bends down to kiss you properly.
But you stop him with your pointer finger in his lips, his eyes widening. “No, no, no, I can’t have our first kiss be when I’m all puffy and snotty from crying.”
He gives a pretend growl but concedes, “Fair enough. Whatever you want. C’mon, let’s get you home.”
Before he turns away, though, you step on your very tippy toes (and then some) and kiss his forehead before asking so sweetly, “How about you come over tomorrow? I know we already have plans Sunday – by the way, I really love the ballet, so good job – but maybe we should have a first date that I know is a first date beforehand?”
“Yeah, of course,” he replies wistfully, still feeling your lips on his skin. On his thick fucking skull. “I’ll go anywhere you ask me.”
Like you asked, Brendon knocks on your door at 3PM sharp. You promised to entertain him and make him dinner and he could absolutely care less about any of the details beyond getting to be with you like he craves. He’d agonized over what to wear to an embarrassing extent, nearly caving and texting his mother for her approval. But that would be a fate worse than death, so he settles on dark jeans rolled at the ankle and a black tee because a little old lady told him he looked hunky when he wore them to the pharmacy a few weeks ago.
You answer the door wearing nothing but the oversized Penguins sweater he bought you, a pair of panties he can barely see under it, and knee-high socks.
Park’s pupils dilate.
In that one look, you can finally see why they call him Shark. He’s a predator latching onto you, ready to devour you alive. You take a step back and he steps forward like you’re pulling him by a string attached to his gut. He doesn’t even notice himself closing and locking the door, too fixated on the expanse of your legs and the Pittsburgh Penguins logo on your chest. He tentatively puts one hand on your waist and sighs reverently, “Yup, this is the singular sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
You look away from him, bashful under his praise: “Well, y’know, I wanted to surprise my boyfriend since he’s planning on surprising me tomorrow.” Then your attempt at a sultry voice goes away and is replaced by your usual glittery one when you see that he’s carrying a bouquet of pastel pink, soft orange, and angel white gerberas in the hand not touching you. “Brenny, did you get me flowers?”
‘Brenny’ might be too far, but he can’t bear to tell you that. You could call him anything and he’d accept it. He lifts the flowers up and offers them to you. “Um, yes. Is that still romantic or is it really, really lame now?”
“Still romantic,” you assure him with misty eyes, taking the bouquet and skipping away toward the kitchen.
Brendon toes off his shoes and follows you into the house, not surprised to find the place decked out in pastel colors and soft fabrics and dreamy artwork. You dig through your cabinets to find a porcelain vase you thrifted years ago and arrange the flowers inside of it.
As you place them on the windowsill, you give him a soft gaze, softer than any he’s been on the receiving side of. “This is the sweetest thing any man’s ever done for me.”
Brendon pulls you into a warm embrace, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger, and says, “Baby, you’re about to have your bar raised, because flowers are the least you deserve.” When your lips part into a shy smile, he asks, “Can I kiss you now?”
You nod eagerly and rock up onto your toes, tilting your chin to get as close to him as possible. Brendon’s gentle, boyish smile makes your heart pound in your throat in the moments before he closes the gap. He takes a second to admire the slopes of your face when you’re gazing up at him like he means something.
And then he kisses you.
It’s eager and bright, the way you kiss after prom night. You have to fight not to smile when he holds your face between both hands, so much desire in his touch that you can feel his resolve to take it slow with you melting away.
Suddenly, at the sound of you giggling for only a second, Brendon’s arms loop around your back. Before you know it, he’s lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You hop up, knowing he’ll catch you, and lock your legs around his hips. When you feel his smooth, cold belt buckle against your panties, you gasp out a moan at the contact.
Brendon chuckles and buries his forehead in the crook of your neck. He groans quietly, “Baby, you can’t make all those little sounds or you’re gonna kill me.”
Breathless, you tease back, “Then you definitely can’t call me baby.”
He smirks, kisses you again, and asks in a lower and more pointed voice, “Where’s your bedroom, baby?”
“It’s right upstairs; if you wanna put me down, I can-”
He shakes his head and keeps you balanced firmly in his arms, walking back toward the staircase. “No point in having these muscles if my girl ever has to touch the ground again.”
As he carries you up the stairs so easily that you’re turning into a person made more of giggles than anything else, you ask him, “Are you gonna carry me around from patient to patient forever?”
“If that’s what you want,” he replies with a laugh as he pushes through your bedroom door. Guiding you down onto the bed, which you’ve meticulously made, Brendon murmurs against the pulse point just beneath your ear, “I’ll give you everything you want, kitten.”
At the tender pet name, you can’t help but moan, encouraging him to touch you as he pins you to the bed just by virtue of how big his body is. He pulls back and gazes down at you so gently. Your heartbeat is slow again, comfortable, safe, but the heat between your legs is undeniable.
Brendon lowers himself down to kiss you once more. The energy between you shifts in that kiss, like he’s become painfully aware of being in your bedroom, your body pliant beneath him, your eyes full of trust and adoration he hasn’t experienced in years. His kiss is slow and sweet and simple. He shifts onto his side so one of his hands can cradle your cheek while the other gingerly takes your waist. You can tell he’s being painfully careful with you, his gentle touch revealing a certain level of fear – that he’ll hurt you or break you or scare you off.
So you reach forward and twine your fingers in the short hair at the base of his neck, gently scratching his scalp, and press your body against his. One leg thrown over his hip so that he can feel the heat of your barely clothed cunt. You arch your back and wiggle a tiny bit so that his hand almost has to move to your ass. He chuckles into the kiss and that makes you whimper. But he doesn’t do more, doesn’t grab or push or demand.
You pull back an inch, stare at him seriously, and murmur, “You’re not gonna break me, Bren.”
Mischief flickers in his blue eyes. He knows perfectly well what you’re asking, even if he’s tentative to give it to you. “What are you trying to say, sweetheart? Use your words.”
Mimicking his own voice, you bat your lashes and offer, “What’s the point in having those muscles if you don’t throw your girl around a little? C’mon, Shark, I know you’re not a shy lover.” You sit up just enough to reach down and lift the hockey sweater up and over your head. Underneath, you’ve got a black lace unlined bra, filled out only by the weight of your breasts, and it’s absolutely sinful. “Touch me like you mean it.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, this is one hell of a surprise,” he rasps as he grabs your tits through the fabric, a rough sting buzzing through your body. The sight of his hands against the lace flips the switch in his mind and he’s hunting for blood in the water. “I didn’t know you owned anything black.”
As he pinches your nipples, mean and certain, the fabric of the lace adding a scratchy friction, you gasp, “It’s a special occasion.”
“Yeah?” His hands run down toward your thighs, kneading the thickness of your waist and hips with a greed that approaches true obsession. You lose the ability to think when he bends down and bites the side of your waist, his teeth quickly becoming less and less gentle as your moans get louder and louder. “What’s so special?”
You can only whimper as he roughly manhandles you upwards so that he can unhook your bra, using only one hand. Fucking surgeons. All you can think about is what else those hands of his can do. You’ve noticed how thick his fingers are a million times and now you might actually get to feel them the way you want.
Brendon can see the lust laid bare over you, chest rising and falling faster, eyes wide and waiting, skin prickled with goosebumps. Hooking his fingers beneath the edges of your panties and pulling them down, he teases, “Out of words now, pretty girl?”
You take five seconds to breathe, swallow hard, and order, “Take your clothes off.”
He throws his head back and grins. “Good choice of words.”
While you prop yourself on your elbows for a better view, Brendon steps off the bed and tugs his shirt off first. He even does that thing buff guys do where he pulls it off by the back, his arm muscles offensively large as he reveals his abs. His muscles are less defined than they are sturdy, built not like an Abercrombie model but more like a lumberjack or, y’know, a fridge. The way his obliques cut down into his hips is downright pornographic.
You let out a long breath. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Perfectly and completely aware, he gives you a hunky grin. “What? Something wrong?”
You bite your lower lip and physically try to stop yourself from staring, but you just keep failing. Because he’s your boyfriend. Sitting on the edge of the bed now, gradually drawing closer to him like a magnet, you attempt to tease, “Are you always this much of a cocky bastard about your hot bod?”
“My hot bod?” His hands go to his belt and he slowly removes it. Then, once he’s stepped out of his jeans and you’re blinded by the outline of his, yes, proportionally long and thick cock against his black boxer briefs, he says, “Yeah, I always am.”
Eyes greedily drinking down every inch of his body and imagining all the ways you could play with it, you manage to mumble out, “You should be.”
God, he even makes taking off his underwear hot. It must be those damn thighs. Or the everything else. With your eyes trained squarely on his fat cock, mouth actually watering, Brendon steps toward and lifts your chin. “Like what you see, princess?”
With that same confident smirk on his lips, he takes your small hand and wraps it around his shaft. Suddenly you get the whole ‘beer-can-sized-dick’ thing you’ve read in way too much erotica because you can’t close your hand around his girth. “Oh.”
“What? Bigger than you thought? You intimidated?”
“Honey, I think everyone you’ve ever met knows you have a big dick.” Your eyes flick up to his playfully. “And I’m definitely not intimidated.”
“Really?”
“You’ve never intimidated me. Not like you do everyone else.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m so into you.” As you smile coyly, Brendon thrusts between your fingers, watching every miniscule change in your expression – which is rapidly growing less patient. He cups your cheek with his hand and asks, “Want a taste?”
You open your mouth. Obedient, immediate. When his tip touches your tongue, you eagerly lap up a sticky drop of precum and then take him between your lips. Brendon has to grip your headboard hard to tolerate the sight of you sucking him with such a precious, adoring, sweet look in your eyes. It feels like you’re thanking him with your mouth, making the prettiest damn noises for him to memorize and play on repeat.
When you lift your hand to gently tug and roll his balls, Brendon hangs his head and groans, loud and low, gravelly in a way that tickles the back of your mind. “Fuck, baby, that’s- that’s perfect.” Your happy hum in reply makes his toes curl into the carpet. “Jesus, you drive me crazy, you know that? I’ve never been this obsessed with someone.”
You pull off him and beam, lips shiny and slightly swollen now. “Really?”
Brendon pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you, easily maneuvering you so that your head’s back on the pillows and his hands are on either side of your face. He kisses you hard, claiming, and says, “It’s actually become a huge problem for me. You’re all I can think about.”
You giggle breathlessly and ask, “Is that a complaint?”
“Mmm. There’s that little laugh of yours. That’s how you got me,” he groans before kissing you again. “I made some stupid goddamn joke during surgery and the whole team was exhausted but you laughed. Just like that. And I was done for.”
You cover your face, embarrassed and delighted all at once, and remember, “Then I said you have a cutting-edge sense of humor.”
“And I thought that was funny,” he goes on with a fond chuckle. His hands have never stopped roaming over your body, playing with your breasts or digging into your hips. “You’re so gorgeous and perfect I thought that was funny. You don’t even realize how deep you’ve got your hooks in me, baby.”
Biting your lip, you try to come up with something to say to match his sudden deep sweetness, but he stops you from being able to think at all. His lips drag down your neck, biting and kissing in equal measure until you’re squirming and bucking under him. Then, just beneath your ear, he growls, “Can I leave marks?”
The sound you make is nothing short of pathetic. You clutch the back of his head, tugging his hair a bit to push his teeth against your neck, and whine, “Please.”
“Yeah?” He’s grinning, now, but he can’t bear to let you see. “Want the whole world to know you’re mine now?” You whimper and nod, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. He murmurs, “Good girl.”
Fuck, you’re soaked.
As Brendon sucks hard over your pulse, branding you with the dark shape of his kiss, his right hand goes between your legs, pushing them apart. Two of his thick fingers dip between your folds to collect your wetness before smearing it over your clit. “All this for me? You’re easy to work up.”
You laugh and tuck your forehead into his bicep. “Are you surprised?”
“Not even a little,” he chuckles. Making sure to kiss you and hold you as his fingers work firm circles around your clit, Brendon purrs, “I’ve thought about all the sounds you must make a thousand times. How you must be so enthusiastic to be a good girl. You’re so easy for me to read; I knew I could get you off better than anyone else.”
You nod against his arm and moan when he finds just the right tempo on your clit, his fingers ridiculously skilled. “Just like that.”
“Whatever you need, sweet girl,” he assures, listening to you and keeping his fingers exactly the way they are. Methodical.
“Brendon,” you gasp as your pussy pulses wantingly around nothing, “I really need you to fuck me.”
“I love the enthusiasm, kitten, but I’m not gonna hurt you,” he replies simply. Reluctantly. There’s a tenderness to his voice that shouldn’t fit with his harsh attitude and masculine features, but it does. It’s him, beneath everything he shows the rest of the world. He drops down between your legs and nuzzles loving kisses over your sensitive inner thighs, worshipping into your skin, “If I’m gonna fuck you to sleep tonight, then I can’t leave you sore from the first time. Let me make you cum before I’m inside you, kitten. Can you be good and do that?”
With your eyebrows knitted together and sweat on your brow, you nod and whine, “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask,” he tells you. It’s insane that a man being offensively cocky with all those smirks and chuckles is so hot. He leans back, sitting between your legs, and begins to plunge his fingers inside of you. Just his two middle fingers have to be as thick as any dildo you’ve used before. He bends at the waist so he can keep biting and sucking on your body, the most brutal on your nipples but sure to get ample coverage over your waist and stomach and hips. When he feels you clamping down tight around him, the pleasure so much you can’t come up with any response besides your body’s natural reactions, he teases lightly, “Careful, baby, my hands are my livelihood.”
Eyes large and glassy, you breathe, “Sorry about that.”
Brendon’s thumb goes to your clit and your walls tighten again. This time, he doesn’t tease you. He works your clit intently, trying to find what he’d found before, and doesn’t rest until he’s right there. Your delicious gasp gives him all the cue he needs. With his thumb flat and firm, he rubs your clit in time with his fingers curling back toward himself. His eyes focus on your expression, each detail, and he’s addicted to your every sound and twitch.
“There you go,” he praises while your pussy tightens up slowly, threatening to snap into sparkles. “That’s right. Just trust me. All I want is to make you feel good.
Your orgasm bursts like waves against a hull, building and building until it crashes over you, rocking your gravity and stealing your breath. Brendon’s there with you through it, his blue eyes a lighthouse, his stupid smirk your shore. His free hand holds you down by the hip as he lets you enjoy the fluttery aftershocks, not quite forcing you into overstimulation but not letting up until you’ve had as much as you can take.
When you’re finally completely breathless and satiated, Brendon slowly withdraws his fingers and then licks them clean. He leans down for a moment and laps at your inner thighs, tasting your tart juices and salty skin. Your hips buck instinctively when he presses one tiny kiss to your clit and then laughs at your reaction, breath ghosting down your hot cunt. With his slick-wet hand, he fists his cock and asks, “How do you want me, sweetheart?”
You take a few seconds to think and admire the view before asking, “Can I ride you? Whenever I’ve fantasized about us having sex, that’s what I’m doing.”
“You can do literally whatever you want to me, baby,” he reminds you as he reclines on the bed next to you. He steals one more kiss from you before you start moving to your knees, collecting your balance. “What exactly do you fantasize about?”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you reply as you climb into his lap, hands going straight to grabbing his pecs with your nails digging deliciously into the flesh, “but you have these giant fucking tits I’d like to fondle.” Then, as he laughs, you rub your sloppy cunt up and down his shaft, watching his eyes close and hearing his breath go shaky with lust. “I wanna see your arms when you hold onto my hips and thrust up into me. Wanna feel how strong your thighs are underneath me.”
Brendon shakes his head and snickers, “Wow, I had no idea how much you were going to objectify my muscles.”
“Shut up; yes, you did.”
You roll your eyes and sink down on him, nice and slow, savoring the way he has to resist slamming up to meet you.
He groans, hands finding purchase on the curve of your waist, “Yeah, you’re right.”
You’re completely forgotten how to talk. The stretch of him is divine. Everything you’d imagined and then some. You have to be careful not to get too eager too fast because his length is definitely enough to bruise your cervix if you aren’t gentle with yourself while your pussy adjusts to him. Which is sad, considering the only thing you’ve ever wanted in life all of a sudden is to bounce on Park the Shark’s huge cock until you pass out.
Instead, you slowly rock back and forth, your hands flush on his pecs, with your eyes pinched shut and your mouth falling open. Brendon reaches up to hold your chin, forcing you to open your eyes, and checks softly, “Too much? We can slow down and-”
“Shut up,” you order breathily. He smiles, puts his hands behind his head a moment, and enjoys the view of you being a tiny bit bossy. “Feels so fucking good, I promise. Not too much. Just- just- Jesus.”
“Well, they do say he was hung.”
Your laugh is addictively adorable, sounding almost sleepy from the enormous effort of acclimating to him. “You’re so awful.”
Dragging his hands down and resting them on your ass, he coos back, “And you’re sooooo into it.”
When he gives you a quick upward thrust, your response turns into a squeak, “Yeah.”
From there, Brendon helps you out. He knows he’s not exactly an easy man to take in this position – beyond the size of his cock, his thighs and glutes are so well-developed that your knees don’t even reach the mattress on either side of his hips – so he holds you in place and rolls his hips up into yours, slow and precise.
Once he can tell you’re getting comfortable, breaths easy and moans tumbling out again, he murmurs, “How about you touch yourself?”
Eyebrows knitted together, you sigh, “Already so much, Bren.”
Purposefully missing the point, he sighs back, “I guess I can do it for you, princess.”
When his thumb goes to your clit, your nails dig into his chest. Mean pink half moons rise in their wake, but you can’t stop yourself – and he doesn’t mind. So stretched out, your pussy pulses more than it clamps down, each contraction a fluttery thing that’s somehow more intense than the last. He’s grinning to himself as he feels your orgasm approaching fast. You’re so relaxed with him that he can control your pleasure with the ease of a decades-long lover. He’s going to have to teach you to be less trusting, maybe teach you to fight, but right now all he wants is for you to yield to him completely.
You cum with a long, drawn-out whine, sweat shiny on your hairline, and Brendon has to take over completely as your thighs twitch and falter. It’s impossible to hold yourself up through the roiling pleasure that overtakes you in a deluge. Your wetness drips down his balls and onto your bed and you’re not sure you’ve ever been this soaked from how much a partner’s turned you on and worked you up.
“Aw, my sweet baby,” he purrs as you fight to stay upright, your thighs burning for relief in the wake of your second orgasm, “trying so hard to keep up.”
While you let out tiny, cute whimpers, Brendon pulls out slowly and stands up, ignoring your complaining whine at the lack of contact. He goes to your bedside table and muses, “Let’s see what we have here.” Your cheeks burn as he thumbs through your admittedly maybe-too-ample sex toy collection. Taking out your baby blue silicone mini wand, Brendon grins. “Hot, young, single doctor – knew I’d find some goodies in here.”
You’re totally gone by now, anything but your desire to be with him gone out the window, and he can tell. It’s his favorite thing in the world. When he says, “get on your knees for me,” your brain is so mush for him that you do it without a single thought or word, presenting your ass beautifully with a placid smile on your lips.
Brendon yanks your hips back so that he can stand at the foot of your bed – which means he can use all his strength to handle you. Lining up the thick, angry red tip, he tenderly rubs your ass and says, “Tell me if you want more.”
All you can do is nod. Usually he’d press you for words just to hear you beg, but the eye contact you make is full of so much pleading that there’s no need for further clarity. You really are so sensitive; there are tears of pleasure and need brimming at your waterline.
“Don’t worry that sweet little head of yours,” he practically growls as his cock slowly fills you deeper than he’d been able to get without being in total control, “I’m gonna take care of you, princess. Gonna keep this pretty pussy stuffed. Gonna make sure you get everything you need. I promise.”
Gripping your pillow tight as you once again adjust to his thickness, you nod and sniffle, “Thank you, Bren.”
“There she is,” he teases as he starts to slam into you. Each time he bottoms out, it comes with a weak, needy cry. “That’s my sensitive girl. Love that about you.”
“That I’m a crybaby?”
He picks up speed at the word and all it means to him. You’re never prettier than with tears running down your cheeks, making your eyes shiny and your lips wobbly. “You know how much of a confidence boost it is making you cry because of how good you feel?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, princess, I fucking love it.” Brendon flicks the vibrating wand onto its lowest setting and reaching one huge arm around your body to press it to your clit. Your corresponding moan turns into a screaming sob, loud and messy and violently sexy. It’s completely overwhelming and consuming. The way your face contorts from the intensity sends Brendon’s thrusts into overdrive, almost putting all his force into it now. As sweat falls from his forehead onto your back, he urges, “Let it out. Let it all out for me. I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”
And you weep.
The catharsis of his cock christening you takes over. You’ve cried during sex before, yeah (of course), but this is different. It feels like pure relief and connection. Your mind is totally present in your body, feeling every single place of contact where Brendon’s sweating skin slides against yours. The vibrator between your legs is making you shake in his arms, but you trust him to hold you up, to give you what you need, to take you through exactly what he wants to give you.
“C’mon, honey, focus, you can do one more, I promise,” Brendon grunts when he starts to feel your pussy weakly squeezing him again. He didn’t think he could get you to this point your first time together, but, if he can, he’s not going to stop.
He leans over your body, mounting you now, primal and animalistic, and wraps his elbow around your neck. The gesture pulls your cunt tight to him and snaps your head back, forcing you to take a deep breath that lights your brain up. Tears slip constantly out of your eyes and Brendon’s drunk on the sniffles and whimpers and moans that choke out of your thickened throat. You drunkenly kiss his arm as it muffles over your mouth.
Then you bite him.
Brendon’s hips stutter and his balls tighten up. You bite him again and again. And you’re not screwing around with it. Your teeth are ravenous on his flush, cutting in nearly enough to draw blood. You’re so thoughtless that you’re just going for whatever’s been put in front of your mouth; it’s irrelevant that it’s your boyfriend’s flesh.
“There it is,” Brendon groans, the pain of your bites sending him spiraling out into a new height of pleasure. “I can feel it coming on. Don’t you dare hold back, baby. Show me how much you can take. Give me another one and I’ll fill you up. I know what’s what you want, isn’t it?”
You nod without releasing his arm from your mouth. Drool spills from the sides of your lips, mixing with your tears, and you’re hurtling into the orgasm more than it’s welling up within you. The thought that really does it, though, isn’t Brendon’s encouragement or the vibrator unrelentingly stimulating your clit. No. It’s the idea that Brendon’s going to cum inside of you. Even on birth control, it’s a sign that he’s claiming you completely, making you his, being totally naked with you in every sense.
Bliss blows your brains out like a volcano finally giving into the pressure. Brendon holds you tight against him with his free hand, so tight that his thrusts are short and deep. The final few, he grinds into you, totally enveloped in your cunt, letting himself feel each millimeter as it grabs down on him and milks it out. When his cum coats your walls, both of you collapse onto the bed into gasping breaths.
Brendon kisses and kisses your shoulders while he goes soft inside of your pussy, gently pulling your chew toy away and shaking it out because it fucking kills in the most satisfying way possible. He makes a mental note to buy himself a long-sleeve to wear to work as he admires the egregious display of total horny thoughtlessness from the cutesy, angelic doctor.
He sits up and then murmurs, rubbing your back softly, “I’m gonna carry you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up, okay?”
You nod lazily, eyes half-lidded. You make no effort to help him, which only makes him smile to himself and shake his head. He’d do anything for you already. Cradling you like a baby, he pushes open the bathroom door with his foot and hits the light with his elbow. He’s absolutely done for. Setting you down on the toilet, he orders, “Go pee, baby. No UTIs allowed.”
Under normal circumstances, you definitely wouldn’t be able to pee in front of your boyfriend and you would definitely be mortified by the mere thought. But you’re so relaxed. Your whole brain is like a nice cozy hot tub, warm and bubbly and nothing to worry about. So you do as he instructs without question, some part of your brain acknowledging that he’s correct.
Brendon leans down on his knees, a posture that would be condescending in most situations but is nothing but adoring right now, and suggests, “Now, you said you were gonna cook, but how does delivery on my tab sound? We can get pizza.”
You give a hazy smile and nod. “That’s so nice, Brenny.”
“We’re gonna have to talk about that nickname,” he chuckles, booping the tip of your nose.
You pout out your lower lip. “I’m gonna call you whatever I want.”
“Yeah, alright, tough guy.”
“Mmm.” You lean up to kiss him. “Good boy.”
Brendon laughs and then stands up to fiddle with the handles of your shower until he’s happy with the temperature. Then he guides you to your feet and brings you under the water, not too hot or too cold on your over-sensitive skin. You’re glad you went for the house with the rain shower when you moved, both of you fitting comfortably beneath the stream at the same time. For a while, he just holds you, hands roaming up and down your back, as he kisses the top of your head.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, barely audible above the running water. “You’re gonna turn me into such a softie.”
You giggle, “Or you’re gonna make me a big mean gym bro.”
Brendon shakes his head and reaches for your shampoo. “Maybe we stick to our current roles.”
“I think they suit us,” you agree as he squirts some into his palm and orders you to turn around. With his fingers working devotion into your scalp, you hum gently under your breath and trust him to hold you up. During the course of the shower, you gradually come back to life. Once you’re sudsing his abs with your lufah, maybe being a touch too thorough by going over every spot with your hands, you lilt, “You fucked my brains out. I didn’t know that was actually a thing.”
“I did set a high bar for myself,” he concedes with a self-satisfied laugh, “but I’m guessing it’s only gonna get better from here.”
You stand on your toes and kiss him. “Does this mean we’re doing paperwork when we go back to the hospital?”
“I love paperwork,” he tells you, mock serious. He chuckles and whistles, “My first time to HR for something besides another doctor filing a complaint because I hurt their precious feelings by ensuring my patients get the highest quality care possible.”
“Big bad scary Park the Shark,” you agree as you turn off the water. You gently brush his cheek and coo, “My softie.”
Brendon rolls his eyes affectionately, shakes out his hair, and steps out, grabbing a towel and wrapping you up in it before taking one for himself. With a towel hanging low on his hips, he’s scrumptious enough to have your mind wandering toward round two even though your body wouldn’t even consider cooperating for a few more hours.
You head over to the mirror for your moisturizer and catch a glimpse of yourself with clear eyes for the first time since your sex brain turned off. Looking at the myriad of bite marks littered over your body, the flesh swollen and indented, you laugh, “Jesus, now I know why they call you Shark.”
“Yeah?” Park bares his left forearm to you, the one that had been in your face while he destroyed your cunt, to show off an absolute minefield of neon pink bites, some deep enough that they’re bruising already. Your eyes widen with guilt, but he quickly yanks you close and kisses you hard, nothing but lust and gratitude on his lips. He nips your neck and teases, “They’re gonna have to start calling you Sharkette.”
Summary: You make a decision and Robby and Jack have a talk about the past that they've both tried so hard to forget. An incident occurs where Robby chooses to help cover something up and Jack gives you a choice to make
Warnings: toxic relationship, inaccurate medical information, mentions of abortion, COVID, PTSD, brief physical assault and drug use
AN: Thank you so much to those of you who read and gave me feedback on Part 3 !! Enjoy Part 4 and please let me know what you think 💙. Remember to comment and reblog ! This is the last part before the finale :)
“Would it be okay if I used some of your toast and butter ?” Dennis asked, bringing you out of your haze “I can also just go get something too, I don’t mind”
“I was actually gonna order some comfort food from The Brew Theory down the street by the hospital” you grinned taking a seat at your dining table “What would you like ?”
“I’ve never been there” he shook his head with a chuckle “But you can pick for me, I like anything really”
“Oh and I’m low on groceries so I’m gonna do a drop off order, here add what you want so I can have it here” you slid over your phone to him
He stared down at it and shook his head “I’m good with whatever really”
“Dennis” you met his eyes “Add whatever you want and need, you work 4 sometimes 5 14 hour days in a row, you need to make sure you’re hydrated and nourished well. You think I don’t know that you’d eat the stale granola bars and nearly rotten fruit people would leave in the lounge ? You’re my friend, probably my only real friend, so please just accept this”
“I’m not some charity case, I can-”
“No you’re not” you shook your head “But you are someone who needs a little help…just like I do. We both need different kinds of help and I can and happily will help you with everything because you deserve it.”
He visibly appeared to hold back the emotion he wanted to show but you gave him a smile and sat down next to him at your bar area as you both picked out groceries for the week and ordered breakfast. Dennis had been the only man you had been friends with that ultimately didn’t want anything from you. You still remembered the first time you had met him and how he had essentially offered to do your work load for you because he was so concerned you didn’t know how to work the hospitals system
After he had dodged your invite to lunch and dinner for the 20th time you had followed him after shift only to find him sleeping in a dusty hospital bed in the abandoned wing of the hospital, sitting quietly as he listened to music and ate a left over half of a sandwich someone had forgotten in the staff fridge. You never brought it up fearing he’d stop talking to you but the memory never left your mind
Dennis was your friend, your real friend and kind of your only friend considering your other ones actually had jobs and lives that didn’t consist of being financially irresponsible or having a rendezvous with an older hospital attending or having whatever it was that you had with Jack. Unlike you they had their lives together and while you knew they’d try their best to be there for you, there was no point inconveniencing them with your issues
The rest of the morning was spent with you two walking through your apartment while showing him how things worked along with making sure he felt comfortable. When breakfast came you both inhaled your meals and put groceries away when they arrived soon after
“So” Dennis said as he finished the last of his iced coffee “What did you decide to do ?”
“Oh” you whispered “I don’t know yet”
“Wait sorry, that’s insensitive. I’m so sorry” he apologized sincerely “Wow I fucked up on that one bad”
You chuckled and rubbed your forehead “You’re fine really and to answer your question well….I don’t know. I know you know my dad from seeing him at the hospital but honestly if I were to keep this baby he wouldn’t speak to me ever again, him and my mother.”
“Oh” he looked down at his sock clad feet “But I mean….you’re their daughter, their only child. Maybe they’d only be mad at first then they’d come around…if you did keep it.”
“They wouldn’t” you shook your head “Not only that but if he ever found out that Robby was the father he’d do everything possible to ruin his career too and honestly that’s what makes me more sad. I could handle them not talking to me but him ? This is all he has, this is his life and if I were the reason it’d be taken from him I wouldn’t be able to ever forgive myself”
“This isn’t about him” Dennis said a little more stern than intended
“What do you mean ?” you asked
“I guess what I’m trying to say here is…I just really hope you make this decision for you and your well being and not because you’re scared of your parents or Robby’s reaction. This is your choice and this is your life and you should be the only who gets to decide what happens here, don’t think about them…think about you. What do you want ?” Dennis asked
“I want an abortion” you answered truthfully “I don’t want this baby and I want an abortion”
“Then don’t let anyone get in your way of that” he said gently “Don’t let anyone try to guilt trip you or make you seem like a bad person, you’re not. Do what you feel is right and find peace, you can do it. Stop letting yourself down before taking the chance, you’re not what your parents say you are. You’re a good person with a good heart and a passion for…..fashion”
You didn’t even realize tears were streaming down your cheeks as you stepped forward and hugged him tightly, a wet laugh escaping your mouth at the last part “You were doing so good until that last part”
“I kinda realized that too late” he chuckled
“You’re a sweetheart Dennis Whitaker” you sniffled and kissed his cheek
“Whatever you need I’ll be there for you” he nodded “Anything”
Gathering up all the emotional strength you had you asked him for the most important thing you needed “Will you…will you drive with me to get this abortion ?”
“Of course” he answered immediately “I’m off for the next 3 days so just tell me when”
“Let’s leave right now” you whispered “I…I need to get it done out of state because all the hospitals and clinics here know my dad or mom, we’re gonna drive to Cleveland. It’s the closest state to here and it’s only 2 hours away so we can go and be back by the afternoon”
“I’ll drive” Dennis took your keys
Robby never knew comfort, he didn’t know how to comfort anyone other than patients and even then he wasn’t the best at it. In moments like this he remembered his residency years and how his own attending constantly chewed him out daily for being too cold or stern. He never saw it that way, he saw it as him being honest and wanting patients to know the reality of their situations but according to that attending and several of the other residents he was cold. So cold that whenever women and children came in to be seen they’d never be given to him despite him being willing and able
You just don’t have the emotional intelligence for women or kids, they need gentleness not you telling them they’re irresponsible with their health.
Robinvitch, at least offer them a hand if they’re emotional. You’re as cold as a corpse.
Maybe you should go into Ortho, it’d be better for someone like you.
They played over and over in his head despite it being over 20 years but somehow here he was offering a hand and shoulder to Jack who was sitting with him in the hospital parking lot knowing he couldn’t be alone
“You know whatever happened can be fixed, you’re a fixer” Robby mentioned “You fix everything"
“I had an episode” Jack admitted “Had a dream about the day I woke up in the hospital after my amputation and Whitaker was trying to wake me up and I shoved him to the ground in front of her”
“That’s not the worst thing that could’ve happened” Robby shrugged “Don’t focus on that one moment, it could happen to anyone who experienced what you did”
“I know but still, just shows that shit creeps on me no matter how hard I try and how I do my best to handle it” he shook his head “It’s embarrassing”
Robby shook his head “No it’s not, it’s something that happened to you and that you’ll forever carry. Don’t focus on the bad”
Jack scoffed “Says you”
‘It’s different with me” he responded looking ahead “You lived through some really difficult situations, you saved others. You put yourself in harm's way to make sure others could be safe. You’re a hero.”
“You know you’re fucked up but you’re not evil and you’re not some heartless monster. You’ve got a broken heart and mind and lots of feelings you wanna get out but can’t” Jack finally said “I never told you this but I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when Adamson died. I wanted to.”
The mention of Adamson usually would trigger Robby but the genuineness in Jack’s tone told him that this was a conversation that needed to happen, one without storming out or arguing with each other like he usually would
“Marisol had just passed a few months before” he said quietly “You were dealing with your own loss and the world was chaotic. We were just trying our best to survive and help.”
“You wanna know something ?” Jack asked
“Go ahead” Robby grinned
“I wanted to kill myself after Marisol died” he revealed with a sigh “I had a plan, it was all set up and then the pandemic hit and I got the call that the hospital needed more doctors so I said yes in hopes that I’d get sick and die, that way it wouldn’t look like it was on purpose but then I saw…I saw everyone who was sick and I saw how bad they fought to live and get better for their families. I held phones for parents so their kids could facetime them for a few minutes, I sneaked in drawings from little kids to put on the windows so patients could wake up and see them. You did that too, remember Lily ?”
Robby shook his head, smiling at the mention of the the little girl who had stolen his heart in the short time he knew her “Oh man she was a riot”
“8 years old and called me Dr.Poopy pants” Jack laughed “Remember what she’d call you ?”
“Diarrhea head” he laughed with him “Only when we had to take her blood which wasn’t often so we had a lot of confrontations”
Every patient he had stayed with him, especially the kids much to the contrary belief. After being told for so long that he wasn’t good with kids and that he should hand over pediatric patients to someone more experienced he took the chance. Lily was an 8 year old patient who had been admitted right at the beginning of covid, with only one parent being allowed she was left alone for a few hours every day while her mother left to check on her other kids leaving Robby, Jack or any of the others to watch over her but it was mostly Robby who stayed by her side
“Every time I see kids with slime I can’t help but remember her” Robby chuckled “I had a resident hit up 5 fucking stores once before their shift to get some borax and glue for her because she was all out then she made it and got it on my beard and had the audacity to laugh”
“I was nice enough to bring her a cookie from the cafeteria and little shit decided it’d be better to put it under my chair so my scrubs could have melted chocolate chips on my ass” Jack shook his head “She was a menace”
Like all good things, eventually complications came. Adamson got sick and within days he was admitted and on a ventilator and Robby’s time with Lily was cut short. He spent every free second he had with Adamson, sitting there putting pictures on his machine and praying every hour he’d wake up and see them but with that came less time with the little girl who had grown slightly attached to him
“You don’t even come see me anymore, are we not friends ?” Lily asked
“I’m a doctor, remember ? I have other patients I need to be there for” Robby explained
“But what about me ?” she whispered “You don’t come sit with me to draw or to play with slime anymore, you always sat with me”
“I promise when I have time I’ll come sit okay ? Just be good and I’ll have a nurse check in on you again and then maybe tomorrow I can see you for a bit.”
He didn’t go see her that night or the next one or the next one and when he finally did have time on the 4th day she was in an induced coma due to developing a case of covid. Robby felt like he had died internally seeing her little body on a bed with dozens of wires and tubes all over her. It was gut wrenching to see but he had hope she’d be okay, he knew children were resilient and could fight things adults couldn’t. It wasn’t until later that week that he had to make the hardest choice there was
“You did the right thing” Jack nodded after noticing his silence “I would’ve done the same”
“Yeah well I did it and she died anyways” Robby sighed blinking away the moisture in his eyes “She just wanted some company and she was probably scared and I wasn’t there for her and she died thinking I didn't care about her”
“You were with that kid more than her own parents” Jack whispered “We both were, we did what we could. Adamson would’ve wanted that, he would’ve been proud to know you chose to save her life. You gotta realize that, you did the right thing.”
“And now I gotta do another right thing and fix a mess I made” he sighed “But so do you”
“I didn’t make a mess” Jack shook his head
“You feel like you’re betraying Marisol and you’re not” Robby looked at him “Listen it’s clear you like her and you wanna pursue something so go ahead, there’s no hard feelings here at all. I was an asshole when I said what I did earlier”
“There’s always truth in statements coming from anger” Jack said back
“Not this time” he said softly “I like her but she deserves better, she deserves stability and a good shot at being with someone who can give her what she needs and that’s not me. We started off shitty and it just got worse, I said some things I should’ve never said and now there’s a choice that needs to be made and-”
“And she wants you there with her, you” Jack cut him off “She wants you there, she wants you to be there for her and tell her everything is gonna be okay.”
Robby stood up and gave him a pat on the back “I’m gonna go, you okay ?”
“Yeah I’m all good” Jack nodded with a small grin “But go do what you need to do”
Just under 3 hours later you were in a waiting room, Dennis sitting across from you as he looked over the papers you had been handed. You were thankful he was with you even if he had driven like an old woman and played horrendous music the whole way, in a weird way it was comforting
“Here” he handed you the clipboard “You just gotta sign, everything is all good. It’s the process I had described to you already”
“A pill today and another tomorrow and then a test in 2 weeks” you nodded “Alright uh…I’m ready”
A nurse came in soon after and explained the very same process to you, she left the pill and a glass of water in a tray next to you and all you could do was stare it before having the beginnings of a panic attack
“I…I can’t do it” you shook your head beginning to hyperventilate “I can’t, I can’t”
“Okay” Dennis stood up from his chair calmly “Can I ask you why you feel you can’t do this ?”
You ran a hand through your hair and let out shallow breaths “How can I do this ? How ? I shouldn’t be doing this. These procedures are for-are for girls who-who need it, whose lives depend on this. I’m just some girl who slept around, I knew what I was doing and I was very aware of consequences” you grabbed his shoulders “Do you understand how fucking ridiculous I am for even thinking about doing this ?”
“You aren't ridiculous, you’re doing what’s right for you but sit down and listen to me” he took a seat in front of you and held your hand “If you don’t want to do this then don’t but don’t make that choice simply because you feel this-”
“I have a savings account, I can-I can work somewhere else, I can take out a loan” you continued to ramble “I’m an adult, I’m a capable adult and maybe a baby is what I need to get my shit together, maybe this baby is my wake up call” when that last part of left your lips you closed your eyes and sighed “What I meant was…that didn’t come out right at all”
“Take the pill” Dennis said softly handing it to you “Here, you can do it”
It wasn’t until you realized your hands were shaking along with your chest rising and falling rapidly that you sounded and looked like a complete psycho in front of him. You breathed heavily and picked it up, swallowing with the accompanying glass of water “Fuck my life, fuck my life” you started to cry
“It’s gonna be okay” he hugged you “It won’t feel like it for a bit but it will be”
“I just hate that I was so stupid” you wiped your eyes “How could I have been so negligent and irresponsible to let something like this happen to me ? I’m not some teenager, I’m an adult.”
“And sometimes adults fuck up” he said “And last time I checked you didn’t do this alone so stop blaming it yourself, okay ? This is the best decision you could’ve made for yourself and you’re gonna be really grateful you chose this because truth of the matter is that you don’t need some wakeup call, he does”
You wiped your eyes “This was the only shot Robby had at…at having someone”
“You think he needs a baby ? He needs therapy, he needs mental help not a baby. Babies aren’t lifesavers for people who are struggling. He would’ve wanted you to do this and believe me when you tell him he’s gonna support you because he’s a good person. He’s someone who’s struggling but he’s a good person and you know that too. You’re a good person too and this choice was one that was needed and you shouldn’t feel guilty for this.”
“I have nothing going for myself” you whispered, taking a seat back on your chair “Nothing. How can you say I’m a good person when I’ve done nothing with my life ? When I’ve gotten by in life solely off the success of my parents ? I barely got through school, I was lucky to have majored in fashion and design or else I would’ve been fucked with having to pass subjects higher than lab biology and college level algebra. Wanna know why I even passed in the first place ? Because I flirted with my professors. I flirted just enough so they could pass me. Isn’t that something ?”
“I think you can make something of yourself now and that’s what matters” Dennis admitted “You have a clear love for fashion and you take it seriously and went as far as putting yourself out there for a project that could benefit patients. I also think you need to see the bigger picture here and realize that you can make your own choices and path in life, it might be scary but you can do it. What matters is that you have faith in yourself”
“Let’s get going” you whispered “I think I’m starting to feel the effects of this pill”
“I meant what I said” Dennis nodded “I’ll be there for whatever you need, I mean it”
By the time you got back to your apartment you were pretty sure you were gonna pass out, from the side effects to mentally and emotionally feeling drained you were beyond thankful to finally be back home
“You’re a shit driver” you muttered to Dennis as he parked “I swear the second I feel better I’m getting you a teacher because you’re such a grandma”
“The speed limit on the highway was 60, I was going 65” he frowned
You chuckled and walked with him to your lobby where you saw Robby sitting down keeping to himself as he looked around, “Go back up” you handed your key to him “I’ll be there in a bit”
“No” he shook his head “I’m not leaving you alone so if he wants to talk to you he can come up and do it while I’m there too”
“I mean it, it’s fine” you assured him “I’m just gonna talk to him up on the terrace”
After finally convincing him you’d be fine you walked over to Robby “Hey….how long you been here ?”
“An hour or so” he nodded “You weren’t answering my calls or texts so I figured I’d come see you”
“I was in Ohio” you admitted “I got….I got the-....I handled what I needed to do”
His eyes softened “Why there ?”
“Because everyone in the medical field here in this state knows my dad” you nodded “It was a short drive, not a complicated process at all so it’s all taken care of now”
“Well I wish you could’ve told me so I could have gone with you” he admitted
“You were with Jack” you looked at him “We’ve all had a shit day and I think it’s time we talk, do you wanna go up to the terrace ?”
He nodded “Yeah I think it’s needed”
Once you were up there for a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, just heavy. Finally, Robby broke it , "I've been thinking about what you asked me the other night. I did judge you a lot."
You looked down at your hands "You did."
"I’m sorry for that, I am. But what you did today, that was a tough decision and you did it. I’m glad you chose it." his voice was steady "I hope you know that. I know this wasn't an easy decision. I know you probably questioned it a hundred times."
You nodded once "I did."
"And I also know..." he took a slow breath "Whatever feelings you have about today... they're allowed. You don't have to justify them to me." he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees "I need you to hear something from me, I don't think less of you."
Your lip trembled “Okay”
"I never will, I care about you. I really do.” Robby smiled sadly "I think I always will."
You closed your eyes for a second and nodded “I know that now”
"But" he continued quietly, "...I also think things between us are too complicated."
You let out a slow breath "There was never a thing between us Robby, we would hook up and that was that, you said it yourself "
"I don't want to keep hurting you." he shook his head “I hate that I have”
"I know." you nodded “I don’t either”
"I was thinking..." he hesitated "Maybe... maybe we could just be friends."
You looked at him for a long time then you slowly shook your head "No."
He blinked "No ?"
"I don't think we should." his face fell, but he listened "I don't think either of us knows how. "You'd call because you had a hard shift and I'd go be with you. I'd call because I was lonely and you'd answer and come be with me. You were like a cure but that wasn’t right” you smiled sadly "We'd end up right back where we started and it wasn’t right. I would get jealous hearing and seeing you be with other women and talk to them and it’d make me feel like I wanted to throw up but I had no right to. Yes we started off wrong but ultimately it was on both of us, not just one and I don’t want that anymore.”
He looked down "I understand. I care about you too."
“Robby I can’t keep trying to make you my responsibility” you admitted quietly “I can’t keep worrying about you but not telling you want you need”
“What does that mean ?” he asked
"You've spent so long surviving that you've convinced yourself that surviving is the same thing as living. You carry everyone's pain, you fix everyone but you never let anyone fix you. You need help, Robby."
“I know” he sighed
“No” you shook your head “You don’t, I don’t mean a vacation.”
He almost smiled because he'd heard that argument before so many times he had lost count, from Dana to Jack to now you but somehow it hit harder because it was you. He couldn’t even look you in the eye
"I don't mean throwing yourself into more work. I mean real help." you continued on "A therapist, someone who doesn't work with you. "Someone you can tell the truth to."
He rubbed a hand across his face "I've thought about it."
"Thinking about it isn't the same as doing it." you leaned back against your chair , looking exhausted "I spent so long thinking if I care about you enough that” your voice cracked despite you trying hard to keep it together "...you'd finally let someone help you."
His eyes well up almost immediately and he hated it, he hated that he had to show that side to you after trying so hard to keep it together "That wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to either of us."
You looked at him with all the gentleness you had left in you and took his hand "I can't be your lifeline, I can’t. I don't even know where I'm trying to swim myself. I still don't know what I want my life to look like. I don’t know what I wanna do. I don't know if I want to move and leave here and figure my life out, I don't know." you laughed softly through tired tears "I'm still figuring myself out and somewhere along the way I forgot that I’m allowed to do that”
Robby's own eyes had gone red "You shouldn't have had to.” a long silence settled between you two and finally he nodded, "I'll go."
You frowned slightly "Go where ?"
"Therapy." he gave a small, tired smile "I'll go. I'm promising myself. I don't know if it'll fix anything but maybe...maybe it'll stop me from hurting the people I care about."
You nodded slowly "I think that's a good place to start."
He stood, knowing it was time to leave but at the door, he paused "I meant what I said."
You looked up “I know”
"I'll never judge you." Robby shook his head “I’m proud that you made a decision that was good for you and that you chose you and your well being above all. You deserve a good life, you do. You’ve got a good heart and mind, you can do whatever it is you wanna do. I believe in you so believe in yourself”
You smiled and blinked away tears “Thanks Robby, I mean it.”
“I’ll see you around” he grinned
“Duh” you rolled your eyes playfully
Robby gave one last nod before quietly closing the door behind him. You stood in the silence for a long moment after he was gone, digesting it all because the ending wasn't the drama that you thought it’d be, there were no passionate declarations of love or promises to wait. Just two people who had cared deeply for one another finally admitting that caring wasn't always enough
*******************************************************************
The next days went on by as normal as you could possibly keep them and those days slowly turned into weeks where you were slowly beginning to get your groove back as far as feeling like yourself again and getting better at handling things at the hospital….and Jack
You should be getting rest before your shift, not texting me.I’ll sleep when I’m dead kid.
Not funny Jack, not funny at all.
I’ll make it up to you somehow don’t you worry.
You weren’t exactly what you were but what you did know was that things were much better after having a talk with him and understanding his apprehension of starting something new so for now you two were just friends, friends who flirted and often spent time together going to dinners and hanging out any free chance you both had
You found yourself in a daze texting him before feeling an object hit your head “Excuse me ?”
“Haven’t seen you eat, thought you could use a granola bar” Dennis smirked “Before you get cranky and complain later about how a migraine is taking over your life and then make me watch gossip girl with you”
Rolling your eyes you picked it up and ate it, walking to the bathroom to wash your hands as you heard a male voice loudly reprimanding someone. While you had heard doctors raise their voice tons of times this time felt completely off. You walked until you found them, sighing as you realized it was Langdon. You never liked him, he had teased you endlessly and never got the hint you weren’t okay with it but you didn’t have to deal with him on a day to day basis
“Hey” you called walking over “Ever heard of handling issues behind the scenes like a mature adult and maybe not screaming at someone ?”
“Stay out of this trust fund baby” he snapped
“Call me trust fund baby one more time and see what happens Frank” you warned
“What ?” he scoffed “You gonna call your daddy on me ? Have me fired because I said the truth about you. Why don’t you go back to typing away on that computer and let me handle my real job ?”
You could’ve made a scene but instead you stayed calm and walked away, Trinity walking right behind you “You shouldn’t have done that, I had it handled”
“You were staring at him without saying a word” you mentioned “Santos, right ?”
“Trinity” she nodded “You’re Dr.Jon’s kid, that’s cool. I see you around a lot”
“I mean I kinda work here” you chuckled while walking with her “Are you okay ? I’m sorry he yelled at you like that, it’s not okay. You don’t deserve that no matter what happened. He could’ve talked to you like a human being instead of belittling you.”
“Can I tell you something ?” she said suddenly
You nodded, stopping in the hall as you leaned against the wall “What’s up ?”
“He’s off….something's off about him” Trinity mentioned “Sometimes he comes in and he’s really energetic and constantly talking then other days he’s snappy at everyone and hard to find unless he’s with a patient. He comes out nowhere suddenly feeling chipper and moving quickly”
Stillness took over your body as you slowly realized what was going on “Oh”
“I don’t wanna get anybody in trouble” she shook her head “But it’s just weird”
“I get you” you agreed “You just do what you’re doing and stay out of his way, for your own sake”
With that you walked all around the hospital, finally sighing when you found Robby come out of the OR “Hey….can we talk ?”
“I got a patient waiting already” he shook his head “Maybe later”
“Langdon’s high….he’s on drugs” you whispered “You need to check his stuff to make sure he’s not stealing drugs because something tells me that’s why you’re not able to find him unless he’s actually with a patient”
Robby looked at you as if you had told him someone died, his face fell and he started to shake his head “What ? No. Not Frank. There’s no way, no way he’d ever do that. He’s got a wife and kids and a good life, he wouldn’t do that. You just don’t like him and I get he teases you and went a little far sometimes but that’s just-”
“If you don’t believe me that’s fine but the least you can do is just get security to open his locker and check his things” you said softly “I really hope I’m wrong, I sincerely do”
You went back to your desk and tried your best not to think of it the rest of the shift, feeling relieved when the end of the day finally came “Hey, all set ?”
“Yeah just gotta get my backpack from the lockers” Dennis nodded
“I’ll go with you” you grinned joining him
Luck was never on your side, you had learned that early on but walking into the scene at the lockers was the one time you wished it was. You stood next to Dennis as Robby was standing in front of Frank holding up a plastic bag with that looked like a vial of medication
“She put it there, she fucking hates me !” Frank suddenly pointed at you, walking over and towering over “It was you wasn’t it ? You just can’t handle that I’m the one who didn’t fall for your cookie cutter good girl bullshit”
“What are you talking about ?” you whispered
“It’s not mine !” Frank raised his voice visibly shaky “You can’t stand that I’m a competent doctor who doesn’t take shit and doesn’t feel threatened by someone like you. I don’t drool over you and your stupid flirty personality, I don’t give into your corny jokes and attitude. I’m the only one here who treats you for what you are, a spoiled brat and you can’t handle it”
You didn’t realize his hand was gripping your shoulder before Dennis shoved him off so roughly he fell back against a bench
“You don’t touch girls like that, you’re high aren’t you ?” Dennis snapped “I can see it in your eyes and it’s why you’re wearing that watch, you’re hiding the marks.”
The reality that it was Dennis and not Robby who defended you or helped you, was a cruel one. Robby had stood there and watched, never bothering to stop Frank and even now was still almost in denial
“This is Louie’s medication” Dennis showed Robby “This asshole took a dead man's medication for himself. I remember this, Louie had it with him when he first came in, I had put it aside to dispose of it and he was the one who said he’d do it”
“Get your shit and go home” Robby said calmly “Now, go”
“Are you okay ?” Dennis asked you looking you over
“I’m wearing this ugly blue blazer so I didn’t even feel it” you shook your head “Come on let’s go home”
“You need to file a report” Robby rubbed his face “You were assaulted”
“He held my shoulder for no more than 10 seconds while he was high as kite, I’m fine” you looked at him “You handle what you need to with him, I’m going home and I don’t want to speak of this ever again”
Not bothering to give him a chance to say anything back you hastily left with Dennis “That goes goes for you too, seriously it wasn’t a big deal”
“What’s not a big deal ?” Jack asked with a grin as he came in to start his shift “What’s up ? I texted you earlier if you wanted a coffee before you left ?”
“Nothing” you shook your head “I’m good, we’re just heading home. I’ll text you in a bit”
Jack looked at you, really looked at you and set his backpack down “What’s wrong ? Tell me”
“Nothing” you repeated “I’m just tired is all”
“Speak farm boy” Jack looked at Dennis “Please”
Dennis looked at you then at Jack and sighed “Langdon got caught with some meds in his locker, he was paranoid and tried to act as if she planted it there and he….he touched her. Robby was there and he told him to leave”
“He touched you ?” Jack asked, crossing his arms “He touched you, where ? Where’s Langdon ? He leave already ?”
“Oh my god quit it” you rubbed your forehead “It’s done with, it wasn’t a big deal”
“Robby” Jack called when he saw him at his desk and walked over “Hey, what the fuck ? You let your doctors assault women now ?”
“It wasn’t like that” Robby spoke calmly “He was clearly under the influence of something and didn’t even realize what he did. He’s gone and we followed protocol and he’ll be in a rehab program. Stop talking about it please, it’s been handled.”
“You lied for him” you whispered coming up behind Jack “You didn’t tell hospital management he had stolen medication did you ?”
“No I did not” he admitted quietly avoiding your eyes “He has a wife and very young children who this would affect, I thought of them and I thought about the fact that who we saw back there and have been seeing for the last month or so isn’t the real him. Reporting him and having him fired and losing his license wouldn’t help him, it would harm him and his family and that’s not what he needs. He needs help.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief “I can’t believe you man”
“Neither can I” you said quietly “But I guess it tracks”
“You know what, I think the other attendings can handle tonight without me” Jack looked at you “Come on, let Whitaker take your car and you and I can hang out”
Taking the chance you did as told and left him, leaving Robby still working despite his shift being over and you leaving with Jack as you sat with him at a nearby pizza place “Is it bad I didn’t actually want Langdon fired ?”
He shrugged “He’ll have a hell of a hard time anyways”
“You alright ?” you asked
“I don’t like the idea of someone hurting you and not being able to be there and stop it” he revealed “I care way too much about you to let that happen and it bothers me that you didn’t feel comfortable enough to want to tell me”
“I know how you are” you took a bite of your slice “Plus not exactly a bright idea considering my dad could hear about it and it’d be an issue. I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t report it, I don’t want him assuming things”
“Yeah” Jack nodded
You could tell he wanted to say more but wouldn’t, he was off and you didn’t know if it was from what you had told him or something else “Are you okay ? Like is something bothering you that I should know about ?”
Jack sighed and put his water down “I just think that if you and I are gonna try this out I don’t wanna be a secret and I don’t wanna sneak around with you. I’m not Robby, I wanna do this right and if that means a conversation with your dad then I’ll do it. I’m man enough to face him and to take care of you if he decides to cut you off. I want the real thing not some hookup here and there and if you can’t commit to that then just tell me”
You shook your head and pushed your plate back “Whoa….you’re going into something deep and it’s only been a few weeks of us talking, Jack you can’t be serious here”
“I know what I want for myself” he murmured “I know that I like you and that we can work something out. I know that Robby, as much as I love him, will never be who you want him to be so if you’re gonna keep waiting I hate to tell you that the only thing he’s ever gonna love is that hospital. It won’t be you.”
“I never mentioned Robby” you whispered
“I know but you’re thinking of him” Jack looked down at his lap “The way you look at him and ignore him tells me that you still think of him and that’s okay, I don’t blame you for that at all. I still think of Marisol and that’s okay too. I just want honesty so please just tell me, do you still like Robby ? Do you have feelings for him like that ?”
You reached for his hand and took it in yours, “No. I don’t. He’s from the past.”
“Then if you wanna move on from the past hear me out” he met your eyes “I was talking to a friend of mine and his wife is chief at a hospital where they’re looking for a day shift attending…I’m thinking about it” he admitted “Only issue is that it’s in Chicago….”
“You’d leave ?” you whispered
“I would” he nodded “But…you could come with me ?”
“What ?” you chuckled
“I take the job and you come with me” Jack said softly “You could continue your fashion stuff there and enjoy a new city and state and I could finally relax and have a normal schedule. It’d be new beginnings for both of us kid. What do you say ?”
You thought of everything that had happened the last few months, the heartbreak, the stress, the loss and gain of a friendship. It had been a whirlwind and now you had the option of leaving it behind and starting things off fresh…but with that came losing Robby for good and maybe that’s exactly what you needed
“I say take the offer and let me know when to pack” you responded as you leaned over and kissed him
*just a little reminder once again that if you read please please reblog with tags and leave feedback :), my ask box is always open or you can just comment here. Feedback is truly what helps the most and I love love reading what you think !!! This isn't AO3 where kudos means something, this also isn't IG or Twitter where likes matter. Please appreciate the work us writers put into this. It's not hard to leave a comment or reblog with some tags.
Oh man, what can I say....we've reached the end of this series 😭. I cannot believe it's done and I truly hope you guys enjoy this final chapter with these characters !! She's a LONG one, just warning !! Writing this series has been my favorite thing ever and I'm going to miss this little fic so so much. As always enjoy and I cannot wait to hear your final thoughts 💙
“Mommy do you like my picture I make ?” Rowan looked up at Layla with a smile “It daddy, you, me, Pat Pat and Twoy”
Layla nodded with a soft smile, mostly because she was still in shock from how old he looked now. He was no longer a cuter little toddler, he was now entering his own of being a big boy and no longer needing her as much
“It’s beautiful, thank you” she kissed his cheek
“Mommy can you sleep with me in my bed tonight ?” he suddenly asked
“Okay” she nodded “May I ask why ?”
“You give the best cuddles” he grinned hugging her leg
She bent down and picked him up “I remember when you were teeny tiny and only wanted me to carry you all the time, you never wanted me to put you down”
“I was baby and now I a big boy” Rowan nodded “But….you give me more babies….”
“You’re crazy” she tickled him “We have baby Troy”
“No mommy he not cute anymore, he animal” he made a face
Layla laughed as she walked with him to the kitchen and set him on the counter “We can’t have babies just because we need something cute”
“A baby sister….I not have one of those” Rowan shook his head
“I never did either” she said softly “Or a brother. It was just always me”
“Where your mommy and daddy…you not have them ?” he whispered
“No” she whispered “My…My mommy left when I was a little girl and my daddy…he went somewhere else so it was just always me”
It was her first time actually telling that to someone other than Sidney and never did she think the other person would be her 4 year old son. She pet his cheek as she noticed his eyes water and put on a brave face “Hey, it’s okay baby. I’m here with you, everything’s okay. I met daddy when I was in college and we made a family. I made a family with him”
“I not like that mommy” he hugged her tightly
Layla sighed and rubbed his back “Sometimes….sometimes life is just a little hard but-but what matters is that we can make it something really nice and I did that” she wiped his cheeks “I met your daddy and married him and I made you and your brothers. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me…you make me happy”
“But you don’t got a mommy or a daddy, that so sad” he sniffled
“I don’t” she whispered shaking her head
“That not bweak your heart mommy ?” Rowan asked
She shook her head again and gave him a smile “No because if not having a mommy and daddy meant that I could have my own family then that was okay. I got you and your brothers and daddy and that’s all I need.”
Unbeknown to her Sidney had come back downstairs from settling Patrick and Troy down for their naps and had heard it all, he walked to the kitchen and picked Rowan up giving him a hug, mostly because he needed the comfort
“Hi daddy” Rowan whispered hugging his neck
“Hey buddy” Sidney kissed his cheek “How about we go….we go play”
“Come on mommy” Rowan waved her over
Layla joined them in the backyard, watching as Sidney let him win god knows how many rounds of ministicks. When it got dark she stayed seated outside, watching a familiar car drove into their driveway and quickly stood up
“Sidney, who’s here ?” Layla called, but soon she came face to face with him “Are you fucking kidding me ?”
“I told him” Sidney spoke up “He needed to know, it was the right thing”
“I told you not to” Layla snapped “I can’t fucking believe you !”
“Talk to him” he said softly “Talk to him, please….you need to”
She shook her head “I can’t fucking believe you’d do this to me, I can’t believe you’d break the one boundary I made. After all that shit I told you ? I hate you.”
Sidney took it in stride and nodded “Well you can hate me and after you make peace with that part of your life”
Layla watched as he walked away and saw Nate exit his car slowly until he was feet in front of her “Get the fuck back to wherever the hell it is you came from Nathan, now. Why are you here ? Where the hell is your wife ?”
Nathan shook his head “Doesn’t matter right now”
“That’s ridiculous” Layla shook her head “Nathan, go back to your wife. We have nothing to speak about. I caused you to get upset with my bitchy nature and I got in a car accident. We lost a baby we both know we weren’t ready for and I forgot who I was and you moved on. It’s okay, that’s life, I don’t need an explanation.”
“Layla it’s me” Nathan whispered
“Exactly” she looked at him “It’s you…..do you realize what I did to Sidney ? What I did to my family ? How all because I didn’t communicate I ruined us for years. I used you Nate ! I used you and you let me !”
“Because I fell in love you” he said simply
“And that’s exactly what I didn’t want” she whispered “I did my best for that not to happen and it did, it did and it ruined everything”
Nathan shook his head “I don’t think it ruined anything at all, I’m just mad I wasn’t man enough to understand your pregnancy had you in different moods. I should’ve been patient and I should’ve stayed with you that day. It’s my biggest regret and-”
“And nothing” she looked up at him “And nothing Nathan. It’s done and it’s over and you need to go back to your life like I’m going back to mine”
“I just… needed to give you something.”
Layla’s eyes flicked to the suitcase next to him, her chest tightened immediately “What is that ?”
“Your stuff.” he said softly
“What stuff ?” she blinked
He shifted slightly, careful not to step closer as he let out a sigh “I went to see your dad.”
The words hit her like ice water and Layla went completely still “You what ?”
“He was dying at the time” Nate said quietly “Cancer. I heard he died 2 months ago though”
Her face didn’t change, not even a little, and somehow that was worse
“I found him a few months ago,” he continued carefully “I didn’t tell you because… at the time, you didn’t remember anything, and I didn’t know if it would hurt you more.”
Layla simply stared at him “You saw Keith.”
Nate nodded once and her jaw tightened slightly “And ?”
The bitterness in that single word told him everything and he exhaled slowly “He had boxes of your things. Photos, clothes, stuff from when you were younger.” he glanced down briefly “He…He sold them to me.”
Layla actually looked nauseous for a second as she shook her head “That son of a bitch sold my childhood ? Holy fuck thank god he’s in burning in hell”
The way she said it made Nate’s chest ache, “He-He asked about you,” he lied
She scoffed “Yeah that’s bullshit, you were always a bad liar Nate. You stutter when you lie and you just did that. We both know that piece of shit didn’t ask me and that’s fine. Nate, you really shouldn’t be here”
“I know.” he nodded
“Then why are you ?”
Because I couldn’t let this stay buried forever, because you deserve to know who you are….because I still love you. But instead he said,“Because there’s more I need to tell you and you need to know.”
Layla frowned slightly as Nate tightened his grip on the duffel strap “Your mom…your mom had two more kids after she left.”
“What ?” she whispered
“She died a few years ago,” he said gently “Her and her partner. Car accident.”
The room tilted slightly around her and she held onto the porch railing as she sat down on the steps “She had…she had more kids ?”
Nate nodded as he took the chance to go sit next to her “A boy and a girl.”
Layla stared at him, unable to process it “How old ?”
“Your…your brother Connor is almost 17 now and your little sister Jane is 11 now.”
Her breath caught “Oh my god”
“They’re with a family friend now, they’re not in the system anymore. They're okay. They’re healthy and living good lives” he whispered with a small grin
Complete silence took over and Layla looked like she had forgotten how to breathe, “I have siblings,” she whispered
Nate nodded again “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“You knew this whole time ?”
“I found out after I went looking into your family.” he admitted “I wanted to find them to at least bring you something to help you and…and I saw for my own eyes what a monster your dad was and your mom…she wrote you Layla. She wrote you tons and sent you money” he reached in the bag and showed her the letters
Her eyes filled instantly as she took them and read through each one taking the cash and ripping it to shreds as she shook her head “She says sorry but never does she actually admit she fucked up, never did she genuinely try to find me and now she’s dead and she had kids ? Do they know about me ?”
“I don’t think so.” Nathan whispered
Layla pressed a hand to her mouth and somewhere upstairs, Troy started crying again faintly yet the sound barely registered in her ears. She was too busy coming to terms with everything
“I know you probably don’t want me in your life,” Nate said softly “I understand that. I’m not here to force anything.”
Before she could even say anything, Sidney appeared. He stopped immediately when he saw Nate yet Nate kept his eyes on Layla, ignoring him completely
“I brought everything because it belongs to you,” he said “Not me.”
Slowly, he crouched down and unzipped the duffel bag. Inside were boxes, photo albums, clothes and old journals. All pieces of her. Layla stared at them like they might disappear as she gently took a few things out
“And there’s one more thing.” Nate whispered as he reached into his jacket pocket
Sidney’s jaw tightened immediately from across the room, he knew it was coming and he hated it. He hated the feeling of jealousy and anger that was building up inside of him but Nate didn’t care one bit. He held out a small velvet box to Layla “This is yours”
Layla looked at it uncertainly before taking it, her fingers trembling as she opened it “Oh my God.”
“It’s back where it belongs” Nate’s voice softened
“You sold it after Sidney kicked you out and took away all your access to funds, you bought that little beach cottage with the money you got from it.” he stared Sidney down “I had a few friends on the look out and I got it back”
Layla looked up at him slowly “You bought it back ?”
He nodded “I did”
Tears finally spilled down her face, not because of him but because suddenly the past felt unbearably real again. The ring, her new siblings who didn’t know she existed, the ugly past with Sidney, her dead parents. It was all crashing into her at once.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” Nate said quietly “You can hate me. You can never speak to me again after tonight. But this stuff…these people…they’re yours. You decide what you want now.”
Layla looked down at the ring again as her hands shook. Sidney finally came down the rest of the stairs then, moving closer cautiously and protective, stopping when he saw her face
Nate got the hint and stood up “I’ll leave,” he said softly
Layla looked up quickly “Nate—”
He paused and for the first time in a long time, there was no fight left in him. No desperation, just sadness “You don’t owe me anything,” he shook his head “Or a place in your life.” the words hurt him as he said them but he continued “But you deserve the truth. All of it.”
Layla stared at him silently, “Thank you.” she whispered
Nate nodded once then turned and walked away into his car, driving off fast before he could change his or her mind
The front door had barely shut behind her before the silence changed.Layla still stood in the middle of the living room clutching the velvet ring box in one hand while the other rested shakily against the duffel bag full of pieces of her life
Sidney lingered a few feet away, watching her and upstairs, Troy’s crying had quieted again.The rest of the house slept peacefully while everything underneath it shifted.
Layla looked down at the ring again, then at the boxes “My mom had more kids,” she whispered, almost to herself
Sidney rubbed a hand over his jaw “Layla—”
“He found out not too long ago” she interrupted softly
Sidney’s chest tightened “He shouldn’t have shown up here, I fucked up. I should’ve never told him. I’m sorry”
Her eyes lifted immediately “That’s what you got from this ?”
“He came here at eleven at night after you just got your memory back ? I fucked up”
“He brought me my childhood.” she whispered
The words cut sharper than she intended and Sidney flinched slightly
Layla closed her eyes briefly, instantly regretting it “I’m sorry,” she murmured “I just… I can’t process all of this at once.”
Sidney stepped closer instinctively “You don’t have to process it alone.”
Layla set the ring box carefully onto the coffee table “I think I need space.”
The room went still and Sidney stared at her “What ?”
She wrapped her arms around herself tightly “Not forever,” she said quickly “I just—I need room to think.”
His expression hardened immediately, not angry exactly, but defensive “Because he came here ?”
“No.”
“Layla” Sidney sighed
“This isn’t about Nate,” she said firmly “I got my entire memory back a few days ago and every day since then feels like I’m waking up inside somebody else’s life. I remember loving you,” she admitted quietly “I remember hating you sometimes too. I remember us hurting each other. I remember the boys being babies and now suddenly they’re not.” tears filled her eyes again “And now I find out I have siblings who probably think nobody wants them.”
Sidney immediately stepped closer again petting her cheek “Hey, baby look at me”
She shook her head “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be right now.”
“You don’t have to figure that out tonight.” he kissed her forehead
“But I do need room to breathe,” she said softly
“Layla.”
There was panic underneath his voice now, real panic and he saw it immediately “I’m not taking the boys away from you,” she said quickly
“That’s not what I care about: Sidney scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to get control of himself “I can’t do this again,” he admitted quietly
Her brows pulled together. “Do what ?”
“Watch you pull away.” he met her eyes
The vulnerability in that hit her hard because she remembered now. She remembered how terrified he’d been after the accident. How desperate he’d become afterward to hold onto her. And before that..how terrified he’d been of losing her to Nate.
“I’m not trying to punish you.” she said softly
“I know.” Sidney nodded
“But I need to deal with things that have nothing to do with our marriage.” she admitted “Things I should’ve dealt with before we even got married
Sidney looked away briefly “That doesn’t mean I stop being your husband.”
“You keep saying things like that,” she murmured
His eyes snapped back to hers “Because it’s true.”, his expression cracked slightly “I’m trying not to lose you, I can’t handle that again Layla.”
Layla’s eyes stung, “You already lost me once,” she whispered “Before the accident. We both know that now.”
He went completely still, she was right. The memory loss had covered things temporarily. But now ? Now all the fractures were visible again. Sidney stepped closer anyway “I know we were broken,” he said quietly “I know I hurt you. I know you hurt me.” his voice roughened slightly “But I can’t go back to pretending I don’t need you.”
Layla looked down “You shouldn’t need me that much.”
“Too bad.” he smirked slightly
Despite everything, a weak breath of a laugh escaped her and Sidney’s face softened immediately at the sound “I’ll help you with your siblings,” he said quietly “If you want to find them, I’ll help.”
She leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her “No…they’re okay” she whispered “They’re happy and have no idea I exist, I won’t shake up their lives at such an important age. I’ll let them be.”
“I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do” he nodded
“Why ?”
“Because I love you.”
Layla’s chest ached “But loving me hasn’t always been good for either of us,”
“No,” he admitted “What are you asking for ? I can make it happen”
“I think…” she took a shaky breath “I think I need space emotionally. Not another version of us pretending everything’s fixed because my memory came back.”
Sidney nodded slowly, though it clearly hurt him to do it “And physically ?”
“I’m not leaving tonight.” she shook her head “I do think I need some time just for me, maybe at my place that I still have by the beach”
Relief flashed across his face so quickly it almost hurt to witness and Layla noticed that too. She suddenly understood something she maybe should’ve understood sooner, that Sidney loved her deeply. But sometimes that love bordered on fear and fear made people hold too tightly. Sidney finally reached for her hand carefully and this time she let him take it because neither of them knew how to fully let go yet.
2 Months Later
The office was quiet in a way Layla hated lately. It wasn’t peaceful, just still enough that her thoughts got loud. She sat curled into the corner of the couch, fingers tucked into the sleeves of her sweater despite the warm afternoon, while Dr. Meyers watched her carefully from across the room
“You already know what you want,” Dr. Meyers said gently
Layla gave a tired laugh “If I knew what I wanted, I wouldn’t be here twice a week.”
“You know what you need.”
That made her go quiet, because she did. She needed space and silence. She needed distance from Sidney before she drowned in his guilt and his love and the way those two things had become tangled together so tightly she couldn’t separate them anymore
“He’s trying now,” she said after a moment “That’s what makes this so hard. If he was still terrible, it’d be easy.”
“And is he still terrible ?”
“No.” her answer came immediately “He’s a good father now. He shows up. He listens. He… loves me better than he used to.”
“But ?”
Layla stared down at her hands “But sometimes I look at him and I still feel like I did 4 years ago” her voice thinned “Lonely. Invisible. Like I’m begging someone to notice I’m drowning.”
Dr. Meyers nodded slowly “And when you feel that way, what do you usually do ?”
Layla knew what answer she wanted, men, she swallowed hard “I attach myself to whoever makes me feel safe.”
“Or seen. Your life has revolved around men for a very long time, Layla. You just didn’t realize it till now.”
The words weren’t cruel and that somehow made them hurt more.
“Your father controlled the emotional climate of the house,” Dr. Meyers continued carefully. “You learned very young that survival meant monitoring a man’s moods, keeping him calm, keeping him close, earning affection where you could and ultimately even that didn’t stop him from physically hurting you. You realized no matter what you did right, a man could hurt you.”
Layla looked away quickly, feeling the emotional punch to the gut
“And then Sidney became your center,” Dr. Meyers said “Even when he hurt you. Even when he failed you.”
Tears pricked Layla’s eyes immediately because it was true. Every version of herself somehow revolved around being wanted by someone. A daughter, a wife, a mother….an affair partner. Her stomach twisted at the last one
“Nate,” Dr. Meyers said softly, reading her expression
Layla closed her eyes, just hearing his name still did something awful to her chest
“He loved me.”, it came out broken
“Yes,” Dr. Meyers said “I think he did.”
“And I ruined his life.”
“You didn’t ruin his life.”
“I used him,” Layla whispered “I was lonely and angry and hurting and he…” her throat tightened “He loved me and I hurt him, I used him.”
“You chose familiarity,” Dr. Meyers corrected gently “There’s a difference.”
Layla wiped at her face angrily “I hate that I still think about him.”
“Why ?”
“Because it makes me feel disloyal.” she whispered
“To who?”
She opened her mouth and stopped because she didn’t actually know anymore. To Sidney ? To her marriage ? or to the version of herself trying desperately to be a good person ?
Dr. Meyers leaned forward slightly “I’m going to say something important, and I need you to really hear it.”
Layla nodded faintly “okay”
“You do not need to choose between Sidney and Nate right now.”
She blinked “I…I don’t know what you mean”
“In fact,” Dr. Meyers continued, “I think choosing either man before you learn who you are without one would be a mistake.You are allowed to be alone, you are allowed to build a life that does not orbit a man’s approval, love, or presence.”
Layla let out a shaky breath and nodded “O-Okay”
“But,” Dr. Meyers added carefully, “I do think you need to talk to Nate.”
Her eyes snapped up immediately “No.”
“You’re avoiding him because you’re afraid of what you’ll feel.”
“I ended things”
“And emotionally ?” Dr. Meyers asked quietly “Did you ?”
Layla looked sick suddenly because no, she hadn’t. She had shoved him into a locked room in her mind and sat against the door for years pretending she couldn’t hear him knocking. She had told herself she was fine with him moving on and how she didn’t care for him anymore. She had lied to herself
“He mattered to you,” Dr. Meyers said “And whether you ultimately choose Sidney, or choose yourself, or choose an entirely different future… you cannot heal by pretending Nate was meaningless.”
A tear slid down Layla’s cheek as she sniffled, “He was the only other person who ever looked at me like I wasn’t hard to love.”
The room went silent and Dr. Meyers’ expression softened immediately “And what did you do with that ?”
Layla laughed through her tears, hollow and ashamed “I ran back to what hurt me because it was familiar.”
Dr. Meyers nodded once “That’s the cycle we’re trying to break.”
The sun was too bright when Layla stepped out of the building and for a second she just stood there on the sidewalk. One hand gripping the strap of her purse and the other wrapped around her phone so tightly her knuckles hurt
Traffic moved around her, people laughed somewhere down the block. The world kept going like her entire chest hadn’t just been split open in therapy. She had actually almost talked herself out of it three separate times.
But eventually she opened her contacts, Nate. Her thumb hovered then she finally pressed call. It rang longer than she expected. Long enough she thought maybe he wouldn’t answer at all.
“Hello ?”
His voice hit her like a crashing wave, it was lower than she remembered. More tired somehow.
Layla closed her eyes immediately and sighed “Nate….”
Silence followed for a bit, “You okay ?” he asked after a second
The concern in his voice nearly made her cry right there on the sidewalk, “No,” she admitted softly
“What happened ?”
“I just left therapy.” Layla whispered
“Ah, I see.” Nathan nodded
Layla leaned against the brick wall beside the office building. “Can I see you, please ?”
“No.”
His answer came instantly, firm and it stunned her a little, “Nate—”
“I’m not doing that anymore, Layla.” Nathan said softly
She swallowed “I could FaceTime you.”
“No.” he repeated
A year ago or so he would’ve folded the second she sounded upset. Now there was distance in him. Structure and boundaries she’d never seen him keep with her before and somehow that hurt worse.
“I can talk for a little while,” he said gently “That’s it.”
Layla nodded even though he couldn’t see her “Okay.”
The silence stretched until she forced herself to say the thing she’d called to say “I’m sorry.”
He exhaled slowly on the other end “Layla, you don’t need to-”
“No, please.” her voice cracked immediately “Please just let me say it.”
“Okay.” Nate sighed “Okay….go ahead”
She pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes and sniffled “When we were together… I was so wrapped up in my own pain that I never really stopped to think about yours. I kept thinking I was the victim in everything,” she whispered “My marriage, the accident, losing the baby, losing my memory afterward… all of it.”
The word baby nearly broke her voice apart and across the line, Nate went completely silent. Layla stared blindly at the passing cars as she continued and pushed through
“You lost that baby too,” she said shakily
His breathing changed faintly and that was it. That tiny sound he let out and suddenly she could picture him exactly as he’d been back then in that hospital waiting room, alone with that grief while she forgot him entirely. Forgot them.
“I didn’t even remember you,” she whispered, horrified all over again “And you had to carry all of it by yourself while I just… disappeared.”
Nate finally spoke, his voice rough “You were hurt too.”
“But I was cruel.” Layla sniffled “I was so fucking cruel and put things on you that didn’t even involve you, I know Sidney was looking out for me but he didn’t tell me everything ! He told me you came onto me, how you knew I was married and none of that was true and you never once corrected him ! You never once told me the truth ! I came onto you, I seduced you into this whole mess. I ruined your life !”
She took in a shaky breath and wiped her runny nose “I was cruel because I needed someone to save me and I didn’t care what it cost you.” more tears slipped down her face “You fell in love with me and I treated that love like-like it was somewhere to hide, like it didn’t matter.”
He let out a long breath “I never saw it that way.”
“But I do now.” Layla said back as she wiped at her face uselessly “I think part of me thought if you really loved me, you’d survive anything I did to you.”
“That’s not fair, Layla.” Nate whispered “That’s….not okay”
“I know.” she whispered “I know, it’s so fucking fucked up”
Another silence settled between them until he spoke again “How’s Sidney?”
The question surprised her but she answered anyway,“He’s trying,” she admitted “He’s… better now.”
Nate hummed faintly “And you ?”
Layla laughed softly through tears “I don’t know who I am without hurting.”
“Don’t say that.” he said softly “You know that’s not true”
“But it is true.”
“No,” he said gently “It’s just what you were taught.”
She started crying harder at that, because even now, even now in this shit moment, he spoke to her with tenderness despite not having to
“Jessica right ? Is she-Is she good to you ?” she asked gently
He paused before letting out a soft sigh “Yeah, Jess is amazing. She’s…she’s healing in a way.”
The softness in his voice when he said his wife’s name told Layla everything. Not passionate chaos, not unhealthy obsession or possession, just peace. And for the first time, she realized maybe that was what love was supposed to feel like from the beginning
“I’m glad,” she whispered honestly
“I need you to let me go.” Nate said suddenly
Layla’s breath caught and she shook her head “Nate—”
“I mean it.” his voice stayed calm, but firm “You have to move on.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks silently now “I am moving on, I’m just-”
“You can’t keep reaching for me every time your life hurts.” he suddenly snapped “I loved you, I probably always will in some way and I fucking hate that because I shouldn’t but I’m not living there anymore and it’s not healthy. You were an obsession for me, you were like some drug I needed and then I lost you and I just wanted you to be okay and remember….I…I can’t do this with you, I refuse to do this with you again.”
Layla covered her mouth with her hand as she swallowed the sob that wanted to come up “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”
“I have a wife who trusts me now,” he whispered “I’m building something healthy and I can’t be the place you come to when you’re trying to figure yourself out. I’m not that guy anymore.”
She nodded helplessly though he couldn’t see “I know.”
“I want you to be okay,” Nate admitted “Really okay. Not just attached to someone who makes the pain quieter for a little while.”
Layla squeezed her eyes shut “I’m trying.”
“I know you are” His voice cracked slightly on the last word “I want the best for you, for Sidney and the boys. I truly do. You’re a good person who was just hardened, you deserve good things, don’t forget that…goodbye, Layla.”
The finality of it hollowed her out and she could’ve begged but instead she wiped her eyes and grinned weakly “Goodbye, Nate.”
The line went then went dead, he hung up first and for the first time in her life, Layla stood completely alone. No abusive father she had to fear, no Sidney and no Nate…just herself and soon she’d have to learn to love that
On the other side in Denver, Colorado Nate sat motionless for a long moment after the call ended. His phone still pressed to his ear despite him being the one who hung up. The house was quiet except for the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen and the faint sound of rain against the windows.
He lowered his phone and looked up, Jessica stood in the hallway. Barefoot and arms crossed tightly over her chest. Hurt written all over her face in a way that made his stomach sink immediately. She had clearly heard enough
“Nathan Raymond” Jessica murmured, shaking her head “No, no. Absolutely not.”
He stood carefully from the couch “Jess, Jess listen to me”
“You answered her.” she met his eyes “You answered her ?”
“I was trying to-”
“You answered her.” Jessica emphasized, the anger in her eyes looking painfully close to tears now.
After everything. After the nights he woke up gasping from nightmares after the accident. After drinking too much because grief hollowed him out from the inside. After sitting on the bathroom floor shaking because Layla couldn’t remember him. Jessica had been there for all of it, not Layla. Jessica.
“She called upset,” Nate said weakly
“And you still care more about rescuing her than protecting us ?” she snapped
“That’s not fair.” Nate whispered
Jessica laughed once, sharp and wounded “Isn’t it ?”
Nate went quiet, there was no defense that didn’t sound hollow now.
She walked further into the living room, eyes glassy “Do you know what it was like watching you mourn someone who was still alive ?”
His face tightened instantly “Jess…”
“You loved her so much you destroyed yourself over her.” her voice cracked as she pointed at his chest “And I stayed.”
He looked away, shaking his head
“I stayed when you were angry all the time. I stayed when you couldn’t touch me without looking guilty afterward. I stayed when you said her name in your sleep.” she rubbed her face “When you fucked me and would then go throw up in the bathroom and whisper her name as you finished by yourself….I fucking stayed”
Jessica wiped angrily at her face “And now she calls after all this time and you just…” she shook her head “You let her back in.”
“I didn’t let her back in !” he said desperately
“You picked up the phone !” she exclaimed, grounding herself as she breathed in and out slowly “You are never contacting her again, you understand that ? You are never ever to speak to her again. I am your wife and you will listen to me.”
Nate closed his eyes briefly “She’s trying to heal.”
“And that is not your responsibility anymore.” her voice broke completely on the last word. Jessica looked smaller suddenly, not angry anymore just scared “I will not come second to her again.”
That finally made him look at her fully, underneath the anger was the real thing. Fear. The fear that no matter how much time had passed, some part of him would always belong to another woman.
Jessica’s eyes filled with tears as she met his eyes “I loved you through her, Nate.”
He moved toward her instinctively, but she stepped back “No,” she whispered “Don’t do that unless you mean it. Just answer me, are you actually happy with me ?”
Nate’s expression fell apart a little as he shook his head “Jess don’t do that”
“Don’t lie to me.” she whispered
He swallowed hard, he did love her. He loved the quiet safety of her, the steadiness, the patience. The life they’d built out of wreckage but love and grief were not always separate things. And Layla… Layla was carved into him forever, no matter how much he wanted to rip her out of him.
Jessica watched him struggle to answer and her face slowly crumpled before he even spoke “Jesus Christ,” she whispered
“No, listen to me-” Nate whispered
“I knew it.”
“That’s not what this is !”
“Then what is it ?” she pushed
Nate looked exhausted suddenly. “I am happy with you,” he said honestly “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“But ?”
“I’ll always love her.” he finally admitted
Jessica shut her eyes, like the words physically hurt and Nate stepped forward again carefully. “Jess, loving her doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
“But it means part of you will always belong to someone else.” she ignored his eyes
Jessica looked at him for a long moment with tears slipping silently down her face, then she nodded once “I need some space,” she whispered
Nate sighed as he shook his head “Jess, it’s not like that. It’s just what we went through and what I helped her with. It’s not that what you and I have.”
“I was there when she broke you,” Jessica said quietly “And I can’t survive competing with her ghost for the rest of my life.”
She walked past him toward the bedroom, leaving Nate standing alone in the living room with the terrible realization that sometimes loving two people meant inevitably hurting them both.
A Month Later
The beach cottage was quiet except for the waves outside and the distant creak of the old porch swing moving in the wind. Layla stood at the tiny kitchen counter pretending to straighten things that were already straight when she heard the knock at the door.
Her stomach tightened instantly because she just knew. Sidney always knocked differently than everyone else, three quick taps and one softer one after. It was their code for when he used to sneak her into his hotel room on roadies when she’d surprise him
She opened the door and smiled “Hey you, you’re early…boys are still napping”
His eyes softened the second he saw her “Hey” he lifted a paper bag slightly “I brought dinner.”
Layla almost smiled despite herself “You still remember my order?”
Sidney gave a faint shrug “Kinda hard to forget after all these years.”
She stepped aside to let him in. The cottage had become hers gain over the last few weeks in small, healing ways. Books stacked beside the couch, a blanket draped over the armchair, the boys’ drawings taped crookedly to the refrigerator. Sidney noticed all of it immediately.
“They really love it here,” he said softly
Layla looked over as he stared at a crayon drawing and grinned “Heavy emphasis on the fact you let them eat popsicles after dinner,” she said lightly
He laughed quietly and she grinned, she had forgotten sometimes how much she missed hearing that sound
Sidney set the food down before glancing around again “They say this is the coolest place ever. They tell me it’s more fun here.”
Layla smiled faintly. “That’s because I don’t make them go to bed on time.”
“No,” Sidney said softly, eyes on her now “It’s because you seem happier here.”
The honesty in that made her chest ache. They ate on the porch while the sun lowered over the water. For once, they didn’t fight
Sidney watched the ocean for a long moment before speaking “I miss you.”
Layla’s hand tightened slightly around her drink as she ate a chip
“I know things were bad,” he continued quietly “Worse than bad sometimes and I know I made you lonely for a really long time.”
Sidney rubbed his hands together nervously before looking at her fully “I wasn’t a good husband to you…at first,” he corrected himself painfully “And honestly ? I wasn’t a very good dad either.”
She opened her mouth instinctively to soften it, but he shook his head, “No. Don’t.” his voice stayed calm “I need to say it the way it really was. I thought providing was enough,” Sidney said “I thought if I worked hard and got you the perks that…that counted as loving you properly. But meanwhile you were drowning right next to me and I didn’t even notice until someone else did.”
Layla looked away immediately, he was talking about Nate.
Sidney exhaled slowly “I hated him for a long time but if I’m honest…” he gave a hollow laugh “Part of me understood why you needed him.”
That hurt more than anger would’ve and suddenly she was silently crying now
“I’m not saying what happened was okay,” he added quickly “It destroyed me. But I know I helped build the loneliness that led there…and I destroyed you too with Rachel.”
Layla stared at him silently, emotions tangling painfully in her chest “Sidney”
Sidney leaned back in his chair slightly “I love you,” he said simply “I think I always will and if you decide you want a divorce…” he nodded once, like he had rehearsed this part alone a hundred time “I’ll accept it.”
Her breath caught “What ?”
“I won’t fight you. I won’t guilt you. I won’t make you carry my feelings for me anymore. But I need you to know something first.” his voice shook slightly now “I am so sorry I couldn’t do right by you when it mattered most.”
Layla looked down quickly as tears slipped onto her cheeks but Sidney continued anyway
“You deserved a husband who saw you sooner. You deserved someone who protected your heart instead of assuming you’d survive anything. No matter what happens, I’ll always be there for you.”
Layla covered her mouth briefly, overwhelmed “I know…I know”
“And if…” he stopped, gathering himself “If you do decide to come back to me someday…I’ll spend the rest of my life being the man I should’ve been from the start.”
Layla’s face crumpled. For years that was all she wanted, for him to see her, to choose her fully over hockey. To fight for the life they could’ve had and now that he finally was,she didn’t know if she still knew how to trust it
It was only a day later a knock at the cottage door came a little after midnight. Layla had been half asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with the tv playing quietly in the background, when it startled her awake. For a second panic flashed through her, the boys were at Sidney’s and he’d call or text if he were coming over. Nobody should’ve been there.
She moved cautiously to the door and looked through the small window beside it then froze. It was Nate. Summer rain soaked through his tshirt and darkened his blonde hair, his chest rising hard like he’d been breathing heavily before she even opened the door
The second she pulled it open, his eyes found hers and whatever expression she expected, it wasn’t this. He looked furious.
“Why did you call me ?” he demanded immediately
Layla blinked “Nate-”
“No, seriously.” he stepped inside before she could answer, soaked shoes leaving water across the floor “Why the hell did you call me ?”
She stared at him, stunned “You told me goodbye.”
“I know that.”
“You said you were moving on.” she whispered
“I KNOW !” his voice cracked through the cottage so sharply it made her flinch
Nate turned away immediately, dragging a hand through wet hair, visibly trying to get control of himself but it was too late now. Everything he’d been holding back was already spilling out.
“You don’t get to do this to me,” he said hoarsely pointing a finger at her
Layla’s throat tightened “Do what ?”
“Call me crying and apologizing and talking about our baby like that and then just…” he laughed once bitterly “What ? Expect me to go back home and be fine ?”
Her eyes filled instantly as Nate paced once through the tiny living room, restless and unraveling “I have tried so hard to let you go.”
Every word sounded dragged out of him, “You think I want this ?” He pointed at himself angrily “You think I enjoy waking up every morning still thinking about you?”
“Nate…”
“I’m so fucking angry at you !” he admitted, voice breaking “I’m so fucking angry at you for still being in my head after everything.”
Layla just stood there silently crying because part of her had always believed eventually he’d stop loving her. That enough time would kill it, but standing in front of her now, he looked haunted by it.
“I love my wife,” Nate said shakily “Jessica is good and patient and she deserves someone who isn’t still carrying another woman around in his chest like a ghost. And I keep trying,” he whispered “I keep trying to be the man she deserves. But every time I think I’m finally past you…” his eyes locked onto hers helplessly “You’re still there.”
.Nate laughed bitterly at himself, wiping at his face angrily because he hated that he was emotional “I hate that I came here tonight.”
“Then why did you ?” Layla whispered “Why ? I didn’t fucking force you”
That stopped him cold, because there it was. The real Layla he always knew finally showing emotions underneath all the anger. Nate looked at her like the answer physically hurt
“Because I needed to see if you’d stop me.” he whispered
He stepped closer slowly now, not touching her. Just close enough she could see how exhausted he looked “How am I supposed to move on from someone who never really let me go ?” he asked quietly
Tears rolled down Layla’s cheeks “I tried to let you hate me,” she whispered
“Well, that didn’t work.” he scoffed, wiping his eyes with his wet sleeve, he looked down briefly before speaking again, softer this time “When you forgot me after the accident…” his jaw tightened hard “Do you know what that did to me ?”
Layla shut her eyes immediately shaking her head
“I would’ve survived losing you, I know it sounds harsh” he admitted “But losing you while you were still alive ? While you looked at me like I was nobody ?” his voice cracked completely “That destroyed me.”
“I know,” she whispered painfully
“No,” he said quietly “I don’t think you do.”
The room fell silent except for the storm outside then Nate looked at her with tears standing openly in his eyes now “I can’t keep doing this.”
Layla’s chest tightened so hard it hurt to breathe “We’re not doing anything”
“I can’t keep loving you halfway,” he whispered “And I can’t keep pretending I know how to stop.”
He stepped even closer, close enough now that she could feel the warmth coming off him despite the now cold rain on his clothes “So tell me” his voice shook “If this is over, really over, then tell me to my face.”
Layla stared at him silently and Nate’s expression crumpled with desperation she’d never seen from him before “Tell me you don’t need me.”
Her lips parted but no sound came out
“Please,” he whispered desperately “I need you to say it,” he begged quietly “I need you to tell me to move on so I can finally try.”
Layla looked at him standing there in the dim light of the cottage, soaked from the rain and shaking apart in front of her, she felt her heart break in a quieter, deeper way than it ever had before because for the first time since she had known him, Nate wasn’t asking her to choose him, he was asking her to free him and she loved him enough now to finally tell the truth.
Her voice trembled when she spoke “You have to move on, Nate.”
The words hit him instantly, she saw it happen. His face went still in that awful way people do when pain lands too deep to show immediately but she forced herself to continue before she lost the courage
“What we had…” she swallowed hard “It wasn’t healthy.”
Nate shook his head faintly like he physically didn’t want to hear it “Okay”
“No.” tears slid down her cheeks “Please let me be honest this time. We loved each other,” she whispered “But we were drowning when we found each other and instead of helping each other heal, we just…” her voice cracked. “We became obsessed.”
Nate’s eyes shut briefly because he knew. God, he knew. The hiding, the desperation whenever they had sex, the way they clung to each other like losing contact for even a second would kill them. It had never felt calm or safe. It felt like needing oxygen.
“We were too physical,” Layla admitted shakily “Too consumed by each other. Half the time we weren’t even thinking clearly, we were just trying to escape our lives inside each other.”
Nate looked down at the floor like every word physically hurt him as he nodded
“And I think part of me confused being needed with being loved,” she whispered
That made him finally look back at her, pain flashed openly across his face “You did love me ?”
“I did,” she said immediately “But loving someone isn’t always enough to build something healthy.”
Layla wiped at her face, trying to steady herself “You have a chance at something different now.”
Nate laughed hollowly “With Jessica ?”
“Yes.”the answer came without hesitation “She loves you in a peaceful way, Nate.”
His eyes filled with tears again immediately “Thank you”
“And you deserve peace.”
He shook his head, broken “I wanted you, I wanted you so bad I let it almost ruin me Layla.”
“I know.”
“You were it for me.” Nate murmured
Layla’s face crumpled, part of her believed that too but belief wasn’t always truth
“You deserve a family that isn’t built out of pain and betrayal and grief,” she whispered “You deserve children who grow up watching their father love their mother without guilt attached to it. Be the man you wanted to be with me.”
That nearly undid him completely. Tears slid down his face openly now, and he didn’t even try to hide them. Layla reached up slowly and touched his cheek for what she knew, deep down, would probably be the last time
“You loved me when I didn’t know how to love myself, you loved me from afar and you healed me. You went to….you went to face my father" she whispered “And I will spend the rest of my life being grateful for that.”
Nate leaned into her hand for just a second, eyes squeezed shut “I’d do it again if I had to”
“You shouldn’t have done that Nate….he was a dangerous man” she finally admitted
“He pointed a gun at me and I didn’t care’ he let out a wet chuckle “I was determined to either beat his ass or get your things back, I think I did the best thing”
Layla finally let a sob out “I can’t believe you did that for me”
“I wanted you to have something” he sniffled “Every person deserves to have their childhood and even though yours wasn’t the best…I knew you’d want your things at some point. When I was looking through it, I just…I just pictured you as a little girl and it made me wanna kill him”
She cried harder than ever as she covered her face “He’s dead and I’m so fucking happy he is, he ruined my fucking life”
Nate wrapped his arms around her tightly “Shh it’s okay”
“It’s not” she shook her head “He’s why I hurt so many people, he made me this way”
“I think you’re perfect just the way you are” he kissed the top of her head
Layla said nothing as she got out of his hold and wiped her eyes, she looked him over and nodded “I think you’re gonna be the best dad ever when you become one, I have such good faith in you Nathan”
“Why does this feel worse than losing you the first time ?” Nathan whispered
“Because this time,” Layla said through tears “We’re both choosing it.”
That silence afterward felt endless. He looked at her for a long moment like he was trying to memorize her one last time “I think part of me will always love you.”
Layla sniffled and nodded “I know.”
He gave a weak, devastated smile “Guess we finally stopped lying to each other.”
She almost laughed through the tears, Nate stepped back then and walked until he was at the door, stopping once more without turning around “I hope you find peace too, Layla.”
Her throat tightened painfully “You too.”
Then he left the door shut softly behind him and for the first time since they’d met, neither of them ran after the other. Nate got in his car and hit the steering wheel, pressing his head against it for a while. He lifted his head when something fell out of the sun visor onto his lap. It was the paper he had gotten from the hospital that day of the accident, the one giving him the confirmation of the gender of the child he and Layla were expecting, a girl.
He knew he’d never tell her, he knew it wouldn’t end well and that he finally had to move on. He kissed the paper as he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as he tore it up into tiny pieces. That was in the past and how he was looking forward to the future. Layla was done with him and in a way that was healing. He felt pain at the moment but he knew he’d be okay, he had new beginnings to look forward to now and that was what mattered
One Year Later
The boys were loud the entire drive to Sidney’s house. The 3 of them talking over each other from the backseat about the tide pools Layla had taken them to that morning, one missing shoe somehow abandoned at the beach, and whether cereal counted as dinner if Mom said it did.
Layla laughed and Sidney kept glancing at her from the driver’s seat during red lights, quiet little looks like he still couldn’t fully believe she was there. By the time they pulled into the driveway, the boys exploded out of the car before Sidney even finished parking.
Layla shook her head as they sprinted toward the house “They’re going to break their necks.”
“They got that from you.” he smirked
She snorted softly “Absolutely not.”
Sidney smiled, that smile still got her so good she could feel her cheeks warm up.
Inside, the house smelled like garlic and laundry detergent and home. The boys disappeared upstairs instantly, yelling to each other, while Layla lingered awkwardly near the kitchen island. It had once been so easy to stand in this house. Now every room held old versions of them.
Sidney walked toward her slowly“There’s something I wanna show you.”
Her stomach tightened a little “Sid”
“Just trust me.” The softness in his voice made it impossible not to
He took her hand and led her upstairs. Layla frowned slightly when he stopped outside the spare bedroom at the end of the hall “That room used to be storage.”
“Not anymore.” he opened the door
Layla stopped breathing. The room looked like something pulled straight from the deepest, most impossible part of her childhood. Soft cream-colored walls. Bookshelves filled with old classics she used to check out repeatedly from the library as a little girl because owning books felt unimaginable back then. A window seat covered in quilts. Fairy lights, paint supplies. A pink boombox. It looked like the bedroom a little girl would dream up after surviving too much.
Layla’s hand flew to her mouth “Sidney…”
Sidney looked nervous suddenly, almost boyish “You told me once,” he said quietly “That when you were little, you used to imagine having a room where nobody could….could hurt you. I know I can’t fix what happened to you,” Sidney whispered “I know I can’t give you back your childhood. But I wanted you to have something beautiful that belonged only to you.”
Sidney stepped closer carefully “There’s one more thing.”
Layla laughed shakily through tears “There’s more ?”
“Come with me.”
Twenty minutes later, they stood in front of an old brick building near the edge of downtown. The sign had been taken down and construction equipment sat outside.
Layla looked confused “What is this ?”
Sidney reached into his coat pocket and handed her a folded paper with architectural renderings. Her eyes moved across the page slowly, there were art rooms, counseling offices, after-school programs, emergency family services, reading spaces, safe recreation areas.
And at the top of the page was the name The Layla Martin Foundation.
Layla looked up at him in shock
Sidney’s voice was quiet now “I bought the building three months ago.”
Her eyes widened “What ?”
“You said once that kids like you don’t just need rescue.” he swallowed “They need somewhere to go after.”
Layla stared at him speechlessly shaking her head
“I kept thinking about how many versions of you are still out there,” he admitted “Kids trying to survive homes they shouldn’t have to survive.”
Tears streamed freely down her face now “Oh my god”
“So…” he gave a nervous little shrug “I wanted to build something that helps.”
“For abused children ?” she whispered
He nodded “There’ll be therapists, tutors, activities… somewhere safe to exist for a while.” his eyes softened “Somewhere kids can just be kids.”
Layla looked back at the building, completely overwhelmed then back at him and suddenly she understood. Sidney stepped closer “I know I failed you before,” he said softly “I know there are parts of our marriage I can never undo.But I love you,” he whispered “I love every version of you. The woman you are now, the girl you used to be… all of it.And I don’t want to spend another second making you wonder if you’re alone.”
The silence between them felt enormous then Layla stepped forward suddenly and kissed him. Sidney made a startled sound against her mouth before holding her carefully, like he still didn’t trust this was real. When she finally pulled back, both of them were crying a little.
“I want to come home,” she whispered
Sidney’s eyes shut immediately like the words physically overwhelmed him “Yeah ?”
Layla nodded, smiling through tears “Yes.”
His forehead dropped against hers shakily and for the first time in years, loving each other no longer felt like surviving or just dealing with each other, it felt real.
EPILOGUE -10 YEARS LATER
Ten years later, Nova Scotia still smelled the same. Salt air, Pine trees and cold ocean water crashing against dark rocks was exactly what summer was. Layla stood near the edge of the harbor market with a coffee in one hand while watching tourists drift between little shops and fishing boats below the cliffs.
Behind her, Sidney was unsuccessfully trying to convince 15 year old Rowan that carrying luggage counted as “character building”,
“It’s one duffel bag,” Sidney argued “Dude, Patrick already got all the stuff down and he’s only a year younger and Troy’s 12 and he helped mom pack everything in the car, don’t be a whiner”
“As the oldest I deserve privileges” Rowan muttered as he did as told
Layla laughed into her coffee, some things never changed and other things had changed completely. The foundation had grown beyond anything either of them imagined. What started as one building became multiple programs across the state. Emergency housing, therapy grants, arts camps and….foster support.
Three years ago, after one particularly difficult placement case, they’d adopted a little girl named Claire. Claire, who had severe nightmares for almost a year. Claire, who now slept sprawled sideways across their bed whenever thunderstorms hit and cuddled up to Sidney every time she felt scared. Claire, who had slowly and cautiously learned what safety looked like and would hug Layla every morning she woke up. Claire who adored her brothers from the beginning and was spoiled rotten by them
Layla turned as she heard small footsteps racing behind her, tiny arms wrapped around her leg. She blinked down in surprise and saw a little girl she had never seen before stared up at her with huge serious brown eyes and a mess of dark curls escaping two crooked braids
“Well hello there,” Layla said gently
The little girl said nothing and just leaned harder against her leg
She crouched slightly towards her “You okay babe ?”
The girl nodded once solemnly but still said nothing
“Where’s your grown-up honey ?”
The child pointed vaguely behind herself without even looking, finally speaking after a moment “I like your voice.”
Layla’s heart melted instantly “Well, thank you.”
The girl studied her carefully before deciding, apparently, that Layla belonged to her now and climbed directly into her lap like this was the most natural thing in the world
Layla laughed softly in surprise “Okay, confident choice.”
“She does that.”
The voice behind her made the entire world stop for half a second. Layla froze as she slowly turned. Nate stood about twenty feet away near the boardwalk entrance, slightly out of breath like he’d been searching for the little girl for a while.
Older now but still blonde and still with those icy blues that were just a little softer now, still unmistakably him. For a moment neither of them moved, not shock exactly but the strange stillness of seeing someone who once changed your entire life
Then the little girl in Layla’s arms groaned dramatically “Daddy, you lost me.”
Nate blinked once before laughing under his breath “You ran away from me, Lucy.”
Lucy. Layla looked between them slowly and understood immediately. Adopted. It was clear in the way she looked nothing like him and nothing like Jessica either. Somehow faith had worked in mysterious ways because now they both had adopted daughters.
Nate walked closer and for the first time she saw how peaceful he looked “Sorry,” he said lightly “She likes kidnapping strangers.”
“I’m not strangering daddy ” Lucy informed him seriously from Layla’s lap “I’m sitting you silly goose, this is why you shouldn't get hit in the head with pucks no mores”
Layla laughed before she could stop herself and Nate smiled at the sound instinctively. The sharp ache that once existed between them had softened into something survivable
“You look good,” he said quietly
“So do you.” she grinned
No haunted sadness hid underneath him anymore, no desperation. Just a man finally living inside his own life. A woman approached from farther down the boardwalk carrying ice cream cups, Jessica.
Layla hadn’t seen her in over a decade, but she recognized her instantly. Jessica slowed slightly when she noticed who Lucy had attached herself to. Her eyes widened briefly then softened. Nate walked toward her naturally, automatically taking the extra ice cream from her hand. The ease between them told Layla everything, marriage with trust rebuilt carefully and kept intact.
Jessica smiled politely at Layla “I see Lucy found someone new to emotionally adopt.”
“I like her,” Lucy announced with a nod
“That tracks,” Jessica chuckled
Everyone laughed softly then another small blur came sprinting down the boardwalk
“Mommy !”
Clair launched herself at Layla’s side before stopping abruptly when she noticed Lucy. The two girls stared at each other before Claire took it upon herself to take charge
“Do you wanna see shells ?” she asked Lucy
“Yes.” Lucy nodded and took her hand and just like that they ran off together toward the rocky shore without another thought
“Claire !” Sidney called from behind them
He finally reached the group carrying two bags and looking mildly exhausted then he noticed Nate. There was a brief pause, the both of them standing in the aftermath of an old war neither of them wanted anymore.
Sidney looked at Nate and Nate looked at Sidney, they both grinned a little, not because the past was funny but because somehow all of them survived it. Jessica folded her arms loosely as the girls crouched near the shoreline already chattering like lifelong friends
“Can you two little ladies stay near us ?” she called out
“Yes !” both girls shouted back instantly
“Okay. But stay close.” Sidney called “Both of you, Claire you’re older watch over Lucy please”
The adults stood quietly watching them for a moment. Lucy and Claire holding up seashells excitedly to each other while waves crashed behind them. Two little girls with difficult beginnings. Safe and loved now.
Layla glanced at Nate once more as he winked at her, not flirting but reassuring her thoughts and somehow Sidney got the hint and walked over to to help the boys and Jessica simply grinned as Nate kissed her head
“We both adopted girls” Nate chuckled “Wow”
“I know” Layla laughed “Lucy is adorable, I need like 10 of her”
“Claire’s cute as can be” Nate grinned at her
“Why’d you adopt ?” Layla asked looking at him
“Just wanted to give a little girl something I wish a little old friend of mine could’ve had, wish fulfilled” he said softly with a smile as he looked up at the sky. He knew Layla didn’t know what he meant but that was okay, he was glad she was happy and he was too. He walked back to Jessica and sat next to her kissing her cheek
Layla walked by Sidney’s side, cuddling into his side “You’re snuggly”
“Claire tells me the same thing” he kissed her
For a moment Layla watched the girls then the waves, she blew a kiss to the boys who were playing a game of catch on the grass and smiled. Life could be messy and ugly but at least now Layla had what she had always wanted, peace.
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Summary: Robby’s gone and you bring in the one person you know can help, Jack. He’s there for you and does what Robby should be doing but what isn’t expected is him coming clean about some things that leave you even more heartbroken and what you especially don’t expect is Robby coming back from a bad crash leaving you to realize you have a choice to make
Warnings: unrequited feelings, talk of pregnancy, emotional breakdowns
AN: Thank you all so much for the love on part 1 ! I genuinely appreciate it so so much and hope you enjoy this second part just as much ! As always please reblog with tags, comment and support anyway you can ! If you like it to read later remember to come back ! I tried to tag everyone who asked as well. Feedback is what makes the writing world go round so if you were tagged can't wait to especially hear your thoughts, my ask box is always open 💙
You stayed in for days, calling him over and over until you brought in the reinforcement you hoped could help you
“He left ?” Jack asked immediately as he stepped inside “No that’s not true, he told me-”
“He left !” you exclaimed “He left ! He took his things and left me this bullshit note on the table !”
He walked over and took it from your still shaking hands and sighed “Oh man, okay listen you need to calm down okay ? You’ve got a baby inside of you and you can’t cause yourself any more stress. How far along are you now ?”
“14 weeks” you whispered
Jack nodded “Okay well you just focus on not worrying too much and I’m gonna handle this, I’m gonna find him” he repeated as he walked over and hugged you “I promise you, I will”
“What if something happens to him ?” you murmured in his hold “It’s what he wants Jack, it’s why he took that stupid bike in the first place”
He shook his head “He just wants it to stop…he’s been going through some stuff and he didn’t know how to deal with it”
“So rather than tell me, his girlfriend and soon to be mother of his child, he would rather abandon us like we’re not worth anything ?” you pulled back and looked at him “Do you think that was the right choice here ?”
Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead “Of course not, I never said that I mean that he sabotaged things on purpose rather than be open and get help. He needs help” he looked at you with a pained expression “He needs serious help”
You shook your head as you felt your eyes water and choked back a sob “And here I am making things so much worse for him with a baby that he doesn’t even want, I did this” you cried “I added onto his already bad state and scared him so much he just left. I did this to him, I hurt him”
“Hey none of that” he said sternly yet gentle “Don’t say that, it’s bullshit alright ? In the 6 months you’ve been with him he’s been happy. He talked about you to patients and other doctors, he always found a way to mention you and he always looked forward to you visiting him. This isn’t about you or the kid, it’s him. He’s self sabotaging”
“I need him….I love him” you looked up at Jack “He told me he loved me for the first time last night….and now he’s gone. You don’t do that to someone you love.”
“You’ve got me” he whispered caressing your cheek “You’ve got me okay ? I’ll help you”
In the short time you had known Jack you had learned so much about him, Robby had given you the cliff notes version one night during a night he had stayed late to talk with him after a rough shift. You knew his time in combat had been rough and that he had a prosthetic leg and you also learned he had lost his wife a few years ago and Robby had alluded to her being pregnant at the time as well. He had endured a lot of pain and trauma and somehow he still wanted to make sure you were okay
“Robby doesn’t want me to find him” you murmured “He doesn’t want me to wait for him, he wants me to move on but I know it’s all just words. I know he was just in his head”
“Well he’s out of luck because I’m gonna find him” Jack repeated “I will”
The next month you had prayed, something you had never really done but you knew that in desperate times it helped. Jack and you had called every single hospital, police station…..even morgues all up and down the state lines. You had remembered him talking about Canada and how he wanted to see Banff and quickly made calls to the same places over there but nothing. There was no trace of Robby whatsoever and now his phone was going straight to voicemail without even ringing
It had been time for your monthly appointment and despite your mind telling you to stay home you forced yourself to go. The waiting room was torture as you looked around and saw every woman with their partner next to them, happily talking and looking through the expecting parent magazines while you had no one, well not who you envisioned anyways
“You have lunch ?” Jack asked you
“A granola bar.” you answered pretending to flip through one of those cheesy parenting magazines
“That’s not food.”
“It is technically food.”
“It’s technically cardboard with vitamins.” he smirked slightly
Despite yourself, your mouth twitched faintly and Jack noticed. He didn’t smile about it though or make a big deal out of getting even the smallest reaction from you. He simply grinned and looked down at his lap, content he at least made you somewhat smile
“You sleeping any better ?” he asked after a minute
You simply shook your head. Truthfully, sleep was worse now. Mostly because Robby was everywhere in your dreams. Sometimes he came home, sometimes he was standing just out of reach and sometimes he was holding the baby and smiling like none of this had ever happened. Waking up from those dreams felt like losing him all over again and you didn’t wanna get into that so stayed quiet, standing up when your name was finally called
The appointment went normally at first, the usual weight check, blood pressure and routine questions about symptoms or anything feeling different. Jack sat beside you quietly, his long legs stretched awkwardly in the too-small chair, occasionally scrolling through his phone while still paying attention to everything the doctor said
“Well,” she said brightly, flipping through the chart “Mom and dad are looking good today.”
Your stomach twisted instantly as Jack’s head lifted and for one horrible second, the room went painfully silent. The correction was sitting right on your tongue but you couldn’t get it out. You wanted to stand up and scream, He’s not the father ! The father left, disappeared, hasn’t even checked if his baby is okay !
But before you could force any of that out, the doctor was already continuing her usual questions “Any nausea still ? How’s she treating you, dad ?”
Jack hesitated briefly “ Well um…there’s no vomiting lately,” he answered calmly, glancing toward you instead “She’s been keeping food down better.”
Your eyes snapped toward him but he didn't look back or correct her. He knew it’d be awkward and that was the last thing he wanted for you. He just kept the conversation moving like he noticed the panic freeze you up and stepped in front of it before it could hit you.
“Good. That first trimester can be rough.” the doctor nodded approvingly
You barely heard the rest because something strange and painful had settled in your chest instead. Not because Jack let the doctor assume but because for once it felt normal, someone being there felt normal. Someone asking questions, someone caring enough to make you a vitamin schedule and remind you to drink water, someone always making sure you ate.
Your throat burned suddenly and Jack noticed immediately, “You okay?” he asked quietly
“Yeah.” you nodded a little too fast
The ultrasound started a few minutes later, the screen flickered and then there it was, your baby. Bigger now and moving right in front of you on the dimly lit screen
Your breath caught so sharply it hurt, Jack went still beside you and gave you a small reassuring grin
“Healthy heartbeat.” the technician smiled “Really strong”
You stared at the screen as tears immediately spilled down your cheeks. Even in a moment where it was about you and your baby all you could think about was Robby. How he should’ve been there beside you holding your hand. The thought hit you with such force you nearly folded in on yourself
Robby should be seeing this. He should be making sarcastic comments to hide the fact he’s emotional and wants to cry. He should be holding your hand too tightly like he always did whenever you two watched a thriller or horror movie on the couch. He should be here but instead, it’s Jack sitting beside you silently while you cry and somehow that makes you feel even worse
When the appointment finally ended Jack drove you home in silence. He had offered to stop anywhere but you declined. All you wanted was to get in bed and cry
“Why hasn’t he called ?” you whispered after a bit
Jack said nothing but you could see his grip tighten slightly on the steering wheel
You laughed weakly, wiping your eyes “I keep thinking maybe he lost his phone or something stupid.”
Jack said nothing, because both of you knew Robby disappearing wasn’t accidental and you both knew his phone was more than fine. He just wasn’t in the headspace to bother to reach out and that made it all that much worse
“He knew about the baby,” you murmured brokenly “How do you leave knowing that ?”
“I don’t know” he exhaled slowly through his nose
He dropped you off and the first thing you did was call Robby’s phone, you had hoped for some miracle, that he’d pick it up and tell you he was coming home and how he’d be there in no time but instead once again just voicemail. Robby was gone and you had started to believe that maybe he wouldn’t come back
It was the next day when you had finally left work and dreamed of being in bed at home with nothing but a bowl of ice cream in your lap, what you didn’t expect when you stepped into Robby’s house was furniture
There was a built crib in the corner of the living room along with the matching dresser beside it. The bassinet was near the couch with the tags removed, fitted sheets already tucked neatly into place
“What the fuck…”, you walked farther in slowly like the room would disappear if you moved too fast
The nursery furniture had been sitting untouched in boxes for a month but ever since Robby left, you couldn’t bring yourself to open them. Every time you tried, you ended up crying on the floor halfway through reading the instructions because all you could think about was how Robby should’ve been with you
You heard movement in the kitchen and walked towards it, your heart beating against your chest as you mentally prepared yourself to see him but instead it was someone else, the person who had been there the last 2 months
Jack was holding a screwdriver and immediately looked almost guilty at being caught “Oh,” he said cautiously “You’re home early.”
You stared at him, the disappointment settling in your heart but quickly masked it when you looked at the crib
“You built all this ?”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly “Yeah. Uh… hope that’s okay.”
Your throat tightens unexpectedly, it wasn’t Robby who was back and doing all of this, it was Jack. Jack who had stepped into a role that wasn’t his to take. You managed to give a small grin and nodded
The apartment smelled faintly like sawdust and takeout food. One of the instruction manuals was folded on the counter with pencil marks all over it and there was a bandaid wrapped around Jack’s thumb where you assumed he had caught himself on unfinished wood
“I just figured,” Jack says carefully, “you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”
That did it for you, your eyes immediately filled up and you turned away fast, pressing your lips together hard “Th-thanks”
“Hey,” he said quietly, instantly worried “You don’t have to keep any of it if you hate it—”
“No,” you interrupted shakily “No, I don’t hate it. I just…I just” you laughed once through the tears, embarrassed “I just… thought it was him. I thought he was back”
“Oh man” Jack said softly wiping his hands on his shirt “I should’ve texted or called you….I just thought maybe I could surprise you”
“No no” you shook your head, sniffling “I really appreciate it so much. I actually was gonna ask you if you’d help me out on your next day off”
“It took way longer than the instructions claimed, by the way” he said softly with a grin “Whoever wrote those lies professionally.”
That got a small real laugh out of you, the first one since that dreadful day. His expression softened at the sound, though he tried not to show it too obviously. You wiped your face quickly and looked around again, noticing more little things now. The loose cabinet handle in the kitchen was now fixed, the hallway light that flickered constantly was working normally, the trash was taken out. Even the coffee table’s loose leg was fixed
“You do all this too ?”
Jack shrugged “Was already here.”
You stared at him for a long moment. No one had taken care of you like this since Robby left. Not without making you feel guilty for needing help. Emotion swelled painfully in your chest again
“You should stay for dinner,” you blurted out suddenly
Jack blinked “You don’t have to—”
“I want you to.” you nodded “Beats eating alone and crying once again for the millionth time”
“Okay,” he said softly
Dinner ended up being takeout because you were too exhausted to cook and Jack refused to let you stand at the stove longer than necessary anyway
“You’re bossy,” you muttered at one point when he took a heavy grocery bag from your hands
“You’re pregnant.” he said back
After dinner, you found him kneeling near the nursery putting together the small bookshelf in the corner. For a second, your chest ached so badly you almost left…because this should have been Robby. Every milestone still circled back to him somehow despite him not making an attempt to contact you at all
Jack noticed you standing there and straightened slightly “What ?”
You shook your head quickly and went to sit in the rocking chair near the window while he tightened the last screw into place “Nothing, all good”
Silence settled comfortably for a bit until Jack spoke without looking at you “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay…” your stomach tightened immediately “Go for it”
He set the screwdriver down slowly “I’m not trying to replace him.”
The words hit harder than you expected but you nodded “I’m aware”
Jack finally looked over at you then, serious and steady “I know you love him and I know part of you probably always will.”
You look down at your hands “And ?”
“I’m not saying this because I expect something from you,” he continued carefully “And if it makes things weird, forget I said anything.”
Your heartbeat started climbing upon listening to him “Um…okay ?”
“But I do like you.” he exhaled “And I know the timing’s terrible, trust me, I know.”
You didn't know what to say, part of you saw this coming. The way he looked at you sometimes when you weren’t paying attention, the gentleness, the protectiveness, the fact he kept showing up.You tried telling yourself it wasn’t true but here was Jack Abbott in building your child’s nursery furniture confessing his feelings for you
“I’m not asking you for anything,” he said quickly when you stayed silent for too long “I mean that.But I care about you. And I care about the baby too.So whether you ever feel the same or not…” he paused. “I’m here.”
The simplicity of his confession nearly destroyed you. You stared at him across the half-finished nursery, emotions tangled so tightly you could barely separate them anymore and finally you shook your head
“Jack….Jack no” you whispered “No”
“I know” he finished the shelf and stood up “I know, it’s not good”
“No it’s not good” you snapped “I love Robby, I want Robby”
“And I love him too but he did this and it’s not right” he met your eyes
“Jack you need to go” you whispered “Please leave”
He nodded “I’m sorry…this doesn’t mean I’m not gonna stop looking for him, I love him just as much as you do. I’m gonna find him”
“I don’t want you to contact me” you looked at him “Please”
“I deserve that” he murmured
You watched as he walked away and gently closed the door, you sat on the couch and cried. Your usual routine but this time it wasn’t for you or your baby, it was for him too. You knew Jack didn’t genuinely like you, at least not like how he thought he did. You knew that in you he saw what he couldn’t do for his wife and child. You knew it wasn’t love or affection, it was just him trying to save what he couldn’t save for himself
The next 2 months were rough as can be, Jack had kept an eye on you via some work friends that oh so causally happened to show up at your job here and there but you knew it was him. He still hadn’t called or texted you and you were thankful, until one late night when your phone rang over and over again
“Jack what the actual fuck is wrong with you ? Do you see the time ? It’s 11 o’clock ! I don’t work nightshift like you, I work-”
“It’s Robby” he interrupted “It’s Robby, he’s in the hospital”
“What ?” you sat up quickly “How do you know ? Who called you ?”
“I’m his emergency contact” he revealed “I got the call just now, they’re transferring him over to us here. He’ll be here in an hour or so”
You sat frozen on the edge of the bed, after four months of silence, four months of nothing, suddenly he was twenty minutes away in the same hospital he used to work in.
“He asked for you,” Jack said quietly
Something horrible twisted in your chest, a feeling you had never had before, anger. Now he asked for you, not during the ultrasounds, not during the nights you cried yourself sick wondering if he was dead somewhere. Not when your baby started kicking, he wanted now.
You closed your eyes hard and exhaled “I’m not coming.”
Jack sat silent for a second too long and sighed “You don’t have to decide right now.”
“Yes I do.” your voice sharpened immediately “He left.”
“I know.”
“He knew I was pregnant.”
“I know.”
You stood abruptly, pacing now because your rage was suddenly mixing with grief so violently it made your hands shake “You don’t get to disappear for months and then show back up because you crashed your fucking motorcycle.”
Jack let you vent, he knew better than to interrupt you
“I hate him,” you whispered finally,your voice cracking around it
“No you don’t.”
You still ended up at the hospital an hour later, you told yourself it was for closure. That you were only there because if he died before you got to say any of this to his face, it would haunt you forever. Not because part of you still loved him so badly it felt carved into your bones.
Jack met you near the elevators still wearing navy scrubs, exhaustion heavy in his face. His eyes flicked automatically toward your stomach first, six months along now and impossible to miss, then back to your face “You sure ?”
No. But you nod anyway
Jack walked beside you quietly down the hallway, the closer you got to Robby’s room, the harder your heart pounded, you hate that it still does
Jack stopped outside the door and stood in front of you, “He’s awake,” he said gently “But he’s pretty messed up.”
You crossed your arms protectively over your stomach “Good.”
“He doesn’t know how far along you are.” and before you could respond, Jack pushed the door open
Robby was sitting partially upright in the hospital bed with bruises spread across half his face. There was a cut above his eyebrow held together with stitches. His arm was immobilized along with one leg heavily splinted. He also looked thinner, like the last few months hollowed him out from the inside
The second his eyes landed on you everything in him stopped. The color drained from his face and his gaze dropped instinctively to your stomach that was visible now beneath the oversized sweatshirt. You physically watched the realization hit him. His mouth opened slightly but no sound came out then suddenly his eyes filled.
Robby turned his face away sharply like he was ashamed of it, breathing uneven “Oh my god,” he whispers hoarsely
The sound of his voice after months apart nearly broke your composure instantly but you hardened against it. You forced yourself to because this man destroyed you.
He finally looks back at you and there’s genuine devastation written all over his face now.
“You’re—”
“Pregnant ? Did you forget I was ?” you cut in coldly “Yeah I know, showing still happens even when you abandon someone ”
Jack shifted uncomfortably near the door and sighed “Hey…let’s calm down”
Robby flinched like you hit him but you didn’t care, not anymore at least
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, voice breaking apart “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You don’t get to say that now.”
The room went painfully quiet, Robby stared at your stomach again, something raw and shattered in his expression “You’re really having my baby,” he whispered like he still couldn’t process it
Your jaw tightens upon his words “He’s not your anything.”
“Okay that’s enough” Jack stepped in “He’s got injuries and it’s time he gets some rest”
“No,” you snapped, eyes never leaving Robby’s “He left us.”
Robby’s face crumpled “I know,” he said quietly
“And I don’t want you there when I give birth,” you continued voice shaking now despite your best efforts “I don’t want you there.”
Robby went completely still, like even breathing hurt “What ?”
“You don’t get to walk back in because you suddenly changed your mind.”
“I didn’t—”
“You left.” you snapped
The monitor beside him started beeping faster and Jack moved closer immediately “Hey, both of you need to calm down.”
But neither of you heard him anymore, Robby’s eyes were locked in on yours desperately “I thought I was ruining your life.”
“You did.”
That finally broke him, he folded forward slightly despite the obvious pain from his injuries, one shaking hand covering his mouth as tears spilled freely now. Robby never cried, not in front of people
“I couldn’t breathe,” Robby choked out “Every time I looked at you I kept thinking eventually I’d become my mother and ruin both of you and I—”
“You didn’t get to decide that for me !”, your own tears falling now too “You didn’t get to decide I’d be better off alone !”
Jack had enough and physically stepped between you two “Enough.” he looked at you first gently “You should go home.”
“Fine.” you wiped angrily at your cheeks
Robby panicked immediately at the idea of you leaving again “Wait—”
“No.”, your voice frighteningly flat “You made your choice months ago.”
The look on his face is almost hard to survive but you forced yourself to turn away anyway. You knew if you stayed another second, part of you might forgive him and you weren’t ready for how much that would hurt you so instead you walked out and left. Not sure how things would be now but you had a feeling they wouldn’t be easy.
Summary: You and Andrew have been officially together for a bit and he decides to finally ask you why you never touch him and fears you don't want him that way only to find out there's a bigger reason and it sends him down a spiral he works hard to come back from
Warnings: age gap (Pope is 40ish and reader is mid 20's) mentions of rape and sexual assault, victim blaming
AN: Fic is inspired by the song "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex !! Finally my first Pope/Andrew fic !!! I've had this one in the works for a while and I'm so proud of it. Enjoy and let me know what you think ! Remember to comment and reblog 🖤
* I appreciate the likes but please remember if you’re liking to read later, please remember to give feedback ! It’s the smallest of things that us writers ask for. You could reblog with tags, comment or leave an ask, anything you feel comfortable with !! Feedback and support is what makes us write and post more
Dinner had gone cold twenty minutes ago. The pasta sat untouched on both of your plates while rain tapped softly against your condo windows. The only sound in the kitchen was the quiet clink of your boyfriend, Andrew, turning his fork over and over against the ceramic plate
You watched him carefully from across the table, he got like this sometimes. Quiet first, then distant and then somewhere dangerous inside his own head
“You don’t have to eat it if it sucks,” you said lightly, trying to pull him out of it “I definitely didn’t make it al dente like you usually like, I’m sorry”
His eyes lifted immediately “It’s good.”
“Okay.” you nodded
He rubbed at the scar on his knuckle unconsciously, a repetitive motion you had learned meant his OCD was flaring. Usually when he was stressed, overstimulated, or trying not to think about something. You knew he wanted to say something so you waited until he did
“Do you even like me ?”
The question hit so suddenly you almost choked on your water, “What ?”
His jaw tightened “You heard me.”
“Of course I like you.” you looked at him “What kind of fucking question is that Andrew ? Are you being serious right now ?”
“No, I mean actually like me.” he laughed once under his breath, humorless “Because sometimes I can’t tell if you’re just… comfortable with me.”
You stared at him confused “Where is this coming from ?”
He pushed his plate away abruptly “Four months.”
“What about four months ?” you whispered
“We’ve been together four months and every time I touch you for too long you tense up.” Andrew rasped out “Are you scared of me ? Do I scare you ? If-If I did I’m sorry, I am. I don’t mean to”
Your chest tightened instantly and you shook your head “No ! Oh god no, don’t say that...that’s not true at all”
He stood from the table and paced once through the kitchen “I try not to push you,” he said quickly, words starting to come faster “I know I’m older than you and I know I come with—” he gestured vaguely at himself “—all this shit. I know I’m not exactly easy to be with.”
“You are easy to be with.” you said immediately but he ignored that
“I can’t tell if you’re disgusted by me or scared of me or if you just…if you just hate me” Andrew murmured
“I don’t !” you said as you stood up from your chair “I don’t hate you !”
“Then why won’t you let me ever be…near you ?” he met your eyes
The room went still after that, there was no more anger or raised voices and somehow that made the feeling worse. Underneath the frustration was something bad, something that could easily change everything for the both of you. You could see it happening in real time now, his breathing was too shallow, his hands flexing repeatedly and thoughts moving too fast for him to control
You knew enough about him by now to recognize when his suspected BPD latched onto rejection and once it latched on, it tore him apart like no other
“I didn’t mean—” he started suddenly, running a hand through his auburn curls “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said it like that. It was fucked up, I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry”
“You deserve an answer.” you whispered
“No, because now you’re gonna feel cornered and then you’ll hate me for pushing and—”
“I don’t hate you Andrew, please quit saying that.”
His eyes snapped to yours immediately, almost desperate “Then tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Your throat tightened painfully, you had spent years avoiding this conversation. Years pretending it sat far enough in the past to not matter but here you were years later trying to build a future with a man who was looking at you like he was already preparing himself to lose you
“I was raped when I was 15” you whispered lowly
Andrew turned his head towards you and you swore you could see his eyes begin to water “What ?” he whispered
“My older brother's friend, he was in college and I was about to enter my freshman year of high school” you looked at him “He was sleeping over and it was a Friday night, everyone was asleep except he and I. We were in the living room watching a movie and I went to bed and while I was asleep he came into my room and….and he raped me”
“What ? He…..No” he shook his head, his voice barely existing “No…no…not you”
You swallowed hard and blinked to avoid the moisture building up in your eyes “I never really dealt with it properly. I just learned how to avoid things that make me feel trapped or panicked.” you gave a tiny shrug “Sometimes physical stuff is harder than I want it to be.”
He stared at you like he couldn’t process the words, you waited and waited and then you watched the exact moment it sank in. His face was drained of color but somehow he straightened up his posture and looked in your eyes “Who.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. You knew exactly where his mind was going and there was no way you’d ever let him handle anything like that for you, ever “No.”
“Who did it ?” Andrew rasped out, his voice frighteningly calm now, which was always worse than yelling “Just tell me…please”
You knew stories about him before you dated him, the things he’d done for his family. The extreme violence and the arrests. You remembered your friends and locals referring to him as Pope, a nickname he had told you he despised and only kept because his brothers refused to ever refer to him by his actual name
You knew his family was one to never cross but he had assured you time and time again he was done with that. There was no way you’d ever take him back to that kind of thing. The people who crossed him and his family regretted it, most ended up dead or missing somewhere. You knew the things he personally was capable of
He stepped away from the table entirely now, grabbing his jacket off the counter with shaking hands “Tell me his name.”
“Hey.” you walked over to his side and held his hands “No.”
“You-You said he was in college when you were a freshman, he was-he was an adult ? You were 15 ? Tell me.” Andrews voice shook “Remember, please remember”
“I don’t want to talk about him.” you moved your hands to caress his cheeks, attempting to ground him
“I do.” he nodded avoiding your eyes as his breathing was getting rougher
You could practically see the compulsive thoughts taking over him, fix it, hurt him, make it right, do something. It was going over and over in his brain and you desperately wanted to bring him back “Hey…look at me, please”
“If he’s still alive—”
“Stop.” you whispered “Just stop, please….forget I even said anything just stop”
“He hurt you.” he finally looked at you “He hurt you….he violated you”
“I know.”
“And nobody did anything ?” he exclaimed, his voice cracking at the end “No one did a damn thing ?”
You flinched slightly at the sudden sharpness in his voice and that made him freeze instantly. The anger vanished from his face, replaced immediately with horror “Oh my God” he dropped his jacket “I’m sorry. I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
“You didn’t yell.” you shook your head “Just…just surprised”
“But you flinched” his face twisted like the sight physically hurt him
Leaning your head on his chest you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, looking up at him “Look at me.”
He couldn’t do it, he shook his head, his breathing continuing to speed up “I should’ve protected you.”
“You didn’t even know me Andrew” you murmured
“I should’ve protected you.” he repeated
“You were not responsible for what happened to me when I was fifteen.”
“But somebody should’ve been”, his eyes were glassy now, frantic in a way that made your chest ache “You think I can sit here knowing somebody touched you like that?” he whispered “You think I can just eat dinner after hearing that ?”
“You have to.” you said softly
“No.”
“Yes.”
He tried pulling away again but you tightened your hold on him, “Listen to me carefully,” you said softly
He finally looked at you with glossy eyes and moved his hands to your face “You were a kid…you were a little girl…who hurts little girls like that ?”
“You going after someone isn’t going to undo what happened to me” you sniffled
His jaw clenched hard enough you saw the muscle jump “He deserves it…he deserves it for hurting you like that”
“Maybe he does. But I’m asking you not to” he looked tortured by that, actually tortured and it made your heart break
“I don’t know how to live with hearing that.” Andrew looked at you “I wanna kill anyone who ever hurt you”
“You don’t have to…do that” you shook your head
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No,” you finally said gently “It’s actually not.”
That finally shut him up and you watched the anger in his face slowly crack apart into something else now, grief. Not for himself but for you. His hands squeezed yours almost painfully “You were a kid.” he repeated
The way he said it nearly broke your composure but you managed to stay calm and simply nodded
He shut his eyes hard and when he spoke again, his voice sounded wrecked “I can’t stand thinking about somebody hurting you.”
“I know.”
“And now every time you pull away from me I’m gonna wonder if I remind you of him.”
“You don’t.” you answered quickly as your voice broke “How could you think that Andrew ? Of course you don’t”
“How do you know ?”
“Because I’m not scared of you.” you shook your head
That hit him hard enough that his expression crumpled slightly and you reached up to kiss his cheek “You know what the difference is ?”
He shook his head once
“You stop when I need you to stop, you ask before you touch me sometimes, you pay attention and you make me feel safe,” you whispered “Even now.”
He looked devastated hearing that after what you had told him, his thumb rubbed unconsciously over your knuckles again and again and again, repetitive and grounding “I don’t know what to do with this feeling,” he admitted quietly “I feel like I’m gonna crawl out of my skin.”
“You sit with me.” you murmured
“That’s it ?”
“That’s it.”
His eyes searched yours like he still wasn’t convinced, then finally, slowly, he nodded. You guided him toward the couch and for once, he let you take care of him. Later that night, long after the rain stopped, he held you carefully against his chest in bed like he was still trying to understand how the world could’ve ever been cruel enough to hurt you at all
You could always tell when his brain got stuck on something because he became unnervingly focused. Like every thought tunneled into one point until it consumed him completely. He hadn’t let go of your hand in almost an hour, his thumb kept moving against your skin in absent repetitive strokes, grounding himself
Finally, quietly, he spoke again “Did you tell anybody ?”
You looked over at him “No.”
“Not even your parents ?”
You shook your head once “Nope”
His jaw tightened slightly, but there was no anger in it this time. More disbelief than anything else “You were fifteen.”
“I know.”
“How does a fifteen-year-old carry that alone ?”
You gave a small shrug “I just did”
“That’s not an answer.”
A tiny breath of laughter escaped you despite yourself “See ? This is what I mean.”
His brows pulled together immediately “What ?”
“You ask things like an interrogator babe”
“I’m trying to understand.” he said as softly as he could
“I know.”
And you did know, that was the difference. He wasn’t asking for details out of curiosity. He was trying to build a map in his head so he could understand every reaction you’d ever had around him. From every hesitation to every flinch to every moment you froze up and pretended you were fine afterward
He looked down at your joined hands again “Did he…” his voice caught slightly before he forced himself to continue “Did he hurt you physically ?”
You considered the question carefully and finally nodded “Yes, he did”
His breathing changed immediately, still controlled but barely “And afterwards ?” he asked quietly “Did you get help ? Like did you go to the hospital ?”
“No I didn’t”
His head snapped toward you “No ?”
“I didn’t tell anyone, remember ?”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Andrew shook his head
“It made sense to fifteen-year-old me.” you shrugged
He stared at you for a long moment like he hated that answer because he couldn’t argue with it. He knew what he was going to ask next could get him kicked out of your place but he needed it answered, “Did you think it was your fault ?”
The bluntness of it should’ve sounded harsh but instead it just sounded sad. You looked down at your lap and nodded “At the time I did….I shouldn’t have been alone with him. I should’ve gone to bed when my brother did. I should’ve locked my bedroom door like I always did…I…let it happen”
His face twisted instantly “That’s insane to even think that kind of shit. How could you think it was your fault ? It’s that sick fuck’s fault for hurting a kid”
“I’m the one who stayed up till 1 am with him” you whispered
“You were failed by every adult around you.” he brought up sternly
You reached over and touched his arm gently “I’m okay.”
“No,” he said immediately “You survived it. That’s different.” he rubbed a hand over his face roughly before asking another question “Is that why you don’t like being pinned down ?”
You stiffened slightly in surprise “You noticed that ?”
“I notice everything about you.” he answered instantly
The answer came so quick it made your chest ache, of course he would notice that. Andrew noticed everything about you, the good and the bad
He continued before you could respond “The first time we kissed on the couch and I leaned over you, your breathing changed.” he glanced away briefly “So I stopped doing it.”
“You stop touching me in certain ways when I get nervous,” you realized softly
“Obviously.” he nodded
“Most people wouldn’t notice.”
“Well, I do.” he shifted toward you a little more now, eyes searching your face carefully “Does it happen all the time ?” he asked “Or only sometimes ?”
“Sometimes.”
“What does it feel like ?” he whispered
That question took you longer to answer, you tried to think of a way to explain it that would make sense to someone who had never experienced it “It’s like…” you paused for a bit and let out a deep breath “My body gets confused. My brain knows I’m safe but my nervous system doesn’t always catch up right away.”
He nodded immediately like that made perfect sense to him “Like panic responses.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
You blinked at how quickly he accepted it. There was no confusion or frustration, just acceptance. He sat back slightly, thinking again “Have I ever made you feel unsafe ?”
Your answer came instantly “No.”
The tension in his shoulders loosened just slightly “You would tell me if I did though, right ?”
“Yes.”
“You swear ?” Andrew looked at you “Right ?”
“I swear.” you leaned over and kissed him “I swear”
He held your gaze another second longer, making sure “Okay.”, silence settled again for a moment before he spoke quietly again, “I don’t really know how normal people respond to hearing something like this.”
“I don’t think there is a normal response.” you huffed softly
“There should be.” he murmured
“You’re doing fine.” you held his hand “You are”
“I’m trying very hard not to go find somebody.” Andrew admitted
You smiled faintly “I know.”
“I mean it.” his eyes dropped again “Every five minutes my brain goes back to wanting a name.”
“I know.”
“But I’m not asking again.”
That surprised you enough that your expression softened immediately “You’re not ?”
“No.” he swallowed “Because you asked me not to.”
Something warm and painful grew in your chest. This man, with all his damage, all his violence, all the terrible things he had survived and done was trying so hard to be gentle with you even now, especially now. You could tell he was trying his absolute hardest to be calm and to be comforting to you
He shifted closer suddenly and reached up carefully, brushing hair back from your face with tenderness “You know what bothers me the most ?”
“What ?”
“That you learned to expect people not to protect you.” he admitted
Your throat tightened and his hand cupped your cheek softly “That’s over now though”
You looked at him quietly “Okay”
“I mean it,” he said, voice low and steady “Nothing is ever going to hurt you again, nothing’s gonna hurt you baby”
Emotion rose so suddenly in your chest it caught you off guard “You can’t control everything.”
“No,” he admitted “But I can control me.”
His thumb brushed gently beneath your eye “I will never be another thing you survive.”
That nearly broke you and your eyes watered instantly. He noticed right away, expression shifting with immediate concern “Hey,” he said softly “Did I say something wrong ?”
You shook your head quickly “No.”
“Then why are you crying ?”
“Because nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
The look on his face after that broke your heart. There was no pity, just heartbreak that nobody had loved you carefully enough before him…kind of like he had felt just before he had met you. He pulled you into his chest slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted but you didn’t
His arms wrapped around you carefully, securely, like he was building shelter around your body. He pressed his lips against your hair and kissed softly
“Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, as long as you’re with me you’ll be just fine”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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but I want SO BADLY to free the WAG Playoff Jackets from the Sports Atelier Clean Girl Minimalist Aesthetic.
bring back chunky cute letterman style varsity jackets. please free these women from the thought that wearing a hockey jersey is cringe. I want these women to look like THEY are about to suit up and get on the ice. like yes, please be head to toe in your team's hockey colors this is literally the nhl playoffs.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
