To take the time to cherish each other’s company, to be able to see each other. 

The dining table was stretched to its fullest length, every chair occupied. Platters passed from one pair of hands to another. Your dad was laughing far too loudly at something Ellie had said. Liv insisted she'd done absolutely nothing wrong, which only made everyone suspicious.

Dana sighed into her wine, "Every time you say that, I know something’s about to bite me in the arse."

"Mom," Liv groaned, “I really didn’t do anything that bad”

While you only laughed harder. 

"And yet I don’t feel any better from you saying that," your Mama teased her. 

Your Dad chuckled from beside her, he adds, "And I've learned not to ask questions,” whilst your Mama elbows him lightly. 

Around the table, conversation flowed effortlessly. 

Rosie and Finnick–now four years old and full of boundless energy–had long since abandoned the adults in favour of playing with their cousin in the lounge room.

Or...

At least they had.

"Daddy!"

Brendon looked up from helping your Dad clear a plate, "Yes, sweetheart?"

Rosie's curls bounced as she ran into the dining room, eyes gleaming whilst she pleaded, "We need you."

He smiled, tilting his head, "What for?"

"A very important meeting,” Rosie declared, about as headstrong as her grandma you thought. 

Finnick appeared beside her, gripping a tiny plastic teapot, "You have tea."

Brendon looked at you.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself laughing, "I think you've been summoned."

Your Dad took the plates from Brendon’s grasp, "Oh, you've got no choice now,” he said with a knowing look. The look of a father who had been dragged into many tea parties before. 

Dana didn't even look up from cutting another slice of roast, "Good luck."

Brendon sighed with exaggerated resignation, "I suppose duty calls,” but even he couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across his face when Rosie seized one hand. And Finn took the other. 

Between the two of them they practically dragged the six-foot orthopaedic surgeon down the hallway.

Finn instructed, "Daddy sit!"

"I am sitting,” he claimed. 

"No,” Rosie pointed firmly, "There."

"Oh. My mistake,” he nodded before he folded himself with surprising grace onto a tiny pink plastic chair that looked as though it might collapse beneath him.

It somehow survived.

Barely.

His knees were practically level with his shoulders.

The children immediately began issuing instructions, "Cup,” Rosie poured a cup of tea for him. 

"Thank you,” Brendon nodded appreciatively. 

"Cake,” Finn passed a wooden plate over to him with a fake slice of cake. 

Miming taking a sip, Brendon plays along, just as he always had, just as he always will. Becoming putty beneath their demands, "Oh, very delicious."

"You have to pinky."

"I absolutely have to pinky."

They spent the next fifteen minutes correcting his tea-party etiquette with absolute seriousness.

"No, Daddy,” Rosie shook her head, “You sip. Like this,” Rosie demonstrated.

Brendon copied her exactly.

"Perfect,” Rosie grinned triumphantly, whilst Isla giggled along. 

Finnick nodded solemnly, "He’s learning."

The adults watched from the dining room doorway.

Your father laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

Dana quietly reached for her phone, "I'm taking a photo."

Brendon looked over, "Please don't."

"It's already been sent to the family group chat,” Dana claimed with a teasing grin. 

"Dana,” he sighs, but no bite laced his words. In fact, the shine in his eyes led you to believe he was enjoying this all. 

Everyone burst into laughter.

You couldn't stop smiling.

It was impossible to reconcile this gentle, endlessly patient father with the guarded man you'd first met all those years ago.

The one who had kept everyone at arm's length.

Who had spoken in clipped sentences.

Who'd hidden every vulnerable part of himself.

Now he wore a plastic tiara.

Entirely by choice.

This was your life. Your family. And you loved them all so much. 

And yet–

Despite you knowing that. 

Despite you being completely aware that Brendon would always love you. 

You had a little niggling of fear. 

Of worry. 

Creeps into the forefront of your mind. 

It was silly. 

Really. 

But weren't most fears at the end of the day, a little unfounded?

Fear might’ve been a bit too strong of a word. A better description for the way you felt might be fretting. 

Yeah. 

You were simply fretting. 

Later, while everyone was distracted by dessert, by the orange and poppy seed cake topped with cream cheese frosting and slight shavings of dark chocolate on top, delicate and spongy with each bite.

Whilst they ate and enjoyed the night, you slipped quietly onto the back verandah.

The evening air was cool.

Comfortable. 

Your hands rested unconsciously over your stomach.

You hadn't told anyone.

Not yet.

Not even Brendon.

The test sat hidden in your handbag.

Positive.

Again.

You should have been excited.

Instead...

The worry had arrived first.

The door creaked open behind you, "You've got your mother's thinking face."

You smiled faintly from the familiar sound of your Dad’s voice. 

You simply stare out at the garden, not meeting his eyes. 

Your Dad stepped outside, gently closing the door behind him. He leaned against the railing beside you.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable.

It never had been.

"You alright, Cupcake?"

You bite your lip with a furrow of your brow, "I don't know."

That was enough.

He didn't press.

Didn't interrogate.

Just waited.

Just like he’d always done. 

Just like he always would, for as long as you needed him to. 

He always made sure his girls were all good. 

And if they weren’t. 

Well he always made sure you all knew he was there for you. 

He was there for you during your first heartbreak. 

He was there to quell your Mama when you had called home to say you were staying in Paris. 

He soothed your worries, assuring you that your Mama was going to come around eventually. 

He was there telling you he was only a phone call away if ever you needed. 

Benji is the perfect girl dad. 

Long before girl dads were ever a thing. 

He was the original. 

He was Brendon’s role model. 

And your source of comfort without you ever asking him to be. 

Eventually...

"I'm pregnant."

His head turned towards you. A slow smile spread across his face, he reached over and squeezed your shoulder, "That's wonderful."

"I know,” You swallowed, sniffling lightly, whilst the next words came out shakily, "I think."

He heard the uncertainty immediately, "You're frightened."

You nodded, feeling the burning well of tears threaten to fall from your eyes whilst you continued, "It just–It just all came back, the miscarriage, the waiting, the appointments, the heartache–"

Your breathing shakes, your heart races, "And then I started thinking...What if I can't do this again? What if I'm not strong enough?"

Your dad was quiet for a long moment.

Then he smiled, "Can I ask you something?"

You hummed with a slight nod, feeling your Dad’s arm wrap around your shoulder comfortingly. 

"Have you met your husband?"

His question catches you off guard, whilst you raise your brow, “Dad, what–”

"I'm serious,” He laughed softly, before saying sincerely, "That man would move heaven and earth for you."

Your throat tightened, "You know..."

He looked through the window towards the lounge room.

Brendon was still pretending to drink invisible tea. Rosie was enthusiastically feeding him a plastic biscuit. Finn grinning whilst he drank from his own cup. 

"It wasn't easy watching you girls grow up,” His voice softened, rubbing your shoulder, "I know every parent says that. But one day you're teaching your daughter to ride a bike...and the next she's building a life of her own."

But then he smiled proudly, "I worry, every father does, every parent does. I worried whether someone would see you the way I always hoped they would."

His eyes stayed fixed on Brendon, "I don't mean that in some old-fashioned sense. It was never about needing a husband. It was about hoping you'd find someone who made your life gentler. Someone who'd carry the heavy things with you."

He nodded towards the lounge room, "I found out I didn't have to worry."

You followed his gaze.

Brendon was now allowing himself to be crowned "Princess Daddy."

Without complaint.

Without embarrassment.

Without a single thought for himself.

Your Dad smiled.

"Whatever you decide to do...Whether you keep this baby. Whether life throws another curveball. I know one thing,” He squeezed your shoulder again, "Brendon's going to be there. For whatever you choose. He'll never let you carry it alone."

Your eyes filled, leaning your head against his shoulder, smiling softly, "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, Cupcake,” He nodded before grinning, "And besides–IIf he ever starts acting up. You let us know, you know your Mama and I won't let any nonsense or shit slide."

You laughed, with a slight shake of your head, "Dad."

"What?" He shrugged, “Just gotta keep him on his toes."

“You’re as bad as Mama,” you retorted. 

He only shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your head, your tears now dried, while he adds, “We just love you.”

And just perhaps. 

Your Dad’s words come into mind once more, later that very same night. After you had said your goodbyes at the doorstep of your parents. 

Brendon carries both Finn and Rosie, while their eyes flutter close, exhaustion taking over the two little kids. 

Taking Rosie into your arms, while you strap them both in the car. 

Your Dad’s words enter your mind. 

Watching Brendon’s careful movements, the unending admiration and love pooling in his bright blue eyes. 

The very same eyes that promised you a life shared together, forever. 

Your heart warms at the sight, and whilst he drives you all back home, his hand holds yours, gentle and sweet. 

It is those little actions. 

Those small moments. 

That reminds you why you stay. Reminds you why you fell in love with him in the first place, and continue to do so. 

That same evening, whilst you tuck the twins into bed, 

Rosie pleaded for Brendon to read them a story. Precisely two, actually. 

Finnick had corrected Brendon twice because he'd accidentally given the dragon the wrong voice.

Eventually...

Two sleepy goodnight kisses later...

The twins were asleep. Drifting off into a world of slumber. 

Brendon quietly pulled their bedroom door almost closed. Walking quietly down the hall, he found you sitting on the couch.

One hand resting over your stomach.

And somewhere. 

Deep down. 

He had a feeling–an inkling about what was happening with you. 

He had noticed, of course he had–he had seen the signs. 

The vaguely familiar look in your eye. 

"What’s going on with you?" He asked gently, stopping just a few feet away. Giving you space. Room to breathe. 

You looked up, hands shifting to twist in your lap, "I found something out."

He crossed the room in three strides, kneeling in front of you, "Were you waiting for the right time to tell me?"

You nodded.

He smiled gently, "Okay."

You reached into your pocket.

Placed the pregnancy test into his hand.

He stared.

Then looked back at you.

Then back at the test.

His eyes filled almost instantly, "We're?–”

You nodded, a small smile spreading across your lips, "We're pregnant."

He laughed. The soft, disbelieving kind that dissolved into tears before it was finished, "Oh, sweetheart..." He rested his forehead against yours.

For a long moment he couldn't speak.

When he finally did...

His voice was barely above a whisper, "I'm here."

Those two little words. 

Just as meaningful. 

Just as profound as I love you.

The very phrase was more than just words, more than just a promise. 

Because–

Because he always followed through. 

Always stayed true to his word. 

Because he truly was. 

Always here for you. 

"I know,” you smiled softly, eyes tracing the features of his face, simply drinking his appearance in. 

No matter how many years pass, no matter how tired, exhausted, or whatever else. 

Brendon was always the most handsome man in your eyes. 

He cupped your face, "I mean it. I'm here,” softly kissing your forehead, "For whatever you choose."

You nodded slowly. Nerves on fire. 

Mind buzzing from the way he made your heart pulsate. 

Brendon never pushed, never demanded. Every decision was made together, with each other in mind. 

Just like this one. 

"I've been thinking–I think..." A smile spread across your face, "...We'll keep them."

His laugh escaped before he could stop it, "Them?"

You blinked realising your mishap. Grinning sheepishly, "Force of habit."

He chuckled softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, "Let's hope it's just one this time."

You laughed, smile widening, "I'd be happy either way, it’d be nice for Rosie and Finn to have another sibling."

"I like that idea too," he agrees wholeheartedly. 

Silence settled between you.

Comfortable.

Warm.

You looked down, those worries coming back to your mind, no longer taking over, just simply there, always just there. 

"You sure you're up for this again?” You asked, before listing off, “You know, with all the late-night supermarket runs, the cravings–"

He laughed softly, "You mean the night you absolutely needed watermelon and cheetos."

“Don’t forget the cookie dough ice cream,” you added, before stating with a dreamy sigh, "They were perfect together."

"They absolutely were not,” he snorted a small shake of his head. 

"They absolutely were,” you protested. Before shifting slightly, reaching up to grasp his hands with your own, pulling them down into your lap. 

Your smile dampens, “Can’t forget the mood swings–I remember being terribly angsty the last time…” your voice trails off, swallowing the thick lump beginning to form. 

“And what if it’s not easy…What if it doesn’t go to plan?…” You say, airing out your fears. 

Smiling softly. 

Understandingly. 

“Sweetheart–I’m here for it all,” His hands still intertwined with yours whilst he lifts them to press a gentle kiss to yours, eyes flickering up to meet yours. 

"I didn't marry you because I thought life was going to be sunshine every day. And I didn't marry you simply because I wanted to wake up beside you,” he shared, "I married you because I knew life would be hard. Marriage is hard. Children are hard."

He pauses for a moment before adding, “Grief is hard, and so is growing old.” 

His thumb brushed across your wedding ring, "I wanted every single part of it. Not because it would always be easy...But because it would be with you. The woman with such a big heart that in the first time we met, gave me a delicious slice of rosemary shortbread, the woman I fell in love with"

Pure adoration. 

Pure love simply poured out of him, with each and every word, “I married you because I want to love you everyday, through every tough day, I want to be your rock through every curve ball. And simply be there with you through it all.”

Your heart simply melts from his admission. 

From the way he looks at you. 

Even after having been married for so long, he still makes your heart skip a beat just like the very first time he told you he loved you. 

"And if that means driving across the city at midnight because the baby you're growing suddenly decides watermelon tastes best with cheetos, and cookie dough ice cream–” He shrugged, "Then I guess I'm buying Cheetos."

You laughed so hard tears rolled down your cheeks.

He kissed them away.

Just as he always had.

…

And true to his word. Loyal to a fault. His promise to you, to always be there for you, never breaks. 

Brendon was there for you. 

In every way that mattered. 

He was there. 

Through thick and thin. 

Through the highs and lows. 

Through everything that life brought your way. 

Not only for the milestones people filled photo albums with–

But for the quiet moments that mattered just as much.

When your family gathered around the dinner table and you shared the news that there would be another little heartbeat joining the family.

When morning sickness stole your appetite.

When your ankles swelled.

When exhaustion made even standing at the kitchen bench feel like climbing a mountain.

He was there.

When your water broke halfway through baking a batch of madeleines. Whilst you had stared at the puddle on the kitchen floor.

Then at the tray still sitting on the bench.

Then back at Brendon, "I don't think these are getting finished."

He chuckled lightly, already moving to grab the preprepared bag, "The madeleines can wait."

A memory you both laughed about for years.

Especially after your daughter arrived.

Tiny.

Perfect.

Just a little impatient.

Little Madeline.

Maddie.

Named after the little cakes that never made it into the oven.

And just perhaps…

You just happened to know of a shark swimming in the gulf of Mexico named Madeline when she was tagged…just a little something you had seen when scrolling instagram. 

You never told Brendon.

You simply smiled every time he called your daughter by her name.

A private joke you'd keep tucked safely away for another rainy day.

Maddie arrived with all ten fingers.

All ten toes.

Bright eyes and cherub cheeks.

A determined cry that filled the delivery room with relief.

It hadn’t been the smoothest of pregnancies–not the easiest of times. 

Perhaps none of them ever truly were.

But she was finally here, in your arms. 

Perhaps a little premature. 

But she had made it. 

You couldn’t help but sob when you heard her first cry, leaning into Brendon’s embrace whilst you cherished this moment together. 

Brendon was there through all the moments that mattered. 

The Emergency Department staff watched Rosie, Finn and Maddie grow up one homemade baked treat at a time.

You'd appear carrying tins of cookies balanced on one arm.

Baby Maddie strapped against your chest.

Finn clinging to your hand.

Whilst Rosie proudly announced to anyone willing to listen that Daddy fixed bones.

They cooed over your kids, and even more so when they saw both Dana and Brendon become absolute putty for the kids. So soft hearted, the polar opposite of the more hardened facade they put up at work. 

You and Brendon were quite a team. 

The perfect parental duo. Perfect might be a bit of a stretch….but you’d like to think you came pretty close to it. 

You went through every experience. 

Together. 

Through scraped knees and bedtime stories.

Through toddler tantrums and endless "why?" questions.

Through to the first time you kiss your kids goodbye whilst they start their first day at school…

Until all too soon your little kids grow up. 

Soon becoming their own person. 

Through slammed teenage bedroom doors and arguments spoken in frustration rather than truth.

But no matter what the children always came home. 

Sometimes late.

Sometimes sheepish.

Always to find the porch light on.

The kitchen, warm with fresh baked goods, ranging from cookies, to brownies, or even muffins or savoury delights waiting on the bench.

You learned something your own parents had taught you years before.

Understanding first.

Questions later.

A cup of tea before advice.

Knowing better than to scold before understanding–even if it takes everything within you not to simply ground them. 

Brendon’s calm demeanor helps keep you settled, eased, before you completely lose it. 

Though he struggles to conceal his own concern behind a thinly veiled facade…considering mere moments before he was almost definitely pacing the halls ready to jump in the car and find his kid. 

Rather than pushing your kids away with screaming words and harsh conclusions…

You both learn to understand first. 

Just to show them that they can always come to you if ever they had a problem–however small or big. 

Brendon is right there by your side. 

Especially when you hold back, fail to hold back tears. Holding onto your little babies, now grown and ready to flee the coop. 

And with each child that leaves. 

When Rosie, Finn and eventually Maddie leave home…

Each of them leave with a neatly made recipe book. An idea that Brendon had given you. Late nights spent awake working together to put them all together. 

Inside were family favourites, each tailored to each child and their personal favourites. 

From brown butter oat cookies, to crumbling melting moments with a passionfruit tang, or red velvet cookies with a cream cheese glaze.

The perfect recipe for flaky croissants. And all the little tips and tricks you had learnt written all throughout the recipe. 

Varying versions of cinnamon scrolls. Always a crowd pleaser, whether they be coffee scrolls, vanilla scrolls or even your own specialty key lime pie scroll. 

Apple crumble, Finn’s favourite adding rhubarb to the recipe whilst Maddie’s had raisins in the crumble mix for an added sweetness.

Pasta sauces, including your Dad’s signature bolognese, whilst Rosie’s book included a pesto sauce that Brendon prided himself with.

Each recipe accompanied by your neat handwriting.

For when the world feels too loud.

For celebrating good news.

For when the marks weren't what you hoped.

For feeding friends.

For impressing someone you secretly hope becomes something more.

For homesick days.

For remembering that home isn't a place–it's the people who love you.

You and Brendon had thought it all out. 

Giving them a taste of home if ever they needed it. 

Each time, his own tears remain unshed, just until they leave your view. Just until they’re out of sight. By then the tears flowed from both of you, simply holding onto one another. 

Waited until the car disappeared around the corner.

Only then did his shoulders sag.

Only then did you wrap your arms around him.

And together...You mourned the beautiful ache of raising children well enough that they were ready to leave.

The hardest part was always saying goodbye. 

Even if it was exciting. 

Even if it was thrilling that your kids were finally going out into the world to make their own lives. 

You were so proud of them…

But that didn’t mean it didn’t make you or Brendon any less sad to see them go. 

Your Dad was right, saying goodbye and seeing your children leave was both the happiest and saddest part of being a parent…

…

“A vacation...really?” Rosie had asked whilst on the phone with you. Your phone precariously perched upon a shelf whilst your hands fold the dough before you. 

Going through the motions like it was second nature. 

The bakery had been going extremely well over the years, well enough that you had even established another two stores around the city. 

And well–

Considering how hard you’ve been working as of late. 

And how much Brendon’s been working…

You believed your family was overdue for a vacation. 

“And where did you have in mind Mom?” Rosie followed up. Breaking you from thought. 

Plucking a knife you begin slicing the dough into triangles. Preparing them to be rolled into croissants ready to be proofed, before sliding into the oven to become buttery flaky delights. 

“Paris,” you said with a smile. 

Mind drifting back to fond memories. 

You and Brendon had gone back every few years, and usually around the time of your wedding anniversary.

And even going to visit Paris to further your own training and understanding of all the trade secrets from some of the world’s best bakeries and pattisseries. 

But you had never once gone with your kids. 

Sure you had all taken family vacations together. But Paris was special for both you and Brendon, simply waiting for the right time to take them. 

“And why Paris?” Rosie probed. 

You shrug despite knowing she couldn’t see you, wiping your brow with your elbow, the warmth of the ovens around you starts to get to you. 

“I think it’ll be nice,” you vaguely explained, before rambling on excitedly, “We can make a whole trip of it, we can go to Paris and any other places in Europe, explore it together as a family, you’ve all got some time off between studies and jobs, and my bakeries will be fine–and your Dad has a lot of leave accumulated–so what do you say?”

“You still didn’t say why it has to be Paris specifically? Why can’t we just go to some resort and fully relax?” 

You clicked your tongue, “Where is your sense of adventure?”

“Is something going on?” A tinge of concern laces Rosie’s tone. 

“Nothing’s wrong, I just think Paris will be really nice–”

“I don’t know, don’t you think it’s a little touristy?” Rosie added a little unsure. 

You could practically envision her mouth twisting in thought. The very same look Brendon would have at times. 

“Did I ever tell you that me and your Dad went there on our honeymoon?” you said, whilst your fingers deftly arranged the croissants on the tray. 

“Only about a million times–”

“Well have I ever mentioned that’s also where I fell in love with baking–and lived there,” you cut her off. 

Somehow, throughout the years these little facts slipped through the cracks. 

It was hard for kids to see their parents as their own people with their own histories. It was sometimes easier to just see them as only parents and nothing more…

“What? No! How did grandma react to that?” she exclaimed, whilst you laughed from her outburst. 

“I could’ve sworn I had told you,” you said between laughs, “Doesn’t matter–I’ll tell you all about it, if you agree to come to Paris”

“Its a deal,” she said quickly. 

“Great! I’ll call your brother and sister, and get them on board–”

“No need, I’ve messaged them already and Maddie’s already asking when to pack,” Rosie added, “–and Finn’s asking when he can start booking tickets for the galleries”

And so… 

Plans were made. 

Flights booked. 

Hotels arranged. 

And soon you’re all landing in Paris, ready to share a little slice of your youth with your children. Your arm wrapped around Brendon, both smiling warmly, feeling a sense of home overcome you both. 

Walking the same streets.

Eating from the same little bakeries.

The city still felt like a love letter. 

And Brendon still adored the way your face would light up, reliving the past, the way you’d still after all this time, lead him down narrow cobbled streets, past doors he could’ve sworn led to nowhere. 

Regardless of that he trusted you. 

Whilst you lead the way, finding the perfect hidden little secrets. Showing him a different side to Paris that wasn’t plastered across social media. 

This time, however...

You weren't alone.

Rosie.

Finn.

Maddie.

All grown now.

Walking beside you, sending you a questioning look each time you led them this way and that. 

A little story with each place you went to. 

Now curating new memories with your entire family. The people you held dearest to your heart. 

It brought you a thrill to see them enjoy the city you still treasured after all these years. 

Seeing them explore and find little secrets of their own. 

But today. 

You were all together once more, strolling through the Jardin du Luxembourg. 

Finn and Maddie rent one of the little sailboats to sail around the pond. In an instant their behaviour morphs back into the children they once were whilst they playfully argue on how to steer the boat. 

Rosie sitting on one of the chairs, a sketchbook in hand supposedly tracing out the scenery before you…

Though you had a feeling she was sketching out anatomical images, her mind, not straying very far from her medical studies. 

But then. 

Just like that day all those years ago, despite the sun shining high in the sky. Clouds rolled in, sweeping overhead. 

And then the rain falls without warning. 

Soft at first.

Then steady.

Just as it had on your honeymoon. 

The crowds scatter, umbrellas pop up. 

But you can’t help but smile, closing your eyes whilst the rain cascades down and drenches your clothes and hair. A laugh bubbling out. 

"So..." Brendon asked, already smiling, "Still think Paris looks prettiest in the rain?"

You looked around.

At your children.

At the city that had witnessed your honeymoon.

At the husband who still reached for your hand without thinking.

At the life you'd built together.

"I do,” He slipped his fingers between yours. 

Exactly as he always had.

So warm and comforting. 

Pulling you closer, just to keep you a little warm whilst the rain falls. 

He hums lowly, a familiar tune filling your ears, whilst you rest your head onto his chest, falling into a gentle sway. 

The quiet murmurs escape his lips, for your ears only. 

I love you to the bone I love every beat of you Every measure and note And so, if I stand the chance May I ask you for this dance?

“Mom! Dad! C’mon!” Maddie calls out, all of your kids already ready to make a run for it, "Honestly. Now is not the time to live out the notebook!"

Rosie called out over the rain, "Can you stop looking at each other like that for five minutes?"

“We get it you’re in love,” Finn adds hurriedly, “Now can we please get out of the rain before we spend the rest of the vacation sick!”

Looking up you meet Brendon’s eyes, a little twinkle in them, full of amusement whilst you both laugh softly. 

Then, wordlessly, he pulled back not before placing one sweet kiss upon your lips, lingering for just a moment, you feel his lips curve into a smile whilst they press against yours. 

Sighing softly when he pulls away, his hand settles at the small of your back.

Your arm curling around his, before you follow after your kids. 

Lightly jogging to seek shelter whilst the rain continues to pour. 

Just as it had all those years ago.

"You know..." he murmured.

Looking up at the man who had loved you through grief and joy, through ordinary days and extraordinary ones, through every promise he'd ever made...

“Somehow, with each passing day I just fall more and more in love with you,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

A wide grin spreads across your lips. 

“Careful there, if you talk too loudly the kids are going to scold you for loving their Mom so much,” you tease lightly. 

“Let them,” he shrugged, “Let them see just how much I love you, I don’t want them ever thinking that I don’t,” he says so tenderly and sweetly. 

Your eyes drift up ahead, seeing Rosie, Finn and Maddie standing under an awning waving you both over, ready to spend the afternoon in a cafe and out of the rainstorm. 

But before you manage to continue over. 

Your sweet, dear husband. 

The ever loving Brendon. 

Twists you around, so smoothly, so fluidly. 

Before leaning down to capture your lips with his. 

Kissing you so slowly.

Tenderly.

Like he still had all the time in the world.

And perhaps...

He did.

Because the greatest love stories were never about the wedding. Were never about the honeymoon. Not even about the first date. 

They were about choosing one another...

Again.

And again.

And again.

Every ordinary day thereafter.

He leans his forehead against yours, eyes peering down into yours, with an endless devotion that had never once faded. 

Even through the hard times. 

Through the arguments. 

Through the fights. 

You always found your way back together. 

Hearts grow fonder and fonder of each other with each passing day. 

Just as Brendon said. 

You simply fell in love with each other more and more. 

Your lips curl into a smile. Heart warming at the thought. Whilst his heart races, with one thought on his mind. 

He would always be so grateful to you. 

Grateful to share this life with you.

His face morphs into a gentle smile. A smile reserved only for you. 

You were the only one who truly knew him, inside and out. Beyond the steely facade he wore to work. Beyond the shark, cold blooded persona.

"You are my home, my family, my life," you whisper softly, "my forever"

"I love you," he says sweetly, echoing the sentiment, "forever"

Burying his nose into the top of your head, holding you close. Cherishing this moment.

One you were sure to look back on fondly.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed part 8 and the series! Sadly it is the final part, but it has been so fun writing such pure sweetness for these two! I've had a blast and hope you have too! Hope you enjoyed the little full circle moment of ending it in Paris - Just know that I am picturing Rosie has gone off to study medicine (not necessarily to go into orthopaedics - but you're almost certain that she's into it because Brendon used to read medical textbooks to them as story books - worked like a charm to get Finn to sleep) Meanwhile I'm imagining Finn might fall in love with baking while on the trip to Paris, so he might take over the bakery business, and little Maddie is very keen on studying marine biology something about Shark's just make her absolutely light up ♥️ Let me know what you thought of this part or of the series in general✨ Read my Bonus Part: The Evans' Family Tree here! Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!

And it was clear. 

From the brief fleeting glances you had sent Jamie’s way–that he wasn’t pleased by the addition either. 

Zava had become a walking reminder of the arrogant prick that Jamie once was–a walking reminder of the selfish asshole he once was. 

It felt like bringing Zava onto the team…

Was a step back in the wrong direction. He had become a fracture in the team. Even if the Greyhounds were now performing better than ever. 

And Jamie hated to admit it…

So when he had passed by your office just after training…he had immediately froze. Eyes stuck on the figure of you. 

Now Jamie rationally knew that this was your job. 

Knew that your job was to make sure everyone was at their best physically…

Knew that your job as a physiotherapist meant you helped ease the muscle tensions, strains and sprains of his team mates…

And normally Jamie was fine with all of that–

Normally it didn’t bother Jamie–

But for some reason. 

Seeing you working carefully to release tension from between Zava’s shoulders with a practised ease, Jamie was sure you could do it with your eyes closed. 

Zava’s eyes closed, sitting perfectly still.

Looking almost…

Peaceful. 

Calm. 

Jamie bit his lip, swallowing the thick lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t explain it–couldn’t explain why. 

But seeing you and him, not intimate, but so close. 

It made Jamie physically recoil, stumbling back. Turning sharply away when he shook from his thoughts. 

Not noticing the raise of your brows. 

Not noticing the way you saw him leave. 

Not noticing the small falter in your smile as you watched Jamie walk away. 

Normally he’d swing by–stop and say hello, steal a kiss even if you pushed him away and scold him for being unprofessional. 

So this. 

Him leaving–

That had struck you as odd. 

And that feeling carried with you long after the game, long after you had gone home to get changed. 

Sending photos to Keeley trying to figure out what you should wear. Fretting over your hair, a swipe of lipstick across your lips and a glimmer of sparkly eyeshadow on your eyelids. 

Checking yourself out in the mirror whilst Keeley sends you words of encouragement, words like bombshell, drop dead, and fucking gorgeous, all somehow making their way into her messages. 

Bringing a bright smile to your face. 

Before tapping to open up Jamie’s contact, before you could even message to ask him if he wanted to meet at Ola’s, a message popped up. 

Jamie 💙: [ I’m just outside xx ]

Smiling softly at the words, you reach for your bag, pulling on your shoes before walking out to find Jamie standing at your door. 

Seeming a little more like himself.

“Hey babe,” you smile. 

His arm wraps around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Hi love–Can I just say that yeh look fucking stunning,” you feel his lips widen into a smile as they press against your cheek. 

The low rasp of his voice, warm and sweet like honey as it trickles into your ear. 

Feeling a heat rise up to your cheeks as they burn from his touch. 

“And you’re,” you turn to press your palms to his chest slightly fiddling to adjust his shirt, while your other hand raises to card through his hair, “Very handsome–are you sure you’ve got the right house? The last time I saw my boyfriend he had a very pouty look on his face,” you teased.  

And instead of retaliating. 

Instead of giving you a teasing remark. 

Jamie simply pressed a fleeting kiss to your lips–almost bristled by your comment. 

You were none the wiser to the reason why–unaware that your comment had brought back the memory of you in the physio room with Zava…unaware that Jamie was unnerved by Richmond’s newest player. 

His hand slips into yours, gently pulling you to the car. 

Your brows dip in slight confusion. 

But there’s no time to question it any further. Because just as soon as you get into his car, you’re arriving at Sam’s restaurant for the team celebration, and opening night preview. 

“Sam! This place looks amazing,” you cheerfully compliment, catching said man into a hug. 

“Thank you Y/N, it is truly great to see you, and Jamie, of course,” he smiles nodding towards Jamie.

Jamie grins, “Wouldn’t miss it,” clapping him on the back. 

“Ok, now you two, enjoy. The bar’s over there–and please tell me what you think of the food, unless it’s not good, then in that case don’t tell me,” Sam jokes. 

You laugh lightly, stepping back, catching a glimpse of Rebecca and Keeley who wave you over, before glancing back at Sam, “I’m sure everything here is delicious”

You lean into Jamie’s side for a moment, pressing a kiss to his cheek before telling him you’re headed over to Rebecca and Keeley. 

Both of whom look absolutely stunning. Which comes as no surprise to you. 

Whilst Jamie…

Well–

He slinks away the moment he catches word that Zava might make an appearance. 

And for the most part you’re distracted by Rebecca while she talks about her strange coincidences that align with what her mother’s psychic had said. 

The night was made even brighter when Sassy appeared. 

Her brows dip when she pulls away from a hug with you, “And you–wanna tell me why it looks like your boyfriend is sulking in the corner?” she juts her head over to Jamie who sits in the corner, glaring at the drink in his hand like it had just insulted him. 

Your lips shift from a smile into a frown, twisting into one of confusion, “He’s been a little off today–so I honestly don’t know,” you offer weakly. 

Noticing the mournful look upon your features, Sassy nods, before squeezing your shoulder, sharing a look with the others. 

“Well, then I propose we have a couple of champagnes to wipe that frown from your face,” she suggests. 

Rebecca turns to the bar, “Can we get another champagne?” 

The long stemmed glass appears and is placed in your hand, whilst they chatter away, but even their funniest stories can’t seem to occupy your attention. 

As your mind can’t help but drift back to Jamie who sits alone in the corner. 

Who only seems to sink further into his seat when Zava enters the restaurant. Swarmed by the team, while Dani seemingly becomes attached to his side. 

Excusing yourself from your friends, you walk over to Jamie. 

Tilting your head, you ask despite already pulling out a chair, “Mind if I take a seat?” 

“Course, yeah,” He nods, a distant look in his eyes, barely lifting from his glass. 

Leaning your arms upon the table, you perch your head upon your hand, simply observing him, trying to notice why he was so off tonight. 

He seemed fine earlier. 

This morning was great. 

When he picked you up he seemed okay…

But now?

He seemed like his mind was in another world. With an expression that didn’t suit a player who was on a team with a winning streak. 

“What’s got you so upset?” you questioned softly. 

His shoulders freeze up, he shifts uncomfortably, and the words that spill from his mouth comes out far more defensive than he wanted them to, “I’m not upset”

Nodding with disbelief, “Sure you’re not,” you glance over to the others, as a round of laughter rings out, you jut your head, “Since you’re not upset, why don’t you come over and sit with me and the others.” 

What he says next catches you off guard. 

An edge, a sharp bitterness seeped into his words. 

“No it’s fine, yeh go over and fawn over how amazing Zava is…just like everyone else,” he muttered. Hands clench around the drink in his grasp. 

Your brows furrow in confusion. Leaning in, dropping your voice, with a small shake of your head, “Jamie–what?–”

He pushes away from the table, leaning back against the wall, averting his gaze, “Go on,” arms folding over his chest, “I’m sure he’s got plenty of stories”

Your frown settles deeper upon your features. 

Brow creasing. 

You lean away, the loud drag of your chair doesn’t even make him lift his gaze. 

“Fine. But don’t think I’m going over there because of the stories. I’m going over because you’re being an arse right now,” you state, before walking away. 

Sitting upright he looks up at your retreating figure, “Wait no ugh–” he sighs, dropping his head into his hands. 

Way to fucking go. 

It’s only when Roy confronts him. That he’s able to truly recognise why he had been so–off.

Why he had reacted– 

Behaved that way. 

And in that moment. Jamie realises…He has a lot of making up to do to you. For giving you such a cold shoulder, for brushing you off for things you had no idea he was feeling. 

But in the midst of that conversation. 

Jamie always signed himself up to be trained under Roy’s guidance…

Not realising it was going to be the training regiment from hell. 

While the crowd thins, others begin to leave, Jamie falls into step beside you. No smile graces your features. Lips pulled taut into a thin line. 

Whilst you walk out into the cold evening air. 

Your arms shift to hug yourself, brushing up and down your arms trying to warm up. Feeling a chill run up your spine. 

You hear him sigh from beside you. 

Your steps falter when you realise he’s no longer walking beside you. 

Turning back you’re met with the sight of Jamie staring down at the ground. His hands stuffed into his pockets. 

A somewhat shameful look adorns his face. 

He bites his lip, before taking in a deep breath. 

Lifting his gaze. 

The air is almost knocked out of your lungs from the clarity in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. Those words fill the air. Fill the space between you both, he scratches the back of his neck, embarrassment shifting to take place of the shame, “I’ve been an asshole–and I took it out on yeh–when it had nothing to do with yeh” 

You take a step forward, offering a small nod, “Go on.” 

“I just–with Zava joining the team, it’s brought up a lot of uh–complicated feelings…” he states. 

You arch a brow, “If this is your way of telling me you have a crush on Zava, then I hope you know that Dani’s already called dibs,” you state with a small tease. 

Breaking the sterile air that hangs between you. 

He chuckles lightly with a shake of his head, while you laugh softly. 

“No, it’s not–it’s not that,” he replies, “When I saw yeh earlier today with him–it just made me, uhm, what’s the word, uh–”

“Jealous?” you offered, a slight twitch of your lips, a little sliver of amusement slinking into your words. 

“What?” he blinks, caught off guard by the word. 

Jealous…it wasn’t a feeling Jamie was accustomed to. It wasn’t a word that came to mind often…

But with this. 

“No–maybe,” he says. 

You burst into laughter. Actually laughed, the sound was bright enough that Jamie immediately relaxed.

"Oh my God,” you managed to say between laughs, wiping away at the tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Stepping closer to him, until you're right in front of him. 

Your hands slip into his, holding them, your laughter fades but the smile remains. 

“So this whole time–you’ve been jealous? Of Zava?” you question with a raise of your brows. 

He sighed, “Not my finest moment,” he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes drifting close, feeling a weight lifted from his chest. 

What he had been feeling now was finally out in the open. 

Your expression softened completely, gazing up at him, "You don't need to worry."

He looked down, "Don't I?"

"No,” You squeezed his fingers, with a tiny shake of your head, "I love you."

“You sure about that?” 

You stared, letting out a soft laugh, "Yes, you idiot."

"I love you,” The grin that spread across his face could've powered half of London. Before he leans down to catch your lips into a kiss, his hands slip from yours to trail up and cradle your face, deepening the kiss as he tilts your head. 

You sigh, melting in his grasp. 

Pulling back slightly to catch your breath, you both simply stand there. Relishing in each other’s company. 

“Somehow I think I’ve agreed to have Roy train me,” Jamie states. 

You snort, dropping your head onto his shoulder, he feels your body quake with laughter, “How?-”

He shrugs with a small chuckle, “I don’t know–he must have a soft spot for me,” Jamie jokes. Before adding, “He said I had to be up at 4?”

“AM?” you question pulling back slightly to see if he was serious. 

“I think he was joking,” Jamie shrugs, both of you starting to walk back to the car. 

You arch a brow, with a slight shake of your head, “Roy doesn’t joke”

Jamie waves you off, “Surely the old man won’t be up at 4”

…

The old man was up at 4. 

You groan softly shifting beneath the sheets, annoyance seeping into your features, when you hear the banging at the door. 

You crack an eye open. 

Not a single sign that dawn was on its way. 

The night sky still blankets the city. 

Jamie snores softly from beside you, face smooshed into the pillow. Completely unaware of the incessant knocking on the door downstairs. 

You sigh, glancing at your phone. Checking the time, you drop your head back down onto the pillow. 

4:02AM

Closing your eyes. 

You let out a long sigh. 

“Jamie,” you call out, sleep still lacing your voice, thick and a little crackled. “Jamie!” you whisper a little more harshly. 

But he doesn’t seem to wake. 

So out of annoyance. 

Out of an inability to think so early in the morning–if you could even call it that. 

You kick him. 

A little sharply into his side. 

With a little more force than necessary. 

He startles awake. 

Shooting up in surprise. 

So much so that he falls out of bed, the mess of sheets tangling him up. A simple thud sounds out when he hits the floor. A groan slips from his mouth. 

“You okay?” you call out, shutting your eyes once more. 

He hums in slight acknowledgement. 

“Who the fuck is that at the door?” he asks from his spot on the floor. Rubbing at his eyes that cling to his exhaustion. 

“I think that that,” the sound of knocks sound out once more, you joke already feeling sleep try to seep back in, “Is your 4AM wake up call” 

The sound of steady breathing fills the air once more. 

“Jamie?” you call out. 

No response. 

“Jamie!”

“Huh!?” he startles awake once more, now standing and shifting to fix the sheets to cover the bed once more, “I’m up”

“You know he’s not going to stop unless you go down,” you reply. 

Jamie lets out a huff. 

Muttering beneath his breath, “Hasn’t the old man ever heard of sleep–it’s fucking pitch black out there…”

You peek an eye open, catching sight of Jamie shuffling out of the room, your lips curve into a small amused smile, letting out a soft laugh from the sight. 

Jamie always did run a little hot on the bottom…

… 

Finding his rhythm as part of Roy’s new regiment for him took a little time. 

Took a few kicks from you in the morning to get him out of bed. 

But overtime. 

He begins to find his footing. 

Begins to get used to the early mornings. 

Get used to Roy’s grumbled antics and brusque nature. 

And whilst you might not be waking up to being in Jamie’s arms in the morning, missing the warmth of his arms curled around you. Feeling his lips pepper your skin while he gently wakes you up. 

Instead what you do wake up to find–

Are little sticky notes, little notes scrawled out in Jamie’s handwriting. Stuck around the house, in the bathroom, the kitchen, the nightstand. 

Anywhere he thinks you’d find. 

Anywhere he thinks you’d look. 

Each note reminding you of his love for you. 

That you’re on his mind, in his thoughts. 

Most are sweet. 

Most are loving. 

A few–a little more than a few are on the cheekier side of things. 

It makes your heart warm to find them, collecting them each and every day. Tucking them away inside a little box you cherish with keepsakes, which fill up more and more with each passing day. 

And with every passing day. 

More and more of them are spent at his. More and more nights are spent staying over at his home. 

A drawer soon becomes yours. 

A shelf now holds most of your things. 

Your favourite mug had even made its way into his cupboard. 

Soon, you’re spending more time at Jamie’s than you are at your own home. Even your neighbour Sandy had noticed, with an arched brow sent your way when she does see you. 

A little grin spread across her lips with a knowing look. 

And then one day. 

One afternoon, after having come home from Nelson road. 

You're curled into Jamie’s side upon the couch, watching some show. 

When he speaks up, “So I noticed a lot of your things are around now,” nothing accusing behind the words, nothing rude. 

Just a plain fact. 

“Sorry–If you want I can move some of my stuff–”

“No, no, no, that’s not–I didn’t mean anything by it, I just–” he stumbles out quickly, “It’s nice. I like it”

You smile from his words. 

“I was just going to say, that you’re welcome to move more of your things in, if you want to,” he continues. 

Tilting your head up to meet his eyes, which soften as they gaze upon you. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“And if I am?” he replies a little tentatively. 

You smile, pecking a quick kiss to his lips. 

“I’d love to” 

Jamie pulls you even closer to him, holding you warmly, peppering your cheeks with kisses. 

Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your presence. 

You feel his lips curved into a smile, so wide, so brilliant. 

“Then I’d love you to move in with me,” he murmurs between soft delicate kisses.

Whilst you sigh with a smile. 

Things were going just great between you both.

Even if Jamie has to slip away from you at 4 in the morning...

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed part 9! I really enjoyed exploring a little jealousy from Jamie's side, and it felt like Zava was the perfect character to make that happen. And Jamie is totally taking notes from all the rom-coms you and he watch together now, trying to find the best ways to express how much he loves and appreciates you! also you're moving in together ♥️ (you're going to miss your neighbour Sandy, but just maybe, you'll have to join her yoga group and tease Roy whilst you're at it haha) Next chapter I'm planning on exploring Amsterdam and just maybe thread through a few little ideas of marriage and proposals??... 👀 Let me know what you think about it, and if you'd like to be tagged ✨

Read, Part 11: here!

Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Feel free to check out my overall Jamie Tartt Masterlist here

Taglist: @the-sassy-one @enchantedreader  @paulithis @ghostgirl2010 @laceriseweiss @ilocuras24  @esw1012 @sihtricswife @nfr-girly @lilyyanaaaa @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @laurenjbb @qardasngan @jada-lockwood @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

Growing up you all grew used to Dana’s busy schedule. 

But you all knew how much she loved you all. 

Much like Dana, her daughters grew to develop her strong headedness and her dry wit. 

Stubborn.

That word could be synonymous with the name Evans. 

Benji is an absolute sweetheart. 

An electrician - so he's very handy (a trait he made sure to teach all of you)

A supportive rock

He loves gardening and cooking. And always makes sure his girls are all good. 

He was there for you during your first heartbreak. 

Your dad helped quell your Mama when you had called home to say you were staying in Paris. 

He soothed your worries, assuring you that your mama was going to come around eventually. 

Telling you he was only a phone call away if ever you needed. 

Benji is the perfect girl dad. Long before girl dads were ever a thing. He was the OG. 

There for PTA meetings. There for bake sales. There for everything. No milestone considered too big or too small.

Dana balanced out Benji’s softness. 

You remember the days where your Mama would come home hours after she was meant to. Bone tired, fatigue in her eyes. But at the sight of you and your sisters and her husband, she’d instantly brighten. 

She always did her best to hide how her work exhausted her. To conceal the heavy weight she bore. 

Listening intently as you and your sisters chattered about your day. 

She was there to braid your hair. 

Tuck you into bed when you were kids. 

No matter how busy she was, you knew she was always there for you all. 

Family was always important to her. 

Especially making sure she spent as much time as possible with you all. 

Because she lost her mum when she was only 16, she understands how precious life can be, how precious time can be

Dana Evans is a straight-shooter with a tough exterior, built from years running the ER.

She's pragmatic, cutting through nonsense with a sharp, dry wit that keeps everyone in line.

She doesn't sugarcoat.

Whether it's dismissing rumors or giving blunt advice. Observant and discreet, she picks up on personal struggles but respects boundaries, only stepping in when it matters.

Dana's protective of her team, guiding them with a firm hand, but she's not warm or overly nurturing; her care is practical, not emotional. Resilient under pressure, she handles chaos calmly, though a rare crack in her armor shows when the job's toll—like a patient's attack—makes her question how much longer she can take it. Her loyalty shines in small gestures, like joining colleagues for a drink, but she's private, keeping her doubts and weariness mostly to herself.

Though rare, Dana is not above raising her voice if needed, as demonstrated during arguments and confrontations.

As you inherited her stubbornness. 

The Evans' household was no stranger to their fair share of fights. 

Often with your dad playing mediator. 

It could be the most trivial things such as borrowing a shirt without asking. Or as big as arguing over a certain sister’s current boyfriend. 

But no matter what, you always went back to each other. 

How Brendon Fits Into All Of It:

When Brendon joined the family, it was new, strange. Not something he'd ever really known.

Mostly estranged from his family.

Being welcomed into yours, took a lot of adjusting.

But once he grew used to your sister's nosy behaviour, their teases and jokes.

Once he grew used to your Dad always there to talk and listen, a complete opposite to his own.

Once he grew used to the way Dana showed her love - not to dissimilar to his own.

He cherished it all so deeply.

Protective over them and loving them all. Just as much as he loves you.

I just know for a fact that the time Dana gets punched, just know Brendon comes down to check on her as soon as he gets out of surgery – insists on driving her home.

...

WC: ~600 words

Dana had almost made it to the staff exit before she heard footsteps catching up behind her.

"Mrs. Evans–Dana"

She turned.

Brendon Park was still wearing his surgical cap around his neck, scrub top creased from hours in theatre. His pace slowed as he reached her, eyes immediately finding the bruising beginning to blossom along her cheek.

He frowned, brow set in a creased line,”I heard–"

"News travels fast,” she shrugged, trying to minimise the concern she could see in his eyes. 

He hummed at her words, eyes searching and checking her over. Checking to see if she was truly ok. 

He knew how stubborn the Evans could be…he had of course married one. 

Dana folded her arms. "I'm fine,” her eyes flicker around them, before pulling him aside, away from prying eyes and ears. 

"I know."

She narrowed her eyes, "No, you don't."

"I know you're capable," he corrected gently, "That doesn't mean you should be driving after taking a punch to the face."

"It's only a bruise,” she argued. 

"It could also be a concussion," he said with a pointed look. 

She sighed, rolling her eyes, "I've already been checked,” though she couldn’t deny that her head was throbbing, her eyes stinging from the fluorescent lights above. 

This place made her stomach twist. A heaviness in her chest. 

After everything today, she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to step foot in here again…

"I know,” Brendon said once more. 

She arches a brow, trying her best to keep her steady resolve, "You seem to know everything."

A small smile tugged at his lips, "I try."

Around them, staff drifted past without paying either of them much attention.

Most knew better than to pry, especially when it came to PTMC’s shark…everyone simply kept their head’s down. 

For all they knew, this looked like nothing more than an orthopaedic surgeon asking the charge nurse about a patient…

Not realising the patient he was questioning about. 

Was her. 

Brendon lowered his voice, "Please."

One word.

Quiet.

Earnest.

"I'll drive you home."

Dana studied him for a long moment, "You've just finished surgery."

"And I'd rather spend another twenty minutes driving than spend the rest of the night wondering whether you got home safely,” he replies. 

She huffed, unconvinced, "I've driven myself home after worse."

"I know."

"You really need a new line."

"I'll work on one."

Despite herself, the corner of Dana's mouth twitched, "You are remarkably stubborn."

He cracked a small smile, a soundless laugh, "So I've been told."

She had a feeling that his stubbornness might have stemmed from a certain daughter of hers… 

She had no doubt in her mind that you had somehow caught wind of this. 

But the concern in Brendon’s eyes wasn’t just born out of an obligation to you. 

It stemmed from a love for Dana, a care for the mother he never got to truly have. He was truly concerned for her.

She could see it in his eyes. 

Could hear it in his words.  

He shifted his weight, "I promised someone I'd look after you."

Dana's brows lifted, a small smile creeping onto her features, "You did, did you?"

 "I just..." His voice softened, "I'd feel better knowing you got home alright."

Dana looked at him for another long beat.

There was nothing performative about the concern written across his face.

She let out a long sigh, "...Fine."

Relief washed over his features so quickly it was almost amusing.

"But–"

He straightened.

"I hope this isn’t your way to try and earn any brownie points"

He snorted, with a roll of his eyes, “I know–I wasn't."

She picked up her bag. 

"Though..." She glanced sideways at him as they began walking towards the car park, with a small shrug, "...it doesn't hurt."

Brendon laughed quietly.

Hope you liked my little head cannons for them 🥰 and the little snippet exploring Brendon and Dana after she was assaulted by Doug.

The best moments, your favourite moments, were the quiet ones.

Late nights.

The television playing softly.

Tea growing cold on the coffee table.

One particularly exhausting evening found you curled against Jamie's side. Tension settled heavily in your shoulders. 

Tension that he noticed immediately, "You alright?"

"Fine,” you said, mind elsewhere. 

Since your admission a few weeks ago–admitting that the world had pulled you beneath the waves of their insults and opinions. 

Jamie had done his best to pick up on the moments you weren’t quite yourself. 

Pick up on when your mind led you elsewhere. 

"You say that like Ted says 'no pressure.'"

You laughed tiredly, "Long week."

Without another word, Jamie shifted, "Come here."

"What?" You asked with a raised brow. 

"Turn around,” he simply stated. 

Confused, you obeyed.

Gentle hands settled against your shoulders.

Careful pressure.

Massaging sore muscles.

You immediately melted, "...Jamie."

"You spend all your time looking after everyone else,” His voice softened, "Let me look after you, love." He ducked down to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

Emotion caught unexpectedly in your throat.

Because people didn't often think to take care of the caretaker.

But Jamie always noticed.

His fingers worked patiently.

Slowly easing tension away.

"You don't have to–” you try to say. 

"I know,” His lips pressed gently against your temple, "But I want to."

Your eyes stung slightly.

Stupidly.

You leaned back against him.

Relaxing completely, "I love you,” you sigh, with a wide smile upon your lips. Eyes drifting close. 

With them shut you weren’t able to see the way Jamie’s were so filled with hope.

Wonder.

Love.

Completely written all over his face.

His smile appeared. And the emotion you felt was reciprocated tenfold, "I love you too."

Hands still moving to delicately ease the tension from your shoulders, before you felt him shake lightly, a rumble escaping him whilst he started to laugh lightly. 

Warm and disbelieving, "You know."

"What?" your lips curled into an amused smile. 

"This all happened because you accidentally told me to get my shit together," he chuckled.

You laughed leaning back into his arms, whilst they slipped down to encircle your waist. Your head against his shoulder, tilted to look up at him, you cheekily remarked, "I stand by it."

Jamie grinned, "Yeah."

Arms tightening around you.

Forehead resting against yours, "Best thing anyone's ever told me, actually."

It came as no surprise. That everyone at the club was completely thrilled to see you both back together. 

No longer burdened or strained beneath the opinions of others–of strangers. 

But no one was happier than Keeley and Rebecca–well, maybe– 

Ted would argue that he was the happiest to see you two kids work it out. Bringing joy back into the club. 

A little reminder that love was always just around the corner. 

And perhaps just always a little too much in the forefront of everyone’s attention. Something you didn’t particularly enjoy all the time. 

Thankfully, when it came to being part of the Richmond Greyhounds–there was always something happening to occupy the spotlight. 

And this time it came in the form of Richmond gaining another outsider.

Or perhaps more accurately–

Another victim of Roy Kent's terrifying death stare, "No one talks to him."

You blinked up from the makeshift treatment table outside, for just in case there were any injuries during practice, "Sorry?"

Roy folded his arms, "I'm serious."

You looked over his shoulder.

Across the training ground, where Trent Crimm–no longer from The Independent, now independent– stood awkwardly with a notebook tucked beneath one arm.

Rebecca and Ted had both given him permission to shadow the club for the year, to spend the season around the club, documenting Richmond from the inside. 

The players treated him like he'd wandered in carrying the plague.

Will actually turned around and walked the other direction.

Colin suddenly became fascinated with a traffic cone.

Even Higgins had developed somewhere incredibly important to be.

"...Roy,” you said with a light scolding. 

He only grunted in response. 

"That's incredibly mean,” you added, folding your arms over your chest. 

"He writes."

"He writes,” you say aloud. With slight disbelief that this was all Roy was annoyed about. 

"He asks questions."

"That's generally what journalists and writers do."

Roy grunted, "Exactly."

You shook your head, waving him off, "I'll go say hello."

Roy's eyes narrowed, "You betray us..."

You smiled sweetly, "And if you do anything about it, I'll make your rehab exercises harder."

"That's blackmail."

"It's physiotherapy,” you say, poking out your tongue with a grin. 

Trent looked pleasantly surprised when you approached.  

"I was beginning to think I'd accidentally become invisible,” he said, whilst his eyes remained trained on the team, noting the way they operated, the way Ted operated…

You laughed, "No. You've just become...Roy-proof."

His lips curled into a small smile, "I've noticed."

You held out your hand, "I'm not sure we've officially met–Y/N L/N, team physiotherapist and the one keeping the people on the team from breaking"

He shook it warmly with a small chuckle, "Trent Crimm, and if I recall correctly, we’ve met once before”

You think for a moment before clicking your tongue in realisation. 

“Right–How could I forget the journalist that didn’t have anything better to ask me than what I thought about Jamie Tartt’s return to Richmond,” you replied with a slight tease. 

He put his arms up in mock defense, “I was just trying to find out what I could–”

You laughed, with a small nod, “I’m pretty sure my answer was ‘yet to be decided’,” you added. 

“And what would be your answer now?” he asked with a knowing look in his eye. 

“One of the best things he’s ever done,” you said with pride, glancing over to find Jamie already looking at you, his smile widening when your eyes meet his. 

Turning back to Trent, you snort, “If I remember correctly you called me pithy back then”

Both of you simply laugh lightly from the memory. 

Eventually walking back over to your treatment table. Conversation came surprisingly easily. 

Far easier than you'd expected.

He wasn't trying to pry.

Wasn't fishing for gossip.

He simply...

Asked thoughtful questions.

About recovery.

About psychology.

About how athletes coped with pressure.

Eventually...

The conversation drifted, "I hope you don't mind me saying this."

You looked up from reorganising ankle braces. "Go on."

"I imagine the last few weeks haven't been especially kind

Your hands paused.

He wasn't being nosy.

Just...

Observant.

You sighed, "Is it that obvious?"

"You look happier. But–" He tilted his head slightly, searching for the right words, the correct sentiment, "Still cautious."

You smiled faintly, "I suppose."

Silence settled comfortably between you.

Then–

A question pops into your mind. 

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course,” he nods. It’s not like anyone else on the team was talking to him. 

"Why,” You hesitated, "Why do they do it?"

He already knew who they were.

"The press, the tabloids, the comments,” You swallowed, "Why do people say things like that?"

Trent considered the question carefully.

Long enough that you knew he wasn't reaching for an easy answer.

"Attention."

You frowned, "Attention?"

"They're not paid to be accurate,” He leaned back against the counter, "They're paid to be noticed. I was paid to make headlines."

His thoughts drift to a particular article he wrote about Ted. The happy go lucky coach, battling anxiety…

The very article that pushed Trent out of The Independent. 

He offered a sympathetic smile, "And outrage gets noticed."

You were quiet.

"So...They manufacture narratives, they simplify people, they create heroes,” He lifted one finger, "And villains."

Another finger.

"And relationships."

Another.

"And scandals."

"They're selling emotion. Not the truth,” he states. A knowledge stemmed from his own experiences. 

You looked down, "So it isn't personal?"

"It rarely is,” His answer came immediately, "You simply happened to become visible."

That...

Helped.

More than you'd expected.

“And from what I’ve seen, and from what Ted has told me,” Trent smiles sincerely, whilst he compliments you a little indirectly, “Those articles out there and opinions are unfounded.” 

You glanced toward the training pitch.

The players were still giving Trent a wide berth.

You smiled knowingly, "Don't worry."

"Hm?"

"They'll come around."

"You sound confident."

"I am."

He raised an eyebrow, "You've worked out why they're avoiding me?"

You grinned, "Oh. They're not avoiding you. They’re just avoiding the wrath of Roy."

He nods slowly, before asking, “You don’t happen to have a timeline on when the freeze out will end, do you?” 

You click your tongue with a small shrug, "Whenever Roy comes around–If I were you, I’d ask him” 

“If only it were that easy,” he said. 

Whilst you laughed in response with a nod of your head in agreement. 

And just as you said. 

Roy did eventually come around…

The team eventually opened up around Trent. No longer holding their breath whilst they walked past him. 

All the while you and Jamie were happier than ever. 

Most evenings...

Jamie simply appeared at your front door.

Sometimes with takeaway.

Sometimes carrying ingredients because he'd suddenly decided the two of you were making pasta from scratch.

Once...

He'd proudly announced he'd learnt how to make pancakes.

The smoke alarm had disagreed.

Jamie was a pretty open book.

A very pretty open book…

But as of late there had been times where he’d share something new. 

Whether it be a small or big fact. A little tidbit of information. 

A moment of vulnerability. 

Peeling back the layers of his facade, little by little. 

A side to him only you bore witness to. 

In your arms he wasn’t famed footballer, Jamie Tartt, doo doo doo doo doo doo….

No. 

When Jamie was in your arms. 

He was just Jamie. 

And he loved that. 

Loved that he was able to be himself with you. 

No pretence. 

No need to be anyone else. 

But yours. 

And so… 

He had begun letting you into those small little details often kept concealed behind a facade. 

At one point you had fretted about this being a mistake to Keeley…

Those doubts clouding your judgement once more. 

And Keeley was having none of it. 

As she had quickly snapped you out of your panic. 

Not the Jamie Tartt that the press painted him out to be. 

Reassuring you that this was not the same Jamie Tartt that she knew when they dated. 

And he was certainly not the Jamie Tartt who was on Lust Conquers All…

That comment had made you laugh, breaking you from your little pity party.

In fact. 

She pointed out, that who Jamie was now. 

Was far more considerate. 

More thoughtful. 

More sincere. 

Loving.

And not at all the selfish prick she once dated.

You almost blurted out an apology right then and there until she had quickly told you that she was so happy for you. 

That she was so happy for you both. 

Truly. 

Deeply. 

Happy. 

Smiling brightly whilst she hugged you. 

And so those fears and worries quelled once more. 

In a bizarre twist of fate. 

When your text was sent to the wrong person. 

Was sent to the person who now held your heart. 

Who made you laugh. 

Made you smile. 

Made you feel loved and cherished. 

The person who had become your closest confidante whilst only sharing messages. 

Was Jamie Tartt. 

Someone who you had once deemed an asshole. 

All because of a few nasty articles, and from what you had heard. 

Now you realised. 

That whilst that might have once been true. 

People were always a little more nuanced than that. 

Just like you were. 

So nuanced that no single article could ever portray an accurate depiction. 

And if the press had gotten it so wrong once before. 

Then just perhaps. 

They were wrong again this time, when they spoke of how you were unfit, not pretty enough to be Jamie’s girlfriend. 

Besides. 

They had no say in deciding who was wrong or right for him. 

The only opinion that mattered when it came to this. 

Was Jamie’s and yours. 

Later that evening...

Curled together on the sofa. Jamie frowned thoughtfully, "I've been thinkin'."

"Oh no,” you said with a teasing smile. 

His lips curled into feign offence, "Oi."

"I'm kidding,” you giggled. 

He looked genuinely serious, "...You're not my number one."

You blinked, practically stuttering, eyes wide, “–What?"

His eyes widened immediately, shaking his head frantically, "No."

"No?" you looked at him expectantly, pulling back just slightly. 

"No–” He sat upright, panicked, "That's not–”

"Jamie…" You lift your brows. 

"I've messed this up” 

You snort, "You think?"

He rubbed both hands over his face, "What I meant was…”He pointed helplessly at you, "...You're not my number one."

"I'm really feeling the love right now,” you huffed, 

“Ah–why doesn’t it, I just want to say this sounds a lot better in my head,” 

“I bet,” you remarked dryly. 

Shifting he leans over to grasp your hands gently, "Cause–You're my only one."

Biting your lip, trying to stop the wolfish grin from forming upon your lips. Whilst you watched him physically cringe.

"I feel like a right prick," he groaned. Dropping his head onto your shoulder, while you wrap your arms around him, hands carding through his hair. 

You smiled, "Yeah. But that's okay."

He looked up. Those beautiful big brown eyes peering up at you. Making you fall in love all over again. 

"Because you're my prick,” you said sweetly while a laugh bubbles from within you. 

He laughed. Relief washing over his face, "I love you."

"I love you too."

He leans up to press sweet kisses all over your face, leaning back into the couch, while he pulls you with him. 

Holding you so sweetly. 

Tenderly. 

The press could go fuck off. 

Jamie loved you. And only you. 

Proven by all the ways he shows you how.

By all the little gestures, the little actions and all the kisses he peppers across your cheeks. 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed part 9! Nothing too much happening, just a bit of fluff and a little comfort for these two lovebirds. I loved the idea of you literally ignoring Roy's piercing gaze and just talking with Trent (new friend collected! hah) Possibly thinking to explore Zava joining the team, perhaps a little of Jamie's own insecurities seeping through. And eventually I will be exploring Mom City!! (Jamie's Mum is going to adore you that is for sure) Let me know what you think about it, and if you'd like to be tagged ✨ Read, Part 10: To Be A Little Less Jealous here! Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Feel free to check out my overall Masterlist here

But none of them had ever tried to rush you through it.

They simply stayed.

And when hope eventually returned...

It arrived in perhaps the most you way imaginable.

Brendon had wandered into the bathroom one Saturday morning to find seven pregnancy tests lined up across the vanity.

He'd stopped dead, "...Sweetheart."

You had looked up guiltily, biting your lip with a nervous energy, "Hi."

"I understand taking a few to be sure,” He slowly counted them, "But seven?"

You'd shrugged, "I was checking for false positives."

He blinked, nodding slowly, "False positives."

"You never know."

"I might've eaten too many poppy seed muffins or something."

He stared.

Then blinked again.

Shaking his head in question, "What?"

"I've heard they make tests funny,” you shrugged, as though it were obvious. 

"Sweetheart–” He stepped closer, trying very hard not to smile, "No."

"They don't?" You raised your brows in surprise. 

He softly chuckled with a shake of his head, "They don't."

"Oh,” You looked back at the tests, "Well–then"

A beat passed.

He followed your gaze.

Six bright positive lines.

One unmistakable negative.

You pointed triumphantly, "See? One of them was wrong."

“I think you’re thinking of tests for opium–”

You pause, thinking over where you had heard this theory, before your mouth forms an oh…”Now that you mention it–I think I might’ve seen that on mythbusters”

Brendon laughed so hard he had to lean against the sink. Then, almost immediately afterwards…

He cried. 

He stepped forward to hug you tightly, peppering sweet kisses all along your face whilst you let out a bright laughter. 

So light, so filled with joy. 

Because six positives were more than enough.

Enough to dare hope again.

Enough to dream.

Even if both of you were still terrified to believe it.

…

And that unbelievably joyous moment had led you to now. 

Making your way through chairs, submerged in the familiar environment once more after months away from there.  

Smiling brightly, waving at the familiar faces whilst you push the twin stroller along. 

“Hey Lupe” You smiled with a little wave, stopping before the screen. 

She looks you up and down, before her smile widens as she catches a glimpse of your two twins. 

Rosie sat on the left, with Finnick on the right. Bright eyed and ever so curious. 

Both buckled securely into their seats.

Rosie's little rabbit was clutched tightly against her chest, one floppy ear hanging over the edge of the pram, while Finnick had somehow managed to remove one sock during the journey and was now enthusiastically trying to convince a stuffed Nemo to share the same fate.

His tiny fingers were remarkably determined.

“You’re looking great–They’re just as cute as the photos Dana’s been sharing,” she coos, “Everyone is going to be so happy to see you”

You raised your brows, “Happy to see me? Or happy to have some freshly baked cookies?” you teasingly say. 

She laughs lightly, “You, of course!–But I can't deny that cookies sound good right about now,” before she juts her head, “You’re all good to go through”

"So good to see you!"

You lifted a hand in greeting towards a nurse hurrying past.

Another wave.

Another registrar grinned at you as he disappeared around the corner. 

"Morning!"

"Morning!" you called back brightly.

The twin stroller rolled smoothly across the polished floors, the wheels clicking softly over the joins in the linoleum.

And nestled carefully beneath the twins, tucked inside the stroller's storage basket, sat several airtight containers stacked neatly atop one another.

Cookies.

Still faintly warm.

The smell followed you through the department before you even reached the nurses' station.

Nutty oats.

Brown butter.

Just enough flaky sea salt to balance the sweetness.

One of those recipes you'd stumbled upon by accident one rainy Sunday afternoon and had perfected ever since.

Quick enough to throw together during nap time.

Comforting enough that Brendon claimed they could solve almost any bad day.

The recipe itself was wonderfully uncomplicated.

Brown the butter until it smelled almost caramel-like.

Stir through rolled oats, plain flour, brown sugar, baking powder and just enough grated nutmeg to make people wonder what the secret ingredient was.

A splash of vanilla.

Roll them generously.

Scatter a pinch of sea salt over the tops.

Bake until the edges turned golden while the centres stayed impossibly soft.

A deliciously balanced sweetness. 

Comfort in a single bite. 

Just as you approached the hub, you relished the feeling of being back here. It had been so long since you had walked through here. Had seen all these people who you considered friends. 

The last time you were here–you had been briskly rushed upstairs to give birth to the two twins now smiling and babbling in the stroller. 

It brought a smile to your face, despite the chaotic nature of the ER. 

You had missed this. 

"Oh my God,” Princess looked up first. Her pen clattered onto the desk, "They're here!"

Every head lifted.

Like clockwork.

Whitaker appeared from one bay.

Mel poked her head around a curtain.

Jesse emerged carrying a chart.

Even Robby paused halfway through speaking to Cassie.

The department collectively lost all semblance of professionalism. They hadn’t seen the babies since they were born. Despite it only being a handful of months, the twins had already grown so much. 

"They've brought the babies!" Princess practically skips around the nurses' station, beaming widely whilst she declares, "I call first cuddle!" 

Perlah shakes her head with a smile before following after her. 

"You absolutely do not," Dana called without even looking up from the chart she'd been signing.

Princess stopped mid-step, "Excuse me?"

"They're my grandchildren."

Princess folded her arms dramatically, before stating, "They're our department babies."

Dana finally looked up.

One glance at the stroller.

And every trace of her usual composed authority simply...

Melted.

"Oh,” A smile spread across her face before she could stop it, "My little sweethearts."

You couldn't help smiling.

There it was.

The expression.

The one Dana reserved only for family.

It softened every sharp edge she'd ever possessed.

Rosie spotted her immediately, hands reaching out in a grabbing motion. Reaching for her ever doting grandma. 

And Dana walked over, already reaching into the stroller, scooping her out of the stroller in an instant. Booping her nose in the process. 

Rosie simply laughed.

Your daughter immediately rested her little head against Dana's shoulder as though she'd been doing it her entire life.

And in a way, you suppose she had.

Princess looked pleadingly at you, before you nodded with a smile, watching whilst she picked up little Finnick. 

“Oh aren’t you just adorable–” she cooed. 

Finn’s eyes peered up at her, wide and curious, tilting his head. As though trying to figure out what was happening. 

He babbled a little, whilst drool pooled from the corner of his mouth, you were quick to gently swipe it away. 

“I’m convinced that Finn has my smile while Rosie has Brendon’s eyes,’ you say with a proud smile, before ducking slightly to pinch Finn’s cheeks, “Don’t you agree hun? My little gummy shark”

His hand curls around your fingers with a wide gummy smile. 

“Gummy shark? Really?” Santos interrupted with an arched brow, looking questioningly at Finn. 

You nod with a hum, before jutting your head over to little Rosie, “And over there is my little lemon shark,” your lips curve into a smile, admiring your little baby, dressed in a butter yellow top. 

Santos chuckles softly, “The nicknames are a little on the nose aren’t they?” 

Mohan elbows her slightly, before deafening on your behalf, “It’s sweet”

Around Dana, stood Whitaker alongside Javadi both leaning in, bright smiles whilst they entertained little Rosie, cooing at the young baby who peered up at them with such wide eyed curiosity, taking in everything before her, every sound, colour, shape. 

Dana had shown her colleagues plenty of photos, in fact at the station, she had a little collection of photos of her sweet little grandchildren. 

Who she never failed to dote over. 

A proud beaming smile spread across her features each time one of her colleagues brought them up. 

The absolute delights of her life. 

Your heart squeezed.

Watching your mother so openly in love with your children never ceased to amaze you. For so much of your life she'd expressed love quietly.

By making sure you ate.

By waiting awake until you got home safely.

By fixing problems before you'd even realised they existed.

Now...

She cuddled the twins without a second thought.

Spoke in a softer voice.

Smiled more. There was a levity to her actions, as though when she held your babies, all her worries melted away. 

It suited her. 

“So how’s Mama life treating you?” Princess asks, gently swaying little Finn whilst he giggles. A bright smile spread across her lips from the sound. 

“It’s–you know, taking a little adjusting, not so much the early mornings, but just learning to trust I’m making the right choices–Mama’s been a great help, and my sisters too, Dad’s always coming around with food, and well Brendon–he’s just been so great. Truly–and not in the bare minimum sort of way. Wouldn’t you agree, Mama?” you said. 

She nods, with a slight reluctant hum, “He’s been good–don’t tell him I said that,” she retorted pointedly. 

“Don’t tell who?” 

As if summoned, Brendon appeared, 

He sent you a small smile, an inquisitive raise of his brow. Before turning his gaze back to Dana. 

She shrugs, before remarking, “I was just saying that a certain son-in-law of mine is ok”

“Right,” he nods, doing his best to conceal his smile, “Well you know I’m always trying to be better”

And that. That response was exactly why Dana knew you and Brendon were always going to be ok. 

No matter what happened. 

No matter what life threw your way. 

She knew that Brendon undoubtedly loved you with his whole heart. 

Watching while he gently takes Rosie from Dana’s arms, how sweetly he holds Rosie, the way he becomes soft for his family–not a single reservation. Her eyes flick around the room, watching her colleagues stare with stunned expressions. 

She couldn’t quite blame them. 

When she had first seen Brendon so soft hearted, so openly caring–she couldn’t believe it. 

Such a stark contrast to the steel eyed, guarded ortho. Whose gaze would send med students running, would send interns ducking for cover. 

Here he was. 

Practically melting from the pure little giggles that escape Rosie. 

The way he works to bring a smile to her face. 

He was a good dad. And you…

You were a great mom. 

Dana was certain of it. 

Standing there she admired both you and Brendon. 

It made Dana think of herself–back when she and Benji had first had Ellie, back when they had you, and Liv. 

Dana was simply so happy to see you so supported just like she was. To see that her Baby girl was so deeply cherished, respected and loved. 

Something that was not always guaranteed when it came to love…

But it warmed her heart seeing you, to have someone like Brendon by your side. 

She knew this hadn’t always come easy. 

She understood that your life together wasn’t always smooth sailing. 

But together. 

You have made it through. 

And you both would continue to do so... 

“Oh!” you blinked in realisation, “Before I forget–” you bend down to grasp onto the containers, “I made you all some cookies” 

You popped open the lid, and before you could even set down the box, they had all swarmed you plucking cookies from the box. 

Bright smiles, and words of praise and thanks sent your way. 

Santos let out a groan in delight while she took a bite, “Oh god, I missed this” 

“These are seriously the best things I’ve ever eaten,” Whitaker claimed. 

You laughed, “You say that every time I bring something”

“And every time it’s true,” he replied. Savouring the taste of the cookie, letting the vanilla and hints of nutmeg melt onto the tongue. 

Robby stopped before you, “You really didn’t have to bring these–”

You twist slightly putting the cookies out of reach, “Oh then I guess you don’t want one–”

“Now I didn’t say that,” he countered, before you laughed and offered him one. 

Taking a bite he smiles, “This is probably one of the best things you’ve brought, thank you”

“Maybe I should bake more cookies when I’m on 5 hours of sleep,” you joked.

Meanwhile, Brendon tucked the twins back into the stroller, making sure everything was all in order, he waited for you, simply admiring you. 

The way you were endlessly generous, thoughtful and sweet. 

Just another reason he loved you. 

Handing over another box to Robby, “If you could make sure the night shift get these, and tell them In said hi”

Nodding, he takes them from your hands, “Sure, of course, I’m sure they’ll really appreciate them” 

Turning back, you falter for a moment, caught off guard by the way Brendon looks at you. The pure admiration seeping into his gaze. 

No matter how many times you catch him, it never ever fails to make your heart skip a beat. 

The picture before you made your heart race. 

Standing there before you. 

Was your endlessly supportive husband. 

Who was known for being so fierce, so cold. 

And yet for you. 

For you, he was as soft centred as the cookies you had just handed out. As sweet and delicate when it came to you. 

And seated in the strollers were you two little precious treasures. 

Little Rosie and Finn, who with every passing day grew more and more. With each passing day they became their own little person, with their own interests, likes and dislikes. 

It was unbelievable to think that this was your life…

That you were so lucky to call them your family. 

The loves of your life.

It was difficult to believe…

Because it hadn't always looked like this.

…

It had taken years…

Years of hoping.

Years of planning.

Years of disappointment.

Years of quietly wondering whether this picture would ever exist outside your imagination.

There had been days when this future had felt impossibly far away.

Days when hope itself had felt dangerous.

Days when all you wanted was to hear tiny footsteps echo through your home.

Instead...

There had only been silence.

The kind that settled into every corner of the house after the miscarriage. A silence that no amount of kind words could truly fill.

There's a whole other conversation going on In a parallel universe Where nothing breaks and nothing hurts There's a waltz playing frozen in time Blades of grass on tiny bare feet I look at you and you're looking at me

The memory settled over you with a heaviness that only old fears could carry.

Because while Brendon had always been good to you–

He was still human.

And so were you.

And humans were prone to making mistakes, making missteps in communication. 

And with your nerves on edge from being pregnant there were times that you simply snapped pulled too thin beneath the pressure of it all. 

Love didn't erase miscommunication.

It didn't stop exhaustion from sharpening words that were never meant to wound. It didn't magically quiet the fear that grief had planted inside you after the miscarriage.

Pregnancy after loss was a strange thing.

People congratulated you.

Smiled.

Celebrated.

But beneath every congratulations was a voice that whispered–

What if it happens again?

Every cramp made your heart race.

Every appointment felt like holding your breath.

Every ultrasound became the only thing keeping you together until the next one.

You didn't feel pregnant.

You felt...

Terrified.

Terrified to become attached.

Terrified not to become attached.

Terrified that if you loved them too much, somehow the universe would notice.

Terrified…that all this hope, all this joy…would only lead you back to what had happened once before. 

To the moment your heart was cracked beneath the grief of loss. 

Brendon noticed the fear before you ever admitted it aloud. He noticed the way you'd wake in the middle of the night, your hand instinctively resting over your stomach.

The way you checked the toilet paper every single time you went to the bathroom.

The way you'd pause in the middle of conversations because your thoughts had wandered somewhere darker.

He never told you to stop worrying. Never said, "Everything will be fine."

Because he couldn't promise that.

Despite him wanting to protect you from heartache–protect you from that grief.

He couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t happen again. It made him feel useless–helpless. 

So he did the only thing he could…

He simply took your hand, so sweetly and so gently, "I'm here."

With unwavering conviction. 

Always those two words.

I'm here.

But fear has a funny way of finding cracks. Seeping in and bleeding into the forefront of your mind. The memory of loss clawing back at you. 

Fearful it could happen again. 

Could you beam me up, Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it Probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face Beam me up, Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter, I think, A minute's enough, Just beam me up.

And one Thursday evening...

It finally found one.

You'd spent the entire afternoon alone.

The twins–still only tiny enough to fit beneath your ribs–had been unusually quiet.

You knew rationally that they were still too little for consistent movement.

You knew.

But rationality had stopped being particularly persuasive weeks ago.

You'd tried calling Brendon once.

He hadn't answered.

Surgery.

You understood. He was busy. He was working. 

And yet–

The irrational side of your brain couldn’t quite comprehend that. 

So you'd texted instead.

How much longer do you think?

No reply.

Again.

You understood.

He was operating.

Except every minute that passed stretched impossibly longer than the one before it.

Six o'clock.

Then seven.

By eight, dinner sat untouched on the stove.

You reheated it.

Twice.

The house felt unbearably empty.

And yet within your mind, there was a loudness that couldn’t be contained. Couldn’t be dampened. 

You hadn't wanted anything extraordinary that evening.

You hadn't needed solutions.

You hadn't needed advice.

You had simply needed...

Him.

Some black birds soaring in the sky, Barely a breath like our one last sight Tell me that was you, saying goodbye, There are times I feel the shivering cold, It only happens when I'm on my own, That's how you tell me, I'm not alone

The front door finally clicked open just after nine.

Brendon stepped inside looking utterly exhausted. His scrub top was creased. His hair, a mess. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes.

"I'm so sorry,” He hadn't even managed to put his bag down before speaking, "Emergency surgery. It just came–"

"You could've texted,” The words came out sharper than you'd intended. Punctuated with the panic you had felt, and yet it had come out accusatory. 

He nodded slowly, a small dip in his brow, "I tried–My phone died halfway through theatre."

You folded your arms tightly across your chest, "So borrow someone else's."

"I didn't really have–” Brendon sighed, shuffling into the kitchen. 

"You had time."

An anger brewing within you. Spilling out. 

"I didn't."

"You always have time for work."

Silence.

Brendon looked at you for a long moment, "I know you're upset."

"I'm not upset,” you shook your head, arms folding over your chest. 

"You are."

"I'm angry."

That’s not true…just tell him–why can’t you just tell him–

"I can see that,” he said softly, not accusingly. Just stating that he understood. 

"You weren't here,” there was a strain in your voice, a pain that bled into your words. 

His expression softened, "I know."

"No,” Your voice cracked, "You don't–I needed you."

The words hovered there.

You'd finally said them.

Except...

Instead of stopping...

Everything else poured out too.

"You always choose the hospital,” whilst the words fell out of your mouth, your mind screamed at you. Screamed at you to stop. To stop lashing out. To simply–

His face fell, “–Sweetheart."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You do,” a finality to your tone. Unwilling to change your belief. 

"I couldn't leave surgery,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache begins to form. He hated fighting with you. 

"You could've found thirty seconds."

"I couldn't."

"You didn't even try."

His shoulders sagged, "I did."

"You didn't."

Before he could argue any further, you added, "I was terrified,” The admission escaped before you could stop it.

In my head, I see your baby blues I hear your voice and I, I break in two and now there's One of me, with you

The room fell silent.

Brendon stepped towards you. Tentative, brows furrowing, hurt seeping into his features, “I’m sorry–”

Mouth agape. 

You took a step back, "I spent three hours wondering whether something had happened–I sat here convincing myself..." You laughed bitterly through tears, "...that if something went wrong I'd be completely alone."

His heart broke, "That’s not fair–I never wanted you to feel alone."

"Well, I did,” you turned from him, arms folded over your chest. The words hung between you.

Heavy.

Painful.

Unfair.

Because they weren't really about tonight.

They hadn't been for a long time.

Brendon recognised it immediately.

But neither of you knew how to untangle it.

Not while emotions sat this close to the surface.

"I think..." He swallowed, "I think we're both too upset to keep talking."

You nodded stiffly, tone clipped, "Fine."

"I'll sleep downstairs," he felt his chest tighten, his words strained. He just wanted to go and hold you close, let you crumble in his arms and hold you tighter. 

Kiss away your worries. 

But there you stood, not even able to look at him. 

You didn't answer.

You couldn't.

Because if you did...

You'd ask him to stay.

And somehow your pride wouldn't let you.

So you listened.

To the cupboard opening.

The spare blanket being taken out.

The soft creak of the couch downstairs.

Then...

Silence.

Whilst you walked away back to your room–

You barely slept.

So when I need you can I send you a sign

I'll burn a candle and turn off the lights

I'll pick a star and watch you shine

Every time you closed your eyes another horrible possibility took its place. The memory of your first child–haunting you. 

What if tomorrow's appointment went badly?

What if the babies stopped growing?

What if you lost them?

What if–

What if Brendon realised this wasn't the life he'd imagined?

What if all this fear became too much?

Too exhausting?

Too much work?

Then the morning arrived grey and quiet. 

You found him already in the kitchen.

Decaf coffee sat waiting for you exactly how you liked it. With perfectly frothed milk and just a hint of vanilla sugar. 

Toast.

Your prenatal vitamins.

He'd even warmed your favourite mug because he'd once read somewhere that hot drinks stayed warmer longer that way.

Neither of you spoke.

Not at first.

You sat opposite each other.

The silence wasn't angry anymore.

Just...

Fragile.

Hanging between you.

Brendon finally looked up, "I'm sorry."

You immediately shook your head, fervently, "No. I am–You don't have to apologise."

"I should've found another phone," he said. 

"You couldn't."

He offered, eyes gazing at you, "I would've if I could."

"I know," you nod, taking in a deep breath. 

Another silence.

Then quietly–

You said softly, "I was scared."

Brendon reached across the table, your fingers slipped into his automatically, “I’m here now”

And somehow...

Those three words shattered what little composure you'd been clinging to.

You burst into tears.

Not graceful tears.

Not quiet ones.

The kind that stole your breath.

Your shoulders shook so hard you could barely speak. Brendon was beside you before the chair had even finished scraping backwards. 

One arm wrapped around your shoulders.

The other gently rubbed circles against your back.

"I can't do this,” Your voice dissolved into sobs, choking for air, "I can't..."

"You can,” he said with a strength

"How do you know–I–” you sucked in a harsh breath, “I won’t lose them”

His embrace tightened, "I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, before saying, “But I know you can do this”

"I can't go through that again."

"I know,” He rested his cheek against your hair.

You shook your head desperately, "What if something's wrong with me?"

His entire body stilled, "What?"

"What if..." You couldn't even look at him, "What if I'm broken?"

His heart shattered, "Sweetheart..."

"It took so long,” You cried harder. Hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt, clinging onto him while your sobs wracked your body, "And then..."

Another sob. Another harsh breath. 

"...Then we lost the baby–And now..." You pressed trembling hands over your stomach, "I'm so scared I'll lose them too–I don't know how to be excited. I don't know how to stop waiting for something awful to happen."

Your breathing became uneven, "And–I can’t help worrying–wondering–" You whispered the next part so quietly he almost didn't hear it, “–What if you leave?"

Brendon pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands clasping your cheeks, shifting you to look at him, his heart breaking from your words, "What?"

"What if this is too much?"

"It won't be,” he said firmly. 

"What if–" Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, "What if you decide you don't want someone who's..." You couldn't say it.

He waited. Brows furrowing with a deep sadness whilst he looked at you. 

"...Broken,” The word barely existed. Barely louder than a whisper as it fell from your lips. 

Brendon stared at you.

Utterly devastated that you'd been carrying this alone.

His fingers gently swipe along your cheeks, wiping away the tears that continue to fall. Holding your face as though he was holding the entire world in the palm of his hands. 

And to him. 

You were his entire world. 

Holding you firmly enough that you had no choice but to meet his eyes. 

"Listen to me,” His own voice trembled now, "You are not broken."

You tried to shake your head.

He held you gently still.

"You hear me?"

"But–" 

"No,” His thumb wiped away another tear, "You lost a baby."

His own voice cracked, "We lost a baby–You grieved and so did I. That doesn't make either of us broken. It makes us parents who lost a child."

Fresh tears gathered in his own eyes, "I would go through every ounce of that pain again..." He swallowed, "...If it meant I still got to find my way back to you."

You stared at him.

Speechless.

"I didn't marry you because I thought life would always be easy. I married you because I wanted every version of life..." His forehead rested against yours, "...As long as it was with you."

His hands found yours, "I need you to hear this. No matter what happens. If these babies arrive healthy…I'll love you. If something goes wrong...I'll love you. If we have ten children...I'll love you. If it's just us,” he pauses for a moment, a small twitch of his lip as it curls into a heartfelt smile, "I'll love you."

The pure sincerity of his words, the way his eyes glisten whilst they peer into yours–you can’t help but let yourself believe him. 

Just a little. 

"My love for you is not conditional. It isn't something you earn by giving me children. It isn't measured by pregnancies. It isn't dependent on outcomes,” His voice softened into little more than a whisper, "It is constant. I chose you. I keep choosing you."

Your chest squeezes. Warmth blooming as it rises to your cheeks. 

"And there is absolutely nothing..."

He kissed your forehead.

"Nothing"

Another kiss.

"And I mean there is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop."

You closed your eyes.

Leaning into him.

Finally allowing yourself to be held instead of holding yourself together. He wrapped both arms around you.

One hand gently covering yours where it rested protectively over your stomach.

And then he bent down. Speaking quietly to the tiny lives growing beneath your heart, "You two..." A watery smile appeared on his face, "You've already got the strongest Mom in the world."

He kissed your stomach, "And whether we get to meet you in a few months..." His voice caught, "...Or whether all we get is today..."

He looked back up at you, "We're going to love you every single second we're given."

You broke all over again.

Not from fear this time.

But because, in that moment, you finally believed him.

Whatever happened next...

You wouldn't face it alone.

Just beam me up, Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it Probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face Beam me up, Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter, I think, A minute's enough.

…

The memory dissolved like rain against a window.

The weight in your chest eased as the sterile white corridors of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center came back into focus.

Not the past.

Not sleepless nights filled with fear.

Not endless waiting rooms or whispered prayers.

Just...

Today.

Your hand was still intertwined with Brendon's.

Warm.

Steady.

"Ready to be brave today?" Brendon murmured in question to his two little angels, whilst bending down to readjust the straps of the stroller. 

Your lips pulled thin at the reminder. Unfortunately, you weren’t here just to say hi. You had come in for an appointment. 

Pediatrics.

Routine vaccinations.

Necessary.

Important.

….But still enough to make your stomach twist.

Brendon noticed immediately.

His free hand found yours.

A simple squeeze, "You alright?"

You nodded, biting your lip, "I know they'll be okay."

"But?" His eyes searched yours, noting the worry in your tone. 

"I don't like knowing they're going to cry,” your lips curled into a frown, glancing down at your two babies. 

His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles, "I know,” before lifting them to his lips, gently reassuring you, “But they’re going to be ok, you know that”

You sigh with a nod. 

“It’s a small prick, and then it’ll be over,” your Mama came up from beside you, rubbing your back, “They won’t even remember it.”

“Thanks Mama, I’ll see you on the way out,” you promise. 

She only waves you off, with a small shake of her head, “No need–You can just get the two little Bubbas home, I’m sure they’ll be tired after their little day out,” she said, before squatting down to steel one last kiss from the two babies, “Now you two, be good for your Mom and Dad”

With a final wave to the others, sharing a few little goodbyes and hugs, you and Brendon make your way to the pediatrics ward. 

Where the sterile white walls blend into bright swirls of colour, shifting into a more inviting atmosphere. 

Brendon's thumb absent-mindedly brushing over your knuckles as the four of you made your way down the brightly coloured hallway.

Rosie babbled happily from the stroller, waving enthusiastically at the painted jungle animals decorating the walls.

Finnick followed her gaze a second later.

Completely captivated.

His tiny mouth rounded into a perfect little 'o' before he pointed with determined enthusiasm.

You smiled.

It was strange.

Looking at them now.

These two beautiful little people who filled every corner of your world with laughter and crumbs and toys and tiny socks that somehow vanished into thin air.

It felt impossible that there had once been a version of yourself convinced this future would never happen.

Convinced your body had failed you.

Convinced Brendon would one day realise loving you came with too much heartbreak.

You glanced sideways at him.

He caught you looking immediately, with an arch of his brow, whilst he pushed the pram, "What?"

You smiled softly, "Nothing."

He shook his head, "I know that look, and that wasn't nothing."

You shook your head, "I was just thinking…” Your voice grew quieter, "It's funny what fear convinces you of."

Understanding flickered across his face.

He knew exactly where your thoughts had wandered.

Without saying a word, he leaned over and kissed your temple.

A silent reminder.

I'm here.

Just as he always had been.

Your fingers squeezed his, "Thank you."

He smiled, "You never have to thank me for staying."

"I know."

"You really don't,” he retorted. 

"I know."

He looked down at the twins, "They were always worth waiting for."

Your eyes immediately stung.

Rosie chose that exact moment to clap enthusiastically at absolutely nothing. You laughed through the emotion, "I think she agrees."

The paediatric nurse greeted you with a bright smile, "Well, hello there!"

Rosie smiled back instantly.

Finnick, however, buried his face against Brendon's shoulder.

The nurse laughed, "I see who's the cautious twin."

"That would be him," you nodded, shifting slightly whilst Rosie wriggled in your grasp. 

"And who's our adventurous one?" Rosie answered by attempting to grab the nurse's stethoscope, "There she is."

The room filled with quiet laughter.

Everything was routine.

Weights. Measurements. Questions about sleep. Questions about feeding. Developmental milestones.

Brendon answered half before you had the chance.

Eventually...

The tray appeared.

Two tiny syringes.

Your heart sank despite yourself.

And Brendon. He had noticed this immediately. Softly stating, “I can hold them”

You nodded wordlessly. 

Whilst he held Rosie, as the nurse prepared the injection, a small swipe of alcohol upon her thigh. And then–

Her little face scrunched.

Those enormous brown eyes filled instantly. Then–

A heartbroken wail echoed through the room. The sound hit your chest like a freight train.

Before you could do anything, Brendon hushed and lulled her. Soothed her sweetly. Pushing back the little curls upon her head in a gentle manner, “I know, I know, it’s ok–Daddy’s got you”

Tiny hiccuping sobs escaped her. Fresh tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. Brendon kissed each one away as though he could somehow erase the sting itself, "I'm so proud of you. You were so brave. So brave."

Gradually...

The sobs became sniffles.

Then tiny hiccups.

Then simply quiet little breaths against his shoulder.

You watched them.

Your heart overflowing.

God.

He was such a wonderful father.

There was never any frustration.

Never impatience.

Never embarrassment.

Only endless tenderness.

The kind that made your heart fall in love with him all over again.

He carefully took Finn in his arms, whilst he placed Rosie into yours. 

Watching him effortlessly comfort one child while reaching for the other…

Watching Rosie already recovering enough to pat her brother's arm as though offering encouragement...

Watching the man you'd once feared might leave if life became too complicated...

You almost laughed at your younger self.

Those fears had felt so real.

So convincing.

And yet here he was.

The same man who had sat on the bathroom floor counting pregnancy tests. 

Who had slept beside you after every nightmare.

Who had whispered promises to two babies before they'd even been born.

Now gently bouncing your son after another round of tears, kissing the top of his tiny head. 

Brendon looked up then.

Meeting your eyes across the little examination room.

The look he gave you was the very same one he'd worn the day he'd married you.

Steady.

Certain.

Overflowing with quiet devotion.

He smiled. Not the smile of someone enduring fatherhood. The smile of someone who had always wanted this. 

Always wanted you.

And in that small paediatric room, filled with sticker charts, cartoon giraffes and the fading sound of two babies recovering from their vaccinations, you realised something.

The future you'd once been too frightened to imagine...

Was now sitting right in front of you.

One twin asleep against your husband's shoulder.

The other reaching for your hand.

And the man who had promised his love would be constant...

Keeping that promise in every ordinary, beautiful moment.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story ♥️ oh, it hurt my heart to make them go through a little angst, but these two will literally make it through anything! Just making my own heart swoon to make them such doting parents, especially Brendon! I also listened to the songs Small Bump by Ed Sheeran and More by Halsey both of which literally shattered my heart as they explore pregnancy loss. Let me know what you thought and if you'd like to be tagged for future parts of this series✨

Read Part 8: My Home, My Family, My Life, My Forever Here! 💖

Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!

Because while you'd spent the last fortnight convinced you weren't enough for him…

He'd spent the last few days terrified you'd realised he wasn't enough for you.

…

It had started so small.

A missed good morning text.

You'd always been first. With even a simple. 

Morning, sleepyhead :)

Or a photo of your coffee with, Need this before I deal with Isaac today.

Or simply– ❤️

Nothing extravagant.

Just...you.

Then one morning there'd been nothing.

Jamie hadn't thought much of it.

You were busy. 

He could be patient.

Except then your replies became shorter.

Then hours apart.

Then entire days.

He found himself checking his phone during training sessions.

Checking it in the changing rooms.

Checking it walking to his car.

Nothing.

He'd typed messages.

Deleted them.

Typed new ones.

Jamie 💙: [ Hope your day's alright x ]

Seen.

A small bubble would appear with three dots but then vanish just as quickly. 

No reply.

Later...

Jamie 💙: [ Miss u ]

Nothing.

Another day.

Jamie 💙: [ Fancy dinner tomorrow? ] You: [ Sorry. Can't. Busy ]

No explanation.

No little heart.

No smiley face.

Nothing that sounded like you.

And then…When he would see you whilst at work.

You became impossible to catch.

Whenever he wandered towards your office– 

You'd suddenly remember you had to see another player.

Whenever training finished–

You disappeared before he'd even unlaced one boot.

He'd catch glimpses of you.

Across the pitch.

Laughing politely with Will.

Talking to Higgins.

Helping Dani stretch.

But the moment your eyes found his...

Something changed.

You smiled.

Small.

Sad.

Then looked away.

Like looking at him hurt.

And on top of all that, the press had become relentless lately, shoving cameras in Jamie’s face…but all he could focus on…was you.

"You alright?" Isaac had asked one afternoon.

Jamie blinked, "Hm?"

"You've been staring at medical for about ten minutes,” Colin added. 

Had he?

He hadn't even realised.

He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing the thick lump that had formed in his throat "...Yeah."

Neither were convinced, as they shared a glince before arching a brow towards him. 

"You two have a row?" Isaac questioned. 

Jamie immediately shook his head, "No."

Colin tilted his head, "You sure?"

Was he sure?..

Were you mad at him?

Was that what this was about?

Had he done something? Were you finally–

"I don’t think so…” Jamie’s words trailed off. Mind trying to place the moment your relationship had shifted, had changed. 

"Think?" Colin probed. 

Isaac patted Jamie’s shoulder, “You should talk to her”

Easy for him to say.

Harder when every unanswered text felt like another piece of your relationship slipping away.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Jamie left. Unable–Unwilling to talk about it anymore…

...What if she's realised she deserves someone better?

When Ted had dragged the team away from Nelson Road. Away from the pitch. Only to pull them down into the sewers…

Jamie had sent one message to you. 

Clawing onto some semblance of hope. Not wanting to admit that what he had with you could so easily fizzle out…

Jamie 💙: [ Are we okay? ]

Breathing in deeply, before choking on the stench whilst he shoved his phone back into his pocket. 

It was safe to say that everyone was confused. 

More confused than usual when it came to Ted’s antics. 

But then he spoke. 

Spoke about how they as a team needed to not let the negative things said about them on the internet or by rival fans stick to their minds…

That the sewer is full of other people's excrement, but the city keeps running smoothly because it knows how to move that filth through the system. 

Encouraging them to build a mental "sewer system" to acknowledge that the negative stuff is there, but let it pass right through them without letting it build up and weigh them down…

“It’s just poopeh, let it flow,” the words fell from Jamie’s mouth. 

In that moment, all he wanted to do was see you. Was finally talk with you. Find out what was happening…

Even if it hurt. 

He had to know the truth. 

He simply had no idea just how much it would break his heart. 

The way he heard you cry, the sheer vulnerability and ache that bled into your words, had him gasping for air. 

None of you had noticed how he stood just out of sight, but had heard you. 

Having heard enough to understand everything.

Jamie stood frozen. 

Heart breaking.

Because while you'd spent weeks believing you weren't enough for him–

All he'd been thinking was how he wasn't enough for you.

And now.

Now he just wanted to remind you how much he loves you.

Taking in a deep breath. Only to cough as he catches a whiff of his clothes. The sudden noise catches your attention.

Lifting your head you lock eyes with Jamie. 

Who stands there a little stunned. 

Fucking shit–I should’ve changed my shirt. Or put on some lynx–

“Can I–” he clears his throat, “Can I come in?” 

Keeley and Rebeeca share a look. A knowing glint in their eyes. 

Before you can speak, before you can cling onto the two women by your side, they pull away. 

Not before Keeley squeezes your arm, whispering softly in your ear, “Talk to him”

Whilst they pass Jamie on the way out, their noses scrunch, whilst Keeley pinches her nose catching a whiff of Jamie. 

A stench she couldn’t quite place. 

And honestly–

Didn’t want to. 

Leaving you both alone… 

A silence fills the air. 

Jamie’s hands twist and fumble, nerves kicking back in. Normally so confident and yet now, before you…He stands so nervous. 

“I didn’t know that’s how you were feeling,” he finally broke the silence. 

Your breathing is shaky. 

Unsteady. 

Seated whilst your arms wrap around yourself. Your eyes dropped, murmured so quietly, "I didn't want you to."

Stepping just a little closer. 

Just a little. 

Not wanting to crowd you.

Not wanting to assume.

Not enough to encroach on your space. 

But enough to let you know he was there for you. 

Then–

"I thought..." He rubbed at the back of his neck, "I thought maybe you'd realised I weren't good enough."

Your head snapped up, "What?"

He laughed quietly, no humour just vague awkwardness, "Yeah."

"No," you said stunned by his admission. 

"I did,” He bit his lip, shrugging helplessly, "When yeh stopped answerin'...I thought...maybe this was it."

Your heart cracked, "Jamie..."

"I thought maybe yeh'd finally seen what everyone else used to,” He laughed under his breath, "Bit stupid now, innit?"

Tears welled in your eyes again, "You thought I was leaving because you weren't enough?"

He nodded once, "So hearing you–Hearing that's why you've been hurting...I wish you'd told me."

His expression broke.

Mirroring the sadness and heart ache that was plastered across your features. 

"I'm sorry,” you couldn’t help but say. 

"No,” He shook his head immediately, firmly repeating it, taking a tentative step closer, "No apologising."

His hands found yours.

Carefully.

Gently. 

So that you could slip from his grasp if you wanted to. 

Waiting until you squeezed back before fully holding them, "I'm here.” 

The words bury themselves deep in your heart. Hitting you like an arrow to the chest. So simple and yet so profound…

His thumbs brushed gently across your knuckles, "And all that stuff–It's just noise."

You nodded ever so slightly. Not trusting your words. Not able to speak. 

As the words become lodged in the back of your  throat. 

He smiled sheepishly, "I learnt something today. In the sewers."

You blinked, tilting your head, brows furrowing "...Sewers?"

He hummed in acknowledgement, "Ted took us down there."

"You went...into the sewers?"

"'Course we did,” he said as though it wasn’t the most bizarre thing he had said. 

Bringing just a small smile to your face, one he had missed, a small laugh bubbling from within you. Despite the tears, "What?"

"I know,” He chuckled, before shrugging, "It's Ted."

That earned another watery laugh from you.

"So..." He cleared his throat, "I realised...It's just poopeh."

Snorting slightly, you stared, "...It's what?"

"Poopeh,” he said more assuredly. 

You couldn't help it.

You burst into laughter.

"What?"

"Poo."

"I know what poo is."

He laughed too, "Ted made us stand down there,” he gestured vaguely, "And it smelled awful."

"Obviously,” you laughed, vaguely catching a whiff of the sewers from his jersey. 

Waiting for your laughter to subside, so patient, looking at you with so much care, and devotion…

It was a wonder you ever thought he had stopped loving you…

He looked directly into your eyes,  "People say horrible things. They're unfair,” brows furrowing as he searches for the right thing to say, “They don't know yeh. They don't know us."

He squeezed your hands, "And they get to shout it really loud. But…” Then his smile returned, so brilliantly, so sincerely, "It's still just poopeh."

You laughed again, tears still clinging to your lashes.

"It stinks. It gets everywhere,” He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, "You don't pick it up and carry it home with yeh."

And that hits you hard. 

Makes your vision blur, biting your lip trying your best to stifle the sobs threatening to break through. 

"I understand why you're overwhelmed,” His voice softened, "They shouldn't get to say those things."

His forehead rested lightly against yours, eyes searching for yours, "...No matter what they say–It doesn't change how I feel about you. You could read me a thousand comments. My answer'd still be the same,” eyes peering into yours, grounding you in this moment, "I love yeh."

Your breath caught.

"So much. I don't want someone ‘prettier’. I don't want someone famous. I don't want anyone else. All I want–All I’ll ever want–" He smiled, "is you."

Your eyes closed as another tear slipped free, "I love you too."

You feel his lips curl into a smile whilst he kisses your forehead.

"And next time your brain starts tellin' yeh all that rubbish..." He tapped gently against your temple, "You come tell me–We'll deal with it together. Okay?"

You nodded.

He pulled back lightly to look you in the eye, “I need to hear you say it, love.”

You smile, eyes opening to look into his, "...Okay."

His words help to quell the noise in your mind. The worries that had flooded you lately…

Muffled by the assuredness in Jamie’s words. 

Simply being dragged away by the current of the sewers. 

But then the moment is broken. 

When you finally get a proper sniff of his jersey. Noise scrunching up in disgust, trying your hardest to stop yourself from coughing. 

You push him back, "Unfortunately cause of all that ‘poopeh’, your jersey doesn’t smell so great–Go and get showered”

“Only if you promise we’re on for dinner tonight?” he says, still within arms reach of you. 

Smiling softly you nod, “I’d love that”

And across his face spreads the widest grin you had seen all day. 

So bright. 

Pure joy flooding his features. 

“Chinese and cheesy films?” you ask. 

He winks, “Sounds perfect, babes.”

He shifts to duck down to steal a kiss only for you to push him away once more, pinching your nose, “You really need to go shower”

“Can I kiss you later?” he questions. 

Causing your lips to curl up into a smile, nodding. 

He lets out a little exclaimed yes. 

Before walking away, blowing you one final kiss. Your tears now dried up, small little giggles escaping your lips. 

Heart warmed. 

And for the first time in weeks. 

Your mind was at ease…

A small message pops up on your phone. 

Jamie 💙: [ Love you xx ]

Smiling softly down at your screen, you type back. 

You : [ Love you too xx ]

Completely unaware of how your response had made Jamie’s heart race. Had made him feel settled for the first time in weeks. 

…

And later that night…

One of his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

The other lazily traced shapes across your forearm.

Just like always.

The knot inside your chest hadn't disappeared completely.

Healing didn't work like that.

Every now and then one of those comments still tried to creep back in.

Still whispered.

Still lingered.

But now...

There was another voice.

Jamie's.

It's just noise.

It's just poopeh.

You smiled into his shirt.

Sure the conversation earlier today didn’t fix everything completely. Sure the things people said would still stick with you in one way or another…

But for now. 

With Jamie’s support and love. 

You were able to take a step back from the noise. Able to recognise how the things they said made you feel. 

Finally taking a step towards being able to separate what the public say from what was really real. 

And what’s real. 

Is that Jamie loves you…

For you. 

Sighing in his arms, “It’s shit that people get to say whatever shitty things they want with no consequence–like I can’t even get Roy to go hunt them down”

You feel his chest vibrate, whilst he chuckles from your words. 

Then your eyes widen in realisation, scrambling up slightly to look him in the eye, “How do you deal with it?” 

“Hm?”

“You must’ve heard everything by now”

He only shrugs lightly, a small twitch of his shoulders, “Well–I’m just learning that everyone else’s opinion doesn’t mean much. It’s more important the way I feel about meself. Besides–” 

He snorts lightly, “The public is pretty certain I’m a prick” 

You laughed softly before leaning up to kiss him. The second your lips met...

He sighed.

A deep, contented sound.

Like something inside him had finally settled. So content to be so close to you once more. 

He had missed this. Had missed the feeling of you so close in his arms. Had missed you. 

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, "I'll always be on your side."

You smiled, “Thanks”

His grin slowly turned mischievous, "...Or on top of yeh."

Your eyes widened, "Jamie–"

"...Or under yeh,” he teasingly spoke. 

You let out an undignified squeal as he shifted, effortlessly rolling you onto his chest, one arm circling your waist before you could escape.

"You're impossible,” you rolled your eyes. 

"So I've been told,” His laughter vibrated beneath your cheek as he pressed soft kisses along your jaw.

Then your cheek.

Then just below your ear.

Each kiss slow.

Unhurried.

Affectionate.

Nothing more than quiet reassurance.

"I'm not lettin' yeh hide from me again," he murmured.

"I won't."

"No more carryin' everyone else's poopeh,” he stated. 

You burst into helpless laughter against his neck, "That phrase is never going to leave your vocabulary now, is it?"

"Absolutely not,” he said firmly. 

"Oh God,” you huffed with a laugh. Burying your face into his chest. 

He chuckled, smiling widely, "It worked, didn't it?"

"...Unfortunately."

His eyes softened, letting his smile shift into something gentle, nuzzling his nose into your hair, "I love you."

"I love you too."

Wrapped safely in his arms, the world beyond the walls feeling just a little farther away, you let yourself believe it.

Not the tabloids.

Not the strangers.

Not the noise.

Just the man holding you as though there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

And with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, sleep finally found you both.

Letting the noise simply fade away.

Fuck the press and the comments.

They could say whatever they wanted. Could claim you weren't enough. Weren't suited to Jamie-

Because they were wrong.

He loves you.

And that's the only opinion that mattered when it came to how he felt about you.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed part 8! Just ughhh, making my heart melt writing Jamie being so supportive (and I really wanted to include the poopeh quote, thought it suited this moment perfectly) loved getting these two back into a good place. (next chapter I'm thinking of exploring when Zava joins the team, and what that does to Jamie's headspace a lil more) Let me know what you think about it, and if you'd like to be tagged ✨ Read, Part 9: To Simply Be Happy here! Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Feel free to check out my overall Masterlist here

sorry if anything feels a little OOC or whatever...it's just me and my delulu brain working out whatever I've got rolling around in my mind 😮‍💨

Please do not post or translate this elsewhere under the guise that it is your own work.

sorry if anything feels a little OOC or whatever...it's just me and my delulu brain working out whatever I've got rolling around in my mind 😮‍💨

Please do not post or translate this elsewhere under the guise that it is your own work.