time-for-a-lullaby

One night you’d murmured, "Do you think we make a difference? Or are we just putting out fires that never stop?"

Robby didn’t answer right away. You could hear him breathing. "Some burning buildings are worth running into," he said eventually, voice low like he was admitting something he'd carried a long time.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t not. You were close—so close it blurred. You never noticed how often he drifted into your orbit. But others did.

"So... you and Robinavitch—what’s the deal?" McKay would tease with a grin.

You furrowed your brow, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

She leaned on the nurses' station, unbothered. "C’mon, you really don’t see it? The way he looks at you? Brings you coffee every morning? Steps in before anyone else can when the ball rolls downhill?"

You waved a hand dismissively. "He just… cares. That’s his job."

McKay raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Except he doesn’t bring me coffee. Or look like he’s going to deck someone if they so much as raise their voice at me."

You opened your mouth to reply—but the sliding ER doors slammed open. A gurney rushed in, shouting echoing off the walls. Without thinking, you turned and ran toward the trauma bay.

"Saved by the bell," McKay called after you, but you were already gone.

But you didn’t see how his eyes tracked you in a crowded hallway, lingering just a second longer than necessary—guarded, but unmistakably drawn. How he'd appear at your side before anyone else when things turned sideways, voice calm but stance protective, like he was positioning himself between you and whatever chaos had just erupted. The way his jaw would tighten when residents spoke too casually around you, especially if their tone dipped into flirtation. The moments when his voice dropped low, quiet and edged with something softer, when asking if you’d made it home safe after shifts—always phrased like a passing question, but one he never failed to ask.

Earlier that week, Robby had been leaning against the counter in the break room with Dana and a few of the nurses clustered nearby. He was sipping bad coffee and flipping through a chart when Dana nudged him lightly with her elbow.

"You know," she started with a smirk. "You're getting pretty soft on that senior resident."

Robby didn’t look up, adjusting the frame of his glasses. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

Princess glanced at Perlah, who grinned. The two exchanged a few rapid lines in Tagalog—something teasing and full of mischief. Robby raised an eyebrow.

"Just because I don’t speak Tagalog doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what you’re saying," he said dryly, finally taking off his glasses and staring at the nurses judgementally.

Dana just about cackled. "Come on, Robby. You bring her coffee every morning, you hover when she’s in a tough case, you barely let interns breathe near her."

Perlah added, "And you always look at her like you’re trying not to."

Princess laughed. "Sir, that’s not just coffee—that’s courtship."

Robby rolled his eyes, biting back a smile. "You all have too much time on your hands."

"We're just saying," Dana said as she turned toward the door. "If you're gonna pine, at least be subtle."

He shook his head and muttered, "Back to work, people."

Then came the day everything cracked.

The patient had come in hostile—angry at the world and bleeding from a cut above his brow—muttering about how no one respected him, how women thought they were better than him. According to his chart, he had a record of violent outbursts and a chip on his shoulder the size of the hospital.

"You think you're smarter than me, don't you?" he sneered when you entered the bay, his arms crossed and chest puffed like a bull ready to pick a fight.

You kept your voice calm and professional. "Sir, I'm just here to update your chart and make sure you're getting what you need."

He laughed—sharp and bitter. "What I need is for people like you to stop looking at me like I'm some kind of freak. All you female doctors think you're so much better."

You froze for just a second. "I'm here to provide care. Nothing more."

"Don't lie to me!" he spat. "I see how you talk to the others. You think you're above me like some queen. But you're not. You're just another stupid cunt—"

"I'm going to get another physician to help with your case," you said quickly, trying to disengage, stepping back toward the call button.

"You walk away from me, and I swear—"

The second he was out of your peripheral vision, he lunged.

You cried out as his weight slammed into you, sending you hard to the ground. Everyone around you scattered, the staff protecting patients and patients protecting themselves.

Your elbow struck tile and pain bloomed across the crown of your skull. Your head snapped back like a slap bracelet. He loomed over you, shouting a string of vile insults, hands grabbing at whatever they could. Another set of fingers clamped around your throat. A scream pierced through the air shouting, "Robby!" Only after a set of doors burst open did you realize it was yours. 

Before you had time to process what was happening, he was there.

Robby knocked the patient off of you with brute force that stunned the entire hospital staff. Without help, Robby pinned him to the floor facefirst with practiced strength, knees braced, and jaw clenched. "Security!" his voice thundered.

Subduing the attacker by his wrists, Robby's knee dug into the man's back thigh without mercy, making him cry out in pain. "Collins! Dana!" he barked, voice sharp and commanding, reverberating through the trauma bay like a shockwave.

You were on the floor, dazed, breath knocked out of you. The two women rushed to your side in the blink of an eye. All around, med students and residents stood frozen, eyes wide.

They had never seen Robby like that.

No one had ever seen Robby like that.

The patient struggled once more before Robby leaned in and drove his knee harder into the attacker’s thigh, his grip unrelenting, voice low and deadly calm. "Stay down."

Security took over a moment later, but Robby didn’t move until he was sure it was safe. Then he stood, exhaled once, and turned to Dana and Collins.

"I'll be over as soon as I can, brief me later," he said. "I'll assess her myself."

Dana crouched beside you, one hand firm on your shoulder. "We've got you," she said gently, then glanced over her shoulder. "We'll be in 4."

Collins helped you up with care, guiding you slowly down the hall while Dana kept close at your side. You were still disoriented, a sharp ringing in your ears, but you caught a glimpse of Robby speaking to security. He didn’t even glance your way—focused, furious, deadly calm.

In Exam Room 4, Collins set you down on the cot, already checking your pupils with a penlight. "You hit your head?"

"Yeah," you managed, wincing as you moved. "Elbow too. Think I caught most of the floor on the way down."

Dana pressed a cold pack into your hand. "You’re in shock. Just breathe. We’ll handle this."

Collins nodded, gently examining your face and palpating around your ribs. "No obvious trauma, nothing broken. Expect some bruising around your throat the next few days. We should get you in for a head CT just to be safe. You took a hard hit."

"I'll get that booked ASAP," Dana said, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping out to handle the order. She paused at the doorway just long enough to exchange a glance with Collins—an unspoken check-in—before disappearing down the hall. 

Moments later, the door opened again. Robby stepped in, his expression unreadable but his eyes scanning you like he was cataloging every mark, every breath.

"I’ll take it from here," he said quietly to Collins.

They exchanged a glance, then wordlessly stepped out.

And then it was just you and him.

He crossed to your side, kneeling. His hands moved automatically, gently tilting your chin to check for swelling, eyes flicking to your pupils, then the scrape along your cheekbone. "Can you look up for me? Good. Follow my finger."

His voice was low and clinical, but his touch was careful—too careful.

"Headache? Nausea? Double vision?" he asked, bringing your hand into his and turning it over to assess for any injuries.

"No, just a little dizzy," you murmured.

He nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your elbow, then the bruising along your neck. Then the questions stopped. His hands stilled.

He just looked at you—really looked at you—and the silence took hold.

His jaw flexed, like he was trying to say something but couldn't. Something had cracked open in him. Not just from what happened. From what it revealed.

And you could feel it—the weight in the room. Something unsaid between you, thick as blood and twice as loud.

You tried to fill the silence. "Dana said she'd put in a rush order for a head CT. Collins didn’t think anything was broken, just some bruising and—"

"Don’t," Robby said, almost too softly.

Your words faltered. You watched him—how his shoulders stayed tense, how his eyes didn’t move from yours, how still he was, like saying the wrong thing might make everything unravel.

"Robby," you said gently. "It's okay, I’m fine."

His jaw clenched, masseter muscles carving his sunken cheeks like a marble sculpture. "No, it's not. You’re not."

He said it so quietly, like he hated the truth of it. Getting up, he ruffled his hair and shook his head, voice still quiet but heavy. "Just... give me a second."

It wasn’t the injury that had shaken him—it was the realization. That in those terrifying few seconds, the worst thing he could imagine had nearly happened. And it wasn’t because you were his resident. Or his colleague.

It was because you were you.

You watched him pace as the silence dragged, your heart still pounding faintly in your ears. "Robby," you tried again, softer this time. "I'm okay, really..."

Still, he said nothing.

You gave a half-scoff, half-sigh, trying to shake off the tension. "I’ve had worse nights. Dana and Collins already cleared me—CT’s just precautionary. Nothing to worry about."

His movements stilled and eyes didn’t leave yours.

"What is it?" you asked, finally, your voice gentle but steady—like you already knew the answer but needed to hear it.

That cracked something in him. He looked away for a beat, jaw flexing again, his breath hitching as if he was holding back something too big to name. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, raw—nothing like the sharp, composed attending everyone else knew.

"I didn’t know it would feel like that." 

He rubs the back of his neck, a self-soothing gesture in an effort to hold back whatever threatens to overflow. "Seeing you on the ground. Hearing you scream. For me. I’ve seen worse—God knows we all have. But nothing’s ever felt like that."

You froze.

His eyes met yours again, and the walls he always held in place—stone and steel and professionalism—weren’t there anymore. He looked at you like he wanted something he had never allowed himself to want. Like he was terrified of the feeling and already grieving it.

You felt the shift like gravity tilting. Like the air changed around you. It was as though the ground beneath you had tipped on its axis.

And suddenly, everything between you was different.

Not unspoken anymore, just unbearable to say aloud.

You felt yourself retreating into the space between what you wanted to feel and what you needed to believe. The part of you that ached wanted to lean forward, close the distance, tell him you felt it too—that terrible, awful, beautiful clarity.

But another part held you back. The part that lived in hospital hallways and stared at name badges and remembered what it meant to be professional. To be younger. A resident. His resident. The part that convinced you it could never be more.

You searched his face, trying to decode what this moment was, or if it had always been there, hiding in quiet coffees and rooftops and restrained glances. And still, he said nothing. Maybe he was waiting. Maybe he didn’t know how to cross that final line either.

So you just sat there in the quiet with him, suspended between the ache and the boundary—between what was true and what you were still too scared to say.

Eventually, you broke. Your voice came out barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

His brows furrowed instantly. "For what?"

You shook your head, feeling heat rise behind your eyes. "I don’t know. For not calling for help. For being alone in there. For... allowing this," you gestured between the two of you, "to happen." You sniffled. "For letting myself—"

"Don’t," he cut in sharply, but not unkindly. "Don’t you dare apologize for any of that, you did nothing wrong."

You blinked.

He leaned in slightly, voice steady now, like he needed you to hear every word. "You did everything right. You followed protocol. That man was unstable, and what happened wasn’t your fault."

Your lip trembled, but you didn’t speak.

His voice softened again. "And if this is about me... if you think you’ve done something wrong because of how I feel about you—how I care about you—don’t."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was everything neither of you knew how to name. It sat heavy between you—thick with the ache of things buried too long and the sharp edges of everything that couldn't be said. You could feel it in your chest, pressing against your ribs and threatening to claw itself out, the unspoken confession of a man who just laid bare more than he meant to, and your own desperate need to pretend you didn’t hear it.

But you had. You’d heard it in his voice, in the way his hands had trembled just slightly when he touched your face, in the way his eyes wouldn’t leave yours even when they should’ve.

And now, as your chest rose and fell too quickly and your heart tried to find steady ground, all the small moments you’d buried—or maybe just refused to examine—rushed back like a crashing wave. His hand guiding yours during your very first incision, firm but not overbearing. The coffees every morning—always your usual, always on time. The time he’d found you on the stairwell after you lost your first patient, sobbing uncontrollably, and he didn’t try to fix it—he just sat there beside you until you could breathe again. The rooftop shifts when you couldn’t quiet your incessant thoughts, he somehow always found you there.

The silence that needed no explanation.

It had always been there. A quiet, steadfast presence. Not loud, not showy—but constant.

And now, undeniable.

And maybe you were still trying to find the line between what had always been there and what had just changed—but the silence was no longer uncertain. It was waiting.

You decided to break it.

"Can I kiss you?" you whispered, eyes searching his, breath catching somewhere in your throat.

Robby didn’t answer. Not with words.

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. His eyes searched yours, one last moment of hesitation flickering there—one last out, if you wanted it.

But you didn’t. Instead, you met him halfway.

His lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, reverent, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed. His skin was warm against yours, soft in a way that surprised you. Your fingers found his jaw, the roughness of his beard brushing your palms as your hands slid down slowly, until they came to rest at the curve of his neck—right where his pulse thrummed hard beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened a breath later, quiet and aching, full of everything you’d both held back for far too long. His hands rose to cradle your face, holding you like something fragile, like if he wasn’t careful, you might break. His thumbs grazed the corners of your cheekbones, grounding and gentle, anchoring you both in the impossible tenderness of it.

There was nothing hurried about it. Just warmth and softness and the quiet admission of something real. Something that had lived in the silence between you for years.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession.

He let out a breath, rough and shaky against your cheek. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that," he murmured. His voice cracked just slightly at the edges—like the truth cost something to say. And maybe it did.

You pulled back enough to see him clearly, your hands resting on his neck, feeling the steady, trembling pulse beneath your fingertips. He looked at you like the moment might vanish if he blinked.

For years, probably. You just hadn’t let yourself admit it. Not through the early mornings or the long nights. Not even when he stood too close, or when his voice turned soft just for you. Not even when your heart always found him in a crowd. But now, with his breath still warm against your lips and his hands still cradling your face like something precious, you couldn’t pretend anymore.

You’d been his and he'd been yours, long before either of you were brave enough to say it. You pulled back just enough to look at him—really look—and gently stroked his cheek, admiring his freckles like newly formed constellations in the sky. 

His eyes drop ever so slightly. "I'm old," he starts. "My work-life balance is absolute shit. You deserve someone who can give you what you need."

You stare at him, puzzled. For a second, you think he’s serious—like he's about to start building walls where they’d only just crumbled.

Then you catch the flicker in his expression. The barely-there smirk at the corner of his mouth. He’s only half-serious. Nervous. Teasing you.

You grin, easing the weight with a well-aimed jab. "At least you're not old enough to be my father. And it's not like my hours spent outside work ratio is any better."

He scoffs, ducking his head before shaking it all too lightheartedly.

"And for the record," you add, tapping his chest with a pointed index finger. "This is not some personification of daddy issues, I'll have you know that my father and I have a very healthy relationship."

"Well, that’s a relief," he murmurs, his smile softening as he encloses his fingers around your hand.

You sit back, playful. "I’ll keep you up to date on all the hottest trends the youths engage in. Like cat cafés and strawberry milk matcha lattes. And emotional vulnerability."

He groans, rubbing his face shyly. "God help me."

You grin, careful not to laugh too hard, and lean into him again. "Too late for that, Robinavitch. You’re stuck with me." 

"Yeah," he whispered. "I really hope I am."

Outside, the hospital buzzed as it always did—pages overhead, heels echoing on tile, lives beginning and ending behind curtain walls. But for a moment, the noise faded. The only sound was your breathing, his.

And the quiet hum of something long overdue settling into place.

You didn’t know what came next—how this would unfold outside the safety of Room 4, outside of bruises and adrenaline and low-lit confessions. But for now, with his forehead still resting gently against yours, and the weight of unspoken feelings finally aired between you, it didn’t matter.

You had time.

Until a round of cheers and high fives broke the stillness like a confetti cannon bursting into the air.

Both of you jerked apart, startled. Just outside the half-closed door to Room 4 stood a cluster of med students, nurses, residents, and paramedics—huddled together like a peanut gallery, barely containing their glee.

Fire. Fire beneath your cheeks igniting your face like the depths of hell and embarrassment. You buried it in Robby’s chest as he turned around slowly, one hand instinctively coming up to rest on your back as he started to laugh.

Langdon, of course, was the ringleader. He held up a neon orange post-it like a trophy, waving it proudly as the group chuckled and whooped behind him. In black Sharpie were the words:

UNPLANNED CONFESSION - Langdon & King—the bet circled and underlined. And below it: $7/week. Scribbled in tiny pen just beneath that, barely legible, was a date—six months ago.

He high-fived someone out of view next to him just before giving the two of you an exaggerated thumbs-up, grinning like he’d just won the Super Bowl. On cue, Mel stood up from beside him and gave you a quick wave and a shy smile, arms held tightly by her sides.

You groaned, still pressed into Robby's chest. "I swear to God, if they made a bracket—"

"Oh they definitely made a bracket," Robby said, laughing into your hair.

You peeked up at him, still mortified but grinning. "Are we seriously the plot twist in someone’s trauma bay soap opera?"

"Apparently," he muttered, pulling you closer. "Should we give them something to talk about for next week's episode?"

You scoffed, swatting lightly at his chest. "Take me out to dinner first, will you?"

Outside, the group began to scatter—some called back to rounds, others still giggling as they walked off. But you stayed there, tucked into Robby’s side, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chaos. Whatever came next, you’d figure it out. Together.

The call hadn’t been an easy one to take. Your father’s nurse, Kelli, called two nights ago to let you know that things had taken a turn for the worse, and despite the ever-present cloud of horrible memories that lingered in this town like bad perfume, you knew you had to come back. 

For years, your dad was your rock. You were tossed aside by a mother who could care less that you existed, but he made sure you never spent a day thinking you weren’t good enough.  You owed him the world. And delivering on that debt was the reason behind everything you did. It was the reason you left in the first place and the reason you’d stayed away until now.

Coming back to Charming meant nothing but bad memories and distractions. Distractions that went by the name of Jax Teller. And if you stumbled into his path, as embarrassing as it was to admit, it wouldn’t take much for him to convince you to move back. The distance did nothing when it came to protecting your heart from your ex. After five years, every beat still belonged to him. 

You sighed, stretching your sore muscles the best that you could in this small rental car. The flight from New York was a long one and you couldn’t wait to fall into a bed, but given the circumstances, sleep wasn’t going to find you anytime soon. 

Your phone rang over the Bluetooth in the car, Kelli’s name popping up on the screen. You rushed to answer the call, your stomach sinking almost instantly. “Kelli?” 

She heard the panic in your voice and immediately attempted to reassure you that everything was okay. “I just need a favor, hun. He’s asleep. He knows you’re coming. He’ll hang on until you get here.” 

You swallowed, your throat thick with emotions you weren’t quite ready to face. “Okay,” You responded quietly, blinking back the sheen of tears that blurred your vision. 

“Can you stop by the store? He asked for a hot water bottle to help keep his hands warm but I can’t find one here and I don’t have anyone to sit with him. I could always go when you get here, but I figured–” 

“Yeah,” You breathed. “I can– I’ll grab whatever he needs. Anything else?” 

“Just you, kiddo. He just wants you.” 

Your jaw clamped together, nose burning as a sob clawed its way up your throat. Kelli stayed quiet, a few shaky breaths filling the silence of your car as you fought to speak. “Okay. I’ll be there soon,” You rasped, quickly ending the call as the first few tears slipped free. 

Cancer was one unrelenting son of a bitch. And maybe you’d been living in some kind of fantasy world. One where you didn’t hear his voice get weaker and weaker with every call. One where the reason he hadn’t accepted your invitation to fly out to see you perform was related to his pride and the fact that he didn’t want his daughter paying his way across the country. Because that was an easier pill to swallow than realizing his immune system just couldn’t handle the flight. 

It was hard to get time away. Performing on Broadway was a dream that you had fought tooth and nail for, and now that it was reality, the commitment and schedule were even more grueling. But given the circumstance, you had no issue demanding a leave of absence. Hell, you had an understudy for a reason, right? They weren’t happy, but right now, you couldn’t give two shits about anyone’s happiness aside from your father’s. He wanted you at his bedside and that was where you would be.

You pressed down on your indicator and turned into the parking lot for the pharmacy, hoping they had something similar to what he was looking for so you didn’t have to venture out of town. Kelli made it very clear that he didn’t have much time left and you’d already wasted enough of it over the years. It would kill you if you weren’t there for him now. 

Turning the car off, you pushed the door open and stepped out into the sweltering heat. Sweat beaded at your hairline as you made your way across the lot, the faint rumble of motorcycle engines taunting you from somewhere in the distance. 

It was like the warning track in a horror movie telling you that something unpleasant lurked just around the corner. 

You knew that it was unlikely you’d be able to come to town without running into someone from the club, but you at least hoped it would be on your way out and not when you’d just stepped foot into the dry, desert heat. The second you were spotted, word would spread. And before you knew it, Jax would be standing toe-to-toe with you, blue eyes piercing right into your soul. 

There was a lot that you could handle. In fact, you were pretty much a master at regulating stressful situations and keeping your composure. But knowing that in the next forty-eight hours, your father was more than likely going to take his last breath had your defenses at an all-time low. Running into Jax would be the straw that broke the camel's back. 

You would break. 

You would fall to depths that even Satan himself couldn’t crawl out of and you couldn’t afford to let that happen. 

You steeled your spine and pushed against the glass door, the bell overhead chiming as you entered the small store. Nothing had changed over the years. The fluorescents still flickered and it still smelled vaguely like bleach. Your shoes squeaked against the linoleum as you made your way through the aisles, your eyes focused on the items on the shelves, but your ears honed into the noises outside of this small building. 

No way in hell were you letting those motorcycles get any closer. 

Snagging an assortment of hot water bottles from the shelf, you hurried through the store and laid them out on the counter, pulling your card out of your wallet to pay. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” 

Your smile was tight, teetering on the edge of impatience as your gaze flicked up to the cashier. Sarah Thimby. She graduated a year after you and last you’d heard, was following Jax around like a lost puppy. 

What stung the most was recalling her relentless efforts to befriend you. Meeting up with you before school, and hanging around at your locker after the final bell rang. She was like your little shadow. Now, the reasoning was quite clear given the second you left town, she was all over Jax. 

You hadn’t asked enough questions over the years to know whether or not she was victorious in her conquest, and as much as you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care, you did. Though, you were no idiot. You knew Jax better than anyone, the man was no saint. You’d be stupid to think that he’d stayed celibate after you’d left town. Especially since he made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with you before you left. 

But the thought that there had been anyone else since you soured the contents of your stomach. 

Subtly, you pushed the hot water bottles closer to her station. “Hey, Sarah.” 

She grabbed the first one, dragging it across the scanner. “How are you?” She asked before visibly wincing. “Sorry, just– It’s just habit.” Her features softened as she reached for the second box to scan.

Your fake smile wavered around the edges. Of course, everyone in this town knew about your father. It was no secret. The man had been using the cancer card for the past four years to get whatever the hell he wanted. You weren’t sure how exactly news was spreading that he’d taken a turn for the worse, but regardless, the people of Charming cared about him. They would mourn his loss right alongside you. 

You sniffed, raking your tongue over your teeth. “I’m fine. How are you?” 

Sarah took her time, slowly scanning the third item as she regarded you across the counter. “You’re fine?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, the question grating against your skin like sandpaper.

“Yes,” You clipped, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to keep the tension from settling over your already tight muscles. “I’m fine. Is there a problem?” 

She blinked a few times before scanning the last box, then scoffed, tossing everything into a bag. “I just don’t think I’d be fine if my father was dying. But then again, I never would’ve left his side in the first place. So maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re fine.” 

Your jaw snapped shut, your molars audibly clashing together. Now wasn’t the time. Despite the need to lash out and the venom of the words you wanted to spew stinging in your throat, you took a controlled breath and tapped your Amex against the counter. “What’s the total, Sarah?” 

“Thirty-two sixty.” 

“Great,” You bit out, sliding your card over to her. 

She snatched the card and swiped it through the reader with an eye roll.

Frustration and anger clouded your thoughts and pulled your focus. All of your concentration was shifted to biting back what you really wanted to say to your long-lost “friend” that you’d lost track of the rumbling in the distance. 

The roar of motorcycle engines filled your ears before stopping completely. An eerie silence filled the store and you swallowed, impatiently waiting for Sarah to hand over your card so you could get the fuck out of there. 

But then the door opened and the bell chimed. Your stomach bottomed out at the lovestruck look on Sarah’s face and you knew you were too late. 

“Can I have my card back?” 

Her gaze moved back to you at the same time that familiar, masculine scent wafted through the air. One that you’d dreamt about every day for one thousand eight hundred and twenty-six days. A heady mix of leather, spice, and cigarette smoke. You did your best to take shallow breaths, refusing to give it one square inch of space in your lungs. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

One deep breath and it was all over. 

The air that surrounded you was redolent with the scent of Jax. It seeped into your pores and wove through your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out. 

“My card,” You snapped, stretching your hand out with your palm up. 

Sarah rolled her eyes at you again and slapped your gold credit card onto your hand. “I don’t know what your rush is, Y/N. You’ve had four years to spend time with him. Being there while he dies doesn’t make up for the fact that you missed everything else.” 

You inhaled a sharp breath, the sting of her words lacing through your chest. The satisfied smirk on her lips told you that her words hit you exactly where she wanted them to. Your chest heaved as you reached across the counter and snagged the white plastic bag from her hands. 

“Fuck you, you desperate whore,” You seethed. You knew that Jax was right behind you. You knew that whatever she was saying was only to get under your skin and to get Jax in her bed. 

Things might’ve ended badly between the two of you, but she just crushed whatever chance she had with him under the weight of her words. He wouldn’t lay a hand on her now. Jax was a stupid motherfucker, but he was also fiercely protective. 

On good terms or not, he would defend you until his dying breath. You only wished you could return the favor. 

You turned on your heels and staggered back a step when you came chest-to-chest with Jax. 

His murderous scowl softened as he met your gaze and you stood frozen, your eyes sweeping over his face as you took him in. Aside from the length of his hair, not much had changed. Or at least in any drastic measures. The fine lines around his eyes were a little more defined, and he looked… Tired. But he still looked like Jax. Your Jax. 

The same one you’d made stupid decisions with as a teenager. The one you’d fallen in love with. The one who’d stood by your side through every hardship and every first. Until it really mattered. 

Before you could stop it, your last night together steamrolled its way into the forefront of your mind. The memory of Jax’s skin sliding against yours, the whole night a blur of wet, sloppy kisses and insatiable need. 

You felt your cheeks warming as the memories assaulted your brain. 

But you let your gaze drift back up to his and those ice-blue eyes might as well have dropped a bucket of cold water over your head. 

That night was unforgettable for a lot of reasons. 

One of them being the fact that when you woke up the next morning, he was gone. The man that you’d given everything to had disappeared before the sun had crested the horizon, leaving nothing but the smell of leather and cigarette smoke in his wake. 

That and a text four days later that said, “It had to be this way.” 

After that? Nothing. 

You called, texted, even dropped by his house and the club. You were running out of time to get everything figured out before your flight to New York and it was clear that was what he intended. 

He’d used you and left without saying goodbye. 

So after a full day of waiting for Jax to show his face, you gave up. You packed your bags and jumped in the car with your dad, leaving Charming and who you thought to be the love of your life behind. 

That was the reason you never came back. 

You couldn’t face it. You couldn’t face him. 

It would be too easy to fall back into his arms, especially now. He understood the relationship you had with your father and knew that staying away had likely eaten you alive. And it had. 

But now you were back, teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown and he was just here. Crowding your space and allowing his eyes to linger on every curve that had filled out over the years. 

You wanted to appreciate the way that he was looking at you, but it only made your blood boil. 

“Excuse me,” You whispered, making a move to side step him. 

But his hand jutted out, long fingers wrapping around your arm. Slowly, your eyes traveled down to where the warmth of his hand seared into your skin. You blinked, taking a shaky breath before yanking your arm out of his grip.

“Excuse me,” You snapped, moving to the side again, but he remained still, stoic and seemingly impassive. 

“That’s all I get?” He asked. His deep, gravelly voice skittered across your skin and sent a shiver down your spine. 

You swallowed, cutting your hardened eyes back to his. “Somehow it’s still more than you deserve.” 

His brows dipped marginally, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Like he was fighting for the right thing to say. Not that it mattered. You had no interest in hearing it. 

“Let ‘er go, son.” A quiet, yet firm command from a voice that threatened to knock you off your feet. 

Peering around Jax, all the breath whooshed from your lungs as you made eye contact with your father’s best friend. “Chibs,” You squeaked, your voice cracking. You should’ve known he would be right behind Jax. 

Your hands shook as you shoved your way past the man who had shredded your heart, and all but dove into the arms of a man who’d been by your dad’s side since your piece of shit mother walked out all those years ago. 

Chibs loved you like his own and the sentiment was certainly returned. 

His arms secured around you, a gentle hand cradling the base of your neck and it took everything to hold back the sob that was clawing at the inside of your chest. 

“Hey, Ducky.” 

Your heart squeezed at the old nickname as you choked out a surprised laugh. When learning to walk, bending your knees while taking small steps was something that took you ages to figure out. To the point that your father took you to the pediatrician several times thinking something was wrong. Your doctor assured him everything was fine and you’d learn on your own time, but then of course, you had earned the nickname Ducky after waddling across the living room floor one too many times. 

You cleared your throat and stepped back, blinking back the tears that burned your eyes. 

“How are you?” He asked gently. 

You sniffed, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m okay.” 

He leveled you with a look that told you he knew you were lying, but all he did was smile. “Well, I know where you’re headed, so we’ll get out of your way.” 

“Thank you,” You replied, smiling softly before making your way around him and heading back to your car. 

There was a hushed argument behind you as you pushed on the glass door, Jax’s voice standing out over everything else. A small, demented part of your soul wanted him to chase after you. Time flies when you’re running from your past, but your love for Jackson was a wound that never healed. It probably never would. The only thing you could do was get through the next few days and then soon, you’d have nothing tying you to Charming. You could catch your flight back to New York and never look back. 

But while you were here, you’d ignore the sting of his presence and muscle through until you once again found solace in the deafening commotion of the city. 

You quickened your pace as Jax called out your name, the bell from the door chiming as he pushed through with force. His fingers wrapped around the crook of your elbow, pulling you to a stop. 

“I heard about your dad.” 

That was the sentence he chose to lead with.

You swallowed, rolling your lips together as you bit back another venomous retort. You yanked your arm from his grasp once again and dug through the pocket of your jeans for your keys. There was no need to speak. No need to engage. 

You went to grab the handle of the car door, but Jax pushed his palm against it to slam it shut. 

“Just give me a goddamn second, would ya?” He ground out, keeping his voice level. 

Whirling around, you shoved your hand into his chest, forcing him back a couple of steps. “I don’t owe you anything, Jackson Teller. Do me a favor and leave me the fuck alone. I have too much on my plate to worry about you, too.” 

His tongue raked over his top teeth, his frustration growing, which only fed into your anger. Because what fucking right did he have to demand anything from you? 

“I just wanna talk.” 

You ground your molars together, releasing a shaky breath. “I have nothing to say to you.” 

“Yeah, well. I got lots.” 

You rolled your eyes and moved to open the car door again. “Save it for a therapist. Or someone who gives a shit.” 

“Y/N, dammit!” He shoved the car door shut again. Jax moved, easing himself between you and your rental car, lifting his hands to frame your face. 

His eyes locked with yours, tilting your head back to make sure he had your full attention. “I know you hate me. I’ve battled with that for a long time, Y/N. And I know that no apology will ever come close to making it up to you. But I need you to know that I’m here for you. Right now. Tomorrow, next week. Whatever you need, baby, please call me.” 

A tortured look crossed your face, tears threatening to spill over your waterline. “Don’t call me that.” Your voice cracked and Jax’s expression softened. “Please let me go.” 

His thumb swiped against your cheekbone, a muscle in his jaw feathering as his eyes bounced between yours. “Just promise me you won’t go through this alone. Promise me you’ll call if you need me.” 

“I don’t need you.” The words sounded weak even to you. 

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I know you don’t. Just– I’m here if you need someone. Okay?” 

“If I say fine will you let me go?” 

“Yes.”

“Then, fine. I’ll make sure to call when I’ve exhausted every other option, and I feel like listening to a bunch of empty, bullshit promises.” 

A flash of hurt dimmed his blue eyes before he schooled his expression, dropping his hands from your face. “That’s how it’s gonna be?” 

You scoffed. “Yeah. That’s how it’s gonna be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my father is dying and I’d like to go see him.” 

Jax’s eyes closed for a moment before he stepped aside, giving you room to slide into your car. You scrubbed a hand down your face and pressed the button for the ignition, peeling out of the parking lot and toward your childhood home. 

Your hands shook as you reached for the door handle. 

Just like this town, not much had changed about the house you used to call home. It still wore the same pale, worn down yellow paint that your dad and Chibs had slathered over the once white siding twelve years ago. The shutter on the window to the right of the front door was still fighting for its life and dangling by one nail. 

It was never perfect. But it was home. 

Until Jax ripped that away from you. 

You sniffed, rolling your shoulders and pushing anything and everything related to Jax to the back of your mind. He had no place here. Not now. 

Before you could push the door open, Kelli was undoing the latch and opening it for you, her hazel eyes filled with so much sadness it damn near broke your heart. She cared about your father. So much. You could see it in the dark circles under her eyes and in the way her bun slipped down the side of her head, loose waves of chestnut hair falling out and framing her face.

She’d been your father’s nurse from the start, standing by his side through everything. The chemo, the hospital visits, everything. Having her around was part of the reason you’d been living in that tiny studio apartment with a roomie. Hiring in-home care wasn’t cheap, but it lessened the ache of not being in Charming while your dad was struggling. 

“Hey, hun.” 

You swallowed past the rising emotion clogging your throat and stepped into her outstretched arms, a sob finally breaking loose. 

“Oh, honey.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around you. Kelli held you against her chest, gently rocking back and forth. “Come inside, sweetheart. Be with him.” 

You hesitated by the door as she stepped away, Sarah’s words soaking into your mind. 

“You comin'?” 

You swallowed, blinking away the tears. “What if it’s not enough?” 

She tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “What?” 

“What if–” Your voice broke as your eyes flooded with tears. “What if it’s not enough? What if me being here now isn’t enough? I should’ve been here years ago, Kelli. And what if–” 

Kelli stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her. She walked up to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “Enough with the what-ifs. Your father loves you and you know damn well that if you would’ve tried to come home at any point, he would’ve shoved your ass right back out of that door.”

She pulled away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. “You being here now is what matters. You hear me?” 

You nodded, swiping at the tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “Yeah.” 

“Okay. Let’s get you inside. He’s been asking for you.” 

“Alright.” You sighed, bending over to grab the plastic bag from the store that slipped from your hands, then followed Kelli into the house. 

You walked through the familiar hallways, framed pictures of you and your performances on Broadway lining the walls. You choked back another sob, stopping to admire the little pieces of you he’d hung up over the years. Another painful dose of guilt lanced through your chest. He’d been keeping up with everything that you did, you knew that. Hearing his support over the phone was one thing. Seeing it in person was another. 

Kelli tugged on your hand, a sad smile on her lips. “He’s awake.” 

Following her lead, you turned the corner to the living room, bracing for the worst. You knew that the chemo had stolen his appetite and ruined his taste buds. Most days, Kelli would call and let you know he hadn’t been able to keep anything down. 

But stepping into the living room and seeing it transformed from the warm, cozy home you were once so accustomed to something so plain and sterile was still a shock to your system. Your steps staggered as your eyes swept the small room and landed on the hospital bed in the center. 

He was weak. And so much smaller than you remembered. For your whole life, he was your protector. Your home. Your tether to this planet when everything else was out of control. Now, here in this tiny living room that used to feel so much bigger, it was your turn to be everything to him. 

It didn’t feel like enough, but whatever guilt you harbored would have to simmer on the back burner for the time being. It didn’t matter right now. 

Tears filled your eyes as your father turned his head, the tiniest little smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, Ducky.” 

Your lips quivered as you blinked furiously, trying to hold back the emotion burning through you. Without wasting another second, you rushed to his side, snagging the stool that Kelli must’ve been using to keep him company. Scooping his hand into yours, you tried not to think about the frigid temperature of his fingers. “Hey, Daddy.” 

His right hand shook as he lifted it, his cold palm resting against your cheek. “My beautiful girl.” Your father’s eyes locked on yours, as soft and gentle as you had ever seen them. “Thank you.” 

Your throat tightened as you choked out a sob. “You don’t have anything to thank me for. If anything, I should be the one thanking you.” 

His hand dropped, patting the top of yours that was still clinging to him. It broke your heart to see him like this. Every movement was weak and shaky, every breath rattled in his lungs. “It was a privilege to watch you grow, Y/N. Everything I’ve done in this life…” He met your eyes with a sobering stare. “Good or bad… It has all been for the privilege of watching you grow up. Watching you get out of here.” 

He waved a shaky hand in a dismissive gesture, but you knew he wasn’t talking about this house. He was talking about getting out of Charming. 

“There is not a single thing I regret—“ A mucous-y cough cuts him off, Kelli rushing over with a tissue and a glass of water. 

You swipe at the hot tears rushing down your cheeks while he took a second to gather himself. 

Your father shot Kelli an appreciative smile as she wiped the blood he coughed up from his lip. 

“Drink,” She urged, raising the straw to his mouth. 

He was a man full of pride and it must be killing him to have to rely on someone else for such basic needs. 

Kelli excused herself after a moment, leaving you alone again. 

“Maybe I regret the cigs.” 

A watery laugh burst through your lips as a sheepish smile lifted the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you, dad. I’m so sorry—“

“Nope,” He cut you off, the conviction in his words startling you. “I don’t want or need an apology from you.” His eyes softened before continuing. “I don’t have many breaths left. Please don’t make me waste them.” 

Your chest squeezed. 

Without factoring the circumstances, death was painful and tricky on its own. Whether you knew it was coming or not, it was an unbearable weight to carry. But there was something absolutely insufferable about sitting with someone who knew death was knocking on their door. 

Invisible claws of grief and guilt were tearing at the muscles and tendons in your chest. Never in your life did you know that emotions could be so palpable.  

Your eyes slowly traveled back to your father’s. He looked so tired, and despite the façade he was intent on upholding, you could see the pain he was hiding behind the mask. 

“Talk to me. Tell me about your play. I wanna know, Duck.” His eyelids drooped a little, probably from the copious amount of drugs being pumped into his bloodstream. 

“You should rest, daddy.”

He scoffed, wrapping his hand around yours again. “I’ll rest when I’m dead. Tell me everything.” 

You smiled softly and nodded, fresh tears filling  your waterline. “Okay.” 

So you did. You spent the next hour or so talking his ear off about New York. He listened the best he could, drifting in and out of a light sleep. Even after his eyes closed, his mask remained. The only thing that gave away the pain was the pinch in his brows. 

You waited until soft snores filled the room before turning your attention to Kelli. “Is he in pain?” 

She winced, crossing her legs. “Yes. But he won’t let me give him anything stronger. He wanted—“ She paused, swallowing thickly. “He wanted to be here when you got to town. He didn’t want to chance being too out of it. He wanted time.” 

You nodded through the tears, realizing then that even now, he was sacrificing so much for you. His lungs were probably on fire, that much was evident with each labored breath he took, and yet he declined medication just so he could talk to you. 

“Will he take anything more?” 

She shrugged, her eyes lingering on your father. “Maybe. He hates being helpless and out of it. He won’t wanna waste your time together.” 

“It won’t be a waste if he’s comfortable,” You whispered. 

“You and I both know that. Let him come to that conclusion on his own.” 

You took a deep breath and held his hand a little tighter. 

A pained groan pulled you out of your sleep. You sat up fast, your hand numb from the grip your father had on it. 

He tried to take a deep breath, but it fell short and ended with a wheeze, panic seizing your muscles. Your father coughed, blood sputtering out of his mouth. 

“Kelli!” You pried your hand from his grip and reached over to grab a tissue as his nurse rushed into the room. 

She raised his bed a little so he was sitting up straight. “He just has to get through it. There’s nothing I can do.” Her voice wavered, clearly hating this as much as you. 

You watched helplessly as he struggled to catch his breath. As much as you hated to admit it, a part of you was thankful that Jax had yanked this town away from you. If only to save you from witnessing four years of this. Every cough ripped at your heart, every wheezing breath cut through you like a rusty knife. 

After the coughing fit subsided, you and Kelli worked to clean him up. You washed the splattered blood from his face and chest and made sure to give him a drink of water before sitting down again. 

You could tell he was fighting against the pain. His hand found yours again, squeezing your fingers until your knuckles popped from the pressure.

“I’m sorry,” He rasp. There was a grit to his voice that was so unfamiliar to your ears. He was in so much pain. 

Your lips quivered. “Daddy, it’s okay. Just— Let Kelli give you something. Please. I can’t stand to see you in so much pain.” Your voice cracked on the last word and so did his façade. 

A small, involuntary whimper pushed past his sealed lips and his brows pulled together as he tried to push through whatever fire was tearing its way through his veins. 

“I wanna be with you,” He rasped, gasping for air. 

“You are with me. I’m not going anywhere. Do not be in pain for me. I need you to be comfortable. And I will be right here. Holding your hand, telling you how thankful I am for everything you’ve ever done for me. For letting me venture out, even though I knew it was tearing you apart.” 

A sheen of emotion passed over his tired eyes. 

“Even if you fall asleep, I will stay. You hear me? Take the medicine. Please. My heart is at war with my brain right now and I need the peace of knowing that you can breathe okay and you don’t hurt. It’s selfish, I know. But that’s your fault because you raised me to fight for what I want and fight for the people I love. And I love you. You have fought for so long and so hard. Just rest now, okay?” 

He drew in a shaky breath, holding it in his lungs for a second before exhaling. “I love you, Ducky. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry you have to see this.” 

“Hey,” You whispered, shaking your head. “Don’t apologize. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

You took his frail hand in yours, squeezing it gently as a steady flow of tears raced down your cheeks. “I’m right here. Just rest.” 

He nodded, squeezing your hand as tight as he could. Your father gave Kelli one pleading glance and she was at his side, Morphine in hand. He looked over at you, eyelids fluttering as he released your hand and held up his pinky. “You and me kid.”

This time, there was no holding it in. A sob wrecked through your chest, leaving your throat raw and scratchy as your pinky linked with his. All the memories of each “secret handshake” barreled into your mind. “To the moon and back.” 

And that’s how you stayed. 

At his side, pinkies locked, until the sun had set low in the sky and the birds sang their last tune. 

You stayed as he got another dose of Morphine and Kelli took his vitals at midnight. 

You stayed when his breathing shallowed and his grip went lax. 

You stayed, tears flowing down your face as the machine controlling his morphine dripped beeped incessantly, warning of a lack of blood flow. 

You stayed when Kelli’s hand cupped your shoulder, your fathers chest deflating one last time. 

You stayed when she sniffled and offered her condolences, leaving the room to give you a minute. 

Twenty minutes later, your throat raw from the sobs exploding from your chest, the coroner pulled up in front of your childhood home and only then… when reality smacked you in the face so hard it threw you into a state of shock, did you leave. 

Kelli reassured you that she would handle everything with your father at the hospital, promising to meet you at the funeral home in the morning so you wouldn’t have to deal with everything alone. 

Your mind was racing, listing everything that would need to be done before you could leave. This was the sad reality of losing the last person you cared about. He was gone and you didn’t even have time to grieve right now. You could grieve later. Because you had to figure out the logistics of the funeral, what to do with his house, his bills, his accounts. There was so much that had to be settled before you could even let yourself lose it. 

But even with the myriad of reasons to stay, your feet were on the way out of the door before your mind could even work out where you were going.  

You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to live with this pain in your chest. 

Enticed by the road not taken, you slid into your car and let it take you through town. Right to the one place you swore you’d never step foot in again. 

The gate swung open and you eased your way into the lot, concern etched into Chibs’ face as he watched you with sad eyes. He knew. They all knew. 

Before you were even out of your car, Chibs was by your side. “Was he in pain?” 

You shook your head, fighting back more tears. “No,” Your voice cracked. “He was— It was peaceful.” 

Strong arms wrapped around you, holding you while you did your best not to break. “Are you okay?” Chibs asked, his low voice riddled with pain. 

“No,” You answered honestly, then cleared your throat. “Is Jax here?”

He pulled away, surprised. Though, a small part of him knew that you came for more than just a hug from him. “In the apartment.” 

You nodded, swallowing hard. 

Some hardcore rock music blared through the speakers, but there were too many things on your mind for you to hear it. Chibs led you through the door and offered a stiff nod as your feet drug against the floor. Muscle memory took over, winding you through the clubhouse like you’d never left in the first place. 

You avoided the worried stares and the surprised murmurs as you made your way to the apartment. They were all shocked to know you were here in Charming to begin with. Showing up to the club was something no one saw coming. 

You came to a stop, and so did time, memories of your childhood with Jax and the one night you spent together before you left five years ago flooded your mind. 

It was too much. 

Your father passing, everything that needed to be done, the fact that you’d have to stay in Charming longer than you planned… Jax. It was all too much. 

The only thing you wanted to do was forget. And sleep. 

You raised your hand to knock, a string of low curses sounding from the other side. 

“What the fuck did I tell you?! I don’t—“ The door swung open, Jax’s hardened face shifted. First to surprised, and then to something softer. Something wavering between regret and anguish. 

A breath punched from your lungs, Jax standing shirtless in front of you with a pair of low-hanging sweats. You followed that light dusting of hair from his chest to where it disappeared with the V of his muscles. 

“Y/N.” The softness of his voice was damn near your undoing. 

“He’s gone,” You croaked, your voice hoarse from exhaustion and crying. 

Jax swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought for the right thing to say. “Come here. Let’s talk.” 

You shook your head adamantly. “No, Jax. I don’t wanna talk. I don’t—“ Your voice cracked. “I don’t wanna talk. I don’t wanna think.” 

Slowly, you closed the distance that separated you, sliding your hands up the hard plane of his chest. You traced the smooth texture of his skin with your palms before inching your hands up to bracket his face. 

“All I can do right now is think. There’s so much shit I have to do, so many people I have to meet with. All this guilt and— and— and pain. It’s too much. Just— I just don’t wanna think. I wanna be numb.”

You stepped closer, sliding your hands back and threading your fingers through his hair. “I need you, Jackson. I don’t wanna think anymore, I just wanna feel. And right now, I only wanna feel you.” 

Indecision wrecked his expression, torn between giving into something he desperately wanted and protecting the woman he still loved after all these years. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of you. “I don’t— I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

You didn’t want to beg. You honestly didn’t even want to be here in the first place. 

The shame and mortification that rushed through your veins, rose to your cheeks and boiled beneath your skin as you dropped your hands from his hair, rubbing them against your thighs like you were trying to rid your senses of the way he felt on your skin. You took a step back. Then another. 

Every inch of space that you put between the two of you wasn’t enough. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, lowering your gaze as you turned to leave, unable to stand the pity in Jax’s eyes. 

His hand reached out, holding you in place. “Don’t go.” There was something desperate in his voice. Like he knew if you walked away right now, he would lose you forever. 

You didn’t have it in your heart to tell him that he would lose you regardless. 

“Stay,” He pleaded. 

“This was a mistake, Jax. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have woken you up. I’m sorry.” There was truth to your words, but your feet stayed planted, the realization that you didn’t have your father to go back to ripped the air from your lungs in a strangled sob. 

You didn’t have the comfort of home. You didn’t have the comfort of Jax. 

For the first time in a long time, you found no solace in being alone. The one thing you wanted right now was comfort and there was no one to give it to you.

You could at least acknowledge that you did it to yourself.

This tiny ember of hope that someday you’d make your way back to Jax had been simmering inside of you, kept aflame by years of running from the past and failing to latch onto anything permanent. 

Your apartment didn’t mean anything to you. The city meant nothing. 

Sure, you held a great bit of love for your job, but even that felt like nothing… A tiny little speck of love compared to the emotions you held for Jax. 

The need to run back to New York was at war with the need to be with him. You were so dead set on avoiding him the entire time you were here, knowing that one little glimpse would have you throwing away everything that you worked so fucking hard for. 

And now you were here at his doorstep, begging for his comfort and affection, and unsure of who you were lying to… Him… Or yourself. You could never say no to him. You never wanted to say no to him. And standing here with him felt dangerous for all of the reasons that it felt safe and that was terrifying. 

“I have no one,” You choked out, your shoulders sagging in defeat. That acknowledgement wasn’t meant for Jax in particular, it was more a result of thinking out loud than something you wanted anyone to know, but that bridge had been crossed. 

He heard your confession and it cracked open his chest, guilt and regret clawing at his insides. 

You felt him tug on your arm, another broken sob bursting through your lips as new tears followed the still wet path of the ones you’d shed on the way here. 

Alone. 

In less than twenty-four hours, the definition of that word had shifted completely. It was no longer something you looked forward to, or something that meant peace. It was a cold, depressing word. One that left you cut open and exposed, vulnerable to all of the things that you’d been so good at hiding from. 

Jax said your name in a broken whisper, tugging on your arm gently until you were facing him again. You looked up, his face blurred by the tears flooding your eyes and his hands came up to cup your face. His chest heaved with each breath, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what to do. 

He had never really been good with this kind of thing, but you always adored him for trying. 

Blue eyes searched yours before he dropped his hands and pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around your shoulder. He held you close, sliding his hand up your back and cupping your neck, massaging gently as you cried. 

You cried for your father. You cried for you. You cried for Jax. 

Every little emotion you’d been withholding fled to the surface, searching for light after years of being kept in the dark. 

You felt the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. “You are not alone in this.” 

Jax’s voice was gentle, his breath hot against your neck as his lips ghosted over your skin. You weren’t sure if it was intentional or not, but your body ached for him all the same. 

“I am,” You mumbled. Not for pity. And not to make him feel guilty. It was just a fact. A sad, lonely, fact. 

One that he didn’t want to hear. 

He pulled away again, his hands finding your cheeks once again. Jax tilted your head back, locking your eyes with his. “You are not alone. I would—“ His lips snapped shut. 

Never. 

He was trying to insinuate that he would never leave you alone. But he did once before. And when you came into town, you were dead set on never giving him the opportunity to do it again. But here you were, setting the scene for your own heart break just for a couple of hours of a clear mind and heart that didn’t feel like it was encased in lead. 

His thumbs swiped at the falling tears, a flash of regret surging through his eyes. But you could tell he had no interest in rehashing any of those details right now. “You’ve never been alone, baby. I’ve been here. Desperate and waiting for anything that you could give me. I— I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but leaving you like that will always be the one I regret the most. You are not alone,” He repeated, the fierce look in his eyes taking you a little by surprise. 

You wanted to call him out, to berate him, and scream at him for all the damage that had been done, but the past seemed so insignificant right now. 

The two of you stood in the hallway, loud music filtering in from the bar, warm breath mingling in what little space remained between you. Almost on instinct, your hands rose to his sides, smoothing over the bare skin as you tried to memorize the feel of it beneath your soft touch. 

You were so close, your hearts galloping at the same, erratic pulse. 

His name left your lips on a whisper, and the conflict that was there before disappeared, but still, he hesitated. “Jackson,” You whispered again, less like a question and more like a plea and his resolve shattered right before your eyes. 

His lips dropped to yours, all hesitation and softness gone, quickly replaced by an urgent desire. 

You melted into his grasp, fingernails biting into the bare skin of his back and he groaned against your mouth. 

Jax’s hands slid around your body, exploring every inch that he’d missed over the years all while savoring the new curves he hadn’t gotten a chance to experience. One hand lingered on your waist, the other sliding up to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. 

He used his lips to pry yours open, tilting your head back for better access as his tongue delved inside and swiped against yours. Your knees buckled, Jax’s grip around your waist tightening to keep you upright and then you were stumbling forward as he pulled you into his room, guiding you inside with ease. 

Jax kicked the door shut two seconds before your back was pressed into the wall, the two of you a blur of exploring hands and palpable desire. His teeth skimmed the sensitive skin of your throat, quickly followed by the soft, wet heat of his tongue and your head spun from the intensity of it all. 

His hands fumbled with the button of your jeans, the rasp of the metal zipper barely audible over the sound of your pulse thrumming in your ears. 

Fingers toyed with the waistband of your jeans. “Are you sure?” Jax mumbled, his lips moving softly against your skin. 

“Yes,” You whispered, taking a second to yank your t-shirt over your head as Jax busied himself with your pants, shimmying them down the swell of your hips and leaving you in nothing but a black thong.

He stood to his full height with a groan, his eyes dropping to your chest. “Fuck. These fuckin’ tits.” He raised his hands, palming your breasts. 

He swallowed the moan that left your lips, his tongue curling against yours as he pressed into you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, a low growl rumbling through his chest as your nails scraped against his scalp. 

That was a reaction you didn’t forget. In fact, you’d forgotten almost nothing about that night you spent together. But the way this man turned feral when your nails came out to play… Completely unforgettable. 

You gasped as his fingers pinched your nipple, tugging just enough to elicit the sweetest kind of pain. 

Jax’s hand slid down your side, taking his sweet time mapping out every inch of silky skin. He kneaded the soft flesh of your thigh before sliding his hand around to cup the back, yanking your leg up around his waist. 

“Fuck,”  You whimpered as he ground into you, your clit throbbing as his hard length met your center. Desire pulsed through your veins, a lust-filled haze blanketing your brain. You needed him inside of you. Now. 

Breaking the kiss, you threw your head back. The grip on your thigh tightened, his hard cock sliding over your clit again. Your knee wobbled in response, Jax’s tongue swiping up the column of your throat. 

Without saying a word, he moved you from the wall to his bed, his lips pressing a trail of wet kisses straight to your mouth. His forearms bracketed your body as he hovered above you, your legs wrapped around his waist. You ground your hips into him, desperate and seeking friction. 

“Please,” You mumbled against his lips, nails scraping against his scalp again. 

He shifted his weight, leaning onto one arm as he reached down and tugged his sweats below his hips. You licked your lips as his cock sprung free, the memories of how he felt inside of you, how he stretched you out, flooded your mind and your pussy clenched in response. 

Jax smirked, fisting his cock as he read the heated look on your face. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he stroked, his thumb swiping through the bead of pre-cum on the tip. 

He raised his hand, pressing the pad of his thumb against your lips. “Open.” 

You did as you were told, lust darkening his blue eyes as he slid his thumb into your mouth and pressed it against your tongue. 

“Suck.” 

You shivered, closing your lips around him and hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him clean, the salty taste of him coating your tongue. You moaned as he lowered his head, lips ghosting against your ear as he spoke. “Good girl.” 

Agonizingly slow, he slid his hand back down your body. He fingered the waistband of your panties before easing underneath. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, your whole body humming with anticipation. 

This was what you wanted. Your mind to be reduced to nothing but a blank slate. No pestering questions, no worries. Nothing. 

Nothing but Jax and a fervent desire that left you panting for more.

Another plea sat at the tip of your tongue, but before it left your mouth, Jax’s fingers dipped through your folds, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he groaned. “So fuckin’ wet,” He whispered, his middle finger circling your clit. 

Your hips jerked, a strangled moan ripping through your vocal chords as he slid one finger inside of you. And then another. 

Jax’s thick fingers curled, brushing against your g-spot and your pussy clenched around him as you gasped for breath.  “Fuck!” You cried out, the heel of his palm grinding into your clit. Fire licked at your veins, the edges of your vision fading to black as he moved down your body, each kiss leaving behind the feeling of a brand on your skin. 

Before your mind could catch up with his movement, Jax’s head dropped between your thighs, his fingers pushing deeper inside as he moved your panties aside and sealed his lips around your clit. Your legs snapped closed around his head, your eyes rolling back as the familiar pressure swirled deep in your belly. 

“That’s it, baby,” He whispered, his lips brushing against your clit as he spoke. Your body jerked and his tongue flattened, soft, languid strokes pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Come for me, Y/N.” 

Your fingers gripped the comforter as your spine arched on the bed, one final, devastating stroke of his tongue sending you into a freefall of mind-altering pleasure. You cried out as your thighs trembled against his head, holding him into place as you rode out each wave of pleasure that crashed through you. 

“Fuck, fuck! Oh god,” You moaned, your body relaxing as he pulled away, a wicked grin spread across his lips. Jax dropped a chaste kiss to the inside of your thigh before working his way back up your body, pausing to pull your nipple between his teeth. 

You sucked in a breath, fingers moving to his hair as your back arched against the bed again. 

His mouth moved against your skin, teeth scraping against your shoulder, your neck, your jawline. Your eyes fluttered shut, his mouth gently landing on yours. “Just as sweet as I remember,” He whispered against your lips. 

You ignored the pain that speared through your chest, his praise nothing but a nasty reminder of how this night had ended all those years ago. As much as it hurt to think about,  it gave you the nudge that you needed to remember exactly what this was. 

Jax was a means to forgetting. A fleeting moment. Something temporary. 

There was no future for you here in Charming. Or with him. 

He gave you one night before. He would give you one night now. And then you would move on. 

You shivered as his cock ground into you, sliding through the length of your slit. He coated himself in your arousal, groaning into your mouth as you rocked your hips against his. “Jax,” You pleaded, “Fuck me. Please.” 

With one gentle movement of his hips, the head of cock teased at your entrance. 

You hesitated, pushing your hips into the mattress to create a little separation as you pulled away. Your stomach dropped. “Wait—Oh my god. Are you clean? How often do you fuck without a condom?” 

Jax reared back, his face twisting up. “Seriously? Are you really askin’ me that?” 

“Yes, Jackson,” You responded dryly. “I am. It’s been years and you’re not exactly a saint. I might not live in this town, but I hear enough. Don’t even worry about it, just get a condom.”  

A muscle in his jaw feathered as he ground his teeth together, clearly offended by your insinuation. But you didn’t care. 

You trusted him enough to help you momentarily alleviate this unbearable pain crushing your chest, but you didn’t trust that he’d been careful. After all, he said he loved you. And if he could be so careless with someone he loved, lord knows how stupid he’d be with a quick fuck. 

He shifted his weight, leaning over you and rifling through the nightstand until he snagged a golden packet. Jax raised it to his mouth, ripping off the corner, and pulling the condom from its wrapper. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that.” 

“Okay,” You responded weakly, your eyes looking everywhere but his. 

Jax slid the condom on and then reached up, grasping your chin in his hand. “You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you. You hear me?” 

You nodded and he released his grip, reaching between you and sliding your panties to the side. He cupped your center and you inhaled a sharp breath, his eyes boring into yours. “This pussy is mine. You don’t look anywhere else while I’m inside of it, yeah?” 

You nodded again and Jax used his fingers to spread you open, pressing forward and easing inside. Your eyes fluttered shut and he stopped moving. “Eyes on me,” He demanded. 

You complied, peeling your eyes open. “Don’t hold back,” You whispered, feeling the restraint vibrating through his muscles and across his skin. “Don’t hold back.” Tonight, you’d shown up at his door weak and in search of a distraction that only he could offer you. You’d gotten the pity from Kelli and from Chibs. You didn’t want it from him.

He searched your eyes for a second before he drove home, thrusting to the hilt. 

You both moaned, the painful stretch morphing to white-hot pleasure as he reared back, slamming his hips into you once more. “Fuck!” You cried, nails biting into his skin as you raked them down his back. 

His mouth dropped to your neck, sucking on your pulse point, leaving a mark on you just as you did him. “Fuck, you’re so tight, Y/N,” Jax murmered against your throat, his lips moving against your skin. 

“Harder,” You rasped, twisting his hair into your grasp. “Harder, Jackson. Please.” 

Jax rose on to his knees and shifted your legs, resting your calves against his shoulders as he drove into you, your vision blurring more and more with each punishing blow. 

His eyes fell to where you connected, lids heavy with lust as he watch his cock move in and out of your glistening pussy. “God, you take me so fucking well.” 

You tried your best to keep your eyes locked onto him, but when his thumb lowered to your clit, you lost the fight. Your eyes rolled back as you cried out his name, toes curling and back bowing off of the bed. Your thighs fell open as he released his grip on your legs, his other hand palming your breast. 

He pinched your nipple between two fingers, a satisfied grin spreading across his lips when your pussy clenched around his cock. “I love the way my name sounds on those pretty lips.” 

So you gave him what he wanted, moaning his name again, chanting it like a prayer. His thumb stayed pressed against your clit moving in quick motions, robbing your lungs of the air you desperately needed. Your thighs trembled, blood boiling as another orgasm built at the base of your spine. 

“Fuck,” He grunted, his rhythm faltering as your pussy pulsed around him. “I’m almost there.” 

He circled your clit, and your legs trembled in response. “God,” You moaned, throwing your head back against the mattress. “Fuck! Me, too.” 

Jax shifted his weight again, hands pressing on the backs of  your thighs as he thrusted deeper. “Come, Y/N,” He grunted, delivering one final thrust, and your whole world shattered. 

Your vision blurred, a deep, gutteral moan echoing off of the walls as pleasure swept through your veins. It set off every single nerve ending, like a match to a trail of gunpowder, nothing but mind-numbing pleasure crackling through you. 

Jax grunted out your name, his hands dropping from your thighs. He swept one hand under your neck, pulling your mouth up to his as you writhed underneath him. 

You lapped up the taste of him, sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groaned, your hips bucking as he eased out of you. 

Your body went limp, melting into the memory foam mattress beneath you as Jax sat back, rolling the condom off and tossing it to the floor. 

This was what you wanted. What you needed. 

But then the euphoria faded. The ringing in your ears subsided. 

The rush of ecstasy ebbed and you were left with nothing. 

The good was gone and the bad came flooding back, your moment with Jax over as the first sob tore through your chest. 

You curled into yourself as another sob burned your throat, Jax’s questions muffled against your cries. After a moment, he did the only thing he could think of. He eased the comforter out from underneath you, then climbed underneath, his warm body wrapping around yours. 

Jax covered you both, his lips pressing against your skin as you broke down, tears soaking the mattress underneath you. 

It wasn’t long before sleep pulled you under, your eyes fluttering shut from the weight of your grief. 

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but when your phone chimed from its discarded place on the floor, you silently slid out of his arms. 

Kelli: Hey, hun. Everything at the hospital is handled. Just meet me at home whenever you’re ready and we’ll go to the funeral home.

As quietly as you could, you got dressed. 

You slid on your jeans and threw your shirt on, shoving your feet into your shoes. There was a little tug in your chest, begging you to stay. To let Jax take care of you the way that he swore he would. 

But you willed it away, silently leaving his room and leaving him behind. 

Chibs sat at the bar, the glass bottle in his hand slamming down against the wood countertop as he looked over at you. His eyes were glassy and clouded with an emotion you knew all too well. “Sneakin’ out?” 

You swallowed, sliding your phone into your pocket and walking over to your father’s best friend. You snagged the bottle of whiskey from his hand and threw it back, ignoring the burn as you swallowed. “Yup,” You answered, placing the bottle back onto the bar. 

The music had died down, everyone gone except him. The sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the room in a soft, orange glow. 

“Ducky." He sighed, shaking his head softly. "What should I tell him?” 

You looked over at Chibs. “Jax?” 

He nodded, taking another swig. 

Shrugging, you took a step toward the door. There was too much you had to worry about now to care about Jax’s feelings. Those moments were long gone. Chibs regarded you with a quirked brow over the lifted bottle as he drank his grief away. “Tell him we can call it even.” 

With that, you made your way out of the clubhouse. 

Jax would be angry when he woke. You knew that. But it was better this way. It had to be this way. Because this was the most he’d ever be. A warm bed, fleeting moments of passion. When he ran away, he stole any real chance he had with you. You’d lived with that knowledge every moment since you stepped onto the plane that flew you across the country. 

The decision to leave was easier than you thought, though still incredibly painful. But your father was your last tie to this small town. And nothing, not even whispered promises and gentle touches could get you to stay.