moonshine

Robby shook his head. It might be too early for Abbot to switch that attitude but it was too late for him to reciprocate so he let it passed. But what he couldn’t overlook was the colourful bandage wrapping around Jack’s pointy finger. He didn’t have to point it out verbally. 

Jack looked at his finger, trying to figure out why Robby was staring at him. “It’s the work of art.” He said, beaming. He remembered the night he accidentally cut his finger and how his little girl was overreacting from it.

“Oh no! Daddy hurts his hand!” Lulu shrieked. She was busy, too busy trying to get the med kit from you. Her little lips was jutting out. Jack and you had a hard time trying to hold in the laughters. This was a serious matter. One would have thought Jack cut his whole hand instead of a little scratch from the little one’s reaction.

“Ouchie, ouchie! My hand!

Keep it clean and dry,

Wrap it gently nice and snug,

My bandage gives my hand a hug!”

The little lullaby was what he taught his little girl and from then onwards, whenever you, Jack or Lulu ended in a small mishaps, Lulu would be singing with her cute voice. Perhaps it was also the reason for Lulu to stop freaking out because for as long as the hands were hugged by bandages, they will get stronger every day!

**

You let out a cackle at the picture of Jack posing with his colourful bandages. The thumb swiped across the screen, flicking to another pictures of your little family. As your eyes scanned the little clock at the corner of the phone, your smile was completely gone. Lulu should be asleep. 

You were going to tuck her to sleep but you ended up scrolling aimlessly?

“Lulu?” You called out.

“Yes, mommy!” 

“Should we go to sleep, bub?”

“Yes! Let me tidy!”

You could hear her soft humming. Her habit whenever she cleaned up her toys. You put aside the phone in your hand, clearly bothered with how much time you lose with it. And how much you head felt heavy. You softly rubbed at the temple of your head and let out a sigh. Maybe you scrubbed the bathroom too hard. 

Or maybe you just need a shower.

You were wrong. Clearly wrong. As soon as you stood up, the bedroom started to spin. The last time you were drunk was years ago but you still remember how it felt. This time, it was even worse. Everything around you seemed to shake, your legs felt wobbly, a step taken felt like you were stepping on air. Your hand was stretched afar, trying to get hold of something but right when you take another step, another wave of dizziness slapped you in the head.

You were unsure of what happened next. Your lids felt like it was glued together. Everything felt like a dream. Your ears were ringing but you could hear a faint voice talking? Mumbling perhaps. 

Everything was vague. The ringing in your ears got louder and louder as it sent a sharp jolt of pain to your head. There was something warm but you couldn’t find out what it was.

Then, you succumbed to the darkness.

**

Lena looked at the entrance of the ambulance thought the glasses that was sitting on the bridge of her nose. Ambulances came in all the time, bringing patients with different levels of conditions. Her mind was already scanning empty rooms before she yelled out the number.

But as soon as she saw the little girl crying while running after the stretcher, she immediately got on her feet, leaving her unfinished jobs at the nurse stations. 

“Mommy is hurt! Help mommy!” Lulu cried as she tugged her hand. Hard. Trying to find ways to be with you. Only after she saw a familiar face, her screaming for help sounded more aimed. She pulled on Lena’s scrubs with tears streaming down her blushed cheeks.  

“Get Abbot.” She barked. “Now.”

**

“Dr. Abbot.”

“Nazely.” Jack replied, carelessly. His focus was still locked on the patient. Hands too busy with the ongoing absorbable sutures procedure. 

“Uhm…” Nazely hesitated. “I—your—“

Jack cocked a brow. “Nazely.” His tone sounded more serious this time.

“Your wife and daughter came in…Lena asked me to come and get you.”

**

“Daddy!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Jack scooped Lulu up in his arms. Looking at her teary face up close broke a piece of his heart. He brushed the damp cheeks, leaving a peck on her forehead. 

“Mommy— mommy is hurt! There’s blood here— and here and head and mommy don’t wake when I call!” Lulu was struggling to finish her sentences with hiccups in between her words. “Please help mommy!”

“Okay, okay, bug. Daddy’s gonna help mommy but you’ll have to stay here, okay? You’’ll have to stay with Lena.”

**

Abbot glanced at Lulu’s pouty face as his little girl walked away with Lena. Soon as he walked into room 11, Jack could feel his heart beating like crazy. He approached you carefully, as if you would break even more in one wrong move. You looked pale and the cut around your temple made his blood ran cold but wasn’t able to hold it in when you stretched your arms, desperate to be hold.

“You are okay. God, you are okay. You’re okay, you’re okay.”  Jack pulled you in a hug. His whisper sounded intended to him more than it does to you. It sounded like he was telling himself what he saw out loud just so he knew you were indeed fine.

Shen knew the protocol was different if a family member was involved but he had already ruled out a few things from his early assessment. Jack’s hand shook slightly, the staggering feelings somehow affected his whole act. Soon as Shen walked away, a wall built tall guarding his feelings seemed to crush.

“What happened, baby?”

“I…don’t know. Everything felt so hazy I don’t know—“ Your eyes were brimming with tears. “Is Lulu okay?”

“Lulu is fine. She’s fine, baby. She’s with Lena.” His scanned you. “Do you have trouble breathing?”

You shook your head. “I still feel a little light headed but Shen has—”

“I’ll run an ECG and some…blood test and uh—CT scan…“ Jack blinked hard. He wanted to check everything. He wanted to get the result out of everything. You could be having a heart disease that was hidden all this time or a sepsis or an internal bleeding from a head injury and none of these possibilities could make him calm. 

This wasn’t his usual self. He always knew what to do, what a patient needed but everything seemed to be blocked out. Until you took his hand, pulling him close. “Jack, I’m fine, baby. Shen said I was dehydrated and he had took care of everything. I just need you, I just need my husband.”

Jack breathed out. He swallowed hard and sat back on the bed before pulling you into a hug. “I love you so, so much.” He murmured into your hair as you melted in his embrace.

“I’m sorry I scared you…”

“It was better to see you here, baby.” Who knew what could happen if you weren’t here. It was just you and Lulu at home.  “Did you call the ambulance when it happened?”

You shook your head. You were barely awake, yes but you clearly remember you weren’t alert enough to call an ambulance so that made…

Outside the room, there was a faint, soft voice mumbling a song as she patted the bandage on Lena’s finger.

“Wrap it gently nice and snug,

My bandage gives my hand a hug!”

You exchanged glances with Jack. There was one thing that came to your mind. 

The CCTV.

**

It was late, the hour where exhaustion catches up to everyone at once.

You were stretched out on the couch, half-asleep, resting your head on a pillow while looking at your phone, waiting for your son to tired off. Your two years old son, Tobias, was playing with his toy cars around the coffee table.

Frank was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping a cup of tea. His shoulders were tense, his body carried the stress of a long day in the ER.

All he needed was a quiet night with his family.

But there was nothing quiet about it.

Today you had meant to cover your glucose sensor after your afternoon shower, you always kept a protective patch, especially around a curious toddler. But running on low sleep and mom brain, you’d forgotten to patch it.

You’d explained to Tobias in simplified terms:

"Mommy’s button. No touch."

Your little boy paused in his playing, his eyes catching the white plastic disc peeking out from the sleeve of your t-shirt.

To a toddler, it looked like a sticker.

And stickers were meant to be peeled.

He toddled over, leaning against the couch. With zero malice and impulsive toddler curiosity, he pinched the edge of it and gave a hard yank.

The adhesive ripped violently off your skin, taking tiny hairs and a layer of dermis with it, while the flexible sensor filament pulled sharply out of your arm.

"Ouch! Baby, no!" you gasped, sitting up instantly as a stinging pain shot up your arm. A little blood immediately began to bead at the insertion site, trickling down toward your elbow.

The loud tear and your sharp cry echoed straight into the kitchen.

Frank set his mug down on the counter and strode into the room. The sight of blood, the discarded sensor on the floor, and you wincing in pain sent irritation and panic through him, which instantly manifested in authoritative anger.

"Hey!" Frank’s voice cracked across the room like a whip, far harsher and sharper than intended.

The sheer command in his voice startled the toddler. Tobias froze in his tracks, his bottom lip trembling, his eyes wide as he shrank back.

"Frank, wait-" you began, clutching your arm.

"We told you no!" Frank snapped, kneeling down abruptly in front of Tobias, his face tight with frustration. "No touch Mommy’s sensor! You do not pull on her like that!"

Tobias burst into loud tears, burying his face in his tiny hands as he sobbed.

Frank stood up, running a hand over his face. "Dammit, are you alright? Was it new?" He stepped toward you, his eyes scanning your arm with urgency. "He knows better. He has to learn he can't just rip the sensor off you."

"Frank, stop." you said softly, reaching out to catch his wrist. Your voice was calm against his blunt edge. "Love, please."

He looked at you, his jaw still set, his sharp eyes searching yours.

"It’s okay," you whispered gently, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. "It was my fault. I forgot to put the overpatch on after my shower. It was completely exposed."

"That doesn't mean he can just-"

"Frank," you interrupted softly, holding his gaze. "He’s two. He didn't mean to hurt me. He doesn't understand. He just acted on impulse."

Frank closed his eyes, taking a breath. He looked down at his son, who was weeping uncontrollably, shaken by his father's anger.

Regret settled over Frank.

"God," Frank muttered quietly, his tone dropping into something far softer. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. I... I just reacted. I hate seeing you hurt, and I am completely out of patience today."

"I know," you murmured. "But it's okay. He didn't do it on purpose."

"Do you need help-"

"Get him first," you nudged him gently toward the crying boy. "He needs his dad."

Frank swallowed hard. He dropped down to his knees in front of Tob. "Hey... hey, buddy. Come here," he said softly.

His little boy hesitated for a second before throwing his arms around Frank's neck, clinging tightly to his shirt as he sobbed into his shoulder.

Frank wrapped his arms securely around his son, resting his hand against the back of Tobias's head and rocking him gently. "I'm sorry, buddy. Dad shouldn't have yelled like that. You're okay. Mommy's okay. I was just worried, alright?"

You watched them from the couch, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Frank held Tobias close, murmuring calm words.

Once the boy had calmed down, Frank carried him over to the couch, setting him down gently beside you.

Tobias reached out tentatively, pointing a finger at your arm. "Mommy owie?" he sniffled. "I sowy."

"Mommy's fine, sweet boy," you smiled, kissing his hair, while Frank leaned his head back against the couch with a sigh.

Later, you sat on the table with a new glucose sensor, an alcohol swab, and a colorful overpatch laid out neatly.

Frank sat across from you, with Tobias on his lap.

Tobias's hands rested on Frank’s arms, his cheeks still a little flushed as he watched every move you made with absolute focus.

"Look, big guy," Frank murmured, his voice low and calm as he rested his chin lightly on top of Tobias s head. "Mommy is putting a new button."

Tobias nodded solemnly. You wiped the back of your left arm with the alcohol swab, letting the skin dry. Then, you picked up the applicator, positioning it against your tricep.

Tobias tensed up on Frank's lap, his fingers digging into his dad's sleeve. He remembered your sharp cry from earlier and looked up at Frank nervously.

"It's alright, buddy," Frank reassured him softly. "It doesn't hurt Mommy. Just a quick click."

With a firm press, the applicator clicked sharply against your skin. You pulled the plastic away, leaving the fresh sensor neatly in place.

Tobias gasped, leaning forward off Frank's chest to get a better look. "New button!" he whispered-screamed.

"Yes, sweet boy, new button," you confirmed with a smile, picking up the brightly patterned overpatch.

"Here, let me make sure the adhesive is set," Frank said, leaning forward to help. He reached out his index finger to smooth down the edge of the sensor.

Before his hand could even reach your arm, Tobias’s small hand shot out and swatted Frank’s wrist away with surprising force.

"No, daddy!" Tobias barked, his forehead furrowing as he glared at his father. "No touch!"

Frank froze, caught completely off guard.

You couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped you. Frank looked down at his son. The strict boundary Frank had enforced earlier was now being thrown right back in his face.

"Buddy... Dad is just helping mommy stick it down," Frank explained smoothly. He reached toward your arm again. "I just need to press right here-"

Tobias swatted at his wrist again, shaking his head firmly. "No! Daddy no! Owie!"

"Unbelievable," Frank muttered under his breath. He pulled Tobias back against his chest with a soft chuckle. "Alright, chief. Point taken."

"Good boy, my baby," you said gently, peeling the backing off the colorful overpatch. "Look, Mommy puts the sticker on top."

Carefully, you centered the patch and smoothed the bright adhesive over the sensor, sealing it safely against your skin.

Tobias sat up straight on Frank's lap and began to clap his tiny hands together, letting out a burst of giggles.

"Yay!" he squeaked, bouncing on Frank's lap. "Button safwe!"

Frank smiled and wrapped his arms around Tobias's stomach, giving him an affectionate squeeze that made the toddler squeal.

"That's right, buddy," Frank murmured softly, kissing his son head. "Mommy's all safe now."

⋆｡˚☤🩺✧˖°.｡⋆💉

Your bed pressed into you wrongly. The sheets were fresh, the duvet smelt like a mix of you and Jack, and the pillow under your head cooled your cheek no matter which way you turned. And yet, your spine slotted against a lump, your legs restlessly twitched, and your mind refused to rid itself of the night’s events that happened mere hours before: a small argument that had turned into another fight between you and your partner of five years. 

You hadn’t meant for your voice to rise above a conversational tone, and you winced every time the loudness of Jack’s tone crossed through your ears. It’d been about him taking extra hours at work—the argument—when Shen had it more than covered. And because he’d picked up another shit, your dinner for two had gone down the garbage disposal well before Jack stepped through the front door. Your stomach clenched. 

He had meant well. Him being a doctor showed you that social sacrifices had to be made, but you were slowly growing tired of being the sacrifice every single damn time. 

If it had been a mass casualty or some other event that caused the figurative trauma flood gates to open, you would have understood in a heartbeat. But when Jack hadn’t shown up around forty minutes after 7, you’d called the Pitt’s line just in case, and your heart flipped when Lena—bless her heart—assured you that nothing wrong had happened. 

Well, at least nothing wrong happened at the hospital. But something clearly wrong was happening the longer Jack stayed behind to help set a broken nose or clean out a simple wound. 

“All I ask is for you to come home for once at the correct time,” you hissed, hands gripping the kitchen counter with white knuckles. 

The array of dirty dishes and pans spread along the stove and adjoining countertops, all signs that you’d cooked something up for dinner even though a meal was nowhere to be found. 

Jack huffed. “I said I was sorry, okay? They needed me there—” 

“Don’t lie,” you interrupted with a strangled sob. “Don’t stand there and lie to my face. I called, Jack, and you know what Lena said? She said that tonight had been the quietest at handoff than it ever had been!” 

His head cocked as his eyebrows furrowed. “You called? Why the fuck would you call my work?”

You threw your hands up. “Is it so hard to think that I’d be nervous and scared when you didn’t fucking show up for dinner. God forbid I think another grand emergency happened and you’d be stuck for a while. For fuck’s sake, Jack, it’s like I don’t even cross your mind anymore.” 

“You do cross my mind.” 

“Then why?” You tore your eyes from his frame and down into the sink where the dinner had gone down. “Why would you pick up a shift when they didn’t need you in the first place, and you knew we had dinner plans.” 

You watched his jaw drop, close, drop again. He didn’t know. And now, the two of you were standing at the edge of the grave that belonged to your relationship. If you kept going, you had no clue what would happen, so you stepped back and started walking towards your bedroom. 

Jack started to follow. “Where are you going?” 

“To shower,” you called over your shoulder. “There’s stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.” 

With that, you flung the door closed, not carrying how loud the slam echoed through the house. 

Behind you, the mattress dipped, and you pinched your eyes shut when Jack’s body heat radiated through your thin sleep shirt. He didn’t even try to roll over and press his body into yours. 

Smart choice you thought as you shifted deeper into the covers, wrapping the edges around your front as a shield. 

The room went quiet around the soft sound of the overhead fan. 

Jack sighed loudly into the air. “Can we talk?” 

Your throat constricted around a thick swallow. “We already talked,” you murmured, “there’s nothing left to say.” 

“You’re still upset though,” he pointed out, and your chest tightened further. He was right; you were still upset, but any fight had been left and drained in the shower along with endless tears. He rolled over, the duvet pulling tight under his body. “And I can’t make you not upset if we don’t talk.”  

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I don’t want to talk, Jack. I’m tired, and I just want to go to bed.” 

“You said that last night too.” 

Another wash of memories flooded the front of your mind. Last night had also ended in an argument. And the night before that. And the night before that: an endless cycle of going to bed with simmering anger only to wake up and hope that the morning would make everything better, that you and Jack could agree and talk without growing into something that was too big to keep emotions in. 

More shifts. More SWAT missions. More rooftop talks that Robby kept you updated on. More, more, more, yet, Jack never wanted more with you. His more was somewhere outside your home, the one you’d been building for years, the one that used to be the place he couldn’t get away from. 

Now, it seemed as though it was the one place he didn’t want to be. 

You pushed harder into the pillow when he didn’t say anything else and sniffed loudly. A single tear traced the swell of your cheekbone and fell all the way down your neck, disappearing into your shirt. Jack scooted a bit closer, and the blankets, once comforting, felt like a vice around you. 

“I don’t like when you cry,” he whispered, still not touching you at all. 

“And I like it when you’re here for dinner,” you snarked softly. 

“I know.” 

“I don’t think you do, Jack.” You yanked until the duvet gave way a bit under him. “But I’m done talking about this tonight; I’m too tired to keep going.” 

“Okay,” he said, and by his tone, you knew he was giving up too. “Okay.” The blankets tightened again as he rolled over, back turned towards you, almost like he couldn’t stand to even look at you and the way your breath shuddered into your shoulders anymore. “Sleep well.” He paused before adding, “I love you.” 

I love you, but you didn’t feel it, hadn’t felt it in a while. He said the phrase after every argument to the point where it had lost all its meaning to you. Thrown around like a Bandaid on a gaping wound, it did little to pacify the hurt that encompassed your entire being. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, mind waring within if you should say it back. It would ache, because you knew by morning, he’d be back in the Pitt, and you’d be left with the echo of everything he didn’t say. 

“Love you too,” you whispered, the words barely audible even to you to the point you wondered if you imagined saying it. 

Before long, sleep dragged you far down until sunlight reached through the blind slots and caressed your eyelids. Even though you knew the spot next to you would be empty, you turned over anyways, hand reaching for a ghost. 

On the bedside table, you quickly read the small sticky note stuck to the lamp. 

“Good luck today! Love you - J” 

If loving me means letting go and wishing me the best. Well then, I guess, I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less 

The restaurant around you flickered with warm light and clapped with soft laughter and chatter from each table. Soft tablecloth pinched under your fingertips in one hand while the others wrapped around the stem of a red-filled glass to bring it to your lipstick-stained lips. 

Across from you, Jack’s phone artificially illuminated his face in a way that stood out like a sore thumb. Your own phone had been stashed inside your clutch at the beginning of the evening, a way for you to be present during the date Jack had planned by himself. It wasn’t your anniversary, but the restaurant held fond memories that you kept close to your heart. 

“So, did anything interesting come through today?” you asked after setting your glass back down. 

Jack nodded absentmindedly as his fingers tapped rhythmically on the screen. “Yeah, today was good, honey.” 

You pursed your lips. “Jack?” 

“One second.” 

You looked around the room, eyes scanning the way every couple present seemed to be having the best of times all while you were two bland comments away from crying. The food hadn’t even come out, but that didn’t stop you from glancing toward the exit. 

But Jack had planned the date, so that must have meant he had good intentions, right? 

A grumble fell from his lips. “Fucking—” 

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” you began, still not looking back at him. “And-and we must have gotten a first-day waiter because he kept forgetting what we asked for.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

You gripped the tablecloth a bit more. “Then, when we asked for dessert—” You snorted softly at the memory. “He brought us another entree instead. You swore if you even smelled one more whiff of pasta, you’d burst,” you giggled, but the sound drifted. 

He hadn’t even looked up once. “Got it.” 

“Jack.” 

His hazel eyes lifted from his phone, and he slowly placed the device down. You noted how he left it face up. 

“Yeah?” he asked. “Sorry, the guys are blowing up my phone with a recap of today. Cannot believe I missed a bank heist.” 

A twitch in your eye had you blinking rapidly. “Oh.” 

His lip curled slightly: the first smidge of a smile you’d seen on his face in hours. Your wine-tinged saliva soured around your teeth. You looked back down when his screen lit up, and Jack reached for it instantly and barked out a laugh. 

“Jack.” 

“One second,” he muttered, completely oblivious to the tears glossing your eyes the longer he paid attention to his phone instead of you. 

An ugly feeling surged in the pit of your belly, and it roared viciously, chomping for you to bite back. A simple swallow wouldn’t make it go away. 

“Are we still taking the trip to California next week,” you asked bored, reaching for your glass once again. 

That finally seemed to get Jack’s attention. “What?” 

Your brows pinched. “Califorina? For our anniversary next week. You said we’d go this year since we weren’t able to last year.” 

His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “Oh, yeah, we’re still going.” 

“And you’ve made sure to get the time off, yes?” you pressed. “I already bought the tickets, and they’re non-refundable.” 

In some attempt to convince you, he reached over and took your empty hand into his. “Already got the time off approved, sweetheart. John’s glad to get me out so he can start a mutiny and take over the night shift.” 

You gently squeezed his fingers. “Okay.” 

His mouth stretched into a wide smile, and for a second, you felt whole, like you could be a part of those happy couples who only needed the other to fill their time, until his phone lit up once again, his hand ripping out of yours to grab it. 

“Can we,” you started, but you knew you’d already lost him. 

You thought of trying again, but the waiter suddenly approaching had you clamping your mouth closed. A small thank you flew from your lips when he placed the pasta dish in front of you, but not even the savory smell of alfredo and chicken could fill the growing pit in your stomach. 

For the rest of the evening, Jack barely made any small talk, just edging the line of being attentive and checking out every time you tried to bring something up just for his phone to take all his attention away. 

You tried not to focus on it. The restaurant gave you enough things to look at. However, you couldn’t help but shrink into yourself every time Jack laughed loudly at whatever message came through, bringing unwanted eyes and attention to your table. Your chest rose and fell staggeredly as a panic licked at your nerves, mind immediately going to how they might be perceiving you and Jack. 

Look at that couple you could imagine hearing them whisper over the candle centerpieces. Poor girl; date hasn’t even looked at her once since they got here. I wouldn’t want to be her. 

“Could you maybe put your phone away?” you asked softly, leaning forward so your voice wouldn’t carry far. 

“Yeah, gimme a second,” Jack answered. “Just need to reply to this real fast.” 

A giggle to your right had you looking in that direction only to lock eyes with a woman whose mouth was hidden behind her hand. She probably wasn’t even laughing at you, but your stomach flipped backwards down to your toes at the thought that her amusement was coming from Jack ignoring you. 

“Jack,” you said a bit louder. 

He huffed loudly and placed his phone back down with a loud clunk. “What?” 

For some reason, you now felt bad. This was his first break in weeks, and you were nagging. You tried to smile, but even that felt awkward across your face. 

“Just wanting to talk about our trip,” you stated. “I’m excited to spend two whole weeks with you.” 

As if your stomach couldn’t drop any lower, Jack blanched and coughed into his hand. “Two weeks?” 

Your head dipped in a slow nod. “That’s what we agreed on when we first started discussing our anniversary trip, yes.” 

He ran a hand across his jaw. “I thought it was more of a weekend getaway.” 

“A weekend—Jack . . .” you trailed in full disbelief. “Are you going to tell me that you don’t have the two weeks off from work?” 

“I got Thursday through Sunday.” He sighed into his hand. “Monday is my first day back on nights ‘cause Robby’s back Tuesday morning.” 

Your lower lip trembled. “So, because your husband is coming back, we have to cut our trip—not even early—but by a full ten days?” A scoff fell from your lips. “Unbelievable.” 

Jack’s nose twisted. “That’s not fair. I got off what I could.” 

“No, you probably didn’t even ask for two weeks, because you didn’t even remember what we had agreed on before I just told you.” 

“Please, let’s not argue here,” he begged with big eyes. 

“You just want to argue at home like we always do?” you shot back. “Tell me the truth, Jack, will you even show up to the airport next week, or will you just call me to say you got called in on another SWAT mission?” 

“I promise I will be at the airport,” he said. 

And for a week, you believed him. You believed that, as you packed your suitcase and carry-on, the next four days would be what you two needed. Sure, it wasn’t the full two weeks, but any time spent with Jack alone would be enough. By the time your Uber arrived at the airport, you were basically vibrating with excitement. 

You stepped out onto the curb just as your phone started to ring. Once glance at the contact showed Jack’s picture, and you swiped the answer button without a second thought. 

“Jack!” you cheerfully yelled. “I just got here, but we still have two hours before the flight. Are you already at the gate, or do I need to wait for you—” 

“Honey,” his voice sighed into the speaker, and you froze. “I’m not . . .” 

You gripped your phone tightly. “No. No, no, no, no—” 

“Their medic called out. I was the only option. I can’t—” He inhaled sharply. “I’m not going to make it.” 

Tears pooled at your lashline. “Th-that’s just it then? You’re throwing away our anniversary trip because your buddies need you? Are you sure there’s no one else, or were you looking for an excuse to leave me here alone?” 

For a moment, he didn’t speak. 

The hustle and bustle of the airport didn’t even reach through the ringing in your ears as you waited for his response. You shifted your weight, and behind you, someone honked a horn at a pedestrian. 

“Jack?” you prompted. “Say something. Tell me this is all a joke, and that you’re still coming.” You wiped uselessly at your nose. “Please.” 

“I have to go,” he stated. “Still go on the trip; I’ll see you and pick you up when you get home. I love you.” 

On instinct, you started to reply, “I love you too—” 

He had already hung up before you could respond. 

Still in your hand, your phone swung limply at your side. It buzzed periodically, but you ignored it. Part of you wanted to get another Uber and go home to cry into your bed, and the other part of you wanted to do what he said: go to California by yourself and enjoy the trip. 

You chose the second option. 

For two weeks, you relaxed under the western sun, swam in the Pacific waves, and drank too many fruity drinks by the pool of your hotel. It was almost perfect, and being so close to that word had you crying each night into the too soft pillows where each side swallowed your face, muffling your sobs. You tried your damn hardest to not think about Jack. He didn’t deserve even a moment of your thoughts, but your body ached for his warmth, for his love. 

At the end of the two weeks, you found yourself at the airport, phone back to your ear as it rang under Jack’s contact. Within five rings, he picked up. 

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s California?” he asked. 

You hummed. “It’s been good. Hey, since you said you’d pick me up, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be flying in around 5 tonight. We can get Zio’s and pig out on pizza for dinner?” 

“Well . . . here’s the thing. Gloria’s sending Robby and I to a medical conference in Washington today.” 

Deja vu from two weeks ago hit you right in the chest. “Oh.” 

“I’m really sorry, honey. If I could have stayed I would.” In the background, you heard someone yell his name. “Stay safe. Maybe call Santos to pick you up? Love you!” 

You hung up without saying it back, because how could you? How could you stand there at LAX, crying because your boyfriend, who canceled on the trip you were sure he was going to propose to, only to once again throw you to the side, and still say I love you to him. Even in the depths of your heart, you couldn’t find those words anywhere. 

And that terrified you. 

If loving me means crying on the curb at LAX. Well then, I guess, I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less 

You stared blankly at the wave of the dining room table’s grain as the clock ticked down. Jack was late . . . again, but this time, you hadn’t wasted your evening on cooking a meal. No, you’d been packing. Every memory, every laugh, every moment spent with him was pushed into your two suitcases that were already seated in the back of your car. 

You thought you could make it work. 

The dinners, the dates, the stolen smiles that made staying feel worth it. But then California happened, and you didn’t think you could take another second of it: being with someone who acted like they didn’t even want you. Six years, and you wanted to cry more than you ever had in that timeframe. 

Across the hall, the front door creaked open. 

“I’m home!” Jack called out, his voice joining the familiar sound of his uneven gate. “Here’s what I’m thinking: you and me down at The Craft tonight for dinner.” 

If only he knew what was waiting for him once he walked through the threshold. His eyes were downcast at his phone when he finally did. 

“How does that sound?” He glanced once, looked back down before fully looking back up when he realized that you were just sitting there. “Sweetheart?” 

“Jack,” you stated back, your voice staying steady with a strong cadence. “We’re not going to have dinner at The Craft.” 

“Oh.” He pocketed his phone and walked over to the table, sitting in the seat he normally did so he could get on your eye level. “Do you want to go somewhere different then? I think I can get a seat for us at—” 

“Jack,” you repeated and finally met his hazel eyes. “We’re not going to dinner . . . period. I—” You sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “I’m leaving.” 

His brows pinched tightly, almost meeting in the middle of his forehead. “You’re-you’re leaving? For a vacation, or is this another one of your work trips?” 

Your face morphed into one of grief and sorrow. “Jack,” your voice broke around his name. “I’m leaving you.” 

He jerked in the seat, and his nose flared as he sucked in a breath. “Is-is this because of California?” he croaked. 

“It’s because of all of it. I’m tired of feeling like I’m going to forever be on the backburner of your life.” 

“That’s not true—” 

“But it is,” you insisted softly. “I’m constantly battling for your attention with the hospital, your phone, your friends. You decide to pick up extra shifts, you decide to come home late, you decide that you can reschedule with me later while you go out doing God knows what. And I’m stuck on the sidelines, and I’m so tired.” 

"I-I didn’t know." Jack frowned. “Please, I-I can’t lose you too.” He stuck out a hand, palm upwards, for you to take. 

Against everything inside you that told you not to, you placed your hand into his. “That’s the thing, Jack. You lost me a long time ago.” 

“No,” he stated, more to himself than to you. “No, I—” With his free hand, he dug around in his pocket before pulling out a small box that took your breath away. “I was going to . . . at dinner.” He popped it open, and your eyes watered at the ring in the middle. “Let me make this right. Let me fix this, please.” 

You gently took your hand out of his and placed it over the box, closing it shut with the softest snap. “There’s nothing to fix. Can’t you see? You’re already thinking of other ways—outside ways—to make me stay when I’m right here in front of you.” 

A sob bubbled from deep in his chest, and he shook his head. “I love you.” 

You pushed up from your seat and stood in front of him, hands settling on both sides of his face. He instantly dug his forehead into your stomach and wrapped his arms around your thighs. Your fingers ran through his salt-and-peppered curls. 

“If you truly love me, you need to let me go, Jack,” you whispered. 

Another sob hiccuped through his body at your words spoken so sweetly to him as if you weren’t breaking his heart into two. “I’m sorry,” he openly wept. “I’m so so so sorry.” 

You stepped back enough to make him look up at you. The smile that plastered itself on your face was watery and crooked, and Jack hated that he was the one to put it there. He should have been making you genuinely smile as he pushed the ring onto your finger under the night sky. 

But here he was, having to watch you drift away from him like sand through open fingers. Jack sat back against the chair as tears slid down his face and flinched when the front door clicked closed. This was it; you weren’t coming back. 

And it was all his fault. 

If loving me means saying, “Babe, I think this is the end.” Well, I guess, I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less. 

Jack watches you from the living room as you make lunch.

You’ve made the last four years of his life nothing short of amazing.​​ He really couldn’t imagine a day without you so he guaranteed a forever with you.

He can see the engagement ring from where he is. The look on your face when he got on one knee was something he’ll remember for a lifetime.

It felt like a while ago even though it had only been two months.

He sighs as he turns back to the tv.

So, what’s changed for you in that short period of time?

Over the last 3 weeks you’ve been acting weird.

You’re on your phone a lot more and keeping your distance when you do. Almost as if you’re hiding something from him. 

He hates to even think about it but are you seeing someone else? What is it?

The thought makes him sick at the idea of not only you leaving him but that you’d do something like that to him.

Jack decides to not think the worst just yet.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The next day you’re on your laptop sitting on the floor with your back against the couch.

Jack walks in the front door from a grocery run.

“Hey sweetheart.” he greets as he passes you to the kitchen.

“Hey baby,” you lean your head back to try and look at him “Did you find everyhtng on the list?”

He smiles as he empties the bags

“Sure did honey.”

You smile back before looking on your laptop again.

Once he puts everything away Jack walks over and sits on the couch behind you, your back leaning against his legs.

He leans his head on top of yours, hands on your shoulders.

“Whatcha doing down here sweetheart”

You lift the laptop a little so he can see better.

“You said to look at houses so we could hopefully get one before the wedding next year. Well, I finally got the time and I really like this one.”

He looks at the one you’re pointing to.

“It’s got the in-home gym you like, this gorgeous sunroom, the high ceiling design in the living room, fenced in front and back yard..”

He scrunches his eyes as he reads the descriptions.

“Sweetheart, there’s five bedrooms. We don’t need all of that space.”

You grab one of his hands over your shoulder and cuddle back against him.

“Well,” you start “There’s a room for us, one or two for whatever we want, and then I was thinking…one or two for some mini Abbots.”

Jack’s heart feels like it could burst with love and joy.

He leans forward and wraps his arms around you.

“Mini Abbots, huh?”

You can feel his smile as he kisses your cheek.

“Just a few.” you say while playing with his hand.

“I’d love that sweetheart.”

He really meant it too.

Jack would love to have kids with you.

This also gave him relief after the past few weeks.

You wouldn’t be seeing someone else if you were picking a house and talking about kids with him, right?

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

A few days later is when things come to a head.

You and Jack had come back from a date night and ended up tangled in the sheets to end an amazing night.

You have your head on his chest as you both catch your breath.

“Fuck..” you get out between breaths

He has one arm wrapped around you and the other holding your leg across his hip.

“I’ll take that as high praise sweetheart.” he laughs

You pat his chest teasingly “Yeah, you’ve still got it old man.”

“You little shit,” he grins and tickles your sides “I more than still have it by the way you were scr–”

His words are interrupted by your phone chiming with a notification.

You get up and straddle his waist to lean over him, looking at your phone.

With you on top of him Jack can't see your phone from his position.

“What is it babe?” he tries leaning up to look over.

You lay a hand on his chest as you quickly type something.

“I uh, nothing J. Just an email from work.”

His heart races. He has a feeling it isn’t work and now the relief he had felt a couple days ago is gone.

Now he’s afraid it's true.

You’re seeing someone else.

He’s losing you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Jack didn’t confront you right away.

He sat on the idea and his feelings for a few days. The longer he sat on it, the quicker it turned from feeling only upset to adding in anger.

It’s Saturday, Jack’s day off, when he decides he's going to say something.

You left the house early to run some errands but he's convinced that ‘errands’ is the one you’re seeing behind his back.

It’s around 11 a.m. when you come back with a smile on your face.

“Hey babe!” echoes in the kitchen as you set some bags down.

Jack can’t even bring himself to greet you back.

Grabbing a small box from your bag, you listen for him.

You're confused at the silence and find him standing in the living room with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

“J, is everything okay?” you ask hesitantly

He shakes his head as he huffs “How long?”

What?

“How long what, Jack?”

He lets out a small laugh that lacks any humor.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me.”

The words feel like a physical blow, making you step back slightly.

What the hell is wrong with him?

“I-I’m a little lost here Jack. I’m not playing anything.”

“Okay, I'll humor you. Who the fuck have you been cheating on me with huh?”

Your eyes widen at the accusation.

“Jack, I would never do that to you or anyone. Where is this co–”

“You’re still playing dumb!”

You can see the anger roll through him as he grips his hair tight and then run his hands over his face.

Tears start to fill your eyes

You’re lost for words.

You said yes to marrying him. You guys are buying a house soon. You said you wanted kids with him.

So why would you ever look in anyone else’s direction?

“You could just admit it instead of acting oblivious. You’ve been on your phone nonstop the last month, hiding it from me, lying to me. We were literally having sex one minute and then after you’re answering the phone, to whom I assume is that jackass.”

Your chest is so full of emotion and hurt at his words.

“Jack, I” you take a breath as the tears start falling “I’m not ch–”

He interrupts you “Why not just let me go and then fuck around?! Why d–”

“Jack” you try to butt in but he keeps rambling on.

“I asked you to marry me for god's sake!”

“Jack!” you try a little louder

“I wanted forever with y–”

“JACK!”

He turns to face you “WHAT?”

He sees you holding a small box about the size of a softball.

You silently hold it out to him.

He eyes it as if it’s a ridiculous offer “What’s this?”

“Just open it…” you say in a whisper, tears still falling.

Jack takes it hesitantly and lifts the lid off. His eyes widen as all the air leaves his lungs.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You and Jack had gone to a festival event in Philadelphia for a week several months ago.

Somehow during the activities and chaos down there, his dog tags had gone missing. He couldn’t remember where he had sat them or if the chain broke and they fell, or what could’ve happened.

You both eventually had to go home without the tags, having searched all over for them.

“𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘑, 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.”

On the drive back to Pittsburgh you posted a picture of Jack’s tags from a selfie you took with him weeks ago on all the social media you had. You asked that if anyone found them to contact your number or social media.

Sadly several months had passed and no one had responded to your posts.

Jack was upset with the outcome but tried to not let it show how much.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

He takes a deep breath as guilt floods his chest.

“My…my dog tags. Wh-Where did you find them?”

How could he have said all these things and accused you of cheating when you did this for him?

You sniffle as you wring your fingers.

“Some guy had posted them in a facebook group to sell and I recognized them. So I sent him a message and told him what happened and he said he’d meet me to return them. He, uh, had been out of the state so we had been messaging to set a meetup to get the tags. I wanted to surprise you…”

Jack’s heart fills with so much more love for you but sinks at the same time with how he handled things.

“Sweetheart, I-I can’t begin to say how sor-”

You wave a hand gently to stop him.

“It’s okay J. I’m realizing how it all must have looked and how that made you feel. So, I’m sorry for that but do you realize how much I love you? Do you understand that?”

He nods because he does know. He’s never doubted your love before because you gave more than anyone ever did.

How could he do this to you and you’re still so understanding of him and his feelings?

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I know you love me, more than I deserve. I’m so fucking sorry…” a few tears slip down his cheek and you’re quick to move in front of him and wipe them away.

“Hey, J, it’s okay. We’re okay. Yeah your words hurt but I get it. And I love you. I forgive you baby.” you kiss him briefly.

His body trembles on the verge of sobs.

“I-I don’t d-deserve you.” he gets out between breaths.

You chuckle a little as you rub his back.

“Baby, you deserve everything. And I already agreed to marry you so you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You hear him laugh a little through his tears.

“You promise?”

Pulling back slightly with a lovesick grin.

“Oh I promise, J.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・