dizzybee03

[dizzybee03]

Ugh I’ve got a sick feeling in my stomach. Bradley you adorable idiot- you are literally making things so much worse.

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies. 3

Part 1 here Part 2 here

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments, mentions of cheating

Word count: 6.1k

The soft light of morning streamed through the curtains as Bradley stirred, the warmth of your body pressed against his pulling him from sleep. His arm instinctively tightened around your waist for a moment before he let go, careful not to wake you.

He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing his phone and squinting at the bright screen. There was a text waiting for him, and when he saw it was from Phoenix, his stomach clenched.

Phoenix: Did you tell her yet?

Bradley stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He glanced over at you, your face peaceful and relaxed in sleep, the events of last night leaving a slight smile on your lips.

He ran a hand over his face, sighing quietly. He hadn’t told you. Instead, he had lied to you, weaving together an excuse to justify his impending trip to San Diego. You trusted him, and here he was, betraying that trust.

His chest tightened as guilt surged through him. He typed a response, then hesitated, deleting it before writing something else.

Bradley: No. Not yet.

A moment later, Phoenix replied.

Phoenix: Bradshaw… you can’t keep putting this off. She’s gonna find out, and it’ll be worse.

Bradley frowned, staring at her words. She was right, but he couldn’t bring himself to face it—not yet. You’d been so tense, so tired. The argument couple nights back still lingered in his mind, and the thought of adding more stress made his chest ache.

He locked his phone, placing it back on the nightstand as he shifted closer to you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, trying to push the guilt aside.

You stirred softly, the sensation of Bradley’s arm wrapped around your waist grounding you as you blinked against the morning light. The warmth of his body pressed against your back made you sigh contentedly, though the weight of the week still lingered at the edge of your mind.

“Good morning,” his voice rumbled low and soft in your ear, and you could feel the gentle press of his lips against your shoulder.

You shifted to face him, your eyes meeting his, still half-lidded with sleep. “Morning,” you murmured, your voice heavy with drowsiness. “You’re up early.”

He smiled faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Couldn’t stay asleep,” he said, his hand lingering on your cheek. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven,” he replied.

You groaned softly, stretching your arms above your head before curling back into him. “It’s too early,” you mumbled, letting your eyes close again.

Bradley chuckled, his hand running soothing circles on your back. “You can sleep a little longer if you want,” he said, though there was something in his tone—hesitation, almost as if he was distracted.

You peeked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind?” you asked, your voice still quiet but sharper now, more alert.

He hesitated, his hand stilling on your back for a moment before resuming its slow movement. “Nothing,” he said, his smile faint but not quite reaching his eyes. “Just thinking about the day.”

You didn’t press him—yet—but you could feel that something was off. Still, the warmth of his embrace and the softness of the morning kept you from digging too deep right away. Instead, you snuggled closer, letting the moment linger just a little longer.

You smirked sleepily, the teasing tone in your voice unmistakable as you tilted your head up to look at him. “You better not be over there thinking about anything other than repeating last night’s events, Bradshaw.”

Bradley’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before a grin broke across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmured, his hand sliding from your back to rest on your hip.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “I mean, if you’re going to keep me awake like that, you’d better make it worth my while.”

He let out a low laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I like to think I’m persuasive,” you countered, your smirk widening as you felt his hand tighten slightly on your hip.

Bradley’s grin softened, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours. “Well, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “if that’s what’s on your mind, who am I to argue?”

“Exactly,” you whispered against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He chuckled again, the sound deep and warm, before kissing you fully. It wasn’t hurried or rushed like the chaos of your everyday lives—it was deliberate, slow, and full of the same intensity that had lingered between you last night.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“And you love it,” you teased, your smile softening as you held his gaze.

“Damn right, I do,” he admitted, leaning in for another kiss, letting the world outside your bedroom wait just a little longer.

As Bradley’s lips trailed down your neck, warm and deliberate, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access, but the thought still lingered in your mind, unshakable.

“You’re leaving right after New Year’s,” you murmured, your voice laced with a mix of resignation and disappointment.

Bradley paused for a fraction of a second, his lips stilling against your skin before he resumed his kisses, slower this time, as though trying to soothe your worry without saying a word. His hands tightened slightly on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“You’ll be back soon, right?” you asked softly, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbled against your skin, his tone low and almost evasive as he moved to press a kiss to your shoulder.

You let out another sigh, your breath shaky as you tried to push past the unease building in your chest. “It’s just… I thought this time would be different, you know? That we’d have more time together before the Navy called you away again. I just don't want any of the kids to get sick again, especially Theo.”

Bradley pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression tender, though there was a flicker of something else—guilt—that he quickly masked. “I know,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You always say that.”

He didn’t have a response for that, so he leaned in to kiss you again instead, as if that could erase the weight of what he wasn’t saying. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth—that this trip wasn’t just a routine call, but something he’d chosen to do, knowing how much it would hurt you.

As he kissed you, his heart ached with the knowledge that he was betraying your trust, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the moment, on the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

“I’ll do better,” he promised against your lips, though even he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—you or himself.

Bradley rolled out of bed with a groan, his movements fluid yet unhurried as he stretched his arms above his head. The morning light filtered in through the blinds, catching on the muscles of his back as he reached for his clothes on the chair nearby.

You watched him with a small, appreciative smile, your chin propped on your hand. Your gaze shamelessly wandered to his backside as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, the fabric clinging in just the right way.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased without turning around, his voice laced with amusement.

“Always,” you shot back, your smirk growing as he turned to glance at you over his shoulder, shaking his head with a grin.

Bradley pulled on a T-shirt and ran a hand through his messy hair before leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll grab Theo,” he said softly, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he left the room.

You lay back against the pillows, hearing the familiar creak of the floorboards as he made his way to Theo’s room. A few moments later, you heard the soft sound of Bradley’s voice as he spoke to the baby.

“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he approached the crib. “You ready to start the day?”

Theo babbled happily in response, his tiny hands reaching up toward Bradley as he leaned down to scoop him up.

“There we go,” Bradley said, cradling Theo against his chest as he rubbed the baby’s back gently. “Let’s go see Mama, huh?”

Theo giggled, his little fingers gripping the fabric of Bradley’s shirt as he carried him back into your shared room.

When they entered, your heart melted at the sight. Bradley’s broad frame dwarfed the tiny baby in his arms, yet his movements were so gentle, so full of love, that it was impossible not to feel a pang of affection.

“Look who I found,” Bradley said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed as Theo reached out toward you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you cooed, taking Theo into your arms and kissing his chubby cheeks as he squirmed happily.

Bradley leaned back on his hands, watching the two of you with a soft smile. “Best way to start the day,” he said, his voice warm and sincere.

You settled Theo in your lap, his tiny hands gripping yours as he babbled endlessly, his bright eyes darting between you and Bradley.

“You’re full of energy this morning,” you murmured, smoothing down his soft hair before leaning in to kiss the top of his head.

Bradley watched the scene for a moment, his expression soft, before he stretched and stood. “I’ll start breakfast,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Any requests?”

You shrugged, shifting Theo onto your hip as you stood to follow him. “Surprise me.”

Bradley grinned. “You might regret saying that.”

He headed downstairs, his steps quiet as he moved toward the kitchen. You trailed behind him, bouncing Theo lightly as he giggled at the movement.

In the kitchen, Bradley set to work, pulling ingredients from the fridge while you settled Theo into his high chair. The baby watched his dad intently, his little hands slapping the tray of his chair as he babbled nonsense.

“Think he’s giving me cooking advice?” Bradley quipped, glancing at Theo with a smirk as he cracked eggs into a bowl.

“Probably critiquing your technique,” you teased, leaning against the counter with a smile.

Bradley shot you a mock-offended look. “I’m a pro at this, thank you very much.”

You chuckled softly, enjoying the easy banter. Despite the tension from the nights before, moments like this reminded you of why you fell in love with him in the first place—the way he could make even the simplest mornings feel special.

As Bradley whisked the eggs with practiced ease, you glanced toward the stairs. “Should I go wake the girls? They’ll probably want breakfast soon.”

He smirked without looking up, pouring the eggs into the sizzling pan. “Let them sleep in,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “It’s finally quiet around here. We should enjoy it while it lasts.”

You laughed softly, leaning back against the counter. “Peace and quiet doesn’t last long in this house.”

“Nope,” he agreed, flipping the eggs with a deft hand. “Which is exactly why I’m soaking this in.”

Theo, as if sensing the calm, let out a loud babble and smacked his high chair tray with both hands.

Bradley turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not entirely quiet.”

You chuckled, reaching out to tickle Theo’s belly, earning another giggle from him. “This one doesn’t know the meaning of quiet.”

Bradley grinned, plating the eggs before grabbing the bread to toast. “He takes after you.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am the epitome of calm.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bradley teased, leaning over to kiss your temple as he passed you on his way to the toaster. “Whatever you say.”

As you leaned against the counter, watching Bradley work, a thought crossed your mind. You shifted, resting your elbows on the surface as you spoke.

“Hey,” you began casually, “do you want to go shopping today? Pick up some stuff for your deployment to San Diego?”

Bradley froze for the slightest moment, the spatula hovering above the pan. He quickly recovered, flipping the eggs onto a plate, but you caught the way his shoulders tensed.

“Uh,” he started, avoiding your gaze as he busied himself with the toast, “yeah, we could do that.”

You tilted your head, sensing something was off. “I mean, it’s not like we have a ton of time. It’s probably better to get ahead of it, right?”

He forced a smile as he turned back to you, holding the plate of food. “Right.”

But there was something in his tone—something hesitant, almost strained. You narrowed your eyes slightly, studying him.

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yeah, fine,” he replied quickly, setting the plate on the counter. He leaned against it, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinking about everything we’ll need to sort before I go.”

You nodded, accepting his answer but still feeling a nagging suspicion. “Well, let me know when you want to head out. I can leave the kids with Matt or take them with us. Whatever works.”

Bradley’s guilt twisted in his chest as he looked at you, so calm and supportive despite everything. He swallowed hard, knowing he should tell you the truth but unable to force the words out.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice softer. “I’ll let you know.”

He turned back to the stove, pretending to focus on cleaning up, but his mind was racing. How was he supposed to tell you he wasn’t going on deployment, that the orders he claimed to have received weren’t real? The weight of his lie felt heavier than ever, and the thought of hurting you made it even worse.

For now, though, he pushed it down, giving you a weak smile when you handed him Theo’s bottle. “I’ll take him while you eat,” he offered, desperate for a distraction.

You nodded, watching him carefully as he picked up Theo and headed to the living room. Something was definitely going on, but you decided to let it slide—for now.

Bradley climbed the stairs slowly, Theo balanced on his hip as the little boy babbled softly. His tiny hands played with Bradley’s shirt collar, but Bradley barely noticed, his mind clouded with guilt.

“This is such a mess,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at Theo, who gazed up at him innocently. “What the hell am I supposed to do, buddy?”

Theo gurgled in response, his wide-eyed stare unbothered by his dad’s internal conflict.

Bradley sighed, shifting the baby’s weight as he reached the top of the stairs. “I screwed up,” he admitted quietly, the words barely audible even to himself. “I should’ve just told her from the start.”

He paused outside Theo’s room, leaning against the doorframe for a moment. “But how am I supposed to look her in the eye and say I lied?”

Theo let out a tiny squeal, breaking Bradley from his thoughts. He glanced down and gave the baby a faint smile. “You don’t know how lucky you are, kid. No big decisions, no guilt... just bottles and naps.”

With a deep breath, Bradley pushed open the door and stepped inside. He set Theo down on the soft play mat near the crib, watching as his son grabbed a plush toy and started chewing on it.

Bradley crouched down beside him, running a hand over his face. “I’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “I have to.”

Bradley reached over to grab Theo’s bottle from the small table beside the rocking chair, checking the temperature with a quick touch to his wrist. Satisfied, he held it out to Theo, who immediately dropped the plush toy in favour of the bottle, his little hands grasping at it eagerly.

“There you go, bud,” Bradley said softly, easing himself into the chair as he helped guide the bottle to Theo’s mouth.

Theo latched on instantly, his eyes half-closing in contentment as he sucked on the bottle. Bradley watched him in silence, his thoughts still swirling.

“Your mom’s going to kill me, you know that?” he muttered, more to himself than to Theo. The baby offered no response beyond the soft sound of his drinking.

Bradley leaned back in the chair, one hand cradling Theo’s small body while the other rubbed tiredly at his face. “I want to do right by her, by you and your sisters,” he whispered. “But sometimes... I feel like I’m just making it worse.”

Theo’s eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at his dad with an expression so trusting it made Bradley’s chest ache.

“Guess it’s not about me, huh?” he said, smiling faintly as he adjusted the bottle. “It’s about you guys. Always.”

Theo’s tiny hand reached up, gripping one of Bradley’s fingers tightly as if to agree.

As Bradley sat in the rocking chair, Theo cradled in his arms with the nearly empty bottle, he heard the unmistakable sound of little feet thundering down the stairs.

A moment later, Anna and Judy appeared in the doorway, their hair tousled from sleep and their matching pyjama tops slightly askew.

“Daddy!” Anna squealed, her voice bright and excited despite the early hour.

“Rooster,” Judy greeted, rubbing her eyes with one hand while holding her beloved stuffed bunny in the other.

“Morning, troublemakers,” Bradley said with a smile, sitting up straighter as the girls bounded into the room. Anna immediately climbed onto his lap, careful to avoid Theo, who blinked at her with wide, curious eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake us up?” Anna asked, pouting as she leaned against Bradley’s shoulder.

“Because you two finally slept in for once,” he teased, wrapping one arm around her while still holding Theo steady with the other.

Judy climbed onto the armrest of the rocking chair, her legs swinging as she looked down at her baby brother. “Did Theo cry again? I heard him.”

“Yeah, he woke me up at three,” Bradley said with mock exasperation. “Guess he figured I didn’t need sleep.”

Judy giggled, leaning over to tickle Theo’s tiny foot. “You’re a little troublemaker too, aren’t you?”

Theo gurgled in response, his face lighting up at the attention.

“Alright, you two,” Bradley said, shifting to stand up with Theo in one arm and Anna still clinging to his other side. “Let’s get you some breakfast. Pancake leftovers sound good?”

“Yes!” Anna cheered, sliding down from his arm and darting toward the kitchen.

Judy groaned as Rooster was ruffling her hair. As she skipped after her sister, Bradley adjusted Theo on his hip and headed toward the kitchen, ready to start the day with his lively little crew.

The sound of little feet thundering down the stairs filled the house as Anna and Judy raced ahead, their excited giggles echoing through the hall. Bradley followed behind them, carrying Theo on his hip as the girls darted toward the kitchen.

“Slow down!” he called after them, though the grin on his face betrayed that he wasn’t really upset.

The girls skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen, spotting you at the counter with a mug of coffee in hand. You turned at the commotion, raising an eyebrow as the girls barrelled toward you.

“Mommy!” Anna shouted, wrapping her arms around your leg while Judy stood beside her.

“Well, good morning to you two,” you said with a laugh, ruffling Anna’s messy hair. “What’s got you so hyper already?”

“We just woke up,” Judy said matter-of-factly, though the sparkle in her eyes said she was more excited to see you than anything else.

Bradley entered the room behind them, setting Theo down in his high chair with practiced ease. “Apparently, sleeping in makes them even more energetic,” he joked, leaning against the counter as he watched the scene unfold.

You smiled at him briefly before turning your attention back to the girls. “Alright, go wash up before breakfast,” you said, nudging them gently toward the sink.

“Yes, Mommy,” Anna said, dragging Judy with her as they raced to the sink to wash their hands.

Bradley stepped closer to you, his gaze soft as he tilted his head. “They’re a whirlwind this morning.”

“They take after their dad,” you teased, giving him a knowing look over your coffee cup.

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “And here I thought I was the calm one in this family.”

You snorted, shaking your head as the girls returned, ready for whatever chaos breakfast would bring.

You opened the fridge and pulled out the plate of leftover pancakes from the morning before, giving them a quick once-over. “Good thing you made extra yesterday,” you said, grabbing a pan to reheat them.

The girls watched eagerly from the table, Anna practically bouncing in her seat while Judy rested her chin in her hands, still looking a little sleepy. Bradley had settled Theo in his high chair and was now helping him fiddle with a toy to keep him occupied.

As the pancakes warmed, you glanced over your shoulder. “Butter and syrup for both of you?”

“Yes, please!” Anna chirped, her voice full of excitement.

Judy nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “But not too much syrup,” she added thoughtfully. “I don’t want it to be too sticky.”

“You got it,” you replied, flipping the pancakes once before plating them.

A few minutes later, you placed the warm pancakes in front of the girls, handing Anna her fork first. “There you go, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mommy!” Anna said, digging in immediately.

“And for you,” you said, setting Judy’s plate down carefully and ruffling her hair.

“Thanks,” Judy replied, a small smile on her face as she cut into her pancake.

Bradley watched the scene unfold from his spot at the counter, his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. “You’re spoiling them, you know,” he teased lightly.

“They deserve it,” you shot back with a smirk. “Besides, you’ll just end up eating the leftovers if I don’t give them these now.”

“Fair point,” he said with a laugh, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee as the girls happily devoured their breakfast.

As you leaned against the counter, sipping your coffee, you turned to Bradley with a casual but pointed question. “So, about that shopping we talked about earlier—should we bring the kids with us, or should I call Matt to babysit?”

Bradley froze mid-sip of his coffee, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly. His face paled slightly, and he set the mug down on the counter with deliberate care, as if the question had suddenly weighed him down.

“Uh…” he started, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. “I mean… bringing the kids could be a lot, but Matt’s usually busy, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, noticing the slight waver in his voice. “Matt owes me one, actually. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

His jaw clenched, and he quickly turned to busy himself with the coffee pot, pouring more into his already full mug. “I don’t know… maybe it’s better if we just bring the kids. Make it a family thing, you know?”

The way he wouldn’t meet your eyes sent a spark of suspicion through you. “Bradley,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What? No, nothing!” he said quickly, waving you off with a forced chuckle. “I’m just—uh, just trying to think of the easiest plan. That’s all.”

You didn’t buy it for a second, but you decided not to push just yet. “Alright,” you said slowly, setting your mug down. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he leaned against the counter, the tension in his shoulders all too obvious.

As you turned back to the stove, your mind was already working through the situation. Something wasn’t adding up, and you were determined to figure out what it was.

You rinsed your mug in the sink, glancing at the small pile of dishes left from breakfast. Turning to Bradley, who was still leaning against the counter with his coffee, you asked, “Can you handle the dishes for me?”

He blinked, as if startled out of his thoughts, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”

“Thanks,” you said, drying your hands on a towel before reaching for your phone on the counter. You scrolled through your contacts and opened a message thread with Matt.

You: Hey, can you come in half an hour early on Monday?

It didn’t take long for Matt to reply.

Matt: What’s up? You okay?

Bradley, still standing by the sink and avoiding your gaze, turned on the water and started scrubbing the plates. You typed a quick response as you leaned casually against the counter.

You: Yeah, it’s just my husband.

Matt’s response came almost immediately.

Matt: Oh, say no more. See you Monday morning.

You smirked at his typical no-nonsense tone and set your phone down, glancing back at Bradley. He was diligently working on the dishes, his broad shoulders tense as he focused on his task.

“Thanks for doing that,” you said lightly, though your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. Something still felt off, but you decided to let it lie for now.

---

Walking into the lab on Monday morning, you barely had time to adjust your bag on your shoulder before Matt appeared out of nowhere, his eager expression lighting up the room. He jogged up to you, clipboard in hand, and practically skidded to a stop in front of you.

“Okay, spill. What’s the deal with your husband? This feels huge,” he said, his voice low but filled with excitement.

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you pulled off your coat. “Calm down, Matt. It’s not that dramatic.”

“Come on,” he pressed, following you to your workstation. “You wouldn’t have texted me if it wasn’t serious and you know I don't like him. So what’s going on? Deployment stuff?”

You set your bag down and started unpacking your things, pausing for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, Matt. I feel like Bradley isn’t telling me everything about this deployment.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned against the edge of your desk. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s been… off,” you admitted, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “Like, distracted. He told me he has orders to go back to San Diego, but the way he’s acting—it doesn’t feel right. It’s like he’s hiding something.”

Matt crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a pretty big accusation. You sure it’s not just, I don’t know, deployment nerves?”

You shook your head. “No, this is different. Bradley’s usually upfront about this kind of thing, but now…” You trailed off, feeling a pang of frustration. “It’s like he’s keeping me at arm’s length.”

Matt tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Maybe he’s trying to protect you from something. You know how guys like him are—they think they’re doing us a favour by not telling us the full story.”

“Maybe,” you conceded, though the thought didn’t sit well with you. “But I’m his wife, Matt. If there’s something going on, I deserve to know.”

Matt nodded slowly, his expression softening. “You’re right. Just… don’t let it eat at you too much, okay? He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, you’ve got me to back you up.”

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back to give you space to settle in.

Matt hesitated, lingering by your desk as you opened your laptop and tried to immerse yourself in work. His expression was a mix of curiosity and concern, and you could feel his eyes on you. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Hey,” he said softly, “this might be out of line, but… do you think Bradley might be cheating?”

The question hit you like a slap, and you froze, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Slowly, you turned to look at him, disbelief flashing across your face.

“Matt,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut, “absolutely not.”

He raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to accuse him of anything. It’s just… you seem suspicious of him, and I had to ask.”

You shook your head, your expression softening slightly as you let out a breath. “No, Matt. Bradley isn’t like that. He’s a lot of things, but a cheater? Never. He loves me, he loves the kids—he wouldn’t do that.”

Matt nodded, his tone apologetic. “Fair enough. I just thought maybe… I don’t know, sometimes when people act distant, it’s because they’re hiding something like that.”

“Well, if he’s hiding something, it’s not that,” you said firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. “If anything, it’s probably work-related. Maybe something he can’t talk about yet.”

Matt studied you for a moment longer before nodding again. “Alright. I believe you. Sorry for even bringing it up.”

You forced a small smile, though your chest felt tight. “It’s fine. I get why you asked. But trust me, that’s not it.”

With Matt finally gone, you turned back to your desk, letting out a slow breath as you tried to push the conversation out of your mind. You opened your laptop, pulling up the equations and data you’d been analyzing before he interrupted.

The numbers stared back at you, stark and unyielding, but your focus wavered. You twirled a pen between your fingers, staring blankly at the screen as Matt’s question replayed in your mind.

Do you think Bradley might be cheating?

You shook your head sharply, as if physically dislodging the thought. It was absurd. You knew Bradley. You’d seen the way he looked at you, the way he adored your kids, the lengths he went to make you feel loved—even when things were complicated.

Still, the unease lingered, not about infidelity, but about the secret he seemed to be keeping. You sighed and forced yourself to concentrate, jotting down notes and reworking formulas. Your project wasn’t going to wait for your personal life to straighten out.

Little by little, you managed to lose yourself in the work. The problem on the whiteboard drew you in, and soon, you were focused, scribbling solutions and testing calculations. Whatever was going on with Bradley would have to wait. For now, you had a job to do.

The whiteboard in front of you was already crowded with formulas and diagrams, but it wasn’t enough. Grabbing a marker, you started jotting down new calculations, muttering to yourself as the equations unravelled in your mind.

You stepped back to survey your work, one hand on your hip and the other tapping the marker against your chin. Something wasn’t adding up. Crossing out part of the formula, you rewrote it, the sound of the marker squeaking against the board filling the room.

After a few minutes, you moved to your desk and began inputting the data into your laptop. The numbers on the screen shifted as you ran the simulation, but the result wasn’t what you were hoping for.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, glancing back at the whiteboard.

You scribbled more notes in your notebook, flipping pages as you cross-referenced earlier data. Your mind was racing, but the distraction from everything happening at home was oddly welcome. Work was one of the few places where things felt controlled, logical.

The hours passed quickly as you dove deeper into the problem. At some point, you stood to erase a section of the board and replace it with a new idea. Stepping back, you tilted your head, studying the new layout.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this has to work.”

Returning to your desk, you started running the calculations again, fingers flying across the keyboard. The room was silent except for the hum of the computer and the faint scratch of your pen as you jotted down corrections.

For a while, it was just you, the data, and the relentless pursuit of a solution. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed on the desk beside you that you paused, startled out of your concentration.

You glanced at the screen and saw Bradley's name flashing. Swiping to answer, you leaned back in your chair, still holding a pen in one hand.

"Hey," you greeted, your voice soft but distracted, your mind half on the formula you’d been working on.

"Hey, sweetheart," Bradley said, his tone a little too calm. It set you on edge immediately, even before he continued. "I just wanted to let you know I’ll be staying later at work today. Something came up, and they need me to handle it."

You sat up straighter, setting your pen down on the desk. “Later? How late are we talking?”

There was a pause, a faint shuffling on his end of the line, as if he were debating how much to say. “Not too late. Probably dinner time, give or take. I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.”

The unease you’d been battling all morning stirred again. “What’s going on?” you asked carefully. “I thought today was supposed to be an easy day for you.”

Bradley hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but, uh… plans changed. Last-minute stuff, you know how it is.”

You frowned, your grip tightening on the edge of your desk. “Bradley…”

“I promise, it’s nothing big,” he said quickly, sensing the suspicion in your tone. “Just some loose ends that need tying up. I didn’t want you wondering why I wasn’t home.”

You bit your lip, unsure whether to push or let it go. Finally, you sighed. “Alright. Just don’t make it too late. The kids were looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll make it up to them. And to you.”

“Okay,” you replied, though the weight in your chest didn’t lift. “Drive safe, alright?”

“I will,” he assured you. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” you said, ending the call and placing your phone back on the desk.

After the call with Bradley, the unease lingered like a storm cloud you couldn’t shake. You tried going back to work, but your thoughts kept circling back to his tone, his excuses, and the odd behaviour he’d shown lately. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, you decided you needed to talk to someone.

You stood and made your way down the hall to Matt’s office, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. Reaching his door, you knocked lightly before pushing it open.

“Got a minute?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Matt looked up from his desk, where he was flipping through a stack of papers. His expression shifted immediately to one of concern when he saw your face. “Of course. What’s going on?”

You stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The weight of your worries pressed heavily on your chest, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure how to even voice what you were feeling. Finally, you sank into the chair across from him and folded your hands in your lap.

“How can you tell if someone’s cheating?” you blurted out, the words sounding strange and raw as they left your mouth.

Matt’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back in his chair. “Whoa. That’s… a loaded question. Are you seriously talking about Bradley? The accusation you nearly killed me about.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I don’t know, Matt. He’s been acting… different. Cagey. Saying things that don’t quite add up. And then there’s this deployment he mentioned, but something about it doesn’t feel right.”

Matt frowned, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk. “Okay.”

[dizzybee03]

Oh Bradley and Love how I ADORE you both! This update was the BEST early Christmas gift 💚❤️

dying to know how reader reacted to finding out she was pregnant in the boyfriend experience uni 😫 likeeee ik she wasn’t ready for kids in uncle brooster but bradley was so were there mixed feelings abt it? especially since there was no telling when he’d be deployed again

Hi nonny, I don’t know where you are in the cosmos. But this is for you x

A/N I forgot I had this. I don't have the time this close to Xmas/at all to proof/improve so for those of you still in the TGM, I hope you enjoy and merry merry, happy happy xx

“Roll the dice,” you reiterate to Bradley. “If we get pregnant, great. If we don’t…”

“It’s you and me and we are great with that,” Bradley answered, the faintest glint of hope in his shining honey eyes.

You knew he was on Team Baby. He wasn't pressing it; he couldn’t. That wasn’t fair to you… to him or anyone else. You’d said your piece well before you got engaged, and well before today.

The day you married him.

But in the back of the afterglow of lovemaking as husband and wife, you’d told him you’d go off birth control after your honeymoon if he still wanted to try for a baby. You didn’t want it to be immediate, you wanted to enjoy being married and the fun that came with it. And Bradley agreed. You didn’t want to be thinking about periods and not drinking and having the time of your lives. Bradley was busier with work now than ever before, and with the work extensions complete, new staffing, and more small business to take care of, even though you were together every night? You were still doing your own things, barely getting into bed at the same time.

Thing was, you were only hoping to be a newlywed once - marriage wasn't as big a thing for you as it was for Bradley. And even babies. You loved your niece and nephew and Uncle Brooster was fantastic with them - it always left a pang in your heart that he would be such a good father. But even he admitted he wouldn't have the first idea of how to do it since his dad wasn't around when he was growing up and Maverick wasn't exactly an example of patriarchal learning.

You didn’t want to add the stress of calculating ovulation even if an app would do it for you, the disappointment of periods coming… you just wanted to have fun fucking, and pleasing each other as you moved into the next phase of your lives. The stress Annie went through and the lengths she was going to with IVF therapies - overwhelming hormones, nausea, mood swings, sore boobs, abdominal discomfort. God, when you had a difficult period, you could assume similarly but as Annie went through her treatments, at a fairly young age, it was eye-opening at best.

You remembered one sentence so vividly that it scared you to your bones, “When your biological clock starts… it’s all that your brain hears. You can’t undo it and it messes with your head.”

See? Terrifying. Fair for all involved.

But when your period was late after about two periods since going off birth control, you kind of hoped it was the drama of irregular periods and what it brought. It was why you went on the pill in the first place in your teens.

But there was something different as you channel surfed and Bradley cooked in the (motherfucking, finally renovated) kitchen. A strange cramping in your tummy. Not unbearable, but noticeable as you pressed against the pulsating pressure and made a face. Sighing, you unfolded yourself from the couch and moved to your handsome husband. You tenderly kissed between his shoulder blades and he gave an over the top shudder, as you giggled into his skin. He put his utensil down and turned to you, holding your chin in his calloused bug hand and giving you a quick peck before you quietly excused yourself, but not yet willing to admit to him it was to do a pregnancy test. And you weren’t entirely surprised when it revealed you were 1-2 weeks pregnant. And you weren’t entirely surprised when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after dinner that still certainly said PREGNANT in fat, bold letters.

“It tells you how many weeks?” Bradley was astonished, his eyes glued to the digital reading before him.

“Clever, huh?” you said quietly. Bradley’s honey eyes flicked to regard you. Unreadable at best, erring on the side of too quiet. Reserved, but not disappointed, he had trouble reading you sometimes, and this was one he'd need you to talk through. He needed to know exactly what was going on through your head.

“You good?” he asked softly, grasping the test in his strong palm. It was so small but it held his world in his grip. He put the test down to caress your jaw, forcing your gaze to him. “Love…” his fingers light as they sunk into the hair at the nape of your neck. “My sweet girl,” he called to you.

“I think I am. It’s just… quick," you surrender, falling into his sound touch.

“It is quick,” Bradley agreed, kissing your hair. “Is it too quick?”

“Maybe…” you admitted as he pressed a kiss into your temple and wrapped his strong arms around you. He felt too warm and he protected you without question, you really couldn’t imagine life without him right there.

“If it’s too soon, that’s okay," he said softly.

“I saw how hard it was for Annie and just expected we’d be on our own a bit longer. Genetics and shit."

He bit back his smile and your inadvertent joke, or necessary sarcasm. Bradley hummed. “I think your genetics are pretty fine, if you ask me.”

Eyes rolling in corny, you muttered his name as a warning that jokes were unnecessary at this time.

“Okay, okay,” he answered, palms up, teasing off. He knew you were withholding and he knew he was holding everything back in his body not to go over the top with the excitement bubbling in his entire being. “Love, is this what you want? If you're not ready - if you have changed your mind - ”

I just need some time,” you admitted, cutting him off. “Just to get used to…” your voice trailed.

Bradley nodded. He in no way felt like it was his place to speak and as the facial one between the pair of you? Well. So he just continued to hold you and whisper that whatever you decided was okay, and he would support you with anything you decided, a lot or not he wasn’t sure. He thought you were on the same page. He thought you both wanted this -

Like you, his insides were much and could feel himself lightheaded. He grounded himself and carefully reminded himself this wasn’t about him for now. It was getting your beautifully convoluted brain and heart to the same place his was:

Ready.

“What if this is our only chance?” You asked quietly. “What if - “ you shut your mouth and the guilt of situation started to overwhelm you. Bradley only hummed, still choosing to remain mute. “Would you hate me?”

He remained reflective a moment, choosing his words carefully his best option.

“No, love. But I would never live with myself if I forced you to do something you weren’t ready for. Come,” he took your hands and led you to the bedroom. He helped you take off your clothes, his large palm resting gently over your abdomen for just a second longer than he should have and it didn’t go unnoticed by you.

His baby in your protective, strong body.

He pulled back the duvet and patted your pillow as you snuck under the cold sheets, thinking maybe you could sleep a year. He climbed in after you, the warm skin of his chest against your back under the slowly spinning ceiling fan. His fingertips traced your hip, slowly drawing his name on your skin. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay.”

There was your voice of reason.

“But it's still something you'll need to consider pretty quick..."

Always offering you both sides.

It was silent a while and while Bradley’s excitement was guarded carefully, even he knew this conversation was not the light and excited one he thought you’d share instead.

"I want this," you were able to say, but it was easier with him not boring his eyes into yours. He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled the nape of your neck.

"I love you," he said so softly you almost didn't hear him. "I won't let you do this alone."

The fateful night you told your family and the Dagger Squad was when it really started to feel real. Your pregnancy to that point has been pretty good. You only turned green as food cooked around you so it was easy to excuse yourself and the extreme exhaustion that overwhelmed you the first trimester slinked away entering the second. You weren’t horribly unwell but things were definitely changing within you.

Boobs sore and off limits to Bradley even though he’d playfully volunteered his palms but your personal support system. It went about as well as expected.

“Just ginger ale tonight?” Bob smiled a while later. You’d been chatting quietly together while Bradley’s squad played pool and generally one-upped each other around you.

“What do you mean?” God, you hated lying to such a delight as Bob. He was so sweet, and although Bradley had alluded to his well-guarded playboy-like ways, he was always darling to you.

“I have four sisters,” he sipped his water. “She pretended she was drinking bourbon and ginger ale to throw everyone off the scent she was…” he chuckled quietly and you’d be damned if you’d figured him out. “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I understand if you’re just not drinking tonight.”

And while your family was aware of your news, Bradley had sworn not to tell his friends just yet. You weren’t ready to be looked in on 24/7 by overzealous Navy pilots.

“Nearly four months,” you said quietly.

“Phoenix guessed a little less,” he winked. “I won’t tell, but I’m very happy for you both. This baby will be so loved. Or smothered,” he shrugged playfully. “One of the two.”

“Bob?”

“Yes, ma’am?” He responded as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“This is how you do it, isn’t it?”

“Do what?” He played dumb.

“Find women. Because you watch and listen.” And suddenly it all made such sense as he blushed, toying with his glass.

“I can’t reveal all my trade secrets, but showing a little interest helps,” he admitted.

“I wanna know all your tricks. You’re absolutely fascinating to me.”

And for the first time, you heard Bob Floyd cackle as he nodded. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s never gonna happen.”

"You're getting deployed?" you look at Bradley, eyes wild, six months of baby belly between you. His head fell back.

"I know."

"You know?" you screeched, spoiled for months of your husband home and he finds himself deployed as you enter your final trimester. "Bradley, you'll be away for the birth of your daughter."

"I know..." he said a little meeker. He was sick about this conversation. Sick.

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

"Of course I did. Baby, this classification is my first real role as team leader. As command.”

"Who's going with you?"

"Payback, Fanboy," he confirmed softly.

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he stepped towards you, his large palms sinking into the round belly under his grasp, tickling the stretching skin. You sighed and collapsed into his hold. “Even if I have to jump overboard and swim back myself, I will be here for Christmas. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just scared. The birth is one thing… but I can’t raise a baby in my own,” you said, the fear in your evident.

“And I’d never let you,” he whispered into your hair.

"If you see one ounce of action, I swear to you, don't dare come home."

He nodded. Dear God, he knew. The most danger Bradley Bradshaw had ever been in was at this moment. And as his baby girl kicked him from her little cocoon in retaliation for making her Mama wild, he knew that nothing g else mattered anymore and that someway, somehow he was going to find a way to be home for his girls.

masterlist.

[dizzybee03]

Welcome back!! You’ve been missed 💙 this was a great update and I’m beyond excited we got a kiss! Lol it only took a near death experience for it to happen but I’m glad it happened 🤣

Anatomy of an Arsonist - FBI Agent!Jake Seresin X FBI Profiler!Reader

Chapter 17 - The Warning

Series Summary: After nearly being burned alive in a house fire as a child, you now worked as an FBI Special Agent. You have caught some of the worst people with your profiles, working hard as the BAU Liaison Agent to the Major Crimes Unit at the FBI's New York field office. When a new case crosses your desk, a chord is struck in you and memories long repressed come flooding back. Is this UNSUB the same man who is responsible for your mother's murder? Or, is there a copycat hell-bent on making you relive the fear that haunted you as a child?

Banner made by me!

Chapter Warnings: Profiler stuff, fire, explosions, almost casual mentions of death, threats, some mention of blood, and I think that's it from me!

Word Count: 6.9k

Masterlist >> Chapter 16 >> Chapter 18

===

In the aftermath of the day before, you found yourself, yet again, buried in your work. You and Nat had spent time combing through the flowers and toys left at the memorial in the Bronx outside the Miller/Redd/Green crime scene, trying to identify a note written by the UNSUB, but you hadn’t been successful yet. You had passed word onto the NYPD to keep an eye out at the graveyard after the funeral in case the note was left there instead, so for now, you sat on top of your desk, head dangling off the wooden surface. 

A red pen was in your hand and you hung upside down, staring at the scuff mark on your filing cabinet as you tried to talk aloud to yourself. “He waited two days before stopping at the Dale crime scene, might not have been exactly then but that’s when we found the note. So does he just wander over? Or is he at least smooth with it?” 

Shaking your head, you blinked back the spots creeping into your vision and straightened your legs, accidentally kicking over your pen holder in the process. “Ah fuck.” 

“Sweets?” 

You whipped your head towards the door, nearly falling off your desk in the process. “Jake?” 

“Whatcha doin’ that’s got you upside down?” 

From your upside down position, all you could really see of him were his legs and dress shoes. “Just thinking.” 

“About how to recreate the Spiderman kiss? Cause I hate to be the one to tell ya, but you have to be a little higher up for that,” he quipped, crouching down next to you. The sudden movement brought his face just above yours and Jake inhaled sharply when your hair brushed the back of his hand. “Unless I’m the upside down one.” 

You snorted, a smile overtaking the thoughtfulness of your earlier expression. “Well technically you are upside down to me…” 

“Sweets, darlin’, you are hanging your head off of your desk right now and there’s paper everywhere, what the hell happened?” 

Jake was so close to you that you could smell the cinnamon gum he must have been chewing earlier and the sharp spiciness of his cologne. Hell, if you couldn’t smell it, there might be too much blood in your head, you thought distantly. “Well, I was getting nowhere while I was upright so I figured that it can’t be less impossible to figure out upside down,” you explained, your voice slightly nasal from your position. “Sounds dumb and I learned nothing but it was fun for the moment… though I do have to pick up all my pens now.” A pause. “And I might be stuck…” 

He laughed softly, the huff sending more of the artificial cinnamon smell in your direction. “Come on, Sweets. Let’s get the world right side up again.” Warm hands were gently placed at your back, lifting your head and shoulders up and helping you to sit on the surface of your desk. Jake had stood with you, his chest and stomach pressed warmly against your back while his hands migrated to your arms. 

Touch had long been another piece of humanity that had been stolen from your life at the tender age of eight. Your father had withered in on himself, drowning under his own grief for your mother as well as from under the weight of caring for you. You hadn’t fully understood what had happened then, only being told that “Mommy isn’t coming home, Peanut” and while you could now understand how your dad had been unable to bring himself to tell you, you despised that you hadn’t been told anything. You had been a kid, sure, but you had always felt that you were robbed of the truth just as much as you had been robbed of both parents, one in the grave, the other wandering grief-strickenly down the halls of the sterile apartment you had lived in back then.

Your father had been as good as a ghost and you, innocent and not understanding what had all happened, had had to learn the difficult lesson that you couldn’t depend on him anymore. He left you to your own devices, supposedly too upset to even look at you, even once drunkenly shouting that you looked too much like your mother when you were only 12. The last physical affection you had gotten when you were a child seemed to be the night it had all gone wrong when you were tucked into bed by your mom. 

So now, when Jake held you, let a hand go wandering over your arm, or two days ago, when he had lifted you off the conference room table, you slowly melted into the touch. You had been deprived of that gentleness for so long that it had nearly made you cry the first time he had hugged you out of excitement. But you had never been able to deny the warmth that came from him. For all the talk of fire, you supposed that souls had their own flames, kindling and warming the parts that made you all human, and if that were the case, then Jake’s must burn like a bonfire for all the kindness and gentle heat he exuded toward you. You had seen it flare, the anger that had filled him in past cases sending each flame lick at the sky, desperate to burn through the universe, but around you, it was calm, playful even. 

Comparing it to your own, you felt some days that you had hardly an ember left to light a match, your heart and soul burdened with the grief and pain for every victim you encountered. But there were also those moments where the anger you had always worked so hard to suppress went supernova, setting the world around you alight with a rage so unlike the soft kiss of your compassion and empathy. It left you with little for yourself, in the end, so when Jake had done what he had after your mother’s case had been revealed, you found that he had left pieces of his own fire behind for you to gather up and to stoke your dying embers, trusting that you would do the same for him.  

All this to say that you had grown accustomed to Jake’s eyes on you, the ease and carefree kindness shining with the force of a thousand diamonds back at you. His touch now was a familiar comfort and one that you could never resist indulging in when the opportunity presented itself. 

“Did you need something?” You finally asked him, your voice quiet, fearful of disrupting the bubble you found yourself in. “Or is this just another one of your “I was around” visits?” 

He laughed, the vibration felt against your back. “So it’s like that today, huh Sweets?” 

Hauling your legs underneath yourself, you turned around on the desk, Jake now standing between your spread legs. “Come on now, you know I’m teasing.” 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” He replied, his voice low, nearly a rumble in his throat. “I can’t come to see the genius with the beautiful brain without a reason?” 

You narrowed your eyes playfully, resting your hand against the muscle of his chest, smoothing out the fabric of his suit. “I never said you couldn’t…” 

Jake’s inner voice was screaming at him to kiss you, to finally take that step that both of you seemed to want, but like every other time, he held off, looking down on your teasing expression, and let himself just feel. Feel your eyes roaming over his face, the way your palm rested on his chest and the heat that seemed to race through both his shirt and his jacket to slam into his skin. 

He let himself commit this to memory, a memory to savour when the want for you became too much. A memory to use when he couldn’t bear the way you made him feel and was forced to find relief in his own hand, dreaming about what it would be like to have you writhing in pleasure under him. The thoughts had increased the longer he denied it all, forcing him to confront the intensity of his feelings at every turn and staying away had become harder and harder at every occasion. 

But Jake was a weak man when it came to you, he was never able to stay away for long and each visit was more for him than you knew. Yet you never complained, instead, welcoming him into the chaos perpetually strewn about you, while you rambled to him about things he only half understood. 

God, he wanted you. Everything you were willing to hand him, he’d take, holding it all for you with the same reverence that had infiltrated his touches as of late. But for all he knew, it was lost on you. 

A sharp rap on the door startled you both and you hopped off your desk, running right into his chest as your office door swung open. “Am… am I interrupting something?” Nat asked, a gleeful expression swiftly replacing any and all professionalism that had once been there. “‘Cause I can wait if you two aren’t done.” 

“Did you need something?” You asked, trying to will your blush away. “We were just chatting.” 

“Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say,” Nat replied, leaning against the door frame. “Bob and one of his techs are in the conference room, they think they might have a lead for you.” 

You blinked. “Did they tell you what it was?” 

Nat shook her head. “Nope, and I didn’t ask, but I’m on my way to brief the Commissioners of the NYPD and FDNY right now, was there anything you wanted me to tell them?” 

Sliding out of the narrow space created by Jake and the side of your desk, you made your way over to her. “What do you have?” 

“Napalm usage so the need for foam extinguishers, any and all NYPD officers need to have both dash cams and body cams operational to scan the crowds gathering to hopefully find a commonality in who is there,” Nat listed off, flicking through the tablet she held. “Amaya wanted that second one emphasized more than anything.” 

“Are the directors of the 911 call centers invited?”

“I think so?” 

“Make sure that they are. We need to switch tactics on FDNY engine responses and they are crucial for that.” 

“I’ll double check with Simpson, actually, can you come with?” Natasha asked, glancing between you and Jake. “Blondie here can go see Bob about his news and we can all report to Mav and Simpson after?” 

Jake nodded. “Works for me. See you later, Sweets.” You and Natasha shuffled out of the doorway, letting him pass before moving back together to read through the notes Nat had on her tablet together. 

“What was that about?” 

“Hmm?”

Nat bumped your shoulder, the look on her face screaming ‘I know what I saw.’ “You two. Did he finally pull his head out of his ass and tell you how he feels?” 

“How he feels about what?” 

Natasha’s face went white. “I said nothing! Forget everything that just happened!” 

You blinked in surprise at her sudden loud retraction. “Oookay…?” 

“Please?” 

“I guess? I really have no idea what you mean though.” 

She was hiding something, that much you knew. What it was though, you had no idea and quite frankly, you were too focused on the tablet in Nat’s hands as you read through the notes to pay much attention to her bizarre behaviour. “Anyway, let’s go find Simpson and double check that part?” 

“Right. Yes. Let’s do that.” 

=== 

Simpson did in fact confirm that the 911 call center directors would be present, which made it that much more convenient to discuss your tentative plan with them all. 

“Thank you all for coming. I know that you are all very busy people, but we have something very important to discuss with you,” Natasha began. You and Simpson stood at the back of the room, surveying the occupants. It was strange being back here instead of up at the front of the room, but you enjoyed how the attention wasn’t on you for the moment and took the time to listen to what Natasha was explaining. 

She spoke well, the confidence in her tone audible but not overpowering. Far be it for Natasha to try and act like she knew their jobs better than they did, all that would come of that would be disdain and a fractured relationship. “My colleague has formulated a plan that will hopefully help you respond faster to minor crime scenes while minimizing damage and shortening the response times for the bigger blazes.” 

“Thank you, Nat,” you said warmly from your place at the back of the room. “I’m sure many of you saw me presenting the profile of our UNSUB on your TVs the other day. In the spirit of communication, we have decided to hold this mini conference to share the latest updates that are the most relevant to you in your jobs. It has come to our attention that this UNSUB is artificially increasing the amount of time his crime scenes have to destroy his victims’ bodies and any evidence he may have left at the scene. In order to make this possible, he sets smaller fires at the far ends of the individual zone he has chosen to target, what we are calling the ‘A’ scenes, forcing fire departments to mobilize in order to prevent loss of life. Then in response while these crews are absent from their firehouses, he attacks his target homes, the ‘B” scenes, which are often located very close to the main fire stations themselves. This results in help having to come from neighboring zones to address the B scene fires.” 

Moving forward so all eyes could be on you, you continued. “This was brought to our attention by a 911 dispatcher who took the call made on June 6th about the decoy scene before Gwen Schaefer’s death. This same dispatcher also took the call on June 20th before what we have come to realize is the fourth crime scene on June 20th. They noted how scripted both calls seemed and when they went back to listen to the second and third 911 calls that came in before the crime scenes, they discovered the calls were identical to the first and fourth.” 

“The information was presented in the same order, and the voice sounds like it is the same across all calls. We are just waiting for forensics to confirm that for us,” Natasha jumped in, clarifying slightly. She had noticed the confusion on the faces of a few in attendance, and wanted to remedy that as quickly as possible. “The calls also came from the same burner phone, and the tracking information on the calls has revealed that the phones were connected to the cell tower closest to the arson scenes.” 

“We strongly suspect that this UNSUB has a police scanner and is using the information he hears to help him travel around the city unnoticed. This is where we need your help,” you continued, smiling gratefully at Natasha for the clarification. There were times where you got caught in your head, too focused on how you were about to present the next information and you could leave out some important details that would make what you were about to say all the more impactful. 

“We want to disguise FDNY’s actual movements to and from both scenes. Using the 911 dispatchers, we would like to fool our UNSUB. If a call comes through resembling the past five and the numbers match, we would like you to send a neighbouring zone’s engines in response while also communicating over the open line that, for example, 161 is responding to the ‘A’ scene when in reality, they are waiting for the report of the ‘B’ scene going up. We want to coordinate between the zones and hopefully decrease the response time for the ‘B’ scenes.” 

“And how do you plan on doing this?” The FDNY commissioner asked. “There’s hundreds of firehouses across New York, we can’t possibly warn every house.” 

You nodded. “Exactly right, Commissioner. There are too many firehouses to keep benched in the case of an emergency. The first call, the one made by the UNSUB will give us his zone of operation and from there, we can discreetly alert each station house in the neighbouring zones as to what is happening. We can do so by changing radio frequencies, a phone call to each captain on shift, or something else that we haven’t yet thought of.” 

“The radios are the only way we can maintain communication, Agent. Altering the frequency will mess with everything.” 

“I understand the concern, Commissioner,” you sympathized. “Unfortunately, we have maybe a day or more before he strikes again in some way and I think we all want to minimize the loss of life that results from our UNSUB. Did you have an alternative to changing the frequencies?” 

“Could the dispatchers use a specific code?” 

“Could you elaborate please?” 

And he did. Less than 20 minutes later, you had a plan in place and not for the first time, you hoped that it wouldn’t have to come into play.

=== 

Jake had gone off to chat with Bob and one of his team and when he returned to the JOC, he saw you and Nat with your heads together as you spoke with Mav and Amaya. The lead CSI had been able to identify the paint that he had recovered from the first ‘A’ scene. Due to the specificity of paint colors when it came to cars, Bob had determined the car that had left the sample was a black 2015 Nissan Altima. Jake hadn’t understood the details, but a part of him doubted how much weight this clue carried. 

From his very quick search, Jake had seen that there were well over 3000 2015 Nissan Altimas for sale in the New York area and that wasn’t counting those that weren’t for sale or listed. The car could have belonged to anyone. Just because it left paint on that curb, it didn’t mean that the car belonged to the UNSUB. Anyone could have taken the corner too tightly and scraped up their vehicle. 

Plus, how could Bob be absolutely certain that the black paint only came from a 2015 Nissan Altima? There were a lot of black cars out there and who was to say that the same paint colour wasn’t used on other Nissan vehicles?

He hated to doubt like this, hated that he would have to deliver you the bad news. Your face would scrunch, the furrow between your brows reappearing with a vengeance as you retreated back into your mind to sort through the odds and ends that didn’t yet make sense. Jake knew it was selfish to avoid telling you, not to mention how angry you’d be if you found out, but he never wanted to be the cause of your anger and frustration. 

Not after he saw how much hurt you had hidden from the world. How much you had kept to yourself as to not appear weak and uncertain. You seemed like you were doing better, keeping it all contained despite everything, and that glimmer had come back to your eye after it had disappeared into the shadows that had consumed you whole. 

So standing next to you as Mav listened while he explained it all, Jake felt his heart plummet after he saw the small shake of your head. “There has to be thousands of 2015 Altimas in New York,” his boss said after a beat. “That’s a lot of fucking cars.” 

You hummed in agreement, your attention still half on the tablet in front of you. “And that’s assuming that the car is still black after all this.” 

The small group fell silent for a beat, your typing being one of the few things audible in the immediate vicinity. “We’ll add it to the list of what we know,” Natasha finally replied. “I can work with Mickey to go through the past body cam footage to see if there are any cars matching that description in the area near to the crime scenes?” 

“Sounds good. Keep us updated?” Mav asked, still fiddling with his pen. He was twirling it around and over his fingers so quickly it had Jake wondering how it hadn’t gone flying yet, but the sudden stop had physics taking over and the blue pen went soaring across the JOC. It bounced off a monitor before ricocheting off the wall and skittering across the floor. Maverick just watched it fly, before shrugging and walking off once Nat gave him the thumbs up. 

“How’d the conference go?” Jake asked as he sidled up to you. You were in a tight black T-shirt and grey dress pants and he knew he was staring but couldn’t help himself. Lately, he’d felt the magnet in his chest pulling him towards you, steering him as straight as an arrow. He’d been increasingly unsettled the longer he was away from you as time wore on. Jake couldn’t explain it but something had been nagging him all day, yelling that something would go wrong, but the unsettling feeling he had seemed to melt away when he entered your orbit. 

It didn’t completely fade though. 

Sighing, you gave him a small smile. The bags under your eyes were dark and heavy, your shoulders were a little slumped, and you looked exhausted. “It went well. I think.” 

“You think?” 

“I can never tell,” you said with a slight chuckle. “Sometimes it feels like I can see through it all, all the bullshit and the politics, but not today.” An arm brushed his shoulder as you stretched out, your back popping with the movement. “At least we have a plan for how to handle the ‘A’ scenes.” 

“That’s what you wanted to do, wasn’t it?” At least he thought that’s what he had heard in your office. He might have been too busy freaking out at the feeling of your hand on his chest to have been paying full attention to what was happening around him, but that was his secret. 

A shrug. “In a way, yeah. I wish we had caught this sooner though.” 

“If wishes were horses, the poor would ride,” Jake replied in a heavy drawl. When you turned to blink at him in surprise, he winked at you, mischief shining bright in his green eyes. The expression made you smile to yourself as you walked to your office. “But like I’ve said before, you’ve been waging psychological warfare with this UNSUB for weeks while playing 4D chess. We’re all playing checkers in comparison, so don’t be so hard on yourself, Sweets.” 

You smiled despite your best effort to keep it hidden, keeping quiet as you let Jake’s compliment wash over you. A part of you wondered if he’d always known what to say or if his intuition around your intricacies gave him a superpower when it came to you. Regardless, the comment soothed the anxieties rearing their heads deep in your mind, brushing a steady hand over them to bring them peace. 

It would work out. Stars were only visible in the dark and the darkness had to fade sometime. 

===

The evening had come and gone, the summer sky now an inky blue. A warm breeze swept across you as you and Jake stepped out of the elevator, chatting about Jake’s youngest nephew’s birthday party. “And Sweets, this kid, he just turned 5, walks right up to his older brother, Tyson and his friend who is at least 10, and says to him ‘Your mama didn’t teach you not to say that word. Bless your heart.’ Sweets, my sister, she had to leave the yard because she was laughing so hard,” Jake recounted, still laughing at the memory. His face was all scrunched, laugh lines in full display as his head fell back in another wave of laughter. 

“Oh my god,” you were snickering, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. “At 5? He said that?” 

“Oh yeah. Apparently my sister says it in place of swear words when out with her boys, so like who knows what he was aiming for.” Jake shook his head, while trying and failing to fight his smile

You dug for your keys, still laughing to yourself, clicking the button twice to unlock your car, the only one in this section of the parkade. Something made you stop a ways back, a gut feeling screaming something was off, and it was. Your car hadn’t made its typical unlocking chirp, so you tried again. This time you heard something, not a chirp but a whooshing sound like the one heard when gas is being pumped into your car at a gas station and your eyes flew up in horror. 

Jake had heard the sound too, his reaction time seconds faster than your own. In the time it took you to blink, Jake had turned you around to face the way you had come, his front pressed against your back as he covered you from the white hot air that came racing past you so fast it nearly burned on contact. 

Your car’s hood flew outwards with a sound like a cannon shot, a crater appearing before a column of fire burst up to the ceiling. Flames latched onto everything, chewing through the leather seats and plastic console pieces. The windows were reduced to nothing more than fragments sent blasting away from the car’s body, raining down on you both even as Jake pushed you towards the elevators. Shrapnel flew in all directions, pinging off of the polished concrete with sounds that you could only compare to a cartoon gunfight. 

Distantly, you heard Jake grunt, his weight falling a little more on top of you as he shielded you. Had he been hit? Was he hurt? Satisfied that the worst was over, you turned in his grip looking up at Jake with wide panicked eyes. Your hands were immediately all over him, searching for an injury you were sure would kill him. “Jake? Oh my god. Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?” You were rambling, hands shaking as they tried to tug off his suit jacket. “Why would you do that?!”

His ears were ringing, the echo of the explosion rattling in his head like a million gunshots and his back burned with a sharp pain. Something had hit him in his effort to keep you safe. Jake saw your panicked face, felt your scrabbling shaky hands searching him frantically. You were talking to him, the words coming too fast for him to understand in the aftermath of whatever had just happened. But you had to be okay with how you were reacting, that had been the only thing that mattered in the moment. 

“Sweets. Sweets. I’m okay,” he assured you. “I’m okay, I promise. Sweets. I’m here. I’m safe.” Jake reached for your hands, holding them still in his own as he ducked to enter your eye line. “Hey. We’re safe. It’s okay.” 

You were shaking. Your hands, your breathing, all of it trembling like a building in an earthquake. Meeting his eyes, you couldn’t help but let the tears well up, panic consuming you as easily as fire had taken your car. You opened your mouth to say something but you heard a faint hissing sound, smelt the gasoline leaching into the air and you grabbed Jake’s arm, pulling him behind a pillar. 

He stumbled, but your grip on his hand tugged him along, shoving him back against it and you heard him grunt under the force. You plastered yourself to his front, hands planted on either side of his torso, and you buried your face in his chest. Jake’s arms pulled you closer, his face ducking into your neck, as a second explosion rocked the building. 

The gas tank.

The coup de grace. This would have killed you both had you not hauled Jake to safety. The concrete was cool under your palms, Jake’s hands burning like the flames shooting towards the ceiling against your lower back, and you pressed yourself impossibly closer. Tears wet your skin, soaking into Jake’s cream coloured shirt, fear bleeding out into the air around you like the scent of gasoline that filled your lungs with every halted breath. 

You had been deafened by the explosion bouncing off of the smooth concrete around you and now the ringing in your ears eclipsed everything. You had been able to hear Jake’s heartbeat under your head as you hid from the blast, but now it was gone and if it weren’t for the arms around you, you could have sworn he was gone, ripped away from you like so much had.

A hand touched your chin, guiding up and away from his chest and you nearly sobbed at the sight of Jake’s face. He was talking, the words slipping away before they had the chance to meet your ears, and in your panic, you reached up, placing a shaky hand on his cheek. You held his face, taking in the micro expressions flickering through those green eyes, trying to reassure yourself that you were both okay. 

Jake held you to his chest, leaning his head around the pillar and catching sight of what remained of your car. You followed the movement, gasping when you saw what you did. There was practically nothing left. 

Your blue car’s hood was laying beside what had been the body of your car, a gaping hole through the middle from the initial explosion. Glass littered the floor, sparkling like fallen stars under the harsh and now flickering lighting of the parkade. The husk of metal that had once been your car had been flipped onto the roof by the force of both explosions and now lay several feet away from where it had been parked. 

Soot and detritus had practically been painted onto the ceiling by the force, a large black splotch with hazy edges that looked like some portal into Hell when you two cautiously approached. It was unrecognizable as your faithful car, instead resembling something out of junk yard, and nausea roiled in your gut. 

He had known what car was yours. Picked it out of the hundreds that had been in the parking garage when he had surely come by. Whatever he had done to rig your car had exploded after a good number of people were gone, meaning he knew of your tendency to stay late at the office.

He was there. 

He had to have been. No one else would have the balls or the ego to dare and attack an FBI agent and you felt your hands ball into fists the longer you stood in silence. 

“Sweets…” You turned slowly, swallowing hard and were met with the most severe look you had ever seen on Jake’s face. “You need to drop this case. I don’t know how you convinced both Maverick and Simpson that you were okay to stay, but I won’t put you in more danger. I-I just can’t.” He looked away, chest stuttering as he tried to breathe around the emotion lodged in his throat. “He’s too dangerous.” 

The nausea quickly vanished, replaced by a white hot anger that bubbled through your veins. “I didn’t think I needed your permission to stay, Jake. And yeah, I know he’s dangerous, he just tried to kill us both, you’re hurt, and that’s why I can’t let him get away with this!” You yelled, a hand flinging out behind you at what was left of your car. “He can’t go unpunished!” 

“And he won’t!” Jake snapped. His anger was one of concern, frustrated at how you would rather die trying to catch this lunatic than back away and live to fight another day. “I will hunt him down, make him answer for this!” 

You just shook your head, tears now beginning to fall and you cursed yourself for the emotion spilling out of you. “You need me here! I have to be here! He knows my car, he has seen me! This psychopath has torn my life apart and I can’t even begin to try and reassemble anything good until he’s gone!” You swiped a hand over your face angrily, jerking tears from their paths. “I can’t let you go after him alone, Jake. His focus on me has kept you alive. I won’t lose another person that I-”

“That you what? I’m not letting you put yourself directly in his path to protect me from a man so hell-bent on winning he would kill you for it!” Jake snapped, tugging a hand through his hair until it seemed to stand on end. 

“Let me? I have lived the other side, crawled through the halls of my burning home only to be left with a stupid fucking stuffed rabbit and a dad who was so fucking out of it that he stopped caring about anything!” you snarled, finally letting go of your temper. You were nearly breathless with rage, hands and body shaking with adrenaline that had only climbed steadily since the blast happened. Tears were now racing down your face and you had to look like a mad-woman, but you hardly cared. “He might as well have been killed too with how little he fucking cared about me after it all.” 

 “Sweets, please…” 

“No. It’s killing me to be so close to him, to know that he has seen me. He has been around me for a long time now and I’m disgusted that I had him under my nose the whole fucking time!” You stepped forwards, muscles tense and ready for a fight. He didn’t get it and he never would. “Do you know how violating it is to have the person you have been hunting for weeks invade your life?” 

He was quiet, watching you with the same apprehension one would use to evaluate a wild animal. Those green eyes that had once regarded you with such kindness, such love and compassion, were severe. The playful green meadows being warped into centuries old trees that were unwavering in their steadiness and you hated it. 

“You have no idea! I have been slowly killing myself trying to pick up this fucking trail and yet I stand here in front of you, in front of everyone, holding my hands out like a beggar because I have nothing except my life in danger and my car strewn about this fucking building like world’s worst confetti!” You slammed your hands into his chest, shoving him back a step and a sick part of you relished in his surprise. “You don’t get to lecture me when you have no idea what I have or what I am going through.” 

Seeing you reach to shove him again, Jake snatched your wrists and pulled you to him. With barely an inch of space between you, you yanked your hands back, dodging his attempt to pin your anger in place. But Jake was quicker, holding fast to your arm, while the look he gave you was indescribable. Fear and anger swirled like a hurricane, burning deep in those green eyes you loved so much, and now that storm was pointed at you. Whether it would consume you, setting your soul on fire, or be directed at the man responsible for all of this heartbreak, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you couldn’t shove him again and the longer you stood there staring at him, the more fear built up inside you. Your anger was giving itself away to just how scared you were, Jake had nearly died trying to protect you and you wouldn’t let him give his life for your own. 

You didn’t deserve it. 

So you couldn’t let him. 

Not when he meant more to you than he knew. You would walk back into your worst nightmare to give him a chance at survival, to keep him hidden from this UNSUB’s view without a second thought and that terrified you because you knew he would do the same for you. 

You didn’t know who moved first, him or you, but next you knew, Jake’s hand was holding your jaw and his lips slammed into yours like a shockwave. It nearly sent you stumbling backwards, but you refused to be pushed around any longer and you wrenched your hands free from his grasp, grasping Jake’s face and keeping it pressed against yours. You sought entrance to his mouth, gasping when Jake nipped at your bottom lip, and poured every ounce of frustration into the kiss. 

It was full of desperation, full of the deepest fear you had ever known, and yet, it was perfect. You weren’t delicate and Jake knew that you were daring him to try and break you, daring him to try and keep you in the dark when you had been buried in a darkness much deeper and still come out shining like the sun. Your warmth wasn’t that of a summer’s day, it was that of the sun itself, a ball of molten heat burning through the endless night dogging you. 

It set fire to everything it touched, consuming him with every breath he drew in between presses of his lips to yours. Your touch burned, the finality of all branding his skin in the shape of your hands, claiming him as yours even as your world burned down around you. 

Jake clutched at your shirt, holding as close as he dared without climbing into your chest. He kissed you with everything he had been bottling up, trying to convey just how much he would give for you both to stay right here in this moment forever. He poured every ounce of feeling he had against your lips, praying you felt those three little words each time his lips met your own. 

You broke away for a moment, chest heaving as you stared into Jake’s eyes, daring him to tell you to leave the case again, the look inviting his challenge should he dare try. He didn’t let you separate from him for long, claiming your lips once more with such an intensity that your knees wobbled. Your fingers wound into his blonde hair, grasping the strands by his ears as you met him pass for pass, your tongue clashing with his as you dove back under the feeling of his hands on you. 

You hadn’t dared to dream about feeling his lips on yours, too afraid of what might come should you give into your feelings and finally take the good thing that was well in reach of your desperate heart. So now as Jake - your Jake - kissed you like you would fall to pieces under his touch, you felt the last of the darkness get chased away by the light he poured into you. 

How could you suffer when Jake was here to make sure that never happened again? So you lost yourself in his hands roaming over your face and sides, let yourself forget each time your lips brushed his soft ones, and tried to live in this moment as if you would never experience it again.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. Jake’s eyes were still closed, his shoulders rising and falling under where your hands had strayed from his face. “Jake…” 

“Sweets…” the nickname was a soft exhale, barely audible over the ringing and heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Stay.” 

And what else could you do but stay there in his arms? You heard sirens and yet, you never strayed from him. Here, he knew you were safe. Here, you had his strong arms holding you up as let his touch ground you. In your years of work, you had spent hours with people, hunting the worst and ignoring the best because they were never an issue. You had spent so long chasing the evil that you had forgotten about the good, and here he was. 

Jake was that good. You had been both the protector and the victim in your own story, using your brain and experience to hold back the tide for others, while you drowned under the weight of everything you saw, everything you outlived and everyone you outran. It was nice to rest for a while, to give into the warmth surrounding you after so long in the dark cold of your past. 

But it was all cut short as the wailing of sirens grew louder and louder and their flashing lights of red and blue cast the outside of the parking garage in a harsh violet colour you always associated with crime scenes. It was a crime scene, you supposed. Only this time, you were the victim. 

You turned your head away from the solid wall of Jake’s chest and your heart started Jack-rabbiting in your chest like it had never done so before. On the wall to your right, scrawled in red spray paint were the words “YOU WILL NOT MAKE ME A FOOL.” How you had missed it, you had no idea. It wasn’t hidden by another vehicle, it hadn’t been covered by anything, but it glimmered maliciously in the light of the many tiny spot fires still burning in the small pools of oil and gasoline that dotted the cement floor. 

“Jake…?” 

“Hmmm?” He glanced at your face, his head turning fast the moment you raised a shaky hand to point at the wall behind him. 

“Was that there before my car exploded?”

===

A/N: WE HAVE A KISS!! Also, I'm back for a few weeks now! Exams went well, and I am finally taking the opportunity to play catch up with writing and posting because I missed you all! I only hope that enough of you stuck around after a few hectic weeks without AoaA and if you did, I love you!

Taglist: @horseshoegirl @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @dakotakazansky

@theviexenviper @auroralightsthesky @blue-aconite @rosiahills22 @seitmai

@kmc1989 @dcyllom @aviatorobsessed @dingochef @shinycupcakebaker

@dizzybee03 @djs8891 @avengersfan25 @reaper-t @serrendiipty

@lexixstewart @justdamnpeachy @waltermis @multiverseprincess @mrsevans90

@emma8895eb @redbarn1995 @cevansbaby-dove @deadboltsblog @keyrani

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@cheyrenee @xoxabs88xox @pudsmack @elizabeth-holland24 @smoothdogsgirl

[dizzybee03]

Ugh Rooster, Rooster, Rooster- you have so many chances to come clean. He’s seriously making it so much worse in himself 😞

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies. 2

Part 1 here

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments SMUT

Word count: 10.6k

At 6 a.m., the household stirred to life, much earlier than Bradley had hoped. The first sound was Theo’s sharp cry from the baby mattress nestled beside the bed. The sudden noise startled him out of a restless sleep, his eyes snapping open. Before he could fully sit up, another sound followed—Anna’s small voice calling out from her bed in their shared room.

“Daddy! Theo’s crying!” she called, her voice groggy but insistent.

Bradley groaned softly, rubbing his hands over his face as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He glanced at Theo, whose little fists flailed in the air, his cries growing louder by the second.

“Alright, buddy, I’m coming,” Bradley muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

Anna was already out of her bed, her messy hair falling into her eyes as she clutched her blankie and stood near Theo’s mattress. She looked up at Bradley with wide eyes. “Is Theo okay?”

“He’s fine, Annabelle,” Bradley assured her as he scooped Theo up, gently rocking him. “He’s just hungry.”

Anna trailed behind him as he headed to the kitchen, still clutching her blanket and dragging it along the floor. “Can I help?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Why don’t you sit at the table, and I’ll get him a bottle?” Bradley suggested, nodding toward the dining area.

Anna complied, climbing up onto one of the chairs and resting her chin on her arms as she watched him move around the kitchen. Bradley quickly prepared a bottle, testing the temperature before settling into the chair beside Anna to feed Theo.

“Did you sleep okay, Banana?” he asked, glancing at her.

She nodded slowly, but then scrunched her nose. “Not really. I woke up a lot because Judy was coughing.”

Bradley frowned, his gaze flicking toward the hallway. He’d check on Judy as soon as Theo was settled. “She’s still not feeling good, huh?”

Anna shook her head solemnly. “No. She said her throat hurt last night.”

Bradley sighed, the worry from the night before creeping back in. Between Theo’s early wake-ups, Anna’s boundless energy, and Judy being sick, it was shaping up to be a long day. And you were still at work, likely swamped with tasks after your overnight shift.

“After this, we’ll check on Judy, okay?” he told her.

“Okay,” Anna agreed, stifling a yawn.

Bradley gently lifted the now-empty bottle from Theo’s little hands and brought him up to his shoulder, patting his back softly. Theo squirmed a little before letting out a small, satisfying burp.

“Good job, buddy,” Bradley murmured, his voice low and soothing.

He looked over at Anna, who was still sitting at the table, her head resting on her arms. “Hey, Banana, why don’t you go watch some TV for a bit? I’ll put on your cartoons.”

Anna perked up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly. “Can I watch the animal show?”

“Sure thing,” Bradley said with a tired smile as he stood up, balancing Theo in one arm. He guided Anna into the living room, turning on her favorite wildlife documentary. She climbed onto the couch, pulling her blanket up around her shoulders as she settled in.

With Anna occupied, Bradley carried Theo back into the kitchen and placed him in the bassinet by the window. “Alright, buddy, time for a little rest,” he whispered, gently tucking the baby blanket around him. Theo blinked up at him sleepily, his earlier cries now a distant memory.

Satisfied that Theo was settled, Bradley headed down the hall to Judy’s room. He pushed the door open quietly, peeking inside. Judy was still curled up in her bed, her face pale against the pillows. Her breathing was slow and a little raspy, and her hair was a messy halo around her head.

“Judy?” Bradley whispered, stepping closer.

She stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering open. “Hi, Rooster,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He reached out, brushing her hair back from her face. “How are you feeling?”

Judy shrugged weakly, her small shoulders barely moving. “Tired,” she murmured.

Bradley frowned, resting the back of his hand against her forehead. It was warm—warmer than it had been the night before. He grabbed the thermometer from her bedside table, turning it on before gently placing it in her ear.

When the thermometer beeped, he checked the reading: 101.5°F. A low-grade fever.

“Still warm, kiddo,” he said softly, setting the thermometer aside. “Your throat still hurting?”

Judy nodded, her face scrunching up slightly.

Bradley sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Alright. I’ll get you some medicine and a glass of water. Maybe some honey for your throat.”

“Okay,” Judy mumbled, her eyes already starting to close again.

Bradley stood and pulled the blankets up around her, tucking her in snugly. “I’ll be right back, Jude,” he promised, smoothing the covers over her.

Bradley descended the stairs quietly, the creak of the old wooden steps under his weight barely audible over the sound of the TV in the living room. He peeked over to check on Anna, who was completely engrossed in her wildlife show, her small form bundled under her blanket on the couch.

Satisfied she was occupied, he made his way into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet where you kept the kids’ medications, pulling out the liquid acetaminophen for Judy. He set the bottle on the counter, then grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer and filled a small glass with water.

Bradley thought for a moment, remembering your go-to remedy for sore throats. He reached for the honey jar, scooping out just a little to stir into the water. The warm mixture would be easier for her to sip without irritating her throat further.

Balancing the items in his hands, he glanced at the baby bassinet near the window. Theo was still sound asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Bradley took a moment to adjust the blanket over him before heading back toward the stairs.

As he passed through the living room, Anna looked up from the screen.

“Is Judy still sick?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.

“Yeah, Anna, she’s still not feeling great,” Bradley replied, pausing to ruffle her hair. “But I’m giving her some medicine and water. She’ll be okay.”

Anna nodded, her attention returning to the TV. Bradley continued upstairs, carefully balancing the glass and medicine bottle as he made his way back to Judy’s room.

Bradley stepped quietly into Judy’s room, the glass of honey water and the medicine bottle still in his hands. She was half-sitting up now, propped against her pillows, her pale face peeking out from under her blanket. Her tired eyes opened a little wider when she saw him.

“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He placed the glass on her bedside table, then unscrewed the cap from the medicine bottle, carefully pouring the correct dose into the small plastic cup.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said gently, holding the cup out to her. “This will help with the fever and make you feel a little better.”

Judy wrinkled her nose but obediently reached for the cup. She hesitated for a moment, looking up at Bradley with a wary expression.

“It’s not going to taste good, is it?”

Bradley chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Probably not, but it’s quick. Just take it all at once, like a champ.”

Judy sighed and tipped the cup to her lips, swallowing the medicine. Almost immediately, her face scrunched up in discomfort. She started coughing and gagging, her small body jerking forward.

Bradley reacted instantly, grabbing the bucket you had placed beside her bed the night before. He held it in front of her as she coughed and retched, her face turning red.

“It’s okay, Judy,” he said quickly, rubbing her back as she spat into the bucket. “You’re alright. Just breathe.”

She sat back after a moment, her eyes watery and her breaths shaky. “It’s so gross,” she whined, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I know, kiddo,” Bradley said, setting the bucket down on the floor within easy reach. “But you did it, and I’m proud of you. The worst part’s over now.”

Judy gave him a small nod, leaning back against her pillows. Bradley picked up the glass of honey water and handed it to her.

“Here, sip this,” he said. “It’ll help get rid of that taste.”

She took the glass and drank a little, her face relaxing slightly as the sweetness replaced the bitterness of the medicine.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded again, her voice still a little hoarse. “Yeah, a little.”

Bradley smiled, tucking the blankets back around her. “Good. Now, just rest, okay? I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Judy yawned and settled deeper into the bed, her eyelids already drooping. Bradley picked up the medicine cup and the spoon, giving her one last look before quietly leaving the room, making a mental note to wash out the bucket later.

Bradley made his way downstairs, pausing briefly to check on Theo, who was still sound asleep in the bassinet. Anna was sprawled on the couch, her blanket twisted around her legs as she watched her wildlife show.

“Hey, Banana,” he called gently, stepping into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

Anna turned her head, her messy hair falling into her eyes. “Yes! Can I have pancakes?”

Bradley chuckled, opening the fridge to grab the milk and eggs. “Pancakes, huh? Alright, but you have to help me eat them. No leftovers today.”

“Deal!” Anna called, hopping off the couch and running to the kitchen table to watch him.

As he set the ingredients on the counter, Bradley pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped out a quick text to you, knowing you’d probably already been up for hours.

Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

He hit send, set the phone down on the counter, and grabbed a mixing bowl. Anna swung her legs back and forth from her chair, humming a little tune to herself as she watched him crack eggs into the bowl and whisk them together.

“Can I help stir?” she asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Bradley replied, sliding the bowl closer to her. He handed her the whisk, steadying her small hands as she giggled and stirred with all her might.

As Anna concentrated on her “stirring duties,” Bradley glanced at his phone, wondering if you’d have time to respond. Even though things were tense, he hoped the text would at least remind you he was trying to keep everything under control at home.

As Bradley finished helping Anna stir the pancake batter, a faint rustling sound came from the baby monitor on the counter. He glanced at the screen and saw Theo standing up in his crib, gripping the rails for balance with a wide, toothless grin. His messy curls flopped as he bounced slightly, his usual morning energy already on full display.

Bradley sighed, amused, and looked over at Anna. “Okay, kiddo, keep stirring, but don’t go near the pan, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Anna nodded seriously, though she wrinkled her nose. “I know, Daddy. I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t let me smell burnt pancakes, okay?” he teased.

When he walked into the room room, the little boy’s face lit up. “Dada!” Theo chirped, gripping the crib rails tighter and bouncing again.

Bradley couldn’t help but smile. “Good morning to you too, buddy.” He reached into the crib and scooped Theo up, holding him close. Theo leaned into his chest, his little hand grabbing at Bradley’s shirt as he mumbled another “Dada,” the only word he could say so far.

“Let’s go get you some breakfast,” Bradley said, carrying him downstairs.

Back in the kitchen, Anna was standing on a chair near the stove, pointing at the pan dramatically. “Daddy! They’re burning!”

“Anna, what did I just say about getting near the pan?” Bradley said, his voice sharper than he intended as he hurried to the stove. He turned down the heat and flipped the pancakes, a couple of them slightly darker than intended.

“Sorry!” Anna said, shrinking back into her chair.

Bradley sighed, adjusting Theo in his arms and softening his tone. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just let me handle the stove, alright?”

Anna nodded, and Bradley leaned over to kiss her head before moving Theo to his high chair. He strapped the toddler in and placed a few of his favourite baby biscuits on the tray. Theo immediately grabbed one and started gnawing on it, babbling happily between bites.

“Dada, dada,” Theo mumbled again, his eyes sparkling as he held up a soggy biscuit like it was a prize.

Bradley chuckled, wiping a bit of drool from Theo’s chin. “Yeah, that’s me, buddy.”

Bradley finished the last batch of pancakes, carefully flipping each one before stacking them on a plate. He grabbed the syrup, a small bowl of fruit, and a glass of milk for Anna, carrying everything over to the table.

“Alright, kiddo, dig in,” he said, setting the plate down in front of her.

Anna’s face lit up as she grabbed her fork. “Thanks, Daddy!”

“Just don’t eat too fast,” Bradley warned with a chuckle, ruffling her hair.

He turned his attention back to Theo, who was happily munching on his biscuits, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Bradley grabbed a small bowl and filled it with some mashed banana, sitting down in front of Theo to spoon-feed him between bites of his own breakfast.

“You’ve got it easy, little man,” Bradley joked as Theo eagerly opened his mouth for another bite. “No flipping pancakes for you, huh?”

Theo responded with a delighted, “Dada!”

Bradley smiled, but his mind wandered briefly to you. He wondered how your morning was going—whether you’d had a chance to breathe or if work had been as hectic as always. He checked his phone on the counter, but there wasn’t a reply yet to his earlier text.

Turning back to the kids, he saw Anna stabbing her pancakes with a fork, her mouth sticky with syrup. Theo babbled happily in his high chair, smearing mashed banana on his tray.

“Alright, Banana,” Bradley said, slipping back into her nickname without thinking. “After breakfast, it’s straight to the bath for you and your brother. Deal?”

Anna nodded with a grin. “Okay, but only if I can have bubbles!”

“Deal,” Bradley agreed, wiping a bit of banana from Theo’s face as he started planning out the rest of the morning. Breakfast, baths, checking on Judy again—it was all manageable.

---

You stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, as you stared at the equations you’d been working on for the past hour. The formulas were complicated—strings of variables, constants, and brackets that seemed to taunt you with their complexity. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tapped the end of the marker against your chin, trying to pinpoint where the calculations felt off.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Still trying to crack the code, Einstein?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned to see Matt leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. His shirt was untucked, and he had a coffee cup in hand, looking every bit the definition of laid-back.

“Don’t you have your own equations to mess up?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Matt laughed, stepping into the room and taking a sip of his coffee. “Probably, but it’s more fun watching you battle it out with the whiteboard.” He tilted his head, squinting at your work. “Let me guess—still on the orbital trajectory adjustments for the new satellites?”

You turned back to the board with a huff. “It’s not the trajectory that’s the problem. It’s the stupid velocity constraints. They don’t balance with the fuel consumption models.” You gestured at the rows of calculations, frustration creeping into your voice. “If I adjust for the constraints, it throws off everything else.”

Matt took another sip of his coffee, stepping closer to inspect the equations. “You know, this whole perfectionist thing you’ve got going on—it’s a little exhausting to watch.”

“Then don’t watch,” you quipped, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Come on, you’re killing me here,” Matt teased, gesturing at the board. “You’re like one of those geniuses in movies who refuses help until the last second when someone like me swoops in with a fresh perspective.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Fresh perspective, huh? Let me guess, you’re about to tell me to carry the two or something equally ground-breaking?”

Matt grinned. “No, but I’m just saying, you could take a break. Sometimes the answer shows up when you’re not trying so hard.”

You sighed, stepping back from the board and glancing at him. “You’re probably right. But if this doesn’t get done by tomorrow—”

“Yeah, yeah, the world ends,” Matt said with mock seriousness. “Look, I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’ll get you to step away for five minutes. You’re scary when you’re this focused.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes again, but his teasing did make you feel a little lighter. “Fine, but only because I need caffeine.”

“Caffeine and maybe some company,” Matt added with a wink as he headed toward the door.

You chuckled, grabbing your notebook and following him out, already feeling the weight of the equations lifting just a little.

As you walked out of the office with Matt, your notebook tucked under your arm, he glanced sideways at you, his teasing grin fading into a more serious expression.

“Alright,” he said, stopping abruptly and turning to face you. “What the hell is going on with you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“You.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You’ve been wound tighter than usual all week. And before you try to brush me off with some ‘I’m fine,’ let me remind you that I’ve worked with you long enough to know when you’re not fine.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping slightly. “Matt, it’s nothing. Just… normal life stuff. Kids, work, schedules—”

“And yet, you look like you haven’t slept in days, you’re laser-focused on this project like it’s your lifeline, and you’re snapping at everyone who so much as breathes wrong around you,” he said, crossing his arms. “So, no, it’s not nothing. Spill.”

You hesitated, the weight of everything that had been piling up threatening to spill over. Finally, you leaned against the wall and ran a hand through your hair. “Bradley’s leaving again.”

Matt frowned. “Leaving? Like, for work?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “He got orders to go back to Top Gun after New Year’s, and we just—” You stopped, shaking your head. “We just moved into a new house. The kids are finally settling in, and now we’re talking about uprooting everything again. And on top of that, I’ve been missing work because the kids keep getting sick. It’s just… a lot.”

Matt nodded, his expression softening. “Damn, that’s rough. So, what—you’re trying to juggle all this and act like it’s no big deal?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “What else am I supposed to do? Someone has to keep things running.”

He sighed, taking a step closer. “Look, I know you’re Superwoman and all, but even you can’t do everything on your own. It’s okay to admit you’re struggling.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, admitting it doesn’t exactly fix anything, does it?”

“No, but it might help you breathe for a second,” Matt said, his tone softer. “You don’t have to carry all this by yourself, you know.”

You looked down at the floor, his words hitting a little too close to home. After a moment, you pushed off the wall and straightened up. “Thanks, Matt. But right now, I just need to focus on getting through this project.”

He nodded, though his expression was still sceptical. “Alright. But if you need a break—or, you know, someone to vent to—I’m around. And I mean it. Don’t implode on me, okay?”

You managed a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you sat back down at your desk, your phone buzzed faintly against the table. You picked it up, your finger hovering over the screen as you noticed a text from Bradley—sent two hours ago.

Bradley: Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

You exhaled, a mix of relief and guilt washing over you. Relief that he was managing things at home, and guilt that you hadn’t seen the message sooner. You could picture it all: Theo’s loud cries breaking the early morning quiet, Anna’s groggy but cheerful energy, Judy still curled up in bed trying to fight off her fever.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment as you thought about how to respond. Finally, you typed back:

You: Hey, just saw this. Thanks for handling everything this morning. Hope Judy’s feeling better and Anna didn’t burn anything in the kitchen. I’m okay—just busy. Miss you.

You hit send and stared at the screen for a second, hoping he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed with the kids. Part of you wanted to check in more, to ask if he needed anything, but the other part knew he’d already tell you if things were falling apart.

---

Upstairs, Bradley stood in the bathroom, already drenched from the mini war happening in the tub. Anna sat in the bath surrounded by bubbles, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks as she held her rubber duck like a shield.

“Anna,” Bradley said, trying to keep his voice calm, “you have to let me rinse the shampoo out. It’s not an option.”

“No!” she squealed, clutching the duck tighter and leaning back against the tub. “It’ll get in my eyes!”

“It’s tear-free shampoo,” Bradley explained, holding the showerhead above her head. “I promise it won’t sting. Just tilt your head back for me.”

She squinted at him suspiciously, her lower lip sticking out. “You said that last time, and it still got in my eyes.”

“Because you moved, Banana,” Bradley countered, sighing. “If you stay still this time, it won’t happen. I’ll be super careful.”

Anna crossed her arms, her duck now floating aimlessly in the water. “Can I hold the sprayer instead?”

“No way,” Bradley replied quickly, knowing where that would lead. “Nice try, but you’re not soaking the walls again.”

She huffed dramatically but leaned her head back just enough for him to start rinsing her hair. Bradley kept one hand cupped above her forehead to shield her eyes, moving as quickly as he could.

“See? Almost done,” he said, his tone softening as he worked.

“Are you gonna make me wear my itchy shirt today?” she asked, her voice small but filled with suspicion.

“No itchy shirts,” Bradley promised. “You can wear your unicorn one. Deal?”

“Deal,” she muttered, relaxing slightly as he finished rinsing the last of the suds.

“Alright, all done!” Bradley announced, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. He helped her out of the tub, lifting her onto the bath mat and crouching to dry her hair.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have pancakes for dinner too?” she asked, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Bradley chuckled, rubbing the towel over her damp hair. “We’ll see. But only if you help clean up your toys this afternoon.”

Anna nodded solemnly, as if agreeing to a very serious contract. Bradley kissed the top of her wet head and sent her off to her room to get dressed.

“Need some help, Banana?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

Anna turned, holding up two options—a bright pink shirt with a sequined unicorn and a plain blue one. “This one, right?” she asked, waving the unicorn shirt.

“That’s the one,” Bradley said, stepping inside to help her. “Let’s get your arms through.”

He crouched down, guiding her small arms into the sleeves before tugging the shirt over her head. Anna giggled as the sequins caught the light, and she twirled around dramatically once it was on.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing a pair of leggings from the drawer. “How about these to match?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Anna agreed, hopping on one foot as he helped her pull the leggings up. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her teddy bear from the bed and gave Bradley a quick hug.

“Thanks, Banana,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Now, go downstairs and grab your blanket if you want to watch TV while I get Theo ready, okay?”

“Okay!” she chirped, dashing out of the room with her bear in tow.

Bradley smiled to himself before heading down the hall to Theo’s room. He peeked in to find the little boy standing in his crib, clutching the bars and bouncing slightly. As soon as Theo spotted Bradley, his face lit up.

“Dada!” Theo babbled, his chubby hands reaching out.

“Morning, buddy,” Bradley said, scooping him up. Theo nuzzled into his shoulder, still warm and soft from sleep. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

Bradley carried Theo into the bathroom, where he had already set up the baby tub. Placing Theo on the changing table, he stripped him out of his pyjamas, chuckling as the baby wiggled and babbled nonsensically.

“You’ve got a lot to say this morning, huh?” Bradley said, tickling Theo’s belly and earning a squeal of laughter.

Once the baby was undressed, Bradley lowered him into the warm water, using a small cup to pour water over his head. Theo splashed happily, his tiny hands slapping the surface of the water as Bradley worked quickly to clean him.

“Alright, let’s get the wiggles out so we can finish this bath,” Bradley said, laughing as Theo kicked his feet, sending water everywhere.

By the time he had Theo clean, dried, and in a fresh onesie, Bradley’s shirt was damp again, but he didn’t mind. He kissed Theo’s forehead, earning another delighted babble, before carrying him downstairs to join Anna in the living room.

When Bradley reached the bottom of the stairs, carrying a freshly cleaned Theo on his hip, he stopped short. There, on the couch, was not only Anna wrapped in her favourite blanket, but also Judy, who was sitting upright with a smug little grin on her face.

“Judy,” Bradley said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing out of bed?”

She looked up at him innocently, the picture of health despite the pale flush still faintly dusting her cheeks. “I don’t even feel sick anymore,” she declared confidently.

Bradley narrowed his eyes playfully and set Theo down in his high chair before crossing his arms. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you had a fever, were coughing, and didn’t even want to eat.”

Judy shrugged, pulling Anna’s blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I feel better now. Maybe it was just a short fever. Can I stay down here with Anna?”

Bradley sighed, walking over to her and kneeling down. He placed a hand gently on her forehead and frowned. “You still feel a little warm, Jude. And you were coughing your head off last night.”

“Not anymore!” she said quickly, her tone slightly defensive. “See? No coughing.”

As if to test her theory, she cleared her throat a little too theatrically, prompting Anna to giggle.

“Nice try, kiddo,” Bradley said, shaking his head. “You might feel better, but you’re not completely out of the woods yet. You still need to rest.”

“I was resting,” Judy protested, crossing her arms. “I was just resting down here instead of in bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Bradley said, unconvinced. He glanced at Anna, who was grinning and trying to hide behind her teddy bear. “Did you drag her down here, Banana?”

“No,” Anna said with a giggle. “She came by herself!”

Bradley chuckled despite himself, ruffling Judy’s hair. “Alright, you can stay for a little bit. But if you start feeling worse, back to bed you go. Deal?”

“Deal,” Judy said, her grin widening.

“Good,” Bradley said, standing up. “But no running around, and no bugging your sister. I’m serious.”

Judy nodded obediently, but the mischievous glint in her eye made Bradley sigh. He could already tell the two of them were going to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day.

Bradley sat at the kitchen table, Theo contentedly babbling in his high chair beside him while Anna and Judy were watching cartoons in the living room. His laptop was open in front of him, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his furrowed expression as he scrolled through flights to San Diego. He knew he shouldn’t have been doing it now—not while you were still at work, not after last night’s argument—but the guilt weighed heavy on his chest as he clicked through dates and options.

The sound of his phone buzzing on the table jolted him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen: You calling.

His stomach sank. Swiping to answer, he quickly cleared his throat before pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, trying to keep his voice casual. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, the faint hum of noise in the background suggesting you were still at the lab. “I just wanted to check in. How are things going there?”

Bradley glanced at the laptop screen guiltily before closing it with one hand, his voice even. “Everything’s good. Anna’s watching TV, Judy’s feeling a little better and came downstairs for a while. Theo’s eating some biscuits—he’s got crumbs everywhere.”

You let out a small laugh, but there was a tiredness behind it that didn’t go unnoticed. “Sounds like a regular circus.”

“Always is,” Bradley replied lightly, forcing a small chuckle of his own. He could still feel the guilt gnawing at him, threatening to push its way through. Tell her, his mind urged. Tell her the truth. But the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

“How’s work?” he asked quickly, steering the conversation away from his internal struggle.

“Busy,” you admitted with a sigh. “I’m still stuck on these formulas, but Matt’s been helpful—well, as helpful as he can be while teasing me.”

Bradley smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“I hope so,” you replied. There was a brief pause before you asked, “How’s Judy? Is her fever still hanging on?”

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “But she says she feels better, so I’m keeping an eye on her. If it spikes again, I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” you murmured softly. “Thanks for handling everything today, Brad. I really appreciate it.”

Bradley’s throat tightened, the guilt pressing heavier now. He swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, his free hand running through his hair. “Of course. You don’t even need to thank me.”

“I’ll be home in a few hours,” you said gently. “Hang in there.”

“You too,” he replied, his voice quieter now. “Drive safe.”

As the call ended, Bradley stared at his phone for a long moment before setting it face down on the table. He glanced at the closed laptop, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He hated lying to you—hated himself for making this choice. But now the lie was already out there, and he wasn’t sure how to take it back.

“Dada?”

Theo’s little voice broke through his thoughts, the boy’s crumb-covered hands reaching toward him. Bradley managed a smile and leaned over to wipe Theo’s fingers clean. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he muttered softly, mostly to himself. “We’ll figure it out.”

Bradley sighed and pushed the laptop aside, rubbing his hands over his face as the weight of the morning settled over him. The guilt still gnawed at him, making his chest tight. He grabbed his phone off the table and unlocked it, navigating over to the Dagger Squad group chat. He hadn’t checked it since last night, when he’d texted them—“I’ll be there after New Year’s.”

The group chat was buzzing with unread messages.

Payback: Man, I can’t wait to get everyone back together. San Diego’s been too quiet without us.

Coyote: You say “quiet,” but I think you just miss the Hard Deck.

Fanboy: Don’t act like you don’t miss Penny’s drinks too, Coyote.

Phoenix: I miss Penny’s drinks. And her scolding Hangman when he gets out of line.

Bradley snorted quietly as he scrolled down. It was the usual banter, familiar and light-hearted—something that usually made him smile. But today, it just made his chest feel heavier.

Hangman: Rooster, you better not back out on us, man. You already promised.

Bradley stared at the screen, feeling his throat tighten again. I’ll be there after New Year’s. That’s what he’d told them last night. He hadn’t even mentioned it to you yet, at least not fully—not the truth.

Phoenix, always the perceptive one, had sent a single message underneath Hangman’s teasing.

Phoenix: Everything okay, Rooster?

Bradley hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. She was the only one who knew—who knew he had you, the kids, the life he’d built in Virginia. She hadn’t pried, but she always seemed to sense when something was off.

He started to type: Yeah, all good. Just a lot going on here.

But before he could hit send, Theo babbled again, snapping Bradley out of his daze. The little boy was playing with a biscuit, smacking it on the tray of his high chair. In the background, he heard Anna giggling at the TV, and Judy shifting on the couch.

Bradley exhaled sharply and backspaced the message. He tossed his phone onto the table, face down, just like before. He couldn’t deal with the Daggers right now—not when the truth was eating him alive. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep all the pieces of this lie together.

---

A couple of hours later, Bradley stood by the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, holding Theo securely on his hip. Judy and Anna were bundled up against the crisp air—Judy in her puffy jacket and a knit beanie, and Anna in a bright pink coat that made her look like a tiny marshmallow.

Despite still having a slight fever, Judy had begged to go outside, insisting she felt fine. Bradley had relented, on the condition that they both stayed dressed warmly and didn’t overdo it. So now, the two girls were darting around the small garden, giggling as they kicked a bright red ball back and forth.

“Careful, Jude,” Bradley called out, keeping his tone light but watchful. “Don’t overdo it, okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad!” Judy shouted back, grinning as she kicked the ball toward Anna, who squealed and chased after it with her arms flailing.

Theo babbled something incomprehensible and pointed toward his sisters, his little hand grasping the air. Bradley smiled and bounced him slightly on his hip. “You want to join them, huh, bud? Not yet—you’d get run over.”

Theo pouted dramatically, resting his head against Bradley’s shoulder, but his gaze never left the backyard.

Bradley shifted his weight, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the girls play. The sound of their laughter filled the air, and for a moment, the tension from earlier eased just a little. Anna tripped over her own feet and fell into the grass, bursting into a fit of giggles as Judy helped her up.

“You two good?” Bradley called out again, unable to stop himself from checking.

“Yes, Daddy!” Anna replied with a wide grin, waving at him before immediately turning her attention back to the ball.

“Alright, just remember the deal—if you start feeling tired, it’s back inside,” Bradley reminded Judy.

She didn’t answer, too focused on kicking the ball again, but Bradley could see the flush on her cheeks wasn’t just from the cold. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on her, just in case her fever crept back up.

Theo wiggled in his arms, and Bradley kissed the top of his head. “You’re a handful already, you know that?” he murmured, though the fondness in his tone made it clear he didn’t mean it.

The baby cooed in response, his small fingers grabbing at Bradley’s shirt, as if to say he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

As Bradley adjusted Theo on his hip, keeping a close watch on the girls playing in the backyard, the faint sound of keys jingling at the front door caught his attention. His head turned toward the noise, and a second later, the door creaked open.

“Hey,” your voice called out, tired but warm. The sound of your bag dropping near the entryway followed, and Bradley could practically hear the relief in your movements—finally home after a long day.

“In here,” he called, his tone lifting as he shifted Theo slightly to free one hand.

A moment later, you stepped into the kitchen, your coat still on and your scarf loose around your neck. Your gaze softened the instant you saw Bradley standing by the door, Theo snuggled against his chest.

“Hi, Mama,” Bradley greeted with a small grin, nodding toward the baby in his arms. “Theo’s been waiting to see you all day. Isn’t that right, bud?”

Theo immediately perked up at the sound of your voice, his little arms reaching toward you with an excited babble.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you cooed, stepping closer to take him from Bradley’s arms. Theo practically launched himself into your embrace, resting his head on your shoulder as you kissed the top of his fluffy hair.

“How was your day?” Bradley asked, stepping back slightly to give you space.

You let out a long sigh, still holding Theo close. “Exhausting. But it’s good to be home.” Your eyes drifted toward the sliding door, where Anna and Judy were still playing outside. “Why’s Judy out there? Isn’t she supposed to be resting?”

Bradley scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish look. “She said she felt better, and her fever’s just barely hanging on. I figured a little fresh air wouldn’t hurt, as long as she’s bundled up and not running around too much.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully but didn’t push it. “Alright. I’ll trust your judgment for now.”

Bradley smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good, because I already promised her.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as Theo nuzzled closer to you, clearly happy to have you home. “Let me get changed, and then I’ll help with dinner.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Bradley assured you, motioning toward the counter where pancake batter was still visible. “Anna demanded pancakes this morning, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to want them again for dinner. I’ll handle it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he said with a wink. “You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of the chaos for a little while longer.”

You smiled softly, leaning into him for a moment before heading upstairs, Theo still cradled against you. Bradley watched you go, his heart feeling a little lighter now that you were home.

Upstairs, you quickly peeled off your work clothes and slipped into something more comfortable—a soft hoodie and sweatpants, nothing underneath, craving the warmth and ease after a long day. The scent of home—faintly of pancakes and something floral from the detergent—wrapped around you as you brushed your fingers through your hair and headed back downstairs.

The moment your foot hit the bottom step, you were ambushed.

“Mama!” Anna’s voice rang out, high-pitched and gleeful as she launched herself at your legs, nearly knocking you off balance. Judy followed right behind, slightly more reserved but with an unmistakable brightness in her eyes.

“Mom’s home!” Judy called, her arms wrapping around your waist while Anna clung to your legs.

“Hey, girls,” you greeted, plastering on a smile and crouching down to hug them both. Anna nuzzled into your neck while Judy leaned her head against your shoulder.

“Dad let us play outside,” Judy said, glancing toward the kitchen, where Bradley was wiping down the counters. “Roo said I still needed a jacket, though.”

You managed a chuckle, kissing the top of Judy’s head. “Well, he was right about that.”

Judy looked up at you, a question in her eyes. “You’re okay, right?”

The question caught you off guard, and you forced another smile, nodding. “Of course, baby. I’m just a little tired from work.”

“Okay,” she said simply, her worry fading as Anna wriggled free from your arms and ran back toward the living room. Judy followed close behind, but not before giving you another quick hug.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Bradley came up behind you, his voice low. “You’re tense.”

You glanced at him, trying to play it off. “I’m fine. Just tired, like I told Judy.”

He gave you a look—one of those knowing looks that made it clear he wasn’t buying a word of it. “You’re faking it for them. I get it. But don’t do that with me.”

You sighed, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I just... it’s been a long day, Roo. Can we not do this right now?”

Bradley’s gaze softened at the use of his nickname. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay,” he said gently. “But we’re talking later. You know that, right?”

You nodded reluctantly, stepping away to join the girls in the living room. Your heart ached a little as you watched them laugh and play, their innocence filling the space while the weight of everything else lingered just beneath the surface.

Later in the evening, when the girls were distracted with a cartoon and Theo was dozing in his playpen, you found a moment with Bradley in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, sipping from a glass of water.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to avoid the kids overhearing. “So… about those orders,” you began, keeping your tone casual but feeling your chest tighten.

Bradley set his glass down, his expression shifting slightly. “What about them?”

“Are they finalized? I mean, do you have to leave right after New Year’s, or is there some wiggle room?” You tried to sound neutral, but your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie betrayed your nerves.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “They’re pretty firm,” he said after a beat. “It’s just a short thing. Five days, tops. Test some equipment, then I’m back here.”

You searched his face for reassurance, but something in his tone made your stomach twist. “And this just came in last night? You told me you got the email while I was at work, but… does it really have to be that soon?”

Bradley’s jaw tightened, and he pushed off the counter to stand closer to you. “Yeah, it does. They want it handled right away. I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter behind you. “It’s just… after everything we talked about last night, this feels sudden. Like we’re jumping into something before we’ve even had time to catch our breath.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his voice low. “I hate the timing, too. But it’s not like I have a choice.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest still there but tempered by the sincerity in his voice. “Alright,” you said, though the word felt heavy. “If you say it’s necessary, I’ll trust you.”

He reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know it’s a lot, but I promise, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through it, just like we always do.”

You squeezed his hand back, offering a small smile even as doubt lingered at the edges of your mind. “I hope so, Roo. I really do.”

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck and let out a breath. “I think I’m gonna go for a run,” he said abruptly, setting his water glass down on the counter.

You blinked at him, surprised. “A run? Right now?”

“Yeah,” he said, avoiding your eyes as he stretched his arms. “Just need to clear my head a bit.”

It wasn’t like him to go for a late-night run, and the excuse seemed thin, but you didn’t push. “Okay,” you said cautiously, tilting your head. “You sure everything’s alright?”

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t wait up.”

Before you could say anything else, he was out the door, leaving you standing in the kitchen, unease gnawing at your stomach.

-

The cold night air hit Bradley’s face as he jogged down the quiet street. His legs moved automatically, the familiar rhythm doing little to ease the weight in his chest. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out mid-stride, scrolling through his contacts before dialling Phoenix.

She picked up after a couple of rings. “Bradshaw, what’s up?”

He slowed to a brisk walk, his breath visible in the cool air. “I need to talk to someone.”

Her tone immediately shifted. “What’s going on? You sound off.”

Bradley hesitated, glancing up at the stars above him. “I lied to her, Phoenix. About the orders. I told her it’s official and I have to leave right after New Year’s, but it’s not. Not really.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment before she let out a sigh. “Bradley… why would you do that?”

“I don’t know!” he said, his frustration slipping into his voice. “I panicked. I know she doesn’t want to move again, not so soon. And she’s been exhausted with work and the kids. I just… I couldn’t tell her the truth, not after everything we talked about last night.”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. “So what’s the plan? You can’t keep this up forever. She’s gonna find out.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her eventually, but right now… I just needed to get out of the house. I couldn’t sit there and keep lying to her face.”

“Bradley,” she said, her voice firm but kind, “you’re making this harder on yourself. You need to come clean before this blows up in your face.”

He let out a heavy sigh, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know. I just… I hate disappointing her, Nat. She’s been through so much with me, and I keep dragging her into this Navy life, uprooting everything every few months. She deserves better.”

“You’re not giving her the chance to handle it,” Phoenix said gently. “She’s stronger than you think, Bradshaw. But you have to be honest with her, or this is gonna end badly.”

Bradley nodded to himself, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” she said. “And call me if you need backup. You know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Nat,” he said, a hint of gratitude in his voice. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Bradshaw. Now go finish your run and think about how you’re gonna fix this.”

He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his feet picking up their pace again. The truth weighed heavily on him, but he knew Phoenix was right. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Bradley kept running for another hour, pounding the pavement beneath his feet as the chill in the air seeped through his clothes. Each stride felt like an attempt to outrun his guilt, but no matter how far he went, it lingered in his chest. His thoughts spiralled back to you, the look in your eyes earlier, and the way his lies felt heavier with every word he spoke.

The quiet streets of your neighbourhood were illuminated by scattered streetlights. Occasionally, the sound of his rhythmic breathing and footsteps was interrupted by a barking dog or the rustle of leaves. He picked up his pace, pushing himself harder, as if the physical exertion could bring clarity.

Finally, after an hour of circling the area, his body began to ache, and he slowed to a jog, then a walk. Bradley tugged his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time. 10:47 PM. The house would be quiet by now.

When he stepped through the front door, the warmth of the home enveloped him, contrasting sharply with the night’s chill. He kicked off his sneakers quietly, leaving them by the door before padding into the dimly lit living room. Everything was still, and he immediately felt the familiar peace of home settle over him, though it was tinged with unease.

He made his way upstairs, his movements deliberate to avoid creaking the wooden steps. First, he peeked into Theo’s room. The baby was sound asleep in his crib, one tiny fist curled next to his cheek, his chest rising and falling softly. Bradley adjusted the blanket draped over him, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything.

Next, he checked Anna’s room. She was sprawled across her bed, her blankie tangled around her legs, and her teddy bear clutched tightly against her chest. Bradley carefully tucked the blanket back over her, brushing a stray curl from her face. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

Finally, he opened Judy’s door just enough to see her. She was curled up under her comforter, her head resting on the pillow, her hair fanned out around her. The bucket from earlier sat untouched beside her bed, something he forgot to do. Her soft breathing reassured him that her fever seemed to have finally broken.

Satisfied that all the kids were okay, Bradley quietly shut her door and made his way to your shared room. The faint glow of your laptop illuminated the space as you sat cross-legged on the bed, engrossed in whatever you were working on. You were dressed in nothing but an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, your hair pulled into a loose bun.

You looked up when you heard him enter, your eyes meeting his. “Hey,” you said softly, glancing at the clock. “You were gone for a while.”

“Needed to clear my head,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. He moved toward the dresser, grabbing a clean shirt. “How’s work?”

“Fine,” you answered, your tone neutral as you looked back at your laptop. “Just finishing up some calculations for tomorrow.”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He glanced at you as you tapped away on your laptop, your focus seemingly elsewhere, though he could sense the undercurrent of tension between you. Running a hand through his damp hair, he let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“When did we get so complicated?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard by his question. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I just feel like… like I keep screwing up. Like I don’t know how to make things easier for you—for us.”

Your gaze softened for a moment before you looked away, sighing softly. “Bradley, we’ve had a lot on our plate lately. Between the kids, your job, my job… it’s not exactly easy.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it feels like every time I try to do the right thing, I end up making it worse. I hate feeling like I’m letting you down.”

You leaned back against the headboard, closing your laptop. “You’re not letting me down,” you said gently, though your voice carried an edge of exhaustion. “I just wish we could have a little stability for once. For the kids, for us. Moving again so soon… it’s a lot, Bradley. It’s not just about the logistics—it’s everything.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out the truth about his orders. The guilt was suffocating, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. Not yet.

“I’m trying,” he said finally, his voice thick.

“I know,” you replied, your tone softening again. “But sometimes it feels like we’re trying to solve different problems, and we’re not even on the same page.”

That cut deeper than he expected, and he could only nod, his throat tightening. He wanted to tell you everything, to come clean about the lies and the guilt eating away at him, but the words refused to come. Instead, he reached out, placing a hand lightly on your knee.

“I love you,” he said, his voice earnest. “Even when I screw up, even when things are complicated—I love you.”

You placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. “I know you do, Bradley. I love you too.”

You reached for Bradley's hand, tugging him gently until he slid down onto the bed beside you. Without a word, you shifted, pulling him down flat on his back as you hovered above him. His eyes searched yours, the weight of his emotions evident in their warm brown depths.

Before he could say anything, you leaned down and kissed him, deeply and passionately, pouring every bit of love and frustration into the moment. His hands came up to cradle your face, holding you close as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing heavily. You gave him a small, teasing smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

“You chose me, Bradley,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “You chose to stop and help a complete stranger on the side of the road when her car broke down, even though she had a screaming four-month-old in the back seat.”

His lips curved into a small smile as he listened, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist.

“And then,” you continued, your tone turning playful, “you saw me again at the bar, and you still decided to ask me out, even though I had spit-up on my shirt and probably looked like I hadn’t slept in a week.”

Bradley chuckled at that, his fingers tightening gently on your sides.

“You chose me,” you said again, your voice softening as you looked down at him. “Even though I’ve screwed up plenty of times. Even though I came with a whole lot of baggage. And somehow, you still make me feel like I’m worth it.”

His smile faltered, and his gaze softened, guilt flickering in his expression. “You are worth it,” he said firmly. “Every bit of it. You and the kids are my whole world, Y/N.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his once more before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “So stop acting like you’re the only one who screws up. We’re in this together, okay? Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s complicated.”

Bradley nodded, his hands sliding up to your back, holding you close. “Okay,” he whispered.

Bradley grinned up at you, his hands sliding to rest on your hips as you straddled him. “You know,” he said, his voice light and teasing, “I don’t think either of us has been this eager in… ages.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you smirked down at him. “Oh? And whose fault is that, Roo?”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist. “Probably mine. Between deployments, kids, and life, I guess I’ve been slacking in the ‘sweep-you-off-your-feet’ department.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing his in a teasing kiss. “Hmm, maybe just a little,” you teased, pulling back with a playful glint in your eye. “But let’s be honest—when was the last time we had some proper alone time… you know, when I was ovulating?”

Bradley’s brows shot up, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Oh, you’re keeping track now? I didn’t know this was a strategic operation.”

You laughed, poking his chest lightly. “Strategic? Please. You know exactly what I mean. The stars aligning, the timing being right, the kids actually staying asleep…”

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head back against the pillow. “So, what you’re saying is, it’s been forever since we’ve had a shot at this under ideal conditions.”

“Exactly,” you replied with mock seriousness, folding your arms as if to make your point. “And guess what? I am ovulating right now, and we’re here, alone… at least for the moment.”

Bradley’s hands tightened on your hips, his grin softening into something more tender. “Well, then,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “I guess it’d be a shame to waste this rare alignment of the universe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Smooth, Bradshaw. Very smooth.”

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands pulling you closer. “I might be smooth,” he murmured against your lips, “but you love me anyway.”

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, your voice softer now, the playful mood shifting into something more intimate.

Bradley’s eyes met yours, filled with warmth and love. “And you’re lucky I’m head over heels for you. Even when you’re giving me hell,” he said with a grin.

“Even when I’m giving you hell?” you repeated with mock offense, though your smile gave you away.

“Especially then,” he replied, pulling you down into another kiss.

Bradley smirked, his hands sliding up your sides as he tilted his head back against the pillow. “So, let me get this straight,” he began, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “You’re saying you’ve been walking around here, tracking your ovulation like it’s some top-secret NASA mission, and I’m just now finding out?”

You laughed, leaning closer, your hands braced on either side of his chest. “I didn’t think it was relevant to bring up until now,” you quipped. “You’ve been a little… distracted, Roo.”

“Oh, I’m distracted?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who has apparently been plotting a perfectly-timed rendezvous and didn’t clue me in.”

“Plotting?” You gasped in faux outrage, sitting up and folding your arms. “It’s not plotting—it’s practicality! You’re lucky I’m even trying to be efficient here, considering how often you’re either deployed or running off to fix the next crisis.”

Bradley chuckled, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back down toward him. “Efficient, huh? God, I love when you talk sexy like that,” he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “I’m being serious, Bradley!”

“Oh, I know you are,” he replied, his voice turning low and mock-serious to match yours. “You’re dead serious. I mean, what’s more romantic than hearing, ‘Hey, Roo, I’m ovulating—let’s get to it.’”

You smacked his chest lightly, unable to suppress your laughter. “You’re such a jerk!”

“But you love me,” he countered smugly, leaning up to nip playfully at your jawline.

“Do I?” you teased, feigning doubt.

“You do,” he said confidently, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “Because no one else could handle your spreadsheets and star charts for… whatever science-y ovulation data you’ve got going on over there.”

You laughed harder, shoving at his shoulder. “Oh, shut up, Bradshaw. It’s not that complicated!”

He grinned, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck, his laughter muffled against your skin. “Sure it’s not,” he teased. “But hey, since the universe apparently aligned for this moment, I’m not about to waste it.”

Bradley's teasing grin softened as his hands slid beneath the hem of your hoodie, his touch warm against your skin. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I’m starting to think you’re overdressed for this conversation.”

You let out a soft laugh, arching a brow at him. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his fingers brushing over your sides as he eased the hoodie up. “And since I’m already doing all the hard work, the least you can do is cooperate.”

“Oh, the hard work, huh?” you teased, lifting your arms so he could pull the hoodie over your head.

He tossed it aside with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes trailing over you with a mix of warmth and hunger. “See? Now this is much better.”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips as your hands moved to the hem of his shirt. “Your turn, Bradshaw. Fair’s fair.”

He raised his arms obligingly, letting you tug his shirt off and revealing his toned chest. “There. Happy?”

“Getting there,” you teased, your hands sliding over his shoulders and down his chest, fingers tracing familiar lines and scars.

Bradley’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re being awfully slow tonight,” he murmured. “Not that I’m complaining… but I thought you were all about efficiency.”

“Efficient and thorough,” you countered, sliding your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants and tugging them down just enough to tease him.

He groaned, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice low and husky.

“Not before I’m done with you,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep, as the rest of your clothes slowly joined the growing pile on the floor.

Bradley’s breaths grew heavier as his hands roamed over your body, his lips following wherever his fingers traced. His kisses were deliberate, slow yet urgent, as though he was savouring every inch of you while unable to get enough.

“God, you’re impossible,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with need. “I swear, you make me feel like I’m drunk every time I touch you.”

Your laughter was soft, teasing, as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Drunk on what?” you asked playfully, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and hazy, filled with nothing but you. “Drunk on you,” he admitted, his tone utterly serious. His lips trailed down your neck, grazing your collarbone before he found his way lower. “On everything—your body, your mind, the way you feel, the way you sound…”

You gasped as his hands gripped your thighs, his touch firm yet reverent as he settled between them. “Bradley…”

He looked up at you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. “Drunk on your pussy,” he murmured, his words sending shivers through you. His hands slid up your sides, grounding you and electrifying you all at once. “You do something to me, Y/N. Something I can’t ever get enough of.”

You could only whimper in response, the tension in the room palpable as his lips began to explore, his movements languid and worshipful, as though he wanted to memorize every reaction, every sound you made.

And as the night deepened, it was clear—Bradley was entirely lost in you, intoxicated in the best way possible. Hopefully tomorrow he'll get the urge to tell you.

[dizzybee03]

What a surprise to see this posted today! I had to read it twice before I commented. When I first started reading I had such a terrible feeling in my stomach thinking Beau is just going to throw their marriage away because it’s the “safe” thing for him to do because the unknown of leaving the Navy is just to much for him. Then I had a terrible thought that what if Ally just couldn’t take being away from him and decided to take her own life. However the feeling I had when Beau had his come to Jesus moment and realized he’s not whole without Ally and that he needs to do whatever it takes to be with her. This was beautiful my friend

Christmas 2024 Bingo Card - Christmas Alone - Beau Simpson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @b-bradshaw @crimeshowjunkie @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman

Companion piece to:

Nine Months - Beau comes home from his deployment to a surprise revelation.

Scar Tissue - Beau and you discuss your decision to resign your commision.

It’s Beau’s new posting that fractures the marriage. He finds out after being on dryland for a couple of weeks that he’s being allocated to Arizona so that he can oversee a new Top Gun program.

Two years, he tells you that night, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. It’ll likely be extended to five if it proves successful.

You shut down after that and he gets it. This is what you were trying to prevent when you gave up your commission and now he’s forcing you to make a choice.

Uproot your entire life and start over in a place you once declared a hellscape because of the heat or stay here without him.

You choose to stay and Beau doesn’t blame you.

San Diego’s your home. You’ve just started a new job, you have friends here, a life, one that he’s not going to be a part of for a little while.

“I’ll be home for Christmas.” He promises you before he leaves. “I’ll cook for you, we can snuggle up on the couch, watch It’s A Wonderful Life in front of the fire.”

“I’d like that.” You say as you kiss him goodbye. “And I’ll come visit you when I can take some vacation time.”

He’s busy over the next few weeks and so are you. Your relationship becomes a string of texts because you’re both pulling late nights and early mornings. When you do make the trip over to Arizona, he has to leave within a couple of hours of your arrival to attend to a situation in the hanger with a couple of his fly boys. When he returns twenty four hours later, it’s to a note on the kitchen table that says ‘maybe next time?’

That’s the first time he lets you down, it isn’t the last.

By the time Christmas comes around you’re barely speaking to one another which makes the message he has to leave your voicemail even harder.

“I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it.”

You don’t respond and honestly Beau doesn’t expect you to. He assumes you’ll travel up to North Carolina, spend it with your sister and nephews. When you don’t pick up the phone to him on Christmas Day he calls her in an attempt to get in touch only to discover that you never made that trip.

It hits him like a gut punch because he knows you’re back home in San Diego, wrapped up in that soft white blanket watching It’s A Wonderful Life all alone. He pictures the unlit fire, you still in your pyjamas, sipping red wine as the tree lies dormant in the corner. There’s be no point in putting on the lights, after all there’s no one there but you.

He thinks about all the other special days he’s missed in the past, all the ones he’s going to miss and he realises he can’t do this anymore. To you, to him, to your marriage.

You sacrificed your career for the two of you and he’s doing the emotional equivalent of spitting in your face.

He flies back to San Diego as soon as he can get leave. When the cab pulls up in front of the house your car is missing from the driveway. He lets himself in and the place, it just doesn’t feel like a home. The essence of you he’s used to, it’s gone, there’s just this odd vacancy.

The only thing he sees when he looks around this house is your misery and that’s when he realises he’s killed that spark, the one that make you light up inside, that fills this place with warmth.

When he turns the lights on in the living room, he finds the presents he sent still sitting there under the tree unopened.

I’m a terrible fucking husband, he thinks as he stands there staring at them.

When you get home that night it’s to warm dulcet lighting and the sounds of Norah Jones playing through the house. There’s a lasagna in the oven and the kitchen table is set for two with an open bottle of wine and a vase of fresh flowers. Your eyes start to sting as you linger in the doorway, watching as Beau moves around the kitchen.

“I give up.” You tell him, your eyes stinging and for a second he freezes because he thinks you’re talking about the marriage. “I’ll get a job in Arizona, sell the house...”

“No Ally, you won’t.” Beau says softly as he wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. His scent floods your senses, that woody scent of oakmoss mixed with patchouli and you breath it in, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as his palm smooths lightly over your hair.

“I resigned my commission this morning.” He tells you, his lips brushing lightly over your hairline. “It’s going to take a while but I’m coming back home to you darlin, back here to San Diego.”

Love Beau? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[dizzybee03]

Oh man! Come clean while you can Rooster!! The fallout from this has the potential to be HUGE 🥴

If you decide to make this a mini series could you please tag me!

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments

Word count: 8.4k

The soft hum of Bradley’s Bronco pulling into the driveway was a familiar sound, one that always made your heart skip. You glanced at the clock on the wall—6:45 PM.

He was home right on time.

The winter sun had already set, leaving the house bathed in the warm glow of lamplight. The faint scent of chicken soup wafted from the kitchen, where you'd left a pot simmering, just in case Judy's cold appetite returned.

Anna was perched on the couch, her tiny legs swinging as she clutched one of her plush animals to her chest. "Daddy's home!" she exclaimed, leaping up and running to the front door with the kind of uncontainable excitement only a four-year-old could manage.

You heard the front door creak open and then Bradley’s voice, deep and familiar, “Where’s my Anna Banana?”

Anna squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the house as she threw herself into his waiting arms. Bradley lifted her easily, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Did you save me any trouble today, or were you full of mischief as usual?”

“Full of mischief!” Anna giggled, resting her head on his shoulder as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut with his boot.

"Of course you were," he teased with a smirk, glancing at you over her head. “Hey, hot stuff.”

“Hey,” you greeted, a soft smile spreading across your face as you leaned against the archway leading to the living room. “Dinner’s on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Perfect. I’ll grab a bite after I check on Judy.” He set Anna down gently, ruffling her curls before heading toward the living room, where Judy was sprawled on the couch.

Your oldest was curled up under a blanket, her nose a little red and a tissue box within arm’s reach, vomit bowl to the side. Her favourite Real Madrid hoodie hung loosely on her small frame, the oversized sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. Her eyes lit up, though, when she saw her stepdad walk in.

“Hey, Jude,” Bradley said softly, kneeling beside the couch. It always warmed your heart the way he said her nickname, a perfect blend of affection and playfulness.

“Hi, Roo,” she croaked, her voice raspy from the cold. She reached up to tug on the front of his uniform shirt. “Real Madrid won today. Bellingham scored again.”

Bradley chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “I heard. Kid’s on fire, huh?”

Judy nodded weakly but managed a small grin. “I told you he’s the best. But he still takes weird pictures sometimes.”

That made Bradley laugh, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. “Weird pictures or not, I think your dad would’ve loved hearing you talk about Real Madrid like this.”

Judy’s face softened, her smile widening slightly at the mention of her biological dad. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he said firmly. “Now, how about we make sure you’re taking care of yourself so you can get better and keep watching him score goals?”

Judy nodded, leaning into his touch as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Deal.”

From the hallway, Anna peeked in, clearly feeling left out. “Can I sit with Judy, too?”

Bradley turned his head and grinned. “If Judy’s okay with it, sure.”

Judy nodded, patting the spot beside her, and Anna climbed up eagerly, snuggling under the blanket with her big sister. Bradley stood, stretching slightly before heading back to you.

“How’s Theo?” he asked, his voice lowering so he wouldn’t wake the baby.

“Asleep, for now,” you replied, tilting your head toward the baby monitor on the counter. “He went down about thirty minutes ago. Let’s hope it sticks.”

Bradley grinned and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re too good, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing a hand along his arm. “Sure. Now, go eat before the soup gets cold.”

As Bradley settled into his chair at the dining table, you brought him a steaming bowl of soup. He murmured a quiet thanks before picking up his spoon, glancing at you as you moved to lean against the counter.

“How was work today?” he asked between bites, his warm brown eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Everything okay with you leaving early?”

You hesitated for just a moment, your hand brushing over the edge of the counter. “It’s fine,” you said casually, offering a small shrug. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Bradley frowned slightly, setting his spoon down for a moment. “You sure? That’s, what, the third time this week? Last week you had to take a couple of days off because of Anna, too.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Bradley, it’s no big deal. It’s not like we’re behind on anything. I had everything under control before I left.”

He tilted his head, studying you carefully. “That doesn’t mean you can't call me, you know.”

You pushed off the counter with a small laugh, brushing past him to gather up Anna’s pyjamas from a nearby basket. “I’m fine, Rooster. Seriously. It’s not like I’m doing it alone—you’ve been pulling your weight, too.”

His lips quirked up in a small, understanding smile, but he didn’t push. Instead, he returned to his meal, watching as you disappeared briefly into the living room to remind Anna about her bedtime routine.

“Annabelle,” you called, leaning over the back of the couch. “Fifteen minutes until you’re brushing your teeth. No nap today means an early bedtime, remember?”

“Okay, Mommy,” Anna replied with a sigh, snuggling closer to Judy under the blanket.

“And Judy,” you added, brushing a hand over Judy’s head, “I didn’t forget our deal—you can stay up a little later tonight, but only if you rest here for now, okay?”

Judy nodded with a tired but satisfied smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

You returned to the kitchen just as Bradley finished his bowl, pushing it aside with a satisfied sigh. “That hit the spot,” he said, standing to place the empty dish in the sink.

“Glad you liked it,” you said, leaning against the counter as he moved closer to you.

Bradley turned, placing his hands on either side of your waist, and gave you a thoughtful look. “Once all the kids are down for the night,” he said softly, his voice dipping to that warm, familiar tone he used when something was on his mind, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Your brows knit together in curiosity. “Oh?”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Yeah. Nothing bad, I promise. But… let’s get through bedtime first.”

Your lips curved up in a small smile as you leaned into him for a moment. “Alright, Bradshaw. But now you’ve got me wondering.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Patience, sweetheart.”

With that, he turned back toward the living room, his voice playful as he called out to Anna, “Alright, Bananas, let’s get those teeth brushed before your mom tells me I’m slacking.”

Anna’s giggles filled the house as she bolted from the living room, her tiny feet pattering up the stairs as Bradley’s playful growl followed closely behind.

“Anna Banana, you get back here!” he called, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he gave chase. “We’re brushing those teeth whether you like it or not!”

“You can’t catch me, Daddy!” she yelled between bursts of laughter, the sound so joyful it made you smile despite the exhaustion lingering from the day.

Shaking your head, you turned back to the kitchen and grabbed Bradley’s empty bowl from the table, rinsing it under warm water before adding it to the dishwasher. The soup pot still sat on the stove, its comforting aroma hanging in the air. You ladled the leftovers into a container, snapping the lid on before slipping it into the fridge.

Judy wouldn’t be eating any tonight—you knew her appetite was still weak from the cold. You sighed softly as you wiped down the counter, taking a moment to glance toward the baby monitor. Theo was still sound asleep, his soft snores faintly audible through the speaker. At least one of your kids was making bedtime easy tonight.

With the kitchen clean and quiet, you dried your hands and made your way to the living room, where Judy lay nestled under the blanket. Her Real Madrid hoodie was slightly bunched up, and her face was still flushed from her cold, but her eyes brightened when she saw you approaching.

“Hey, Judy bug,” you said gently, sinking down beside her. “You feeling okay?”

She nodded, scooting closer to you. “I’m just tired,” she admitted softly.

“I know,” you said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into your side. She fit perfectly against you, her small body warm and familiar. “But remember, we made a deal. You’re allowed to stay up a little longer, as long as you take it easy.”

Judy smiled faintly, leaning her head on your shoulder. “Thanks, Mom.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple, brushing some hair away from her face. “Anytime, Judy.”

For a few minutes, the house was quiet except for the distant sound of Bradley trying to wrangle Anna into brushing her teeth. You chuckled under your breath as Judy let out a small laugh.

“Rooster’s not very good at catching Anna,” she murmured, her voice raspy but amused.

“Nope,” you agreed, squeezing her gently. “But he’s trying his best.”

Judy’s giggle was soft but heartfelt, and you cherished the moment, knowing it wouldn’t be long before all three kids were asleep and the house finally settled into peace for the night.

Judy shifted against you as you tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her small hand reaching for the remote on the coffee table. The soft thud of Anna’s bedroom door closing upstairs brought a sense of relief; Bradley had clearly won the bedtime battle. You smiled to yourself, imagining how he’d probably managed to wrangle her into bed with one of his goofy voices or a quick rendition of a lullaby she insisted he sing.

From above, you heard the bathroom door open and the unmistakable sound of the shower turning on. That man earned his fifteen minutes of peace after chasing Anna around.

“What do you say we watch something before bed?” you asked, glancing down at Judy.

Her eyes lit up slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Can we watch The Grinch?”

“You’re still in a Christmas mood, huh?” you teased, but you didn’t mind. Judy had always loved the story, and it had become a tradition to watch it at least ten times every December.

She nodded, snuggling closer to your side as you leaned forward to grab the remote. It only took a few clicks before the familiar opening notes of The Grinch filled the room, and the glow of the television bathed the two of you in soft light.

As the movie started, you glanced down at Judy. Her eyes were focused on the screen, though you could tell she wasn’t quite as energetic as usual. Her cold was still zapping her strength, but she looked content, nestled under the blanket and leaning into you for warmth.

The two of you sat quietly, watching as the Grinch made his first grouchy appearance. Judy chuckled faintly at his antics, her laugh muffled by the blanket she’d half-pulled over her face.

Upstairs, you could still hear the shower running, the steady hum of water a comforting backdrop to the cozy moment. It was one of those rare evenings where, despite the chaos of the day, everything felt peaceful—just you and your daughter, sharing a quiet moment together while Bradley unwound upstairs.

You let out a soft sigh of contentment, wrapping your arm a little tighter around Judy. Nights like this, you thought, were what made all the hard days worth it.

As the Grinch grumbled on screen about Christmas cheer, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a call from work. You sighed, glancing at the number. It wasn’t unusual for work to call after hours, but it still pulled you out of the cozy moment with Judy.

Judy turned her head toward you, her brows furrowing. “Mom, do you have to go?” she asked softly, her voice still scratchy from her cold.

You gave her a reassuring smile and smoothed her hair back. “No, bug, I’m not going anywhere. I just need to take this call, okay? Roo will be downstairs in a couple of minutes. Can you hold tight until then?”

She nodded, though she still looked a little disappointed. “Okay.”

You kissed her forehead before standing and grabbing your coat from the rack by the door. Wrapping it around your shoulders, you stepped onto the front porch, the cold night air biting against your skin. The faint scent of pine from the wreath on the door lingered, and you pulled your coat tighter as you tapped to accept the call.

“This is YN,” you answered, your breath puffing in the chilly air.

The person on the other end quickly launched into their reason for calling—some minor crisis involving a data set that had apparently gone haywire. You listened intently, nodding even though they couldn’t see you, while mentally sorting through solutions.

As you paced the porch, the front door opened, and Bradley stepped out, fresh from his shower. His damp hair was tousled, and he’d pulled on a well-worn hoodie and sweatpants. He glanced at you curiously, then stepped back inside, letting the door click shut behind him.

A few moments later, you wrapped up the call, offering quick instructions and assurances that you’d look at the problem first thing in the morning. You hung up and exhaled deeply, allowing the crisp night air to clear your thoughts.

When you stepped back inside, Bradley was in the living room, crouched next to Judy. He’d wrapped an arm around her, his other hand resting on the blanket tucked snugly around her. Judy looked a little brighter already, smiling up at him as she pointed something out on the screen.

Bradley looked up as you closed the door, his warm eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment.

You nodded, offering him a tired smile. “Crisis averted. Thanks for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “Come sit. We saved your spot.”

The warmth in his voice and the sight of your little family waiting for you melted the tension from your shoulders. You slipped off your coat, letting it fall onto the back of a chair, and joined them, ready to soak in the rest of the evening.

As the Grinch continued plotting on the screen, you noticed Judy start to rub her eyes. Her head had begun to droop a little, and not long after, she let out a soft yawn.

Bradley, ever observant, caught it instantly. A teasing grin spread across his face as he looked down at her. “Uh-oh,” he said dramatically, “sounds like someone’s ready for bed. What do you think, Judy? Time to head upstairs?”

Judy’s head shot up, her tired eyes narrowing as she frowned at him. “No, it’s not! My bedtime’s 8:30, and it’s only 8!”

“Hmm,” Bradley drawled, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. “I don’t know. That yawn says otherwise.”

“It doesn’t count!” Judy protested, sitting up straighter and fixing him with her best determined glare. “I’m not tired. I can stay up for The Grinch. You promised!”

Bradley chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’ve got until 8:30. But if I catch you yawning again, we might have to renegotiate.”

Judy crossed her arms, trying to look serious but failing as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re so dramatic, Rooster.”

“Me? Dramatic?” he asked, feigning offense. “I’m just concerned about your beauty sleep, Jude. I’m looking out for you.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but you could see the playful affection in her expression. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Bradley laughed, pulling her close and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s me. But you love me anyway.”

She snuggled back against him with a small huff, her earlier defiance fading as she relaxed into his side. You watched the exchange with a smile, your heart full at the sight of their bond.

Bradley caught your gaze and gave you a wink, his hand resting gently on Judy’s shoulder. You could tell he was savouring the moment as much as you were.

Judy had just settled against Bradley’s side, her eyes fluttering back toward the screen, when he lightly placed his hand on her forehead. The smile on his face faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern.

“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, tilting his head to get a better look at her. “You’re feeling a little warm. Are you okay?”

Judy blinked up at him, her brows furrowing as if she hadn’t noticed it herself. “I think so,” she murmured, but then a raspy cough escaped her, and her body tensed.

You immediately perked up, your eyes scanning her face as she began coughing harder. “Judy?” you asked, worry creeping into your tone.

Before she could answer, her hand shot to her mouth, her face paling. Instinct kicked in, and you grabbed the bowl you’d left on the floor beside the couch earlier, knowing her appetite had been off all day.

“Here, sweetie,” you said gently, holding the bowl just in time as Judy leaned forward, the cough turning into a small heave.

Bradley’s arm stayed securely around her, his other hand moving to rub her back as she threw up into the bowl. His voice was soft and steady as he murmured, “It’s okay, Jude. Just breathe, baby girl. We’ve got you.”

You crouched beside them, one hand resting on Judy’s knee as you watched her closely. It didn’t last long, but her little body trembled with the effort, and when she finally leaned back, her face was flushed, and her eyes glassy with exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered weakly, her voice barely above a rasp.

“Oh, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, brushing a hand over her hair as Bradley wiped her mouth gently with the tissue you handed him.

“She’s burning up,” Bradley said quietly, concern etched into his voice as he pressed another hand to her forehead.

You nodded, already moving to grab a cool cloth from the kitchen. “Let’s get her cooled down and check her temperature again,” you said, your mind shifting into problem-solving mode.

Judy leaned heavily against Bradley’s chest, her small frame dwarfed by his protective embrace. “Daddy,” she croaked, her voice barely audible, “I don’t wanna be sick anymore.”

She rarely called him dad, but that was something else.

“I know, Jude,” Bradley said softly, his hand brushing over her hair. “I know. We’re going to take care of you, okay? Just rest for now.”

Judy’s little body eventually gave out from the exhaustion, her head lolling against Bradley’s chest as her breathing evened out into soft snores. You exchanged a quick glance with Bradley, nodding silently toward the stairs.

“I’ll grab the bucket,” you whispered, standing up and heading to the bathroom while he carefully adjusted Judy in his arms.

Bradley lifted her as if she weighed nothing, his large hands supporting her back and legs as he rose from the couch. He cradled her close, his steps slow and deliberate as he started up the stairs, making sure not to jostle her. The soft sound of her breathing mixed with the creak of the floorboards, and it tugged at your heart how small she looked in his arms.

By the time you reached Judy’s room, Bradley was gently laying her down on her bed, taking care to arrange her blankets so she was snug but not too warm. He brushed a hand over her hair, his thumb grazing her forehead again as he sighed quietly.

“She’s still a little warm,” he murmured.

You nodded, setting the bucket beside her bed within easy reach. “I’ll check her temperature again in a couple of hours, just to be sure.”

As you adjusted the bucket, Bradley glanced back at you, his brow furrowed. “She got sick last night too?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was because she decided to have hot chocolate fifteen minutes before bed. She didn’t even tell me until after she’d already made it.”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t hear a thing. She got sick, and I didn’t wake up?”

You smirked, placing a hand on your hip as you teased, “Roo, you’d sleep through a literal earthquake.”

He let out a soft chuckle, though there was a flicker of guilt in his expression. “Guess I need to work on that. I hate that you were dealing with this by yourself.”

You shrugged, brushing it off lightly. “It wasn’t too bad. Besides, the real fun was earlier today.”

Bradley straightened, his concern sharpening. “What happened?”

You sighed, leaning against the doorway. “She got sick at school. They called me about an hour after I got to work, so I had to come home early to pick her up. She’s been pretty out of it since. I tried feeding her soup earlier, but that didn’t go well either.”

Bradley exhaled deeply, his hands on his hips as he glanced back at Judy, who was now sound asleep, her face still slightly flushed. “Poor kid,” he murmured, running a hand through his damp hair. “She’s had a rough day.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, stepping closer to him. “But at least she’s getting some rest now.”

Bradley nodded, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. “You’ve been handling all of this like a champ. Seriously, YN.”

You smiled at him, leaning into his touch. “We’re a team, remember? You’ll take the next round if she wakes up again tonight.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smile, his eyes flicking back to Judy one last time before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked back downstairs with Bradley, the weight of the evening’s events still hung in the air, but your mind wandered back to his earlier words—I have something to tell you. You gave him a curious look as you both stepped into the kitchen, where he leaned casually against the counter, though there was an unmistakable tension in his posture.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the opposite counter. “What’s this big thing you wanted to talk about?”

Bradley exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that instantly made you wary. He was stalling. “Alright, don’t freak out,” he started, his eyes flicking to yours. “But there’s a chance we might be moving again… before the end of December.”

You stared at him, utterly floored. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. “I wish I was.”

“Bradley,” you said, your voice rising slightly in disbelief, “we’ve only been in this house for three months. Three months! And it’s almost Christmas! How are we supposed to pack up and leave—again?”

He winced at the exasperation in your tone, holding up his hands defensively. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about the timing either. But I think this might be the last time. I mean it.”

You raised a sceptical eyebrow. “That’s what you said the last two moves. And the time before that.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I know. But this is different. I got a call about going back to Top Gun—to San Diego. They need me there, and they’re offering some stability. A more permanent position, YN. I’d be working with my old crew again, the same people I did the uranium mission with.”

You blinked at him, your mind spinning. “San Diego?” you echoed, trying to process the implications. “Bradley, we’ve moved five times in the last four years because of your job. Every time, it’s been the same story—‘this is the last one, we’ll settle down here.’ How can you be sure this time?”

“I can’t be sure,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “But I know how much we’ve been through, and I know what I’m asking isn’t easy. But Top Gun feels like home to me. The team, the work—it’s different there. It’s something I know I can grow with long-term.”

You stared at him, still feeling blindsided. “And you think we can do this in the middle of the holidays? We’d have to uproot the kids—again. Judy’s been sick, and Anna just started getting comfortable here.”

“I know it’s asking a lot,” he said, stepping closer and placing his hands on your arms. “But I think San Diego could be a real chance for us. The base there is more stable, and I wouldn’t be deploying as much. I’d be home more—for you, for the kids.”

Your shoulders sagged as you took in his words. You wanted to believe him, but the exhaustion of endless moves, the packing, unpacking, and constant uncertainty weighed heavily on you.

“And this is all happening before the end of December?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Bradley nodded, his expression apologetic. “There’s still a lot to figure out, but yeah. They need me soon. I just… I wanted to talk to you about it first. I wouldn’t make this decision without you.”

You let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. “Bradley, this is a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded again, squeezing your arms gently. “I know it is. Take some time to think about it, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts still racing, but you couldn’t ignore the sincerity in his eyes—or the hope. Despite the upheaval it would cause, he truly believed this could be the fresh start you both needed. But whether or not you were ready to believe that too, you weren’t so sure.

You stared at Bradley, the frustration rising in your chest as the weight of his words truly sank in. Shaking your head, you stepped back from his grasp and crossed your arms tightly.

“Bradley, I’m going to say this right now—I’m not moving until after New Year’s,” you said firmly, your voice steady but resolute. “I refuse to spend Christmas in some lousy halfway spot, surrounded by boxes, trying to keep the kids from falling apart. It’s not happening.”

His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to respond, but you kept going, your emotions spilling out in waves.

“This constant moving isn’t just exhausting—it’s unhealthy for the kids. Anna’s finally settling in here. She’s starting to make friends, and she’s getting used to the house. Judy’s already switched schools enough for a lifetime. It’s not fair to her to have to keep doing this over and over. She’s nine, Bradley! I thought mine and her fathers job at the start would make her need to move so much but truly it didn't. She needs stability, not a new classroom every year.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he tried to meet your gaze. “I know it’s hard, YN—”

“No,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t know how hard it is, Bradley. You’re not the one managing school forms, paediatricians, or trying to help Judy settle in after every single move. You’re not the one cleaning up puke when she gets so stressed she makes herself sick. And on top of that, I have my own job to think about. Do you have any idea how much of a nightmare it is to move space labs? Or how hard it is to get rehired in the same field every time we relocate? What if they don’t even take me this time?”

He frowned, guilt flickering in his expression. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Bradley,” you said, your voice softening but still firm. “You didn’t think. You’re chasing stability for yourself, and I get that. I do. But what about us? What about the kids? What about me?”

Bradley ran a hand down his face, clearly grappling with your words. “I thought this would be a good opportunity for all of us,” he admitted quietly. “I thought… maybe it could finally be the place where we can put down roots.”

You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “If you want to go, fine. Go set things up. But I’m not uprooting this family in the middle of the holidays. The kids deserve a Christmas in a real home, not in a house we haven’t even unpacked yet. And I’m not putting them—or myself—through another rushed move until we know this is going to work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he absorbed your words. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice low. “We’ll wait until after New Year’s. I’ll talk to them, figure out a timeline that works.”

Relief washed over you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty still lingering in the air. You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I need you to understand, Bradley. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s all of us. And I can’t keep putting the kids—and myself—through this. And I will go insane if I'll be in another motel for weeks.”

“I get it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I do. I just… I want to make this work. For all of us.”

You nodded, your gaze steady. “Then let’s figure it out. But after the holidays.”

Bradley’s arms stayed wrapped around you, but as you rested against him, he gently pulled back, his eyes scanning your face with quiet concern. He tilted his head slightly, his voice soft but pointed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his tone both curious and insistent.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his again. You’d been holding back, trying to push through for the sake of the evening, but he clearly wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Honestly?” you said, exhaling deeply. “It’s not fine with me that you’re thinking of leaving so soon—especially after I had to miss work last week. I’ve already taken so much time off between Anna being sick, Judy needing to come home early, and everything else. I’m exhausted, Bradley. I’ve had enough.”

His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms. “Then why didn’t you just say that when I asked earlier?”

You bit your lip, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because I wasn’t about to argue in front of Judy and Anna,” you said sharply. “They’ve already been through enough tonight. Judy doesn’t need to hear us going back and forth on top of being sick with cruel stomach décor, and Anna’s finally getting settled. I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took in your words. “I get that,” he said softly. “But, YN, I need you to tell me these things. You don’t have to hold it in just to keep the peace.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice quieter now, “but I’m just… tired, Bradley. I don’t feel like moving again. Not until March at the earliest. I’m not ready to pack up, to sort through everything, to start over—again.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening as he processed your words. “You feel like you’ve hit your limit,” he said, more a statement than a question.

“Exactly,” you admitted, your shoulders sagging. “I’ve hit my limit. The idea of boxing up this house, pulling the kids out of their routine, and throwing myself into another round of uncertainty—it’s exhausting just thinking about it. I’m not bothered to pack up again right now. I need time.”

Bradley was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your arm as he considered his response. “March,” he repeated, nodding slowly. “Alright. We can make that work. I’ll let them know we need more time.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for. If March feels right, then that’s what we’ll aim for.”

Relief washed over you, though a small part of you still felt the weight of what lay ahead. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He pulled you back into his arms, holding you close. “We’ll figure this out,” he promised.

Before you could fully relax into Bradley’s embrace, your phone buzzed again on the counter, cutting through the quiet. You sighed, reluctantly pulling away to check the screen. It was another call from work.

“I should take this,” you muttered, already swiping to answer.

Bradley leaned against the counter, watching you closely as you murmured into the phone, your tone professional but clearly laced with frustration. He caught snippets—something about deadlines, a meeting you couldn’t miss, and some last-minute chaos that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.

When you finally hung up, you turned back to him, running a hand through your hair. “Looks like I’ll be driving down overnight,” you said with a resigned sigh. “I’ve got an early morning meeting anyway, and at this rate, I’ll barely get any sleep if I wait until tomorrow to leave.”

Bradley straightened, his brows knitting together. “Overnight? YN, that’s going to be rough. Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

You shrugged, already mentally planning the drive. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get there before the day starts, and I won’t have to stress about being late.”

He crossed his arms, his concern clear. “I’ve got the day off work tomorrow. I’ll stay here and take care of the kids. You focus on work.”

You blinked at him, a little surprised. “You have the day off?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stepping closer. “I’ll handle everything here. Judy’s already home sick, so I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure Anna and Theo are good too. You don’t need to worry about anything on this end.”

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, and you nodded, grateful for his support. “Okay,” you said softly. “Thanks, Bradley.”

He gave you a small smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Just drive safe, alright? And text me when you get there.”

“I will,” you promised, leaning into his touch for a brief moment before pulling back to start gathering your things. As much as you hated the overnight drive, knowing Bradley would hold down the fort at home made it a little easier to handle.

Bradley climbed the stairs quietly, his mind still on your late-night drive and the conversation the two of you had just shared. But as he passed Judy’s room, a soft, raspy voice caught his attention.

“I don’t mind moving,” she said, her tone small but clear.

He stopped in his tracks, leaning slightly toward the open doorway. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped inside, spotting Judy sitting up in bed, her blanket pulled up to her chest.

“Well, well,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Sounds to me like someone’s been eavesdropping.”

Judy’s cheeks flushed a little, but she gave him a defiant look, crossing her arms over her blanket. “It’s not eavesdropping, Roo. It’s overhearing. There’s a difference.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, fighting back a chuckle as he walked over to her bed. “Oh, there’s a difference, huh?” he teased, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Pretty sure your mom wouldn’t see it that way. She’d probably have my head if she knew you were listening.”

Judy smiled slyly, leaning back against her pillows. “Good thing she’s not here to find out.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re a smart one, Jude, I’ll give you that. But seriously—what are you doing awake? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

She shrugged, fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “I just… I heard you guys talking, and I wanted to know what was going on. Are we really moving again?”

Bradley sighed, his teasing expression softening. “It’s a possibility,” he admitted. “But nothing’s set in stone yet. Your mom and I are still figuring things out.”

Judy looked down at her hands, quiet for a moment. “I don’t mind moving,” she said again, her voice softer now. “I mean, I like it here, but… if it makes you and Mom happy, I’ll be okay.”

His heart swelled at her words, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

She smiled shyly, her eyes still on her lap. “I try.”

Bradley leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Now get some sleep, okay? And no more overhearing—or eavesdropping—or whatever you want to call it.”

“Fine,” she murmured, already snuggling back into her blanket. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Judy,” he said softly, standing and turning off her bedside lamp before heading to the door. As he glanced back, she was already drifting off, her little body relaxed and peaceful.

Bradley stepped quietly into Theo’s room, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm hue over the small space. Theo was curled up in his crib, his chest rising and falling in the rhythmic breaths of deep sleep.

Bradley leaned over the crib, brushing his fingers lightly over Theo’s soft hair. Despite his hesitation, he decided it might be best to have him closer tonight, especially with you driving through the night. Carefully, he slipped his arms under Theo and lifted him, cradling the boy against his chest. Theo stirred slightly but didn’t wake, settling back into his father’s embrace with a soft sigh.

Bradley carried him down the hallway to your shared bedroom. The portable baby mattress was already set up near the bed, and he gently placed Theo down, adjusting the blankets around him. The little boy stretched briefly, then fell back into his peaceful sleep.

Bradley crouched for a moment, watching him, his expression soft with affection. He reached out, tucking the blanket a little more securely before standing.

Moving quietly, Bradley made his way to the small desk tucked into the corner of the room. He sat down heavily in the chair, his elbows resting on the desk as he ran a hand down his face. The day—and the conversations—were catching up with him.

As Bradley sat at the small desk, the quiet hum of the house surrounding him, he pulled out his phone. The group chat with the Dagger Squad lit up with unread messages, the notifications buzzing intermittently.

Payback: So, Rooster, you coming back after New Year’s or what?

Coyote: Yeah, man, don’t leave us hanging. You know Hangman’s already bragging about how he’ll outfly all of us again.

Hangman: Correction, Coyote. I will outfly you all. Don’t need Rooster to confirm that. But hey, Rooster, don’t be scared now—you coming or not?

Bob: It’d be good to have you back, Rooster.

Fanboy: Yeah, you’re part of the team, man. We’re counting on you to bring the mustache magic.

Bradley smirked, shaking his head at their banter. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating how to respond.

Phoenix: Give him a break, guys. He’ll let us know when he can.

He hesitated. Phoenix was the only one who knew about his life outside the Navy—his wife, his kids, the constant balancing act he’d been navigating. He hadn’t told the others, not because he didn’t trust them, but because it never felt like the right time. Now, with their texts pressing him for a commitment, the weight of his promise to you settled heavily on his shoulders.

He’d agreed to wait until after the New Year to move the family, but they didn’t need to know that. If he got sent to Top Gun temporarily for a few days, it wouldn’t disrupt the plan too much—would it? He could handle a few days away, fulfil the request, and be back before you’d even finished packing the decorations away.

But then again, keeping this from you didn’t sit right with him. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he considered his reply.

Rooster: I’ll let you guys know soon. Still working a few things out on my end.

The responses came quickly.

Coyote: Come on, man, you know you wanna fly with the big boys again.

Hangman: “Working things out” sounds like code for chicken. You scared, Rooster?

Fanboy: Ignore him. We’re looking forward to having you back.

Bradley stared at the screen, his mind torn. He knew how much they wanted him back—and if he was honest, he missed flying with them, too. But you had made your stance clear. You didn’t want the chaos of a rushed move or the disruption to your family’s routine, and he couldn’t ignore how much you’d already sacrificed for his career.

The only one who truly understood the bind he was in was Phoenix, and as if on cue, another message from her popped up in the group chat.

Phoenix: Don’t rush it, Rooster. We’ve got time.

Bradley sighed, grateful for her subtle support. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation when the time came to tell you he’d been sent down for even a short stint. For now, though, he tucked the phone away, deciding to deal with it when—and if—it became official.

-

As you parked your car outside the lab, the faint buzz of your phone caught your attention. You glanced at the screen, seeing a text from Bradley pop up.

Rooster: Hey, just got an email—orders came through. I have to head back to Top Gun the day after New Year’s. Just for a few days to test some equipment.

You frowned, your fingers lingering over the steering wheel. He’d softened the blow, but the sting of his words remained. After all the back and forth, the long conversations, and the arguments about waiting until the New Year to avoid uprooting everything again, this felt like a sudden change. Still, you trusted him—if it was orders, there wasn’t much he could do.

A follow-up text arrived moments later.

Rooster: How was the drive? Everything okay? All the kids are down for the night. Theo didn’t even wake up when I brought him to our room. Judy’s still coughing a little but sound asleep. Let me know when you get a moment.

You sighed, the tension from the late-night drive mingling with the unresolved frustration of the past few days. Pushing it aside for now, you texted back quickly.

You: Drive was fine. Thanks for holding down the fort. I’ll call you in a minute.

Pulling your coat tighter, you stepped outside the car and dialled him. The phone rang twice before his familiar voice answered.

“Hey,” Bradley greeted, his tone warm but careful. “How’s it going? You get there okay?”

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice steady. “Just parked. You said you got orders?”

There was a pause, just a fraction too long to go unnoticed, but he recovered quickly. “Yeah, it came through just a little while ago. Email straight from command,” he said, keeping his tone light. “It’s not a big deal, just a quick trip to test some new equipment. A few days, tops.”

You pressed your lips together, glancing up at the dimly lit lab building. “Funny how that just popped up, considering we were arguing about moving a couple of hours ago.”

He sighed, the sound crackling faintly through the line. “I know the timing sucks, but this isn’t about the move. It’s just work. You know how it is—they send orders, I follow them. It’s out of my hands.”

You leaned against the car, the cold seeping through your coat. “And it couldn’t wait until after we decided?”

“Apparently not,” he replied, his tone still soft. “They want it done now to prep for upcoming missions. It’s not permanent, YN. Just a few days, and then I’ll be back.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. His explanation was logical, but a part of you still bristled. “It just feels sudden, that’s all,” you admitted. “After everything we talked about, it feels like the Navy’s always pulling the rug out from under us.”

“I get it,” he said gently. “I really do. But I promise I’ll make it as smooth as possible for you and the kids. And hey, once it’s done, we can refocus on everything here. I’ll help with the packing, with the kids—whatever you need.”

You exhaled slowly, the initial frustration easing slightly. “Alright,” you said finally. “If it’s orders, it’s orders. Just… don’t keep me in the dark about anything else, okay?”

“I won’t,” Bradley said quickly. “Promise.”

“Okay,” you murmured, glancing toward the building. “I should head in. Thanks for calling to let me know.”

“No problem,” he replied, his voice warm again. “Drive safe when you head back, alright? And don’t work too hard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a faint smile before ending the call.

As you walked into the lab, a flicker of doubt lingered in the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside. He wouldn’t lie about something like this—or so you believed.

-

Bradley sat back in the chair at his small desk, the glow of his phone screen casting a faint light across the darkened room. The group chat with the Dagger Squad had gone quiet for now, but his mind was racing. He hated lying to you, especially after the hard conversations you’d had tonight, but what unsettled him more was the creeping realization of how deep this would go.

A soft creak at the door pulled his attention, and he looked up to see Anna standing there, her favourite blankie draped over her shoulder and her teddy bear clutched tightly in her small hands.

“Daddy?” she whispered, her voice soft and sleepy.

Bradley immediately put his phone down, his heart squeezing at the sight of her. “Hey, Anna Banana. What’s wrong, baby girl?”

She padded over to him, her bare feet barely making a sound on the floor. “I had a bad dream,” she said, her bottom lip sticking out just a little as she rubbed her eyes.

“Come here,” Bradley said gently, holding out his arms. Anna climbed onto his lap without hesitation, curling against his chest as he wrapped his arms securely around her. Her blanket and teddy got squished between them, but she didn’t seem to mind.

He swayed gently in the chair, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

Anna nodded sleepily, her head resting against his shoulder. “Are you going away again, Daddy?” she asked suddenly, her voice muffled.

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice thick. “But only for a little while, baby. Just a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Anna pulled back just enough to look at him, her big, earnest eyes shining in the dim light. “But why? I don’t like when you go away.”

Bradley forced a small smile, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “I know, Banana. I don’t like leaving you either. But it’s part of my job, and I promise I’ll be home really soon.”

“Promise?” she whispered, holding up her pinky.

He hesitated for only a second before linking his pinky with hers. “Promise.”

Anna seemed satisfied with that, her little hand relaxing as she tucked herself back against his chest. He held her close, guilt gnawing at him. He hated that he was lying to her, too—that he wasn’t going because of orders but because of his own decision to go back to Top Gun for reasons he hadn’t fully shared.

Her small breaths began to even out, and Bradley knew she was falling back asleep. He carried her to the bed you both kept in your room for when the kids had restless nights, tucking her in with her blankie and teddy. She didn’t stir as he pulled the covers up around her.

As he returned to his desk, he stared down at his phone, the unanswered questions and unspoken truths weighing heavily on him. For a moment, he considered calling you again—coming clean about everything—but the fear of how you’d react kept his finger from pressing the button.

Bradley sat back down at his desk, the soft glow of his phone screen illuminating his conflicted expression. He glanced over his shoulder at Anna, curled up peacefully with her blankie and teddy in the bed. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a soothing rhythm, but the weight in his own chest didn’t lift.

He turned his gaze back to the group chat with the Dagger Squad, their earlier messages still sitting there, waiting for his response. He could hear their voices in his head—Payback's good-natured ribbing, Hangman’s cocky taunts, Phoenix’s steady, knowing tone.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard, hesitation coursing through him. You trusted him. Anna trusted him. But here he was, about to step back into the world he thought he’d left behind for good.

With a deep breath, he began typing.

Rooster: I’ll be there.

The replies were immediate, the chat lighting up in a flurry of responses.

Coyote: Knew you couldn’t resist!

Payback: Finally, the squad’s back together.

Hangman: About time, Bradshaw. I was starting to think you’d gone soft.

Phoenix: Good to have you back, Rooster.

Bradley leaned back in his chair, letting their messages blur together. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as he reread his text. He hadn’t even said it out loud yet, but sending that message felt like crossing a line he couldn’t uncross.

He locked his phone and rubbed his hands over his face, the quiet of the room pressing down on him. This decision wasn’t just about him—it was about you, the kids, the life you’d built together. And yet, here he was, making a choice that might shake the foundation of it all.

For now, he’d focus on the days ahead. He’d handle the fallout later, even if it meant confronting the disappointment in your eyes when you found out.

A/n: Maybe this is a mini series concept....

[dizzybee03]

Welcome back! Sorry you went through such a rough time. This chapter gave me the warm fuzzies though! A job offer was such an exciting way to end the chapter!

Heal Together: Chapter 10 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

So I guess I can write it on here now that it's official. I had to break up with my boyfriend of 3 years last week. It was a painful but necessary decision. It's why I've been... not around for the past couple months. Nothing drains you more than a toxic relationship.

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 1.8k+

“You wanna catch a baby today?” Deb, the sweet yet fierce nurse that you were shadowing asked you. She was probably in her 50s and had definitely been doing this job for almost as long as you’d been alive.

You sputtered, “Wait, what?” 

She laughed, getting a kick out of your confusion, “You’re gonna be the one to put this baby on Mom’s chest when it comes out.” She said, “There’s no better feeling.”

“But… I don’t know what to do…” You could feel your pulse bounding in your neck.

“You’re gonna do everything I tell you to do.” She smiled, “And you’ll be great.”

“Take a big deep breath and push… 1,2, 3, 4…” Deb expertly coached the patient for the past half hour and the baby’s head was just about crowning.

You hadn’t seen a birth since you were in school. You held one of the patient’s legs in position and counted along with Deb. This was better than you remembered it.

“Y/N, hit the call bell and tell the team we have a delivery.” Deb instructed you.

You did exactly as you were told, “Delivery in room 8!”

“You ready to have a birthday party?” Deb asked the patient sweetly.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes, “As ready as I’ll ever be!”

Next thing you knew, a team of people entered and started working like a well oiled machine. You helped Deb set up the bed, the doctors put on gowns and gloves, and the charge nurse swept through the room doing safety checks.

“Looks like we only need another big push or two!” The doctor said, “you ready to become a mom for the second time?”

Still crying tears of joy, the patient nodded, took a big deep breath and put on her game face.

You laid a blanket for the baby in the mom’s chest, “You’ve got this, Mama!”

With her husband holding one leg and you holding the other, a baby girl emerged in two big pushes.

Deb stood behind you like a guardian angel on your shoulder, “Lift baby and put her on the blanket  Mom’s chest. Don’t worry, she’s not made of glass.”

You did exactly that and your chest felt tight because the baby was whining a little and not giving those big cries.

“Dry off baby with the blanket to stimulate those big cries.” Deb said calmly.

You did exactly as you were told and within a second or two, the baby let out strong beautiful screams.

“Happy Birthday!” You said in a sing-song voice.

Deb passed you a stethoscope, “Listen to the lungs. How do they sound?”

You quickly put the stethoscope in your ears and placed the bell in baby’s back, “All clear.” 

“Well done,” Deb said, cover baby with a dry blanket so Mama can enjoy some snuggles.”

The patient looked up at you, “Thank you guys so much.”

“Yes, thank you for everything.” Her tearful husband added, “You all were incredible.”

For the first time in a long time, this feeling of warmth came over you. Something you're not sure you’ve felt in your nursing career before. 

“You did beautifully in there, dear.” Deb gave you a firm squeeze on the shoulder back at the nurse’s station.

You gasped, “Really?! I was freaking out!”

She chuckled, “You looked cool as a cucumber to me, must be all that time in the ICU.”

You shrugged, “This was definitely better than a shift at the ICU, I’ll tell ya that much.”

“The good days are great on this unit.” she said, “the bad days, they are the absolute worst. I know you know that feeling.”

You nodded, “All too well. Unfortunately, the bad days outnumber the good where I am.”

“I have a feeling you won’t have to stay there much longer.” She winked at you and went back to her charting.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Y/N: I helped deliver a baby today

Bradley: No way!!! I want to hear everything!

Y/N: Come over, I’m on my way home.

Bradley: Say fucking less, sweetheart

Y/N: I just have to shower, I got baby goo on me

Bradley: Hot.

Bradley knocked on Y/N’s apartment door, he could hear the faint sound of the shower running.

“It’s open!” Her voice called out. 

Bradley entered to find Y/N walking towards her bathroom in nothing but a towel.

“Excuse me, Miss!” He scoffed, “You better walk that sexy ass back over here and gimme a kiss.”

Y/N didn’t turn around but just backed up until she bumped into his chest.

He weaved his arms around her waist, giving her a tight squeeze, and leaving loud smooches on her cheek.

“Bradley,” She tried to wiggle away, “be careful, I have nasty hospital germs all over me!”

“Don’t tell me how I can love my girl” he grumbled into her shoulder.

She immediately turned around to face him with a raised eyebrow, “Your girl, huh? This is the first I’m hearing of this, Bradshaw!”

His ears went red, “Well… I mean… I think that you and I…”

She winked and wiggled out of his arms, “I’m gonna go shower while you gather your thoughts… or you could get in with me…”

Bradley stripped off his shirt, “Ya don’t have to tell me twice!”

“And then she emerged… wrinkly, kinda purple, and wet. And yet she was… absolutely beautiful.” Y/N sighed, recounting the events of your day on the couch with Bradley, your legs draped over his lap.

He couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, he had never heard her speak about something hospital related with this much joy. 

She paused for a moment when she noticed his face, “What? Is all this weird? I’m sorry if it’s weird?”

“No, sweetheart. It’s not weird at all. There’s nothing better to me than to see you so excited.” He explained, still wearing that cheesy grin.

Y/N climbed into his lap, “You want to see me get even more excited?”

He scoffed playfully, “Obviously.”

“Tell me more about how I’m your girl.” She proposed. 

“Well,” He snuggled her closer to him, “Well, I just think— no, I just feel… that I love hanging out with you so much and loving on you so much, that I want to be the only one.”

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, “Oh Bradshaw, you’ve been the only one.”

He kissed the crown of your head and let out a sigh of relief, “Thank fucking God, you’ve been the only one too.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen the way women gawk at you at the Hard Deck.”

“I think you’re mixing me up with Hangman.” He chuckled.

“You’re literally built like a Greek god! Any woman would want to climb you like a tree!” She cried out then paused and blushed, realizing how weird what she just said was.

Rooster let out a sputter of laughter, “I’m sorry… I’ve just never heard the euphemism before.”

Y/N groaned and covered your face with embarrassment, “Don’t look at me.”

He kissed the side of her head as he pulled her even closer to him, and mumbled with his lips still against her soft skin, “The only one allowed to climb this tree is you, Sweetheart.”

Still embarrassed, she kept her hands over her face.

“Like a sexy little squirrel, or a koala, or…” he paused to think for a moment to think, “… a spider monkey!”

Y/N removed her hands from her face to give Bradley a confused look, “… what the fuck? Are spider monkeys even real animals?”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re the only one climbing all up on this wood, baby girl.” He did a little shimmy.

“That’s it! You’re done!” Y/N attempted to get up from his lap but Bradley quickly wrapped his strong arms around her body, pulling her close.

He repeatedly kissed her cheek and spoke between each one as she giggled, “You’re. Staying. Right. Here. Sweetheart.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Hey Y/N,” Becca, the break nurse, greeted you, “It’s your turn to go on break. I’ll cover your patients.”

Break nurses. What an incredible concept. You wished all states would require them in their hospitals like California does. The culture of nursing in California has honestly been what’s made this assignment in a patriarchal military hospital worth it. If you were dealing with all the cultural bullshit and poor work conditions, there’s no way you would've been able to function like a normal human being. 

You didn’t have to be told twice to scaddle off of that unit. Parks, the intern resident, was driving you crazy, breathing down your neck. And the attending that was on wasn’t doing anything to stop it. 

“Two more weeks.” You mumbled to yourself as you walked out the automatic door of the unit, with your lunch box in hand, and towards the coffee shop. You grabbed yourself a mediocre latte and headed out to your favorite courtyard to get some fresh air. As you sat down at a picnic table, you let out a big sigh of relief, feeling your nervous system relax for the first time since you clocked in. You pulled out your phone, checking texts from your mom, your best friend from college, and Bradley. Then you opened your email to find an email from Scripps:

Good Morning Y/N,

Thank you so much again for coming on Labor & Delivery for a shadow shift this week. We would like to offer you a position on our unit—

Before you could read any further, you choked on your own spit. Was this real?! You read the first line again and continued until the end of the email. This was real. By this time next month, you could be starting a new job as a labor and delivery nurse. Yes, you’d be making significantly less than you do as a traveler… however… you would get to feel that feeling again. The feeling of placing a newborn on their mama’s chest for the first time. Who to call first?! Your mom? Bradley? You opted for your mother who didn’t answer, of course. Since becoming empty nesters, your parents lived carefree lives of travel and leisure. They never had their phones on them and if they did, there was a 50/50 chance of them being charged. So you opted for the next best person, Bradley. But again, after many rings, you got a voicemail. It was hard to ignore the disappointment burning in your chest.

“Hey Bradley, I know you’re probably busy at work or flying in the clouds somewhere but… call me when you can, preferably after 7:30 since I’m at work and can’t talk on the floor. Umm, bye.” You hung up the phone and signed. You knew it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t answer, he was at work. Like you, he has a very busy hands on job that deals with sensitive information. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be just a little bit disappointed.

Tag list:

@sarah-bear706318

@dizzybee03

@that-gay-person-27

@alwayshave-faith

@caitsymichelle13

@thespillingvoid

@shanimallina87

[dizzybee03]

Ooooohhhhh I can see it! It would be just like Shutter Island (with Leo DiCaprio)

She DIES!? Who fucking said that? /

Unless Jake was lying in that sneak peek I believe she does🤣

Unless Jake’s a figment of his own imagination and has gone insane and has been in an insane asylum this entire time.

What then?

[dizzybee03]

I was filled with dread reading this because part of me kept thinking he was going to try and break up with Gabby to protect her. It’s gonna be a long 9 weeks 😔

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 15

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Gabby and Glen spend one last night together before she heads back to Los Angeles and he prepares to start filming his next project. The next day they both struggle to say goodbye at the airport knowing it will be weeks until they see each other again.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of Previous Relationships. Mentions of Controlling Exes. Alcohol Consumption.

A/N: Please continue to let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know, and I will get you added to the tag list!

Tag List: In Comments - Tumblr for some reason doesn't like linking more than 5 usernames so I'm just going to use the tags in the comments to make sure you get the notification!

The next few days that followed were a blur of easy laughter and quiet moments, a rhythm of life that felt natural to Gabby in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Austin welcomed her with its laid-back charm, but it was Glen’s presence that made everything feel effortless.

Mornings were spent lingering over coffee in Glen’s kitchen, where sunlight poured through the windows, casting golden light over the wooden countertops. Gabby loved watching him cook breakfast, his movements unhurried yet precise as he scrambled eggs or flipped pancakes. They talked about everything and nothing, trading stories and teasing each other in a way that left Gabby’s cheeks sore from smiling.

Afternoons were reserved for exploring Austin. Glen took her to his favorite taco stand tucked away in the heart of the city, where Gabby insisted on trying every salsa they offered. He laughed when her face flushed after sampling the spiciest one, quickly handing her his drink to cool her down.

Evenings were slower and more intimate. One night, they curled up on the couch, a movie playing in the background as Gabby’s head rested on Glen’s shoulder. She had almost fallen asleep when she felt him press a soft kiss to the top of her head, and though she didn’t say anything, the unspoken tenderness in the gesture filled her chest with warmth. Another night, they sat on Glen’s back porch with a couple of beers, watching the stars and letting the comfortable silence stretch between them.

It was simple, and exactly what Gabby needed. For the first time in a long time, she felt herself letting go of the weight she’d been carrying. She didn’t just exist anymore—she was living, and she couldn’t deny that Glen had a lot to do with that.

On the night before Gabby was set to go back to Los Angeles, they were in Glen’s room. Gabby lay nestled in his arms, her head resting against his chest as they stretched out on his bed. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moonlight streaming through the partially open blinds. Glen’s steady heartbeat beneath her ear was comforting, but she could tell something was off.

He’d been quiet all day. At first, she assumed it was just the weight of her leaving tomorrow, but the longer the silence stretched on, the more it gnawed at her. It wasn’t like Glen to retreat into himself, not with her.

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look at him better. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his brow furrowed in thought. The subtle crease between his eyebrows tugged at her heart.

“You’ve been quiet today,” she murmured, her voice soft in the stillness of the room.

His eyes flicked down to meet hers, and he forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just been thinking,” he replied, his voice low.

Gabby tilted her head, studying him. “About?”

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as though the words he was looking for were written there. “About tomorrow. About us.”

Gabby’s stomach tightened at the admission, but she forced herself to stay calm. “I know it’s going to be hard,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “But we’ll figure it out, right? We’ve already talked about how we’ll stay in touch—texts, FaceTimes, maybe we can plan some visits or something—”

“It’s not that,” Glen interrupted, his voice quiet but firm.

She frowned, sitting up slightly so she could look at him more closely. “Then what is it?”

He propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand running through his hair in a gesture that told her just how much this was weighing on him. “It’s just... I know what I signed up for with you, Gabby. But sometimes I wonder if you knew what you signed up for with me. I wonder if you’d be better off with someone... I don’t know... someone more normal.”

Gabby blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. “Normal?” she echoed, her tone disbelieving. "Better off? What are you talking about, Glen?"

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze dropping to the space between them. “What if you'd be better off with someone who has a normal job and a normal life. Someone who doesn’t have to be gone all the time for work. Someone who isn’t constantly in the spotlight. Someone who can give you the kind of stability you deserve.”

“Don’t do that,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the heavy air between them. She reached out, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her eyes. “Don’t start giving me an out before we’ve even had a chance to face this. I’m here because I want to be here. I know your life isn’t normal, Glen. I knew that when I met you. I know it comes with challenges, but I’m not scared of them. You’re worth it, okay?”

His eyes softened, and his hand came up to cover hers, holding it against his cheek. “You say that now,” he murmured. “But I just... I don’t ever want to make you feel like you’re settling, or like you’re giving things up to be with me.”

Gabby’s expression softened as she leaned closer, her forehead resting against his. “I’m not settling with you, Glen. You’re giving me something I didn’t think I’d find again—something real.” She paused, her forehead gently resting against his. “For so long, I told myself I’d never let anyone in like this again. It wasn’t worth the risk of being hurt. But you... you’ve made me believe in relationships again, in us. That’s not settling.”

“Gabby...” he started, but she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I don’t want ‘normal,’” she continued, her voice steady as her hands slipped down to his chest. “I want you. I don’t care what your job is, what your crazy schedule is like, the spotlight that’s on you all the time. I don’t care about any of that stuff. I care about you.”

Glen stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached up and covered her hands with his, pulling them away from his face just enough so he could press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Gabby smiled, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You knew what you were signing up for,” she teased gently, echoing the words he’d said to her earlier.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and tugged her back down into his arms. “Guess I did,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead.

They lay there in silence for a while, the only sound the faint rustle of the sheets as he held her close. Gabby felt his grip tighten slightly, as though he was trying to memorize the feel of her in his arms before the world pulled them apart again.

“You’re stuck with me, Glen,” she said softly.

He smiled against her hair, his heart swelling at her words. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I don’t want it any other way.”

A silence fell between them that felt comfortable, the earlier tension eased by Gabby’s words. Her fingers absently traced patterns over the soft cotton of his shirt. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear was soothing, grounding her in the moment.

For Glen, though, the stillness wasn’t quite the same. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, but his thoughts were entirely on the woman in his arms. How had he gotten so lucky? How had someone like her walked into his life? And how was he supposed to let her go tomorrow, even for just a little while?

“Gabby,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

She stirred against him, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze. “Hmm?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looked at her, taking in every detail—the gentle slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the way her eyes seemed to hold a thousand emotions all at once. A slow smile spread across his face, one that made her own lips twitch upward in response.

“What?” she asked, her voice light but tinged with curiosity.

Glen reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before letting his hand linger against her cheek. “I love you,” he said simply, his voice steady but full of meaning.

Gabby’s heart skipped a beat, her smile growing as warmth spread through her chest. “I love you too,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper but no less sincere.

The way she said it—without hesitation, without fear—made Glen’s chest tighten in the best possible way. He watched as she leaned up, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder for balance as she pressed her lips to his.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to steady themselves. Gabby’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Glen’s, and the intensity in his gaze made her stomach flip.

“I’m going to miss you,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with emotion.

Glen’s thumb brushed over her cheek, his touch lingering as he studied her like he was trying to commit every detail of her face to memory. “You don’t even know,” he replied, his voice low and rough.

* * * *

The morning sun streamed through the truck’s windows as Glen navigated the road toward the airport. The drive was quieter than their usual conversations, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Gabby sat beside him, her head resting against the window, her fingers laced tightly with his on the center console.

Glen glanced over at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her subdued expression. Gabby was rarely this quiet. Normally, she’d be teasing him about his music choices or recounting some random story from her day, but today… she seemed lost in her thoughts.

“Hey,” he said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”

She turned to him, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

She shrugged, her thumb idly brushing against his knuckles. “Everything. You leaving. The next few months.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she looked out the window again, blinking rapidly.

Glen’s grip on her hand tightened, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to focus on the road. He hated seeing her like this, knowing there was only so much he could do to ease her worries. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“Listen,” he began, his voice steady but soft. “I know this isn’t going to be easy. For either of us. But I need you to remember that we’re still in this together, okay?

Gabby turned back to him, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know.”

He nodded, his throat tightening. “It’s like you said yesterday, we’ll make it work. We can call, text, Facetime. Hell, I’ll send you a hundred cheesy memes a day if that’s what it takes to make you laugh.”

A small laugh escaped her, breaking through the tension in her chest. “You already do that.”

“Good,” he said with a grin. “Then I’m just gonna keep doing what I do best.”

Her smile grew, and for a moment, the weight in the air seemed to lift. Glen glanced at her again, his gaze lingering as he tried to memorize the way the sunlight caught her hair, the way her lips curved even when she was trying to hold back a smile.

“You know,” he continued, his tone softening, “it’s okay to be upset about this. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be strong all the time, Gabby. I want you to talk to me about how you're feeling. I know this is hard."

Gabby’s fingers tightened around his as she nodded. “I just… hate the idea of you being so far away.”

“I hate it too,” Glen admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m coming back to you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

She didn’t respond, but the way her hand stayed firmly in his spoke volumes.

Glen pulled his truck up to the Southwest gate, the rumble of the engine quieting as he shifted into park. Gabby opened her door, stepping out into the cool morning air, the smell of jet fuel faint in the distance. For a moment, she stood there, her gaze fixed on the busy airport entrance ahead of her, the weight of reality pressing down harder than it had all week.

Glen climbed out and walked around to the back of the truck, pulling her suitcase out of the bed. The sound of the bag’s wheels hitting the pavement snapped Gabby out of her thoughts, and she turned to watch him.

As he set her suitcase down beside her, it hit her all at once. Sixty-five days. Nine weeks and two days. That’s how long it would be until she saw him again. It sounded so manageable when they talked about it before, but now, standing here, staring at the terminal that would take her away from him, it felt impossibly long.

Glen stepped closer to her, noticing the way her eyes had glossed over with unshed tears. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but warm. “It won’t always be like this.”

Gabby nodded, but the lump in her throat made it impossible to respond. She glanced at the planes lined up along the runway, her gaze landing on the 737 she assumed was hers. It sat there like a cruel, unmoving promise, ready to take her thousands of miles away, away from Glen, away from the warmth of his arms. But the 2,175 miles that was going to be separating them for the next two months may as well be a million miles apart, because that’s what it felt like in her heart.

“Come here,” he said, closing the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks. “Give me one last kiss before you go.”

Her breath hitched, but she leaned up on her toes, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was sweet, slow, and filled with everything they couldn’t put into words. Glen’s hands slid down to her waist, holding her as if he could memorize the way she felt against him in these fleeting moments.

As their lips parted, Gabby’s eyes fluttered open, the tears she’d been holding back finally spilling over. She hadn’t even noticed them pooling, but now they were streaming freely, hot and unrelenting. Glen saw the first tear roll down her cheek, and it nearly shattered him.

“Gabs,” he whispered the nickname he'd given her, his voice breaking just slightly.

He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. One hand cradled the back of her head, holding it gently to his chest as he rested his chin on her hair. She clung to him, her fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as if she could keep him here, just like this, for a little longer.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise. We’re gonna get through this,” he murmured, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the crown of her head.

Gabby nodded against him, her breaths coming in uneven gasps as she tried to rein in her emotions. Glen held her until she stilled, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

Finally, he leaned back, just enough to look at her. His own eyes were glassy now, but he managed a small, reassuring smile. 

“You should probably get going,” he said gently, his voice thick with reluctance.

Gabby wiped at her cheeks, nodding as she stepped back. But before she could reach for her suitcase, Glen leaned in one last time, capturing her lips in a lingering goodbye kiss. This one was different—filled with longing, with love, with the quiet ache of goodbye.

When they pulled apart, Gabby’s heart felt heavier than ever, but she reached for her suitcase, her fingers brushing against the handle.

“Text me as soon as you land, okay?” Glen said, his voice steady again, though the slight crack at the end gave him away.

“I will,” she promised, her voice trembling as she met his gaze.

“I love you,” he said, the words both an anchor and a plea.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible over the bustle of the airport around them.

He stood there as she turned toward the entrance, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets to keep from reaching for her again. She glanced back once, her lips pressed into a wobbly smile, before disappearing into the crowd.

Glen stayed rooted to the spot, watching until he couldn’t see her anymore. The ache in his chest was sharp, almost unbearable, but he refused to move, as if staying there just a little longer might make the distance feel less real.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he climbed back into his truck. As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced at the terminal one last time, silently willing the next sixty-five days to pass a little faster.

[dizzybee03]

I could read about them for days!! Something about this troupe just makes my heart melt- great story!!

one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: your brother's best friend pays a visit to his texas hometown, and in spite of your resolution to get over your (slightly embarrassing) childhood unrequited crush, you can't help but admit that you're still down bad for jake seresin.

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, oblivious reader can't take a hint

word count: 14k (you told me not to apologize for long fics, so here it is, i present it without apology!)

author’s note: hello, all! i wanted to have this out by thanksgiving, but i got hit with a stomach flu and then with a regular flu, so it took me this long to finish it. i hope the wait was worth it 🫶 the title is taken from a song by maggie rogers. as promised, the next one will be a short (i mean it this time!) and spicy holiday-themed one for all the tyler owens lovers 💓 thank you so much for voting in the poll that got this baby written.

“Did you hear the big news?” Your dad bustled into the shop with his arms full of greenery, grunting as he set the bundles wrapped in newspaper into a bucket. At the counter, your mom paused her accounting and fixed your dad an eager stare. She loved news. “Jake’s coming home for the wedding!” he announced. He brushed his hands off while yours fumbled over the order forms. A few slipped out of sequence and fluttered down to the floor. You bent to pick them up, hearing your mom’s sigh of delight.

“Oh, that's wonderful news! Dinah will be so pleased, and Amanda, too. She was worried Jake wouldn't manage to get leave. You know how much she adores him.”

“Well, she's not the only one. Mike’s ready to throw a whole goshdarn parade in his honor.” The forms retrieved, you busied yourself with putting them back in order. Your dad laughed. “I haven’t seen the kid that excited since the day Gilly was born.”

“Ow!” You stuck your finger in your mouth, the taste of blood making you wince.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

She came to your end of the counter. Taking your finger in her hands, she moved it this way and that, squinting at it through her glasses before she dropped a kiss on your head. “Mm, I think you’ll live.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Don’t sass me!” she joked. “I’ll call Mike. Maybe we can all throw Jake a nice big barbecue, spend some time together like the old days.”

“He’ll probably be busy with wedding stuff,” you pointed out, mumbling around your finger.

She shot you a look that said spoilsport. “I know Jake, he’ll make the time. Besides, he’ll be walking with you at the wedding, won’t he?” Mom must have taken the shock of surprise for disappointment, because she smacked a hand against her forehead and said, “Oh, sorry! Me and my big mouth!”

It took you a moment to realize she wasn't talking about Jake.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, making a half-hearted attempt to sort through the forms again. Your parents looked at you skeptically. “I’m fine! Josh and I are practically ancient history.”

Dad, bless him, took your word for it, or at least pretended to. He picked up the bucket of sage bundles and took it into the back, but your mom hovered, stroking your shoulder, cloyingly sympathetic. It was clear she wanted to say something but was afraid of how you’d react. Knowing her, she’d give you that hangdog expression all day until you gave her permission to spill the beans, so you gave a deep sigh and turned to her with a look that said, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“I heard he’s bringing Mia to the wedding,” she blurted out. “Amanda was livid. She said she would disinvite him if you wanted—”

“Mom, I hope you told her that wouldn't be necessary.”

“Of course I did! But she said it was a standing offer.”

Oh, bother… Amanda was a sweetheart, if not a little overeager. As much as you appreciated everyone’s tact, it was also part of the reason why you still felt some awkwardness when you thought about Josh. Any time your friends or family brought up your ex, they looked at you like they were expecting you to fall to pieces, especially after word started going around that he had moved on to someone else. No matter how many times you insisted that they could refer to him normally and not as “him” or “you-know-who,” they thought you were being a brave martyr about it, pretending to take it better than you were for the sake of maturity.

“It’s not like that,” you explained for the thousandth time. “Josh and I are fine. And Mia…” Okay, so part of you did want to bash her over the head with a waffle iron. Still… “Nothing untoward happened. We were already broken up when they got together.”

“Well yeah, but after only a month,” your mom scoffed. “That’s hardly enough time to get over a six-year relationship.”

You shrugged. “Maybe some things are meant to be, and some… aren’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged you from behind. You grimaced as she squeezed you tight and made cooing sounds. “You don’t have to be so civil about it. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know, Mom, thanks.” You patted her hand.

“Anytime.” You thought that would be the end of embarrassing conversations you didn't want to have, until she clapped her hands and said, “Look on the bright side - it’ll be good to see Jake again! For him to meet the baby - and won’t the wedding pictures be just darling? He’s so handsome! I know you’ll look just fabulous together…”

-

It was as much cliché as it was ancient history. Jake Seresin - tall, tan, broad-shouldered, with a thousand-watt grin and a starring place on the high school football team - had been your crush since the moment you realized boys were more than just smelly, disgusting nuisances. Hell, you'd liked him even before the letterman jacket, around the time of his first growth spurt, when he’d come back from a summer visiting his aunt and uncle in California. From the porch steps, you'd seen him running into the yard to throw ball with your older brother, Mike, and your stomach had flopped and then flipped, and then flopped again. Looking back, Jake - a mere mortal - had an awkward phase just like everyone else, but you didn't see it at the time. To you, he was the dreamiest guy since you wore out your family’s Titanic VHS trying to feed your preteen fantasies of being Rose romanced by DiCaprio (before the ship went down).

Anyway, Jake’s awkward phase didn't last long. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on the junior varsity team along with Mike. Your sports-mad, overly enthusiastic dad gave them his blessing to turn the barn into their own personal gym, and while you complained about the unfairness of the world and the preferential treatment given to male athletes, you did find excuses to “run errands” and “pass through” so you could see Jake, shirtless, glistening with sweat. It didn't take long for Mike to notice. As a preteen, you weren’t exactly known for your finesse. While, in your opinion, you were doing nothing more than offering the boys a little lemonade - like Mom asked you to do - Mike would go back to the house for dinner and declare for all and sundry that he’d “appreciate it if you didn't salivate all over Jake like a peeping tom.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

“Mom, I swear it's not true! He’s making it up. You’re making it up, you buttface! You just don't want me hanging around—”

“Why would I want you hanging around? We’re training! You’re a kid, you're a safety risk!”

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

“Honestly, Mike, don't call your sister a safety risk. You're hardly grown yourself.”

“She called me a buttface!”

“That’s true. Sweetie, don't call your brother a buttface at the table, it's not polite.”

“Fine. I’ll call him a buttface later, like he deserves.”

No further comment was made about your crush on Jake on that occasion, but over the years it became your brother’s weapon of choice when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and “I’ll tell Jake you have a big fat crush on him” was a surefire way to get you to do whatever he wanted.

Once, you went down for a glass of water after you were supposed to be in bed and came upon Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

“—it’s a harmless little crush,” you heard her say. “We all had them at that age.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don't. She’s your daughter and you're finally working out that she's not going to be a little girl forever.” There was a pause. “You don't have to worry, Stan, I’ve given her The Talk.”

Ew, gross, ew! You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you remembered The Talk and you didn't want to have it ever again!

Your face heated as you knelt on the stairs. Hearing about The Talk in relation to you and Jake made you think about the stuff you’d seen at your friend Tessa’s house on the TV one night during a sleepover. You had stared at the screen, titillated and kind of horrified at what the actors were doing, the way their bodies moved and the sounds they made. Once the scene was over, you turned to each other and burst into nervous giggles, knowing your parents would blow a gasket if they knew what you’d seen. Not that you understood it. You knew how babies were made, but you didn’t understand what sex was supposed to be.

And your dad was worried about you having it? With Jake?

“He’s a good kid,” your mom gentled. “He knows she's too young for him - I’m not even sure he's aware that she likes him. Even if he is, he treats her like Mike’s kid sister. She’ll grow out of it.”

“If you say so, hon. But God as my witness—”

“She’s gonna have a boyfriend at some point.”

“When she’s eighteen,” your dad declared, “and not a moment sooner!”

You padded back to your room. It wasn’t news, but hearing that Jake thought of you as a kid dealt a heavy blow to your self-esteem. From then on, you resolved to play your cards closer to the chest - you might not be able to help the way he made you feel like your insides had turned to melted goo, but no one else had to talk about it behind your back like you had some sort of disease.

Unfortunately, playing it cool was one of the hardest things you had to do during high school. As it turned out, Jake and Mike were actually pretty good at the whole football thing. Around the time they made varsity, you zeroed in on the fact that girls found their athletic prowess to be sexually irresistible; they were crazy about them - and crazy about Jake in particular.

You watched as he winked and blew kisses at a train of girlfriends while he was out on the field. He leaned against their lockers, turning the charm up to eleven and brushing strands away from their cheeks, saying things like, “Pick you up at six?”

When he got his first truck - a beat-up old Chevy that he bought off Don Amberley by working shifts at the hardware store - you’d peer around your curtains at the sound of his horn. Sometimes Mike would take a while to leave the house, and Jake would turn his head to kiss the pretty girls in his front seat as a way to pass the time. The shy ones laughed, warding him off with a light push against his chest, while the bold ones closed their nails around his shirt and pulled him even closer, all but straddling his lap. You watched with bated breath as he put his hands on them, green with envy, wondering what it would be like to have his attention, not as his best friend’s little sister but as an actual girl.

Your suffering lasted a whole calendar year, after which Jake went off to college, then joined the Navy, and while time made you realize that you needed to move on with your life and stop making up scenarios about a white picket fence and two-point-five children, you never forgot about Jake, who in your mind - and despite your best efforts - remained the measure to which you compared every other guy.

It wasn't just his ridiculously handsome good looks, though having the body of a Greek god and a smile that made your toes curl didn't hurt. He had helped you when you’d scraped your knee roller-blading, letting you lean on his shoulder and fetching the bandages from the downstairs powder room; he joined your mom in the kitchen to do the washing-up when he stayed over for dinner, saying, “ma’am, I insist,” which earned him funny looks from Mike, but it never swayed him into doing things differently. You liked that he’d earned his first truck, got good grades, was a loyal friend. To you, Jake Seresin was the full package and then some - what more could anyone want? And while you had long accepted that he would make another woman very happy someday, the way in which your family teased you about your “little childhood crush” never failed to put your stomach all in knots. There was nothing little about it. In fact, it had now lasted well into adulthood and you had a feeling it would never fully go away.

-

Dad was right. Michael insisted on being part of the airport welcome wagon, cringey sign and all. He even stuck Gilly in an adorable pilot’s costume. Your sister-in-law sent you looks the entire way and, like a saint, restrained herself by only once making a comment about “your brother’s true wife.”

You sat in the backseat, trying to will yourself into being less nervous. Maybe it was your guilty conscience; for some reason, you kept thinking about all the times you’d imagined him in bed, or in the place of one of your boyfriends when you were doing couple-things. Be cool, be cool, you kept telling yourself.

By the time you parked at the airport, you thought your poker face was pretty flawless. After helping Julie wrestle the baby things into the stroller, you made your way through the chaotic mass of people coming and going through the Barbara Jordan terminal. The weather was good. Jake had texted your brother to say that he’d landed safely and was waiting to deplane, and Mike, vibrating with excitement, was trying to stake out a place in the Arrivals hall that would show his dorky Welcome Home, Hangman! sign in optimal light. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to be seen with him. You kept apologizing to the people he elbowed out of the way, as if to say, “Move aside, I was here first, bud!” But it did strengthen your resolve to be chill because at least one of you had to be.

Finally, you spotted a familiar face in the line of passengers spilling into the hall. Like something out of a romcom, Jake Seresin spotted Mike standing in the crowd, dropped his duffle bag, and came bounding into his arms. They talked over each other between laughter and bro-y exchanges, while Julie snorted through her nose and even Gilly sputtered and snuffled. You could take the boy out of Texas, it seemed… but back home he was still sixteen around friends.

Jake turned to you and smiled. “Hey, Cabbage.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, feeling awkward about the old nickname.

“Come here, bring it in.” He held out his arms, grinning, and there was no conceivable reason why you’d say no, so you steadied your nerves and stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around you. He smelled just as good as you remembered him - better, even, because a memory could never be as good as the real thing.

“You’re so stiff!” Jake pointed out, squeezing you tighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“What am I, your creepy uncle?” He looked down at you, then over your shoulder and spotted the baby in Julie’s arms.

His smile lit up his whole face and you felt your heart twist against your ribcage. You let out a breath when he let you go, trying not to fixate on the way his hand brushed against your shoulder as he did so, a slide that seemed to linger.

Fondness - that was all it was, you told yourself. He’d known you all your life and he was fond of you.

He turned his attention now to your little niece.With something like awe, he said, “Michael, you old bastard…” Then, “Sorry, little lady - you must be Gilly! Hi! Hi there, it’s your Uncle Jake! Your not-at-all-creepy Uncle Jake…”

“Nice one,” you threw back.

He grinned wider, saying, “Julie, how are you?”

“About as well as can be expected with a teething baby.”

“Well, you look great.”

“Liar,” Julie replied, but his comment made her stand a little straighter.

He let Gilly grip his finger in an attempt at a handshake. Being a sucker for attention, she wiggled her body in her mother’s grasp and held her arms out to the smiley stranger, wanting to be carried. Jake was thrilled. He bounced her in his arms the entire way to the car, asking about the wedding, his parents, how Amanda was doing, which of their friends he could expect to see on Saturday afternoon. Mike stuck to him like glue, carrying Jake’s bag for him and answering his questions. You were certain he’d send Julie to the back so Jake could ride shotgun, but instead, he loaded Gilly into her baby seat and Jake touched you on the elbow, saying, “I can take the middle seat.”

“You don't want the window?” you asked, your arm tingling. He had slipped on a pair of sunglasses once he left the terminal and he looked like a movie star, all golden skin, slicked-back hair, and a hint of stubble on his jaw. You had no idea how you were supposed to survive a 90-minute car ride when just the sight of him made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I want to sit next to my goddaughter. You get her all the time,” he pointed out and ducked into the car.

Helpless, you climbed in after him and pulled the door closed. In the back of the SUV, there was no way for your bodies not to touch. By necessity, your arms and thighs pressed together, his body solid and warm. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself by squirming away even though your heart was beating double-time and you were at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

Thankfully, the car started moving, and by the time you made it onto the highway you had almost gotten used to the feeling of his muscled forearms and the smell of his cologne. You were focusing on the passing landscape as he made small talk with Mike and Julie, so it caught you unawares when he turned to you and said, “So - it seems we’re paired up for the wedding. I’m sorry about you and Whatshisface, by the way.”

Here we go… “I know that you name his name, Jake.”

“Do I? Persona non grata. I must have erased him from my memory chip.” He was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and there was something about the twinkle in his eye that made you glare daggers at your brother, who was looking suspiciously blank-faced sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my God, Mike, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I just said you two broke up and that he’s with Mia now.”

“That cow,” Julie put in.

“Okay, time out!” you called, doing the motion with your hands. “As much as I appreciate this show of familial solidarity, it’s really not necessary. Josh and I are cool.”

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

“Then be cool, Mike! And you!” You wagged your finger in front of Jake. He stared at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. “You just got here. Do you really want to spend the rest of the week picking fights that have nothing to do with you?”

Evidently, the answer was yes, but he raised his hands in a facetious show of surrender. “Hey, I never liked the guy.”

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

“I’ve always said that - haven’t I, babe?”

“Mike, you say a lot of things,” Julie drawled.

“…including the fact that I never liked the guy! Him and his beady little eyes—”

“He gets hay fever!” you defended. “That’s not his fault!”

“—and the fact that he stayed in the apartment—”

“I wanted to move out! Julie, a little help here?”

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

“What?” You were flabbergasted. You thought that everyone liking Josh was the whole reason why they felt communally betrayed by the breakup. Now they were acting like the spearheads of an anti-Josh conspiracy? “Are you seriously telling me this six years after the fact? You went to games with him!”

“Wait, you went to games with Josh Spritzer?” Jake balked, his voice going up an octave while Mike went red in the face.

“I was in a dark place, man. Julie was pregnant and you weren't around… It was a case of the pre-baby blues!”

“I feel like you just admitted to cheating on me. Josh Spritzer?”

“Hey!” you warned.

“I mean, I guess it’s all a matter of taste, sweetheart…”

“Seresin, what the hell!”

“…although God knows I never knew what you saw in him—”

“Oh, didn't you?”

“Hey, I love you all sooo much,” Julie piped up from the passenger seat, “Jake, I’m happy you’re here, but will you all shut up so Gilly can sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Jake sobered up, the provoking glint remained in his eyes. Once more you were aware of his closeness and the heat of his skin.

“Unbelievable…” you said underneath your breath, crossing your arms, your reward being another one of Jake’s dazzling smiles.

-

When you arrived, the reunion was as rowdy as you expected. About two dozen Seresins and their closest friends and family had convened at Jake’s childhood home. Amanda cried when she saw her favorite cousin coming towards her, and she excitedly introduced him to her husband-to-be, a bookish engineer named Christian who came from a small family and seemed as flattered as he was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Dinner was served outdoors, buffet style. The backyard was strung up with twinkling lights and music played from a pair of speakers stationed at the back porch. The air was festive and full of hope; it was easy to get caught up in the pre-wedding bliss when you were well-fed, your glass never empty, the company some of your most loved people in the world.

Josh - thank God - was not in attendance. He was supposed to walk down the aisle with you. Your save-the-date and wedding invitation had arrived labeled with his name along with yours, the assumption being that of course your long-term, live-in boyfriend would be your date. After you’d broken up, Amanda had to reshuffle her arrangements to keep you as one of her bridesmaids, the only upside being that Jake’s uncertain attendance made him your perfect partner.

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

At some point in the night, after speeches had been made and dessert served, Jake took the seat next to you to chat with his great-aunt Sandy and her boyfriend, Clyde. The apple pie came courtesy of Mrs. Seresin, who had the best recipe in the county and probably the entire state of Texas, in your limited and yet eager opinion. You demolished it with aplomb and once you finished, Jake pushed his plate towards you, the crust untouched. “Have at it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

The fact that he remembered made you feel sixteen again, watching him come home from university, crushed at knowing that he had a whole life you didn't know about, people he knew who were probably far more interesting, sophisticated and self-assured. He joined the Navy, and then moved out west while you stayed behind in your hometown, stationary while he took to the skies.

He had always been nice to you, for all that he enjoyed teasing you and even making fun of you on occasion. But that didn't mean you would ever be anything more to him than his best friend’s sister, someone he indulged in the same way as Amanda.

You excused yourself from the table, picking up plates as a pretense to head inside and get a few moments to yourself. This was exactly the reason why you hadn't wanted Jake to come home. Selfishly, in your heart of hearts, you had prized your own comfort above Amanda’s happiness, which made you feel like a Grade-A jerk, but you weren't ready to confront the way he made you feel after all this time. How could you explain to yourself, let alone anyone else, that you were holding out for a fantasy you’d had since you were young?

Suddenly, the presence of everyone you’d known and loved all your life felt oppressive rather than a source of delight. You poured yourself a glass of wine from one of the open bottles on the counter and went out to the Seresins’ front porch. From there, the sounds of the party seemed far away and you let out a sigh of relief. You sat on the ledge with your back to one of the vertical beams, watching the night breeze move the branches on the trees and the clouds which obscured the waning moon. Gradually, your mind slowed its pace and you were able to enjoy the song of the night critters mingled with the distant music of someone - probably Clyde - strumming his guitar.

Your repose was broken by the screen door opening and then clattering shut behind you, making you turn your head to see Jake coming outside, just a touch sheepish but for the most part his usual Jake-self, out of his jacket and carrying a bottle of beer.

He lowered himself beside you, and after a moment’s silence, said, “So, how’ve you been? Aside from Whatshisface.”

You shot him a warning look. If he was bringing up Josh, it was only to tease you like he’d done in the car and you weren’t in the mood right now to be the butt of a joke - not when you felt so vulnerable about what he was to you. (Dammit… and of course this has to be a wedding.)

“What,” he said, gently cajoling, “I can’t ask?”

“About my personal life? You never used to care.”

“In high school, I don’t think I was supposed to care. And afterwards—”

“Afterwards, Hangman got a little too full of himself,” you quipped.

“Hey… that's… actually pretty accurate, I’m not gonna lie.” He took a swig of beer, laughing as he said it. The porch light threw his features into sharp relief and you gave yourself permission to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since he returned.

Setting aside that he was gorgeous as ever, he seemed less carefree than you remembered, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He appeared, well, like a grown-up, for lack of a better word. You wondered whether you were being unfair in making assumptions when you had both changed so much in the last decade, as people tended to do. He wasn’t just the dream guy in your head; he was so many things in his own right, and he was here with you, wanting to talk - and maybe trying to get to know you on an even field.

If only that wasn't another reason to love him.

“You seem different,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t giving you away.

He looked at you for a few breaths, the corner of his mouth tipped up but the rest of his face serious. Then he shrugged in mock humility with a “What can I say, greatness suits me.”

“Idiot…” You shook your head and let out a snort, though on the inside you felt full of champagne - fizzy and bright because he was with you.

“How's the shop going?” he asked after a beat.

“Pretty well. We’re doing the flowers for Amanda’s wedding.”

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

“Well, it is her wedding,” you pointed out, “she’s—”

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

“She’s excited,” you corrected even as a montage ran through your head of all the times Amanda had texted the wedding party’s WhatsApp group to say that “a catastrophe” had occurred or that today was the worst day of her life because “the linen photos do NOT reflect the true shade. I wanted SAGE green - doesn’t this look laurel to you?”

“She’s my cousin,” Jake went on. “In fact, she’s my favorite cousin - which is how I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the biggest bridezilla this side of the Mississippi. To being wedding buddies,” he said and held his beer out towards you, “’cause God knows we’re gonna need it.”

“Wedding buddies,” you said, and clinked your glass. You waited until he had a mouthful of beer to say, “So, how’s your love life these days?”

“O-ho!” He nearly choked. “We are not doing that.”

“That hardly seems fair!”

“Age before beauty, Cabbage: I still get to make a few of the rules.” Watching your face work into a grimace, he laughed. “You really do hate when I call you that, don't you? Look at you! It's like a full-body cringe!”

“Stop it!” you complained.

The unfortunate nickname started back when you were a kid and had a penchant for a particular Cabbage Patch doll, which, in hindsight, seemed like an emotional support object, thank you very much. You carried it around until you were forcibly parted during Kindergarten - hence, Cabbage Patch, which in time shortened itself to “Cabbage.” It was cute when your mom said it, but Jake?

“You don't seem to mind when Mike calls you that,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve seen Mike in all sorts of undignified situations. It evens the playing field.”

“I’d say we've known each other almost as long.”

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

“I’m getting nothing else out of you by way of an explanation, aren't I? Fine…” he dramatically sighed. “I guess I’ll stop calling you Cabbage.”

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

“Thank you,” you said, a little embarrassed.

From the backyard came a round of applause as Clyde finished his song. Jake smiled at you, then leaned close with a devilish glint in his eye. “Are you sure you're okay with the whole Josh thing? We can always make it our mission to make him insanely jealous.”

You scoffed. “Please, he would never buy that. You and me? He’d see right through it.”

“I want you to know that your lack of faith in my abilities is deeply, deeply hurtful. I’m just saying! You haven't seen me in action!”

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, alright…”

“There she is!” he cackled.

You hoped the laughter meant he’d missed the note of jealousy in your voice. “Besides, I don't care about making him jealous,” you said with a shrug. “He and Mia are good together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Okay, look,” you sighed, “the only reason I’m telling you this is because you're not them, so I’d better not hear a word from Mike about anything I’m about to tell you. Deal?”

He nodded, and mimed zipping his lips closed for dramatic effect.

“There’s just… no sob story about it,” you began. “By the time it was over, it was almost a relief. And honestly? If it hadn't been for our families, we would've broken up ages ago.”

“What was wrong with him?”

By the look on his face, it was like he expected you to say he had a funny snore or that he chewed too loudly or had an extra head. If only the truth were that tangible. He wasn't mean to you, didn't cheat. But he wasn't Jake. He didn't make you excited to wake up in the morningz

“By the end, we were more like roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend,” you explained. “I mean, when it happened, did I want to claw Mia’s face off, knowing she’d been angling for an opening for years? Of course I did. But that was more about my pride than anything. I wasn't heartbroken. I’m not,” you insisted. “But telling them that would feel like ruining Christmas. They're having fun slinging mud on my behalf.”

“And maybe just a tiny part of you enjoys it?” Jake asked.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. “Do you really think I’m above a bit of harmless spite? Hell, I practically wrote the playbook. But what you said - about your pride being hurt? That goes for him too, you know. He doesn't have to buy the whole thing, he just has to see you moving on. Trust me, it’ll hurt.”

“Maybe I don't care enough to hurt him.”

Jake studied you, his eyes shining in the warm glow. “You really have grown up,” he said at last. “I, on the other hand—”

“Oh, come on. Jake, you’re all talk, always have been.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The summer before your junior year,” you pointed out, “you spent nearly all of it replacing Will Delonge’s wooden fence and you told no one about it. The only reason I know is because Mom found out—”

“Your mom finds out about everything,” Jake lamented.

That she did. “You helped Arn McCallister with his math grade,” you added. “You asked Gina to dance at the Winter Ball when her friends made that bet—”

“Some friends,” he interjected. “I swear, Fiona Brussaurd still scares the shit out of me. What, were you keeping tabs on me all through high school?”

“Everyone was keeping tabs on you all through high school,” you confessed. “You were Jake Seresin, Hometown Hero. You still are. You could probably get away with murder.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. If you weren't mistaken, there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it might have been the beer he finished, or a play of the light. “Actually, I can’t. Semper Fortis, remember? You can't fly planes in prison. Besides, I am way too pretty for that uniform.”

“And you always do that,” you replied. “Try to throw people off the scent of you being an actually decent guy. But I know the truth,” you pointed out. “You have a tell.”

“Really, what's that?”

Over the course of the conversation Jake had angled towards you without your notice; now, your knees were touching and his upturned mouth was close enough to kiss. Your heart was racing in your chest, and yet his gaze was like a challenge - don’t back down, he seemed to say, and that was all Jake. He was exhilarating, just by being himself.

You dared to draw even closer, as if whispering a secret. “Mothers love you.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at pretending.”

“Take the hit, Seresin. No one is that good.”

Smiling, he nudged your knee and leaned back on his hands, sitting with you until the first early-nighters began to leave.

-

Amanda Seresin was two years older than Jake. Her dad, Jake’s uncle, passed away when Amanda was fourteen, and ever since, Jake and his parents had taken her and Dinah under their wings. Jake was the closest thing she had to a brother, and though he was younger, you knew Jake was incredibly protective of her and his aunt, so you were determined not to ruin his wedding experience by being a lovestruck weirdo.

After your time together on the porch, that might prove difficult for you. But this was about Amanda. She assigned you to be his date, and you were going to be a professional about it.

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

“These are a little tall, aren’t they?” your mom asked, fretting over the tulips at the center of one of the guest tables. “I asked for measurements, but now that they’re here…”

You glanced at your watch. “We have time to fix them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, mom, all of them. Let’s take them into the kitchen, then we can rush up and change before the cocktails start.” You knew she wouldn’t have a speck of peace if she didn’t get them trimmed. She would fret and fuss, and probably commit floral kidnapping crimes when it all got too much. She liked everything to be perfect, especially for the people she loved, so you ignored the time crunch and your watch yelling at you that it was 4:35, twenty-five minutes before guests were due to arrive for drinks and canapés, and, signaling for your dad to help gather up the centerpieces, you rushed into the venue’s kitchen and started trimming down with the nearest pair of garden shears.

Your mom breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done and a few of the earliest guests offered to help carry the vases back to the tables, giving you enough time to head upstairs and put on the blue dress you’d brought in a garment bag.

So you were fussing about your looks… That didn’t mean you were not chill, it just meant you wanted to look nice… for Amanda. For the photos. It had nothing to do with Jake Seresin at all.

By the time you made it down - finally, and a little late since you spent more on it than usual perfecting your makeup - there were about sixty people on the lawn, nibbling on pulled pork sliders and mac-and-cheese bites, mini tacos and bacon-wrapped dates. You spotted your dad grabbing one of everything and your mom pulling on his sleeve, probably to hiss, “Pace yourself, hon.” She had a glass of champagne in one hand, more as a prop, since half of her attention was spent surveying her work as if anticipating one of the centerpieces to go up in flames.

Knowing her, she might have packed a tiny fire extinguisher in that glittery, silver clutch.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a plate and a few of the canapés from a passing waiter. The rehearsal dinner was a much bigger affair than the barbecue Jake’s parents had thrown for close friends and family the night before. You knew Josh would be in attendance (probably with Mia) and so would a lot of your high school crowd. Letting out a sigh, you threw your shoulders back and tried to look relaxed, exchanging greetings as you mingled with the growing number of guests. It was a beautiful night. God must love Amanda, as He should, because the weather was balmy in a pleasant way, warm enough that the ladies could throw off their wraps and show off their dresses, the men leave their jackets draped over chairs.

The venue was a little bed and breakfast with a sprawling back patio and hedges that grew around the property, gracefully unkempt, with magnolia trees in bloom. You said hello to your old History teacher, a small, soft-spoken woman with a gray bob and tortoiseshell glasses dangling on a chain. In turn, she had taken personal interest in Amanda, Jake, and then you - she was the whole reason Amanda went into teaching, and you heard Jake mention once that he wouldn’t have joined the Navy if not for her. Sometimes, you felt a little self-conscious about not having more to show for your education, but Ms. Beauchene never made you feel like your life choices were a disappointment. She popped into the flower shop on occasion, pleased with her paper-wrapped bouquets, and no matter what, without fail, you’d ring her up and she’d say with full honesty, “These are going to make my week,” before she walked out humming.

You were glad Amanda included her in the rehearsal, especially when you spotted Josh walking in with his arm around Mia’s waist. Excusing yourself, you made for the bar and ordered one of the signature cocktails, Amanda’s favorite blackberry bourbon smash, and downed half of it before turning back and making small talk as if your life depended on it. Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of Josh that had you feeling like the inside of your brain was crawling with ants. It was Mia. You hated the thought of her seeing any kind of weakness in you - that she might take in your appearance and think that your hairdo was messy or that your eyes looked a little dark, and assume from it that she’d left you a human wreck after her little victory.

Without a doubt, Mia had attended the Fiona Brussaurd School of Mean Girls, and the last thing you wanted to do was appear like the lesser creature. So when your family began to fuss under the pretense of “casually” making conversation, you swatted them away, feeling grateful when dinner was announced and everyone could retreat to their neutral corners.

You chose to sit at a table with a few old school friends, one of whom was also in the wedding party, and to avoid the meaningful looks Julie had been sending you all evening, you sat with your back to the rest of the guests, enjoying the hour of relative peace and reminiscing, the view of an ornamental fountain set with warm lights, and your plate of pan-seared sea bass and cheesy potatoes. Gradually, the music shifted from sit-down easy listening to dancing tunes, and the people at your table began seeking out partners or joining those already on the lawn who were spinning and jiving in every available space.

Soon, you were alone at the table. You leaned back in your chair, enjoying the breeze against your face. If you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of music and laughter, you could almost forget all the drama with your ex…

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Jake and his movie-star grin. The butterflies started banging around your stomach again. Forget the tulips, you were the one with your nerves all in a tangle tonight.

“Hey, stranger - ’nother drink?” he asked, offering you another of the bourbon cocktails. He had a rocks glass in his other hand, and without waiting for an invitation he took the chair next to you, throwing his arm across the back of yours.

You replied, “Yes, please,” trying not to melt into his touch. Nuzzling against him like a cat would not be chill, you reminded yourself, even if he did look incredible with his open dress shirt collar and the little peek of his chest made you feel like a Victorian with the vapors.

He lounged in that casual way of his, attractive without trying. “These things really go on forever, don't they?”

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

“What happened to getting married on a Tuesday while everyone’s at work?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you just quote Runaway Bride?”

His face went still. “What, no.”

“Yes, you did!” you exclaimed, setting down your drink and straightening in your seat. Jake looked mildly panicked and was doing his best to look innocent, which you found absolutely hilarious. “Oh my God, are you a closet romcom man?”

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

“She looks happy.” Jake tipped his head towards Amanda despite the fact that she was behind you both, out of sight, and clearly being used as a way to change the subject. “You know the guy?”

“You met him yesterday,” you said. And I know what you're doing implicit was in your tone.

Jake shrugged, an expert at deflection. “Yeah, but it's hard to tell what a guy’s made of from a single meeting.”

Deciding that the accusation of Romcomitis would go unanswered on this particular occasion, you tested the limits of his cool under pressure, pretending to deliberate before you played along with the conversational shift.

“D’you want to hear the absolute worst thing I can think to say about him?”

Jake went battle-ready, poised to hate the guy. You watched his shoulders and the set of his jaw change, and it made you want to touch the side of his face and kiss the frown away, laughing as you did.

Just messing with you, you would say.

It would be so easy. Maybe the fantasy was clouding your judgment - along with your third cocktail of the night - but you could feel in your body that being with Jake would be as natural as breathing.

You looked over your shoulder, watching Christian lean into Amanda to whisper something into her ear.

He had his hand on her arm and looked a little spooked, probably because one of the Seresins’ honorary aunts, Jackie, who was known for her tell-it-like-it-is comments, no matter how indiscreet, was walking away. Poor guy. Amanda giggled at whatever he said and stroked his hand, whispering back words of reassurance. Their demeanor together was easy, full of shorthand. And Amanda did look happy - so happy that it made you a little jealous, pleased as you were that she had found her person.

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

“He's a little dull,” you explained. “But in a good way. He mellows her out.”

“Amanda? That sounds like an impossible task. But I can see it…” He cocked his head. “I think.”

You turned your eyes back to your own table. Jake was fiddling with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirling around the oversized iced cube. He looked pensive, a furrow appearing between his brows that, in another life, you would have stroked away.

He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “You don't realize how much you've missed…”

Before you could think about it, you had your hand on his arm. “Hey, no one's keeping score.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don't,” you insisted. “You do what you've gotta do - we all know that. Your parents know it, Amanda knows it. She’s just happy you're here.”

You could tell that, as much as he appreciated your words, they weren't enough to sweep away all the moments he hadn't been around to see. It didn't matter that Jake loved flying planes, that he was proud to be one of the best naval aviators in the service, and wouldn't change his career for the world. He was still in a position where he had to ask you what Amanda’s future husband was like. He had missed his goddaughter’s christening, had to rush out of Mike and Julie’s wedding five years ago… He’d made an oath, and for as long as he wore the uniform, his first commitment was to something other than his family. Other than himself.

He spoke his next words quietly, almost to himself, just for you.

“You know, the thing about flying is that when you're up there, nothing else matters. It can’t. All of your focus, all of your faculties, your energy… they're in the air. Meanwhile, all of this real life… the thing we’re meant to be safeguarding for everyone else, it doesn't stop, and when you land right back in the middle of it—”

He stopped.

“Yeah?” You were hanging on for the rest of it, eager for these little pieces of Jake that you stored up even after he was gone.

“I mean, it feels like yesterday since I left for college, signed up. Now Amanda’s getting married, Mike’s having kids, you are having just the worst luck of the year…”

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Jake. You're thirty-two - pull yourself together. Jeez! Who knew Top Gun would make you so existential? Is that why you're self-medicating with classic romantic comedies?”

“If you ever tell Mike, I swear to God—” He pointed his finger at you, and you pinched it in two of yours, earning a chuckle and a childish attempt at a thumb-war game that was interrupted when the bride herself came up behind you and threw her arms around you both with a “Hey, you two!”

“Mands!” Jake exclaimed, craning his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

“You big fibber,” Amanda threw back. “Why are you here? Go dance!”

“Can’t. I’m keeping my date company, and a gentleman never abandons his date. It’s in the rules.”

“Good thing I know you're not a gentleman. You're in my wedding party!” she said. “It’s up to you two to set a good example for the other guests.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we?” He offered you his hand, throwing Amanda a look that said, See? I’m following orders.

She smiled back, giving you room to rise from your chairs and circle round. With her arms crossed, she watched as you found an open space, making sure you’d followed through before seeking out her next victims.

As bad luck would have it, the song switched from something uptempo to an Ashley Monroe ballad, romantic strings and all. “Has anybody ever told you/ that when you walk into a dark room/ the light of a thousand moons surround you?/ Yeah, there's just something about you./ Has anybody ever told you?”

It was stupid, but the words felt so real with Jake’s hands on you that you were worried he’d be able to read your mind or see on your face that you meant every sentence. You tried looking anywhere else, at the other couples, the catering staff picking up empty glasses, at your mom fluffing a perfectly decent bouquet, anywhere but at Jake.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, eyes darting nervously at being caught red-handed.

“Tense up like I’ve got the plague,” Jake said. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making what weird?”

“We’re dancing!” He pressed one hand against your hip, the other into your lower back. “Just dance!”

“By which I’m sure you mean, ‘just follow my lead’?”

You didn't mean to sound so prickly, you were just panicking and trying to throw Jake off the scent. This does not constitute playing it cool, you scolded yourself. But instead of taking it badly, Jake laughed as he stared down at you.

“If you like. Or I can follow yours if it makes you feel any better. Here, you can put your hand on my waist - but leave room for Jesus.”

“Dork.”

“There we go,” he cajoled, swaying with you in time to the beat. “Letting you insult me seems to really get your engines going. We should analyze that.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“I don’t know, do I?” He cackled out loud at the dark look you sent his way, stroking your back in a way that meant absolutely nothing, but which you felt all the way down to your toes. “You make it too easy,” he added.

Jake’s sense of humor made it hard to stay self-conscious. Eventually, you eased into the dance and you were almost sorry when the song switched to something a little more upbeat that didn't require him to stand so close to you. Still, he twirled you in a circle and brought you back into the solid curve of his body, showing off.

Then, out of nowhere, his face worked into a scowl as he spotted something a few yards to your right. You turned your head to see what it was, so lost in the moment that it took a few seconds for you to register that Josh was dancing with Mia, quite well, actually, to the Texas Tornados.

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

“What? It’s just an observation, I’m not saying it for your benefit.”

“She looks incredible,” you sighed. On anyone else, the dress she had on would make them look like a costume disco ball, but on Mia it looked modern and chic, showing off her body and matching well with a slicked back bun and dangly earrings.

Jake’s shoulder rose and fell beneath your hand. “If you say so. She’s not really my type.”

Are you serious?  “Jake, just about every woman is your type.”

“I’m sorry, are you slut-shaming me right now? In this political climate? I could have you canceled for that.”

“Ha-ha,” you said in response. “I mean, look at her, she is objectively a 10 - don’t say you wouldn’t. Hell, I would if I were inclined that way… Don’t!” You pinned Jake with a warning stare, cutting off the joke that was on the tip of his tongue and dying to come out.

“Well, I wouldn’t now,” he said instead.

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

The word made you tense up again - not on purpose, it was an automatic reaction you wanted to take back as soon as you went stiff all over again. And it didn't escape Jake’s notice.

“What?” he questioned, cupping your shoulders and shaking you a little as a gag. “Oh my God, have you ever thought about taking up yoga? Meditation?”

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Compared to you, I am a very chilled-out person.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. No matter what was going on inside Jake, he knew how to keep a calm exterior. You’d always admired that about him. With the exception of your dad, your family wasn't known for its cool under pressure. Even Mike could be a bit of a basket case. That’s why he and Julie worked so well together.

You sighed again, wondering if you’d ever find your own version of Christian or Julie, someone who fit with all of your wonky parts and made you feel, regardless of circumstance, that everything would turn out okay.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You looked at Jake, startled by the remark and the heat rushing into your face. He was dead serious. The levity you saw in his eyes had nothing to do with his tone, which was kind but not pitying. And you knew Jake would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. “Not that it’s a competition,” he tacked on, “I’m just saying… don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure he’s eating his heart out right now.”

“And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Because he hasn’t stopped looking at us for the last sixty seconds.”

Your gaze drifted off to the side before Jake took your chin in his hand, his touch gentle and yet firm.

“Don’t look!” he chided. “Jesus… That’s recon 101 - I’ve got your six, you keep dancing and pretend we’re not talking about him, you amateur!”

“Sorry! You’re so bossy!” you grumbled, fighting off another blush.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The word zinged through your body along with the killer Jake Seresin dimpled grin, and to make matters worse, he twirled you again, laughing when he brought you to rest your back against his chest. Josh froze when he saw you, spotting Jake’s hands on your waist. But you couldn’t care less - you were breathless, with Jake’s mouth close enough to kiss, reminding you of his knee nudge on the porch and his arm beneath your hand.

For a moment, you could almost believe that he was flirting with you for real. If you turned your head, would he accept the press of your mouth against his? Would he push you away or pull you in closer, regardless of your families watching and Josh staring, almost open-mouthed, like he couldn’t believe Jake fucking Seresin would give you the time of day?

Before you could make a choice, the song ended and Jake released you from his grip, keeping a hand on your back as he herded you away from the dance floor and to the bar, where he ordered a beer and asked if you wanted something. If you answered, you weren’t aware. You felt not in control, your stomach all in knots and the memory of Jake’s touch seared into your skin. A part of you still wanted desperately to kiss him and the other wanted to rush into the B&B and burst into tears from sheer confusion. Meanwhile, Jake seemed perfectly fine, chatting with the bartender on duty and leaning against the counter as he dropped a few bills into the tip jar.

“What are you doing?” you asked when you felt him touching you on the shoulder.

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

“Hey! On the dance floor was one thing, but I am not aiming to make this entire weekend about making my ex jealous. Any high school dude-vendetta you have against Josh should be addressed on your own time, you psycho. Besides, he’s never going to actually buy it.”

“Alright.” Jake threw up his hands, lowering the charm down a few watts. Your drinks were set down on a pair of square cocktail napkins and you took up yours, a fizzy gin thing with lemon that made you wonder whether you shouldn’t have stuck with bourbon to avoid going around with a hangover on Amanda’s wedding day.

Jake went on. “But I’m really not liking all this negative self-talk, you know. Mia might be a 10, but at most he’s, like, a 6…”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

“What?” The alcohol either rushed up to your head or evaporated completely. How the hell did Jake manage to say things that left you completely dumbfounded and without a single intelligent thought in your head? And he did it with a smile! This one was purposefully subdued as he waved around with the beer in his hand as if making a profound point.

“You’re way out of his league. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

“Okay, well…”

“You’re blushing!” he remarked. “That’s adorable.”

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

“Hey, I joke about a lot of things, but I don’t go around handing 8s to just anyone.”

“Oh, look, they’re bringing out coffee.” The needle was tipping firmly towards the need to escape, though it wasn’t that serious - you knew it wasn’t; Jake had a tendency to be a flirt and he usually didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes, it could even be amusing to play along, to get swept up in his wit and the light of his attention. But you didn’t want to play. And you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his company because you weren’t. You loved every precious second you got to spend with him, knowing he’d be off to California soon and that the next time you might see him could be months or even a year from now.

Getting your hopes up would be a mistake, and you were dangerously close to doing it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He touched your elbow gently. You wished he couldn’t read you so well. Or that he could read you better, and see what you had been trying to say to him for years but were too scared to utter.

You did your best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to hover all night. Go, take a load off, have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“I was. I am,” you corrected, frustrated with yourself for not taking it better. For not being cool and together and the sort of girl who took charge and damned the outcome. She would’ve kissed Jake when she had the chance. She would have shown up to California. Hell, she would’ve made her move ages ago instead of pining, pathetically, and letting twenty years go by.

That’s what Mia had done. And that’s why she had her dream guy - your former guy - while you were exactly in the same position, too tongue-tied to take a shot.

“Just… can you give me some space?” you blurted out, your frustration bleeding through.

The hurt in Jake’s expression was there and gone in a lightning flash, but you’d seen it and you felt terrible about it. Before you could say anything to make it better, he’d replaced it with a devil-may-care smile.

“Got it,” he said, his voice a little tight around the edges. “Well… I’ll make myself scarce. Holler if you need me.”

With that, he took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to weave your way through oblivious partygoers to find the nearest ladies’ room, where you locked yourself in a stall and tried not to ruin your makeup with the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

-

Hindsight was a bitch. The next morning you were sure you’d overreacted, made a fool of yourself and created a potentially awkward situation now that the wedding day was upon you and you had to take his arm, in - you glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand - five-and-a-half hours, and walk with him down the aisle wearing a smile for the sake of the photographers.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands and calling yourself every name in the book.

Jake had promised to be your wedding buddy and then sweetly kept his word, and what did you do in response? Completely freak out, you scatterbrained nincompoop.

As penance, you threw yourself into the arrangement of the reception flowers, channeling your mother while you directed the staff this way and that, trying not to think about Jake and the mortifying apology that awaited you. It was the right thing to do - not only to clear the air but because he hadn't deserved being chewed out in a momentary panic, and you knew you wouldn't feel right with yourself if you didn't take the blame and say your mea culpa.

But boy were you dreading it.

“You should head out now, Cabbage,” your mom advised around eleven o'clock. “Dad and I can handle the rest and you should be with Amanda, spend some time with the girls before the big event.”

“Are you sure you don't need help with the aisle arrangements?” A cowardly attempt, but you did it anyway.

“We’ve got it,” Mom repeated, turning you around and all but shepherding you into the parking lot. She waved you off with a “have fun,” and you couldn't help your brain’s internal response of “fat chance.”

All the way to the B&B you kept rehearsing what you might say to Jake when you saw him, but by the time you pulled up and found a free parking space, you were sweating, physically and metaphorically, and thinking that, maybe, if you listened to TED Talks rather than Dateline, you might have an enlightened response to your current dilemma.

You fetched your bagged bridesmaid's dress from the trunk of the car, along with your makeup bag and hair tools. You’d have to use the shower before you started getting ready, but you were looking forward to get-ready champagne and a throwback playlist. Anything to feel more like your normal self and less like a silly teenager who couldn’t talk to boys.

You went up three flights of stairs to reach the bridal suite. From both sides, you could hear music spilling out into the hall, an ABBA classic clashing with Brett Young. Automatically, you placed your hand on the doorknob leading towards bouncy 80s pop only for it to turn and spring open, revealing Jake with an undone bow tie hanging around his neck.

It could be that your mouth sprung open, not expecting to see him that abruptly and without giving yourself your planned thirty-second pep talk.

Your mind went blank. All you could do was stare at him like an idiot as he pointed across the hall and said, “Bridal suite’s that way.”

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

“Are you sure it wasn't yours?” The joke spilled out of your mouth, landing awkwardly to your own ears. But Jake smiled anyway, glancing down as he let the door close behind him. 

He rubbed the side of his freshly shaved cheek. “I’m headed down to the front desk, by the way. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You deserved that. So instead of cringing down into the floor - which was what you really wanted to do - you took the hit and said, “I didn’t think you were.”

“About last night…”

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle. I’m just… a little stressed,” you cut him off. It was an understatement, and not totally honest, but it was the best you could do without getting into the embarrassing particulars.

From the groomsmen’s side, Britney Spears followed ABBA, singing, “Oops, I did it again,” which seemed perversely apropos and just another reminder that you were a puppet of fate. Presently, you had to be paying for God knows what sin - probably calling Mike a buttface all those years before.

“Hey, I get it. I wasn’t trying to be clingy,” Jake went on.

“You’re not! You’re a good friend… Thank you.”

It pained you to say it, but you figured now was as good a time as any to face facts: you only had a few more days together, and you didn't want to spend them all wasting what you had, wishing it would turn into something else. Friendship with Jake was good enough. He was kind and loyal and honest; hell, anyone would be lucky to have him in their corner.

Maybe what you needed was a little gratitude. It was a wedding day, after all. Your friends and family would all be gathering in a few hours to celebrate Christian and Amanda and they had chosen you to be a special part of their most important day. How cool was that?

“Can we just not talk about Mia and Josh today?” you asked, hefting the garment back up your shoulder. “I want to focus on Amanda and make sure she has a nice time at her wedding - get drunk but not sloppily so, take a few pictures, dance a bit, not feel like everyone’s waiting for the Jerry Springer shoe to drop?”

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

He went down the hall, turning right and bounding the carpeted stairs. You watched him go with a sigh, deciding that it was hard to be a grown-up and lovelorn at the same time. The two things were so incompatible - liking someone, loving them even, felt utterly undignified.

Nonetheless, you could breathe a lot easier after clearing the air. With the apology out of the way, you threw yourself into full bridesmaid mode, squeezing into the cramped bathroom with five other women in customized robes who were curling, straightening, powdering, talking, fighting for counter space, gasping at gossip, and being an overall flurry of chaos while the bride reigned over all, putting in comments through the haze of hair- and setting spray.

The air in the room was joyous, with a smattering of nervous energy mostly provided by Amanda.

Once dressed in your different styles of champagne satin, the bridesmaids focused on making sure Amanda was ready for her starring role. You took turns doing up the buttons on the back of her wedding gown, and when Dinah popped in to give her a pair of diamond earrings she wore to her own wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. “Do not let my mascara run!” Amanda urged, prompting Carrie, the maid of honor, to jokingly rush forward with a folded-up Kleenex and dab at her eyes.

The groomsmen left for the wedding venue first, piling into a shuttle after yelling well-wishes through the door. Fifteen minutes later you followed suit, with Ali O’Rourke pouring canned cocktails into plastic cups and filming the journey at the same time as her phone blasted Taylor Swift (“But none of the breakup songs!”). In twenty minutes you were at the botanical garden, arranging the first look through a comical series of shouts and mimes partially obscured by a tall bush and caught on camera by the couple’s videographer. Once Christian had gotten the memo to stand there, at the edge of an ornamental pond but with his back to the azaleas, you pushed Amanda in his direction and waved her on, giving whistles and catcalls when he dipped her into a kiss that was very un-Christian-like and all the more romantic for that reason.

Once the wedding party photos were done, it was time to head inside and wait for the guests to arrive. You found that, like Amanda, you were feeling a little jittery now that patience was all that was required. From the double doors to the altar, it was a fairly long walk and you were worried that your heels would sink into the grass or that you would fall flat on your face. Luckily, you weren’t the only one with that fear. Amanda’s coworker, Lucy, who had never been a bridesmaid before, had a minor freakout, and talking her down helped you allay your own fears, as did the liquid courage courtesy of Ali’s dress having pockets.

(Amanda: “I don’t remember reading that on the website.”

Ali: “That’s because you didn’t. I had it tailored.”)

At last, the wedding coordinator called for everyone to take their places and Jake came towards you, looking smart in his tux. At the rehearsal dinner you’d heard Mike asking, “So, where’s the dress uniform?”, to which Jake replied, “And upstage you?” Well, uniform or not, you were sure he could upstage anyone. To you, he was the handsomest person in the room, and you were in danger of saying so until Jake beat you to the punch.

“Look at you, you clean up well!” he remarked.

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

You laughed. Humble as always. You were glad to see that all the awkwardness between you had gone, in no small part because of the excitement over the ceremony. A sudden hush came over everyone as Harriet signaled for the doors to be opened. Jake held out his arm. “Shall we?” he said, echoing his words when he asked you to dance.

This time you were ready for it. No matter what, in this particular moment, you and Jake were allies - wedding buddies, he said - and instead of overthinking things or making a mountain out of a molehill, you were resolved to enjoy it.

You took his arm and faced forward. The first strains of music began. Showtime, Harriet mouthed, while at the altar Christian turned to meet his bride.

-

The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, followed by a drinks reception and a sit-down dinner punctuated by toasts that ranged from the humorous to the downright sentimental. Now that Amanda had clipped up her train, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in the morning, and it made you feel like you could let down your hair, so to speak, and enjoy the party underneath the light-strewn tent.

The guests were eager to dance. Without letup they moved through classic wedding standards and modern dance hits to country reels and the obligatory playing of “Mr. Brightside,” a moment which Sandy and Clyde stole with their enthusiastic head-bops. You couldn't remember the last time you danced, or laughed, half as much, and even the appearance of Josh and Mia couldn’t steal your good mood. As long as they kept to their side of the tent, you could pretend they weren't there and if Mom or Julie sidled up with a comment in defense of your honor, it was easy to point a finger to your ear as if to say, “What? I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Jake kept close for the most of the night, leaning in close and making funny comments about the hidden goings-on - who was putting the moves on who, who was sneaking mini cupcakes into their purse, who got carted off to the indoor area after over-imbibing and nearly causing a minor dancefloor traffic incident.

Maybe it was all his Navy training, but for a guy’s guy Jake had an uncanny eye for gossip, and you said so, winning a laugh and another request for your oath of secrecy.

“I hate to tap out before Great-Aunt Sandy,” he said halfway through the Jailhouse Rock, “but do you want to take a breather? I feel like I’m getting a stitch in my side.”

“You? Sheesh, Hangman, you're really letting yourself go,” you chaffed. “What'll the higher-ups think when you get back to San Diego?”

“Well, if they really want to replace me, I’ll send them Aunt Sandy’s way.” He led you outside, where you promptly balanced one foot at a time trying to unclasp your heeled sandals while Jake watched, snorting before he took pity on you and let you lean on his arm.

His very muscled arm…

Inwardly, you sighed like one of the Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast, but hey, you’d behaved yourself all day; you were allowed to have the occasional impure thought.

With a little sound of triumph, you managed to remove your shoes and held them by the straps, walking on the grass in your bare feet. You had a pair of flats in your purse, but that was somewhere inside and, anyway, the ground felt good against your tired arches. You’d been dancing for over two hours and needed the break.

“How do you even stand in those death traps?” Jake eyed your shoes as if they were hand grenades, which amused you to no end seeing as they’d cost you a small fortune precisely because they claimed to be comfortable.

“They’re not so bad,” you replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t need them if you weren’t so tall.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrugged, keeping your face deliberately blank. “It’s a free country.”

“Wow…” Jake huffed through a laugh, “you are incapable of just being nice to me.”

“What, I am nice!”

“In a backhanded-compliment sort of way, sure.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Jake, you’re the biggest 10 at the wedding’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but we’re getting warmer,” he said with a toothy grin, entering a path bordered by low hedges leading to the pond where the first look had taken place.

The lights from the wedding reception lit the way, along with the small solar-powered fixtures planted in the ground, but for the most part the darkness was a respite from the sights and sounds of the packed tent. In a way, it made it easier to talk to Jake, ignoring your history, feeling like a girl who’d been asked on a walk by someone who wanted to spend more time with her.

You laughed, leaning into the role of interested flatterer. You were walking backwards, even daring to place your hand on the front of Jake’s shirt, trusting him to lead the way and keep you from tripping into a bush. “You’re an incredible dancer,” you put in, going full Bimbette. You might have batted your eyelashes, and your voice took on the dreamy girlishness of Marilyn Monroe, which only gave Jake the giggles as he tried to maintain his yes, I am all the things composure. “You look as good in a tux as you do in your Navy uniform.”

“Both true.”

“You’re funny and smart, and soooo interesting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks to place your hands on his cheeks. Jake was smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep his lips pressed together. “You’ve got a face like an Old Hollywood dreamboat.”

He nodded solemnly, the slight clearing of his throat the only indicator that he was on the verge of breaking character. “You’re not the first person to say that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, does that surprise you? Do you disagree?”

“Of course not, this is the Jake Seresin Appreciation Hour.” You draped your arms around his neck. Maybe it was the cocktails or the distant wedding music making you bold, but Jake didn't pull away and you were only pretending - at least, that was your justification when you felt the weight of his hands on your hips.

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

“Fine, but you’re being a very picky subject!”

“I’ll have you know,” he scoffed, “Jake Seresin Hour was not my idea. You don’t get to institute it and then complain when I point out your lazy reporting.”

Lazy reporting? You were ready to duke it out over that and he knew it, his eyes alight with the challenge, head cocked to see what you’d come up with next. Your back hit the trunk of a live oak and you felt the adrenaline in your veins mixing with the alcohol and a sheer attraction that wouldn't be kept at bay. You wondered briefly whether this was what flying was like - a full-bodied, present physicality, all instinct, every move stretched taut and your nerves like live wires.

Jake glanced at your mouth and it left you breathless. Little wonder, then, that the next words out of your mouth were half confession, half part of the game.

“There’s not a single person at this party who isn’t head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Not a single one?” Jake argued. “Not even the groom?”

“Not even the groom.”

“Well, obviously, we’re not including my relatives in that.”

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s just a game, it’s just a game. The thought kept clashing in your head with the urge to say “kiss me” and he was standing so close, with his body half pressed against yours, solid and warm, realer than any lust-fueled fantasy you could’ve come up with in the dead of night, the party forgotten with him as your only view, and you kept thinking, Maybe he wants me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe I should do it - what would be the harm?

The answer to this final point was obvious, and yet he was hard to resist. His fingers brushed against your waist, the touch feather-light enough that it might have been in your imagination except for his forehead pressed down to yours, his heart beating steadily beneath your nervous hand.

Without debating it further you pulled him into a kiss, shutting your eyes against any possible consequences as you memorized the taste of his mouth, the weight of his hands sliding down your back, the heat of his breath. You pulled away, mortified by your lapse in judgment and the obvious proof of feelings which you now couldn't take back.

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m drunk… I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You slid past him, holding your breath, willing him not to follow after you or try to stop you from fleeing. Your body felt like it was short-circuiting, blazing with need and then doused in icy-cold regret and horror at your own actions.

So he had flirted with you. That didn't mean he wanted to kiss you; it certainly didn't signal any romantic interest that merited you throwing yourself at him and telling him, of all things, that you loved him!

You went back to the party, picking your purse up from behind your chair and forcing a smile when people stopped you to chat, making excuses and saying you had to go to the bathroom. Inside, you moved past the lobby and straight out to the drive, where the hired shuttle service was taking guests in no state to drive to and from a few local hotels.

The driver asked if you were ready to leave and you said yes, feeling mildly guilty for staging an Irish goodbye, but there was no way you could go on pretending for the rest of the night, let alone face Jake. You prayed that everyone would be too busy having fun to notice your absence, and if not you would apologize profusely tomorrow at brunch, claiming a headache or exhaustion or anything else that might obscure your bad decision-making and propensity to lose your shit around Jake.

You were let onto the bus, the sole passenger as the driver turned on the engine and radioed his boss to say he was en route to the B&B. Just as you were relaxing into your seat, Jake came bounding up the steps, giving the driver a cursory nod just before the doors closed behind him and the vehicle began to move.

“Can we talk?” he asked, sliding next to you and dropping his jacket in his lap.

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

“But you’re sitting in this one,” he said with the ghost of a grin. You would've rolled your eyes if you weren’t busy wishing you could teleport to literally anywhere else.

You faced forward to the other cars on the road, watching their taillights shine as you moved into nighttime traffic. “Can you do me a favor? I know you’ve done a lot of them over the past couple of days, but can you just forget that ever happened?”

“No.”

Aghast, you turned your head to see Jake looking maddeningly smug, not to mention relaxed, while he was invading your personal space and driving you to the brink of mental collapse.

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

“Completely irrelevant,” he finished for you. “Besides, you kissed me, remember?”

“I don’t. I’ve wiped it from my memory chip.”

With a smile, Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips that was almost chaste, except for the brush of his tongue against your lip and his fingers cupping your chin in a hold that was teasing and gentle, and undeniably thought-out.

“How about that one?” he asked, pulling away just enough to view your reaction.

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

“Ew! Why would you call me that right now?” you exclaimed, scooching back into the window.

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” But it did. Like so many other inside jokes, you knew exactly what he meant to say. It made you feel all warm inside, especially because there was no trace of subterfuge in his handsome face, and you knew he’d never be cruel enough to lead you on. He followed you, he thought you were beautiful, and he was here trying to convince you not to take the kiss back.

To be bold. To follow through.

“If you want to keep being friends…” he began.

“You and Mike are just friends, Jake. I’m the kid sister with a massively pathetic crush on you.”

“Maybe I have a crush on you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

In front of Pleasant View the driver pulled on the brakes, and Jake laced his fingers through yours as he dismounted and put a twenty in the tip jar, stopping in front of the entrance to face you with a question hanging, unspoken, in the air. If you let this opportunity pass you by, he would let you do it without a word, taking the gentleman’s way out and stopping his pursuit under the assumption that you had no interest in being with him, or in seeing where this new thing between you might go. But if you said yes…

The possibilities flashed through your mind, as frightening as they were wonderful. Everything might change. Everything would, there was no doubt about that. But change wasn’t always a bad thing, and if you had someone holding your hand along the way?

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jake pointed out.

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

You shook your head, trying to contain the nervous joy in your chest. “Maybe you should take me flying sometime, teach me the ways of classic Hangman chill.”

“Just name the time and place,” he promised. “I’m ready when you are.”

Instead of second guessing, you took him at his word.

You reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth, sighing when he pressed you flush against his chest and carressed the nape of your neck. There was no predicting the future; that part would always be like navigating blind. But Jake was worth the risk. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who made you want to try, who took chances, and made you laugh through the terror of uncertainty.

In that moment, being lifted off the ground, physically swept off your feet by the man you’d loved since you’d first contemplated what love could be, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And the best part? From the look on Jake’s face, you knew the exact thought running through his head:

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

[dizzybee03]

This just gets cuter and cuter! I love how she’s fitting into his family like she has always been there 💙

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 14

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Gabby spends more time in Austin with Glen and his family. A quiet moment leads to Gabby opening up more to Glen about her past, and Glen gets to see a new side of Gabby, making him fall even more for her. Gabby also gets to see the more public side of dating someone like Glen.

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: Mentions of Previous Relationships. Mentions of Controlling Exes. Alcohol Consumption.

A/N: Please continue to let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know, and I will get you added to the tag list!

Tag List: In Comments - Tumblr for some reason doesn't like linking more than 5 usernames so I'm just going to use the tags in the comments to make sure you get the notification!

Gabby stirred awake to the soft golden light streaming through the blinds of Glen’s bedroom. She blinked sleepily, nestled in the cocoon of warmth created by Glen’s arms wrapped securely around her. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath her cheek, and she could hear the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart. For a moment, she simply stayed there, letting herself melt into the feeling of comfort and safety that came with being in his arms. Glen shifted slightly, his hand tracing a lazy circle against her back. 

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. 

Gabby tilted her head up to look at him, his tousled hair and half-lidded eyes making him look impossibly relaxed. 

“Morning,” she replied softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, his thumb brushing lightly against her shoulder.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, tucking herself closer to him. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

They lay there in companionable silence for a few minutes, the world outside muted, as if it was just the two of them in their own little bubble. Gabby closed her eyes, soaking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. She’d never felt so at home, so completely at ease in someone else’s space.

“You good?” Glen asked after a while, his voice gentle but curious.

Gabby opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. “Yeah,” she said, her smile widening. “I am.”

“You sure?” he pressed, his brow quirking slightly. “Yesterday was a lot. Big family, a lot of noise… I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Gabby hesitated, not because she was unsure, but because she wanted to find the right words to explain how she felt. 

“It was a lot,” she admitted finally, “but not in a bad way. Your family is amazing, Glen. They’re so warm and welcoming. I liked all of them. A lot.”

His expression softened, and the corner of his mouth lifted in that small, knowing smile she loved so much. 

“They liked you too,” he said. “Mom couldn’t stop talking about how sweet you are. And Lauren… well, you saw how she was.”

Gabby laughed. “She was great. They all were. I was nervous at first, but… being with them felt easy, you know? Like I wasn’t just meeting your family—I was part of it somehow.”

“You are,” Glen said simply, his voice steady and sure. “They are already asking if you’ll be coming to Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

Gabby’s heart swelled at his words, and she lowered her head back onto his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her. 

“It’s strange,” she admitted after a moment. “How comfortable I feel. In your life, in your house, with your family… with you..”

Glen’s arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel, right?” He said quietly.

She lifted her head again, her eyes locking with his. “I never thought I’d feel like this,” she confessed. “Like I belong somewhere. With someone.”

“Well, you do,” Glen said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “With me.”

Gabby’s breath caught at the tenderness in his voice, and she couldn’t help but lean up to kiss him. It was soft and unhurried, the kind of kiss that spoke of trust and promises unspoken.

When they finally pulled apart, Glen rested his forehead against hers. “I could stay here all day,” he murmured, his tone teasing but hopeful.

Gabby chuckled. “Tempting. Very tempting.”

The morning unfolded lazily, with sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, painting soft, golden patterns across the bed. Gabby was nestled against Glen’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into a sense of perfect contentment.

Neither of them seemed eager to leave the warmth of the bed, their conversation drifting between lighthearted teasing and quiet, meaningful moments. Glen’s fingers traced absent patterns along her arm as they talked, and Gabby couldn’t help but think how natural it all felt.

But eventually, practicality won out. As much as Gabby loved the unhurried pace of their morning, her stomach had other plans, grumbling loudly enough for Glen to notice.

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Guess that’s our cue to get moving. Can’t have you wasting away on my watch.”

Gabby groaned, burying her face in his chest for one last indulgent moment. “Fine,” she mumbled, her voice muffled. “But only because I’m starving.”

Reluctantly, she slid out of bed, stretching as her feet hit the cool floor. Glen propped himself up on his elbows, watching her with a grin as she grabbed her bag and headed toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later Gabby tied her hair into a loose bun, Glen leaned casually against the doorway, his arms crossed and a soft smile playing on his lips. He was still in his gray T-shirt and flannel pajama pants, looking far too good for someone who just rolled out of bed.

“So, what do you think about brunch?” he asked, his voice warm and easy. “I know this great spot, real laid-back. Best breakfast tacos in the city. Thought it might be nice to get out for a bit.”

Gabby glanced over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up. “Breakfast tacos? Sold. You didn’t even have to try that hard.”

Glen chuckled. “Knew you’d be an easy sell.” He pushed off the doorway, making his way toward her. “This place is kind of a hidden gem. Usually not too busy or crowded. Just good food and good coffee. Sound okay?”

Before Gabby could respond, the buzz of Glen’s phone interrupted the moment. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. His smile grew as he read the message.

“It’s my sisters,” he said, looking up at Gabby. “They’re heading to Caroline for brunch and want to know if we want to join them.”

Gabby’s eyebrows lifted in recognition. “Caroline? Isn’t that, like, the brunch spot in Austin?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty famous around here. Great food, but it’s a little… busier than the place I had in mind,” Glen admitted, tilting his head. “They really want us to come, but if you’d rather do something more low-key I’m okay with that too.”

Gabby hesitated, weighing her options. On one hand, spending more time with his family sounded nice—she really had liked them all, and the idea of getting to know them better was appealing. On the other hand, she wouldn’t mind a quieter meal, just the two of them, especially after such a big day yesterday.

“What would you rather do?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Glen shrugged, his easygoing nature shining through. “Honestly? I’m happy either way. Brunch with my family sounds fun, but I wouldn’t mind a little time with just you either.”

Gabby bit her lip, a small smile tugging at the corners. “Let’s go to Caroline,” she decided. “I think it’d be nice to see your family again.”

Glen grinned, clearly pleased. “Alright, Caroline it is. I’ll let them know we’ll head that way.”

* * * *

Caroline’s charming, bustling vibe was already evident as Glen parked his truck in front of  the brunch spot. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries wafted through the air as Gabby climbed out, taking in the lively crowd spilling out of the restaurant. It was clear this was a local favorite. They had been advised there would be a 15-20 minute wait, even with Glen’s family calling ahead to reserve a table.

As they walked toward the entrance, Glen shot Gabby a reassuring smile, his hand brushing briefly against hers before pulling back. They were careful not to hold hands, not here, where eyes seemed to linger longer than usual.

Gabby felt a surge of pride seeing how at ease Glen seemed in his hometown. But before she could process the thought, a voice called out behind them.

“Glen!”

Gabby turned just in time to see a woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties rushing toward them, phone already in hand. Within seconds, more people appeared, and a small group began to gather around Glen. A mix of excitement and awe spread through the crowd, cameras flashing as someone asked for a selfie.

“Sure,” Glen said, flashing a polite smile as he took the first phone handed to him.

Gabby stepped back instinctively, unsure of where to stand. The crowd pressed in closer, and before she knew it, she was nudged to the side by a particularly enthusiastic fan trying to get closer to Glen. The unexpected jostle made her stumble slightly, her heart starting to beat faster as she realized how separated she was from him now, with four or five people in between them.

She hesitated, not wanting to interrupt or draw attention to herself, but also unsure what she was supposed to do in this situation.

“Gabby!”

The familiar voice made her whip around to see Leslie pulling up to the curb in her car. Relief flooded Gabby as Leslie hopped out, her sharp eyes taking in the situation immediately.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Leslie said, striding over with the confidence of someone who’d handled this before. She placed a gentle hand on Gabby’s shoulder. “Come with me. He’ll catch up once he’s done.”

Gabby glanced over her shoulder at Glen, who was smiling for another photo, his attention completely on the crowd. Gabby bit her lip but nodded, allowing Leslie to steer her toward the entrance of Caroline.

“It happens more often than you’d think,” Leslie said as they walked, her tone light and conversational. “Usually, he’s good at keeping it quick, but you know how excited people get when they spot him.”

Gabby managed a small smile. “I wasn’t really sure what to do.”

Leslie chuckled. “It can be overwhelming the first time. Honestly, the best thing you can do is just step back and let him handle it. He’s used to it, and he’ll always come find you when it’s over.”

They reached the front door of Caroline, where a cheerful hostess greeted them. Leslie quickly confirmed their reservation, leading Gabby inside to a cozy table tucked away in the corner. The noise of the restaurant was a welcome distraction, and Gabby felt herself start to relax as she sat down.

Leslie offered a reassuring smile. “See? Easy. He’ll be here in a minute. He never lets it slow him down too long.”

Gabby nodded, grateful for Leslie’s calm presence. Still, as she glanced toward the window, she couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions—pride in how kind and gracious Glen was with his fans, and a flicker of unease at how easily she’d been swept aside.

As Gabby settled into her seat, trying to push the uneasy moment aside, the sound of cheerful voices pulled her attention toward the entrance. Glen’s sister Lauren stepped inside, and Glen’s niece walked beside her while her husband trailed in behind with their son.

“Leslie!” Lauren called out, a warm smile lighting up her face as she approached the table. “Sorry, we’re late! Little miss here insisted on wearing her princess dress, and we had a whole battle over the shoes to match.”

Gabby’s gaze dropped to Glen’s niece who indeed had a sparkly dress paired with mismatched socks and sneakers. She smiled at the sight, and Lauren’s eyes shifted to her daughter as well. 

“Good to see you again, Gabby,” Lauren said as the four of them took their seats at the table.

The table quickly filled with chatter as Lauren and Will settled in, their kids adding an energetic buzz to the mix. Gabby found herself swept up in the warmth of Glen’s family dynamic, the way they teased each other and shared stories effortlessly. It reminded her of the easy camaraderie she’d seen at the football game the day before, and once again, she felt that same comforting sense of belonging.

She glanced toward the window, her eyes instinctively searching for Glen. He was still outside, though the crowd had thinned slightly. She could see him crouching to take a photo with a young fan, his easy smile and relaxed posture as genuine as ever.

“He’s always like that,” Lauren said softly, drawing Gabby’s attention back to the table. She followed Gabby’s gaze, her expression fond. “He can’t say no to a fan, no matter how much of a rush he’s in.”

Gabby nodded, warmth spreading through her chest. “It’s one of the things I admire most about him,” she admitted, her voice quiet but sincere.

Before Lauren could respond, the door swung open again, and Glen finally stepped inside. He scanned the room briefly before spotting their table and making his way over, his eyes lighting up when they met Gabby’s.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he reached them, his voice apologetic but tinged with amusement. “I got caught up a bit.”

Glen’s hand found Gabby’s shoulder as he slid into the booth beside her, the touch grounding her instantly. 

“Thanks for waiting,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

Gabby looked up at him, her unease from earlier fading completely. “Always,” she replied, her smile soft and full of meaning.

The table buzzed with the comforting hum of conversation as plates arrived, piled high with breakfast favorites. Gabby couldn’t help but smile as Ethan gleefully drowned his pancakes in syrup, much to Lauren’s playful dismay. Across the table, Leslie was mid-story about a disastrous DIY project she and their mom had tackled, making everyone laugh as she dramatically recounted how their dad had to come to the rescue.

As the meal went on, the chatter naturally shifted, and Leslie turned her attention to Glen and Gabby. “So, what’s on the agenda for you two today?” she asked, her tone curious but casual as she cut into her omelet.

Glen glanced at Gabby, his lips curling into a small smile before he answered. “I was thinking of taking Gabby to Allens Boots to get her outfitted with a proper hat and some boots,” he said. “Figured it’s about time to make her officially part of Austin.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow at him, setting her fork down. “Oh, is that so?” she teased, though her cheeks warmed at the idea.

“Absolutely,” Glen said, leaning slightly closer, his voice light but laced with affection. “It’s a rite of passage.”

Leslie grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, you’ll love Allens. They’ve got an incredible selection. You’ll walk out of there feeling like a Texan for sure.”

Lauren, who had been bouncing the toddler on her knee, chimed in. “And what about after that? Any other big plans?”

Glen leaned back in his chair, considering for a moment. “I was thinking we’d head over to SoCo,” he said, referring to Austin’s vibrant South Congress neighborhood. “Walk around, check out the shops, grab a bite to eat. Keep it pretty relaxed.”

Lauren’s face lit up. “That sounds amazing. Actually,” she added, glancing at her husband, “Mom and Dad are watching the twins tonight, so we’re free. We should all go to dinner together and maybe grab drinks after.”

Leslie perked up at the suggestion. “Yes! It’s been forever since we’ve had a proper aibling night out.”

Glen chuckled, turning to Gabby. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Would you want to do dinner and drinks with everyone?”

Gabby took a moment, her gaze flicking between the eager faces at the table and Glen’s warm, steady expression. She loved how he always made sure to include her in the decision, never assuming or pressuring her.

“I think it sounds like fun,” she said, smiling at Lauren and Leslie. “I’d love to spend more time with everyone.”

“Perfect!” Leslie said, clapping her hands together. “This is going to be so much fun. We’ll pick a spot and let you know.”

As the conversation shifted again, Gabby leaned slightly into Glen’s side, her hand brushing against his under the table. He laced their fingers together discreetly, giving her hand a small, reassuring squeeze. She felt her heart warm at the thought of spending the evening with his family, feeling more and more like she belonged in this world he’d brought her into.

* * * *

The warm, earthy scent of leather hit Gabby the moment they stepped into Allens Boots. Rows upon rows of cowboy boots in every color and style imaginable stretched out before them, the shelves gleaming under the soft overhead lights. Gabby’s eyes widened at the sheer variety.

“Wow,” she breathed, taking it all in. “This is… a lot of boots.”

Glen chuckled beside her, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. “Told you it’s a rite of passage,” he said, steering her toward a nearby display. “Let’s find you something that says ‘Gabby’s first pair of boots.’”

Gabby glanced at him, amused. “And what exactly does that look like?”

“You tell me,” Glen said, walking beside her. “What’s your style? Bold and colorful? Classic and understated?

“Definitely understated,” Gabby replied, already scanning the shelves for something simple. “Something classic,” she began, running her fingers over a pair of simple, brown leather boots. “Nothing too flashy.”

Glen made a thoughtful sound before shaking his head. “Nah, these are too tame,” he teased, pulling a pair off the shelf that was covered in intricate turquoise embroidery and studs.

Gabby laughed as he held them up. “Absolutely not,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a mock glare.

“What? You’d look amazing in these,” Glen insisted, grinning.

“Pass,” she said, turning her attention back to the simpler designs.

Eventually, Gabby found a pair she loved—classic brown leather with just enough detail to feel special without being over the top. She slipped them on, testing the fit as Glen crouched down beside her, checking how they looked on her feet.

“They’re perfect,” she said, smiling down at him.

Glen looked up at her, his expression soft. “They suit you,” he agreed.

Satisfied with her choice, Gabby started to stand, but Glen suddenly straightened, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of a display nearby. 

“Hold on,” he said, striding over.

“What are you up to now?” she asked, watching him pull a cowboy hat from the rack.

“Trust me,” Glen said, turning back to her with the hat in hand.

Gabby tilted her head, raising an eyebrow as he stepped closer. “I don’t know if I’m a hat person,” she began, but Glen gently placed the hat on her head before she could protest further.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said, adjusting it just so.

Gabby caught her reflection in a nearby mirror and turned her head slightly, studying the hat. It was a light tan color with a classic shape, understated but undeniably stylish.

“Well?” she asked, turning back to Glen. “How do I look?”

Glen’s response was immediate and wordless—a soft smile spreading across his face as his eyes lingered on her, full of warmth and something deeper.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, his voice steady and sincere.

Gabby’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head slightly, trying to hide her smile. “You’re biased,” she teased, though her heart fluttered at the way he was looking at her.

“Maybe,” Glen admitted, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “But I’m still right.”

They paid for her new boots and hat, and as they stepped back outside into the warm afternoon, Gabby couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. Glen’s excitement about getting her boots and a hat was infectious, and she felt more at home in his world with every passing moment.

* * * *

After boot shopping, Glen and Gabby said their goodbyes to his sisters outside the store, Leslie pulling Gabby into a warm hug and Lauren promising they’d all meet up later in the evening. Glen opened the truck door for Gabby, helping her up into the seat before climbing in himself. The ride back to his house was filled with soft laughter and light conversation, both of them basking in the warmth of the morning they’d spent together.

As they stepped inside Glen’s house, Gabby immediately kicked off her new boots, sighing with relief as her feet hit the cool wooden floor. She held one boot in her hand, inspecting it with a mock glare.

“They’re cute, but they are not comfortable yet,” she said, shaking her head.

Glen chuckled, locking the door behind them and leaning casually against it. “You gotta break them in. A few more days, and you’ll forget you’re even wearing ‘em.”

Gabby flopped onto the couch with a groan, letting her boots drop to the floor. “Yeah, well, no one tells you that part when they’re convincing you to buy cowboy boots.”

“No one had to convince you,” Glen teased, crossing the room to stand behind the couch. “You were all in after trying on, like, three pairs. Admit it—you’re a city girl falling for the Texas charm.”

Gabby narrowed her eyes playfully and grabbed a throw pillow, tossing it over her shoulder at him. Glen caught it with ease, laughing as he rounded the couch and dropped onto the cushion next to her.

“I don’t hear you denying it,” he said, his smile tilting into a smirk.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the faint blush on her cheeks. “Whatever. They’re still cute.”

“Let me see the damage,” Glen said as he reached forward and gently pulled one of her feet into his lap.

“Glen, you don’t have to—” Gabby started, sitting up straighter.

Glen paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Gabby,” he said softly, his voice still light but tinged with a mix of confusion. “Why won’t you ever just let me take care of you?”

Her smile faltered, and she looked away, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. Glen’s expression immediately shifted, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I was just joking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” she said quietly, though the slight tremble in her voice told him otherwise. She took a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself. “It’s not you, Glen. It’s just... I’m not used to this.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. “Not used to what?”

She hesitated, her gaze fixed on her hands as she fidgeted with her ring. “Having someone care for me like this. Do little things like this for me. Having someone want to take care of me.”

“I like taking care of you,” he said, flashing her a soft smile as he began to rub gentle circles into the arch of her foot.

She didn’t say anything but the way Gabby was looking down at her hands and avoiding eye contact told him something was going on in that beautiful head of hers.

“Gabby, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but... if there’s something on your mind, or something I should know, you can tell me. Anything.”

She let out a shaky laugh, still avoiding his eyes. “You say that now, but I don’t know if you’d want to hear it.”

“Try me,” he said softly, his voice steady but full of quiet encouragement. He reached out, brushing her hand gently. “I mean it, Gabby. Whatever it is, you don’t have to hold it in. Not with me.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and after a long pause, she finally spoke. “My last relationship... it wasn’t good. Not the kind of relationship you’d look back on fondly.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “He had this way of making me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like no matter what I did, it was never good enough for him. He never did stuff that showed he cared.”

Glen stayed quiet, giving her space to say what she needed. She drew in another shaky breath. “It wasn’t... outright abusive. Nothing you’d notice from the outside, anyway. But he controlled everything. Made me feel small. By the end, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.” She finally glanced up at Glen, her eyes glistening. “That’s the main reason why I moved, and chose to go to school in L.A. I needed to get as far away from him as I could.” She paused for a moment and then added, “I’ve never told anyone. But it’s kind of ruined relationships for me.”

Glen’s jaw tightened, and his hand found hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing motion. “Gabby,” he said softly, his voice steady but full of emotion. “I’m so sorry you went through that. And I hate that anyone ever made you feel that way.”

She gave him a small, shaky smile. “I told myself I wouldn’t do that again. I had sworn off relationships. It’s why I was a little hesitant at first when we met. But with you... it’s different. I feel safe with you.”

His chest tightened at her words, and he squeezed her hand gently. “You are safe with me. Always. And just so you know, you’re more than enough for me, Gabby. We can take this as slow as we need to. If it’s going too fast, tell me and we can put the brakes on.”

Her smile grew, a little stronger this time, and she reached out to brush her fingers against his arm. “Thank you, Glen.”

“Anytime,” he said softly, leaning back slightly. “Now, can I try rubbing your feet, or is that off the table?”

A small laugh escaped her, and she nodded. She then let herself finally relax, sinking into the cushions and letting Glen continue. His hands were warm and strong, his touch careful but soothing as he began to rub her aching feet.

“You’re too good to me,” she murmured, her eyes half-lidded as she watched him.

Glen glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

The tension in the room slowly melted away, replaced by a quiet warmth as they sat together. Gabby’s eyes grew heavy as Glen’s steady touch lulled her into a state of calm. Before she knew it, she’d drifted off, her head resting against the back of the couch.

Glen glanced down at her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning back and letting her rest.

While Gabby rested he took the time to respond to some texts and emails to pass the time, not wanting to get up and risk disturbing Gabby.

When the sun started to dip lower in the sky, he gently shook her shoulder. “Gabby,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Time to wake up, sweetheart. We’ve got to start getting ready.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a sleepy smile. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch.”

She laughed softly, sitting up and stretching. He stood, offering her a hand. “Come on, let’s get moving. We’ve got a big night ahead.”

She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. For the first time in a long time, she felt lighter, like the weight she’d been carrying was finally starting to lift.

Glen had disappeared into his bedroom a few minutes earlier, mumbling something about getting ready, leaving her to gather herself. She wandered to the guest room where she’d stashed her things, pulling out the sundress she’d chosen for the night.

The fabric felt soft and light as she slipped it over her head, the floral pattern a cheerful contrast to her usual Los Angeles wardrobe of jeans and neutral tones. She smoothed the skirt and stepped into her nude wedges, pausing in front of the mirror to check her reflection. The dress hugged her in just the right places, and for the first time in a while, she felt... pretty.

Gathering her courage, she made her way down the hallway, the sound of Glen’s boots scuffing against the hardwood signaling he was already in the living room. When she stepped into the doorway, he was adjusting the cuffs of his light button-up shirt, the pale blue fabric rolled just above his forearms. Dark wash jeans and a pair of scuffed leather boots completed his look, casual but effortlessly put-together.

Glen glanced up as she entered, and for a moment, he froze. His hands dropped to his sides as his eyes traveled over her, taking in the sundress that swayed gently as she walked. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, softening his features. “Wow,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You look... beautiful.”

Gabby felt a rush of heat bloom in her cheeks, and she ducked her head, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was just a breath away. “Thanks, but you’re definitely stealing the show tonight.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his. There was something in his gaze—an openness, a sincerity—that made her chest tighten in the best way.

Glen broke the spell first, offering her his arm with a crooked grin. “Shall we?”

Gabby looped her arm through his, her smile matching his. “We shall.”

As they headed out the door, Gabby couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement for the night ahead. For once, she wasn’t thinking about how the evening might go wrong or what might happen if she let her guard down. For once, she felt like she could just... enjoy the moment.

And with Glen by her side, she had a feeling it was going to be a good one.

The soft glow of twinkling lights overhead created an intimate atmosphere at Botticelli’s, where laughter and the clink of glasses filled the air, blending with the hum of lively conversation. The restaurant was cozy yet upscale, with dark wood accents and flickering candles on each table, making the whole space feel warm and inviting. Gabby couldn’t help but smile at the ambiance as she sat beside Glen, who had his arm casually draped over the back of her chair. His sisters, Lauren and Leslie, were both full of energy, teasing Glen just like they had when they were kids.

“I still can’t believe you wore that much Axe cologne in high school,” Leslie said between bites of her pasta, her voice laced with affection and a hint of mischief. “You walked into every room smelling like a locker room after a football game.”

Lauren laughed, reaching for her glass of wine. “I mean, it was a bold choice, but I don’t know if smelling like a walking ad for middle school’ was the look he was going for.”

Glen rolled his eyes but smiled. “Hey, it worked for me in my mind back then,” he said, his tone mocking but playful. “I thought it was all about making an impression.”

Gabby laughed, imagining a teenage Glen in all his tall, slightly lanky awkwardness, covered in an overwhelming cloud of cologne. She could see the younger, more self-conscious version of him in her mind, but she was glad to see how far he’d come. His confidence now was entirely different—effortless, comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t need the cologne at all,” Gabby said, giving him a teasing smile. “I remember my friends and I used to make fun of the guys that wore too much Axe.”

Leslie and Lauren burst out laughing, exchanging a look that made Gabby feel like she was in on an inside joke.

“That’s probably one of the many reasons why I was single a lot back then,” Glen joked, shaking his head with a smirk.

Gabby couldn’t help but grin at the easy banter between the siblings. There was something about their dynamic—playful, warm, and full of history—that made her feel like she was witnessing something special. Glen and his sisters shared an undeniable bond, teasing each other but with affection, a comfort that made Gabby feel a little more at ease despite the fact that she was still adjusting to being out in public with Glen.

As the food arrived, the server placed a plate of truffle risotto in front of her. Gabby took a bite, savoring the creamy texture and the rich, earthy flavor of the dish. 

“This is so good,” she murmured, taking another forkful. “I could eat this every day.”

Glen, who was already halfway through his meal, grinned mischievously. “Is it?” Without missing a beat, he reached over and stole a bite of her risotto, causing Gabby to let out a startled laugh.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, laughing as she swatted at his hand. “That’s mine!”

Leslie and Lauren exchanged knowing glances, and Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Glen, stealing food from your girlfriend already? Someone’s a little smitten,” she teased, her voice light and playful.

Glen froze for a moment, then looked at Gabby with a mischievous smile. “What can I say? I just really like what she’s got on her plate.”

Leslie laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Uh-huh, I can see that. Definitely only interested in the food, right?”

Gabby felt her cheeks warm at the teasing, but Glen’s easy grin and the way he shrugged made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t expected. He was right about the food—he liked the risotto, but it was her that he couldn’t resist. It felt sweet and innocent, and though the teasing made her nervous at first, she quickly realized it was all in good fun.

Glen turned his attention to his sisters, giving them both a pointed look. “You two really like to pick on me, don’t you?”

Leslie grinned, glancing at Lauren. “Well, someone has to keep you in check, and clearly, it’s not mom.”

Gabby couldn’t help but laugh at the way they all interacted, the easygoing nature of it all. She found herself feeling more and more comfortable, laughing along with their jokes. She felt like she was starting to belong, not just with Glen, but with his family, too.

As the conversation flowed between bites of food, Glen leaned over and whispered to her, a soft smile on his lips. “You okay?”

Gabby nodded, glancing over at him with a grateful smile. “Yeah. I’m really enjoying this. Your family is... great.”

He grinned, clearly pleased by her response, and squeezed her hand under the table. “I’m glad. You’re part of the family now.”

Leslie cleared her throat from across the table, pretending to look innocent. “Do I hear wedding bells?”

Glen just chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, you’re really pushing it now.”

The teasing continued, but Gabby’s nerves had eased, and she found herself more and more drawn into the warmth of the evening, not just because of the food and the laughter, but because of the way Glen made her feel—like she was part of something good, something real.

* * * *

The Continental Club buzzed with life as soon as they entered, the air thick with excitement and the sound of clinking glasses, lively chatter, and the steady beat of a blues band setting up on stage. Gabby was struck by the electric atmosphere—the low hum of voices, the flashing neon lights, and the anticipation building as the crowd settled in for the night’s performance. It was a different energy than the cozy ambiance of Botticelli’s, but no less welcoming.

Glen’s hand rested lightly on her lower back as he guided her through the crowd, the warmth of his touch sending a small thrill through her. They moved effortlessly through the packed space, and as they reached the reserved table near the stage, he gestured for Gabby to sit. 

“Get comfortable, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth as he leaned down to talk in her ear. “I’ll grab the first round.”

Gabby smiled, watching him walk toward the bar. She took a deep breath, looking around at the buzzing crowd and the lively vibe of the place. The club had an energy all its own, and she couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease with the noise and rhythm surrounding her.

Glen returned a few minutes later with both of their drinks. Before he could get too comfortable, a few heads turned in their direction. A group of fans, noticing Glen, immediately began to approach him. Gabby gave him a small, understanding smile as he caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile before flashing his signature grin at the eager group.

Sitting back in the plush chair, Gabby took a slow sip from her drink, her eyes following Glen as he posed for pictures and signed a few autographs. She couldn’t help but admire the ease with which he interacted with his fans—there was a warmth and genuine kindness in the way he engaged with them.

“We’ll be back in a minute,” Leslie said, tugging Lauren along toward the restroom. Gabby was left alone at the table, the lively chatter of the club and the distant strum of a guitar accompanying her thoughts.

Gabby couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves as her attention moved back to Glen. This was a different side of Glen, a side of him that belonged to the public eye, and while she knew he was used to the attention, she couldn’t shake the slight feeling of being on the outside of it all. 

Gabby was just about to take another sip of her drink when the stranger approached, a confident smile stretching across his face. He was tall, with a casual charm that seemed to draw people in. 

“Hey there,” he said, leaning in just a little too close for comfort. “You’re looking great tonight. Mind if I join you?”

Gabby forced a smile, trying to maintain a polite distance. “I’m actually waiting for my friends to come back,” she replied, her voice steady, but the subtle tension in her shoulders betraying her discomfort.

The man, however, didn’t seem to take the hint. He leaned in a bit further, his hand resting on the back of her chair. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind if I wait with you. It’s not every day I get to meet someone as beautiful as you.” His voice dropped a little, a touch too smooth, making Gabby’s skin crawl.

A slight wave of panic rushed through her. She opened her mouth to politely excuse herself, but before she could say another word, Glen’s voice cut through the low hum of the club, sharp and commanding.

“Hey, man, she’s with me,” Glen said firmly, stepping in between Gabby and the stranger with a presence that immediately made the man pull back. 

Gabby’s heart skipped a beat as she saw Glen’s posture shift, protective and unyielding. His eyes narrowed slightly, an unspoken challenge to the stranger that didn’t need words.

The guy hesitated, clearly sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He shot one last look at Gabby, then muttered a quick, “Sorry, didn’t know,” before backing off.

Gabby let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding as Glen slid an arm protectively around her waist. She leaned into him slightly, the warmth of his touch calming her nerves.

“You okay?” Glen asked, his voice soft.

Gabby nodded, her voice shaking just a little as she managed a small smile. “Yeah… thanks.

He tightened his arm around her waist, his gaze steady and unflinching. “I’ll try not to leave you alone again. I’m so sorry.” There was a firmness in his words, a promise.

Gabby swallowed, her heart still racing. She hesitated, unwilling to meet Glen’s gaze. The muscles in Glen’s jaw tightened when he noticed Gabby avoiding eye contact. His expression hardening for a second before he softened, his thumb lightly brushing her hand as he held it. 

He leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you, Gabby. You’re safe, sweetheart.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his words. She finally looked up at him, her breath catching. For a moment, the noise of the club, the chatter, the music—it all faded away. It was just them, standing in the center of this new understanding. The sincerity in his eyes made her feel something deep in her chest, a warmth that she didn’t know she needed until now.

Gabby squeezed his hand, a small smile forming despite the lingering unease. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice steadying as she found her footing again.

Glen gave her a gentle smile, pulling her in just a little closer as the buzz of the club resumed around them. “Of course,” he said, his voice a low hum. “Now, how about we enjoy the rest of this night?”

As the night stretched on, the buzz of conversation and music grew louder, but so did the lighthearted atmosphere around their table. Gabby, now on her second drink, felt a warmth spreading through her, and the tension from earlier had melted away. Her laughter came easier now, a soft, carefree sound that seemed to fit perfectly with the upbeat rhythm of the band playing in the background.

Leslie leaned in, grinning as she swirled her drink. "Okay, Glen," she teased, eyeing her brother with a mischievous glint. "Tell me—how did you ever manage to be smooth enough to land a girl like her?"

Glen shot her an amused look but said nothing, content to watch Gabby. There was something about the way she was glowing tonight, how the stress seemed to melt off her shoulders with every passing minute. He wasn’t sure if it was the drinks, the music, or the atmosphere, but he was enjoying seeing this side of her—this lighthearted, easy-going Gabby who was just letting herself have fun.

Gabby, feeling bold with her drink in hand, grinned across the table. “Dance with me, Glen,” she teased, her eyes sparkling. “Come on, I know you’ve got moves.”

Glen raised an eyebrow and shook his head with a smile. “Not sure the internet’s ready for that,” he replied with a smirk, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Gabby laughed, but her gaze drifted over to Leslie, who was already swaying to the music, her arms loose at her sides. “Come on, Les, let’s go dance!” Gabby said, and without missing a beat, the two of them stood up, joining the others on the floor.

Glen watched them for a moment, a slight chuckle escaping him. He liked seeing Gabby this way—effortlessly moving with the music, her body swaying in rhythm, her joy infectious. Leslie had always been the life of the party, but tonight, Gabby was catching up, and Glen was here for it.

As the song transitioned into a slower tune, Gabby’s eyes lit up. She looked back at Glen, who was watching them with an amused expression, and then made her way back to him. 

“Alright, big guy,” she said with a playful grin. “It’s time. You’re dancing with me.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked at her. “A slow song, huh? You sure you can handle it?”

Gabby tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You worried you can’t handle me?”

“Oh I know I can handle you,” Glen grinned.

Gabby reached for his hand, tugging him up to his feet. Glen let her lead him toward the dance floor, keeping the space between them casual enough for any fans with phones nearby, but close enough that his hand rested lightly on her waist. Gabby wrapped one arm around his neck as they swayed to the music, the slow rhythm almost making the whole room fade away. Glen kept his grip firm, steadying her as she started to lean into him, her balance just a little wobbly from the drinks but never enough to fall.

"You okay?" he murmured, keeping his voice steady despite the warmth rising between them.

“I’m good,” Gabby replied softly, her gaze meeting his. 

She looked so content, so at ease, and Glen couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t realized just how much he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms—how natural it felt, even after just a few weeks of getting to know each other.

She grinned, her lips curving playfully as she leaned in a little closer. “You know,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “you might be right. I think I’m a few drinks away from being trouble.”

Glen’s lips curled into a smirk. “I can handle trouble,” he replied, his voice teasing but warm.

Gabby laughed softly, and Glen was pretty sure he could listen to that sound all night.

Meanwhile, Leslie and Lauren watched from the edge of the dance floor. They exchanged knowing glances and quickly snapped a few pictures of the couple, laughing as they captured the moment. “They’re adorable,” Lauren said, sending one of the photos to Gabby’s phone with a quick text: You two are goals. Don’t let him get away. 😊

Back on the dance floor, Glen’s hand settled more comfortably at the small of Gabby’s back as they continued swaying in time to the music. Her arms were wrapped around him, her head resting gently on his shoulder for a moment. It was quiet, just the sound of the music and the soft murmur of the club, but it felt perfect in its simplicity. Gabby smiled against his chest, a contented sigh escaping her.

“I’m glad you’re here, Gabby,” Glen murmured into her hair, his voice quieter now, almost like a secret.

“Me too,” she replied softly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “This is nice.”

The night had flown by, the bar’s lively energy still pulsing through Gabby’s veins as midnight rolled around. The chatter of the crowd had died down a little, and the music had shifted to a more relaxed tune. Gabby and Glen exchanged a look, both knowing it was time to call it a night.

“Ready?” Glen asked, his arm brushing lightly against hers as they stood to leave.

Gabby smiled, though her steps wobbled a bit as she adjusted her weight in her wedges. She felt the alcohol creeping into her limbs, making them lighter, looser, and a little more unsteady.

"Yeah, let’s go," she said, trying to make it sound as confident as she could, but her balance was betraying her.

Glen was quick to notice, his hand on her back steadying her as they made their way out of the bar. As they reached the door, Gabby stumbled a little, the cooler night air making her feel even more tipsy.

Before she could protest, Glen was scooping her up effortlessly into his arms. She gasped in surprise, laughing a little too loudly. “What—what are you doing? I can walk, Glen!”

“You can thank me later.” He teased, grinning as he started walking toward his truck.

Gabby didn’t argue, her laughter echoing in the quiet street as she snuggled into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against her.

When they finally arrived back at his ranch, the world around Gabby felt both too big and too small at the same time. She leaned against Glen as they got out of the truck, taking in a deep breath of the cool night air. But as soon as they reached the sidewalk, she found herself stumbling once again, her feet unsure in her wedges.

“You okay?” Glen asked, reaching out to steady her.

“I’m fine,” Gabby insisted, though it was clear that she was anything but.

Before she could take another step, Glen had her in his arms again. 

“Glen! I can walk!”

“Maybe I just like holding you,” he said with a soft laugh, carrying her the rest of the way to the door.

“Glen,” Gabby giggled, “I’m fine, really.”

He just smiled, not saying another word, as he gently set her down just inside the door. Gabby tried to kick off her shoes while still standing, but it wasn’t long before she wobbled and nearly toppled over.

“Whoa, careful there,” Glen chuckled, catching her just in time.

“Ugh, I’m so embarrassing,” she muttered, her voice full of amusement.

“No, you’re actually pretty cute right now,” Glen said with a smirk, guiding her over to the couch and helping her sit down. “I will say you weren’t wrong about being a handful though.”

Gabby gave him a mischievous look. “You knew what you were signing up for when you bought me those last couple drinks,” she teased, her eyes sparkling. She leaned back against the cushions, her feet still dangling in the air.

“I suppose I did,” Glen agreed with a grin, bending down to pull off her shoes for her, his hands gentle as he worked.

Once she was free of the wedges, Gabby pulled him toward her, her hands threading through his shirt as she pulled him into a kiss. Gabby’s lips lingered on his for a moment longer before she finally pulled away, her breath soft as she smiled up at him.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Glen whispered. “Alright, now let’s get you to bed.”

Glen helped Gabby to her feet and guided her down the hallway, keeping a steady arm around her waist despite her insistence that she was fine. 

“You’re not fine, Gabby,” he said softly, his voice tender.

She grinned up at him. “I am,” she said. “But... okay, fine. Maybe I need your help.”

They made their way to the bedroom, where Glen helped her out of her dress and gave her one of his shirts to sleep in. She slid into bed with a satisfied sigh, curling up into the warmth of the blankets.

Gabby rested her head against his chest as she snuggled closer, her breath slowing as she relaxed into the comfort of his arms. “I haven’t let loose and had fun like this in a really long time. I haven’t felt this happy in a long time, Glen,” she murmured.

Hearing her words made something warm bloom in Glen’s chest. He smiled softly, kissing the top of her head. “I’m glad I can make you feel that way,” he whispered.

Gabby’s hand rested on his chest, her fingers idly tracing over his shirt. “You do,” she said softly, already drifting into sleep.

Glen held her close, his heart full as he watched her fall asleep.

[dizzybee03]

What a chapter! So excited to see how things play out

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Twelve: [Bring Me The Horizon]

Summary: After Jensen and Jake finish their face-off, you tell Jake how it is. He practices the art of holding himself accountable for his actions, and you get a call that would send you into a downward spiral. Putting you in jeopardy right before your surgery.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion. JEALOUS JAKE!

Word Count: 5.1k

Author Note: WOW and we’re back baby. Another year has passed us by and we are finishing this series. Strap in for the final three episodes of this roller coaster of a series. You never know where we might just end up.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The triangular theory of love is a theory developed by Robert Sternberg. In the context of interpersonal relationships, the three components of love according to the triangular theory are, intimacy, passion, and a decision/commitment component. For Jake, he felt like love was more than just a triangular theory. Love is all-encompassing in every aspect of life. And if you look closely, love can be seen all around us in all different forms. 

“Bradshaw, now’s not the time man,” Jake sighed as he made his way back down the hospital hallway to your room, walking with his shoulders down and his ego battered and bruised. “I gotta fix an issue and my head’s not–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, Rooster interrupted with a crucial question he needed answered now. 

“How is your mother gonna react when I show up to take your kids?” The genuine concern in Bradley’s voice was clear enough for Jake to stay on the line as he walked. “Do I need to be concerned about her calling the cops?” 

“Dude,” Jake groaned to himself in frustration as he walked with purpose down the hall. He could feel his rage and frustration bubbling to the surface with every step he took. Who did this Jensen guy think he was? Who did Jake think he was? You didn’t ask for any of this and you definitely didn’t deserve his tantrum before. “She’s not gonna call the cops on you, just tell her to call me if you have any issues and get Jas to help you.” 

“Your mother is a terrifying woman–” Rooster added, just to rub salt into Jake’s already existing childhood wounds. 

“Well, at least she’s alive.” Jake had never regretted a sentence more in his life. The second he realised what he’d said and who he was speaking to, his heart fell straight out of his arse. “Bradshaw I didn’t mean–” Before Jake had a chance to speak, before he had a chance to explain that he wasn’t talking about Carole—he was talking about you—the line went dead. 

“Fuck!” Jake looked at his phone screen to see the call had indeed been ended. He felt the panic inside his chest. The guilt. 

Jake had developed a pretty uncanny ability to fuck things up. He couldn’t help himself at the moment. He was having a hard time regulating his emotions. It never had been his strong suit, but now it was worse than ever. Perhaps the idea of losing you forever was the cause. Jake couldn’t accept the possibility that there was a good to fair chance you might not walk away from this fight. 

But he could see the bottom of your bed again and where your feet were underneath the breathable hospital blanket that did nothing to keep you warm. With every step Jake took in the hall, he got closer and closer to where he’d left you. And with every step he took he tried to formulate an apology that would reflect his utter sorrow. His pain. His guilt. You were the first person that deserved an apology for Jake’s actions. Bradley would just have to wait. 

In hospitals, people see addiction every day. It’s shocking how many kinds of addiction exist. It would be far too easy if it were just drugs, alcohol and cigarettes people were addicted to. The hardest part about kicking an addiction is wanting to kick it. I mean we get addicted for a reason, right?

Often, too often, things start as a normal part of your life and at some point, cross the line into obsessive needs, compulsive out of out-of-control desires. It’s the high people chase. The high that makes everything else…fade away. But nothing could make Jake Seresin fade away. Nothing so far had helped you kick the addiction. Not even when you left. 

The harsh reality about addiction is it never ends well. Because eventually, whatever it is that was getting you that high…stops feeling good and starts to hurt. So when the very person you were addicted to walked back into your hospital room, the hurt started all over again well and truly after the high had died down. 

“Okay,” Jake stopped in his tracks when he saw that look in your eyes. Although a sense of calm washed over him the second he saw you again, he knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see after the way he behaved before. “I recognised I’m in the wrong here.” It was the look he wished he’d never been on the receiving end of again. A look of disappointment mixed with anger, hatred, and, above all, sadness. “I owe you an apology.” 

“No thanks,” The tone you conveyed was sinister. There was no warmth. No love. No room for compassion or empathy. “I’m not interested in another empty apology.” You didn't even look Jake’s way. You just continued on with the little word finder you had picked up in Jensen and Jake’s absence. “If you’re done swinging your dick around in the hall like a psychopath, I need to rest.” 

Jake was stunned. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew he deserved that. He knew he’d taken things too far. He knew he’d flown over the handlebars the second Jensen stepped into your room. But it was all out of fear of losing you. Why couldn’t you see that? Jake felt as if he could stand right in front of you and you’d look straight through him. 

“Honey, don’t be like that,” Jake sighed as he took a few steps towards your bedside. The bouquet Jensen had brought you was lying haphazardly on the little bedside cupboard. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did alright, I know, and I promise you I’m trying here.” Jake sighed as he looked at the flowers another man had gone out of his way to buy you. A dying man. 

A dead man walking. 

“I’m glad you’re self-aware,” You replied yet again without paying any mind to Jake’s whereabouts in your room. “Never really was your strong suit.” You murmured just loud enough for Jake to hear your mild insult. You could have said it louder, hell, you should have. But regardless of Jake’s actions…he was an addictive drug. One that made it incredibly hard to kick the habit. One you knew you’d go back to. One you wished loved you the same way you loved him. 

“Jensen knocked some sense into me,” Jake tried his best to explain all the while he tried to hold back the lump in his throat. The kind of lump that brought tears and panic attacks with it. “He was kind enough to set the record straight.” 

“You understand how big of a piece of shit you have to be to say what you said, right?” It was the first time your tone had changed. There was something beyond painful in the way you spoke. Something Jake had tried time and time again not to be the cause of. Heartbreak. Betrayal even. “You jealous, insecure man.” 

For a second, Jake absorbed the blow. He took it on the chin like a champion because nothing you were saying was wrong. He was scared of losing the love of his life in a way that wasn’t just through marriage. 

“I know,” Jake replied as he picked up the bouquet and looked around. He was looking for somewhere to put them. Somewhere to display the beauty that they emulated. Beauty that reflected you. Where could he get a jug or something to put these in? “I don’t have an excuse to give you, honey,” Jake was trying his best to stick to the honesty is the best policy crap he’d been taught as a child. “I’m just, I got so worked up when he came in here knowing more about you than I did and–” 

“Jensen is a friend from group therapy,” You explained yet again. “And this is the last time I’m gonna say it before I let you run off with whatever version of a warped reality you wanna believe but I swear, there isn’t anyone else.” You sat up a little straighter in your bed as you closed your find-a-word book. “I have cancer, Jake. In what world would anyone want me?” 

“You love her, don’t you? You’re in love with my wife, say it.” Jake could hear himself asking the all-important question. He could see himself standing in the hall with the man who had selflessly intertwined his life with yours in order to make you feel less alone in the world.

“Maybe–” Jake vividly heard Jensens reply as he stood staring at the tears that fell down your cheeks. Tears he was the very cause of. “Maybe I love her, but I don’t get a chance to explore that, you do though.” 

“Me?” It was the sincerity in Jake’s voice that broke you as he put the bouquet down where he’d originally found it and made his way to sit beside you on your bed. “I want you forever and the very idea that some guy—some guy I know is a better man than I will ever be—brought you, my wife, flowers when I didn’t? Kills me.” 

“I don’t care about the flowers,” You sighed as Jake wrapped you up in his arms. 

“I know, but I let my own insecurities out in a way I never should have and I’m so sorry for the things I said. You don’t deserve that, ever.” It was genuine. The apology for his actions. Jake knew he was in the wrong with how he acted out. You could very clearly see that he was truly sorry. But letting him know that now would have been too easy. 

The pair of you sat in your hospital bed for the better half of five minutes silently enjoying each other’s presence and gentle touch. Until you broke. 

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to say apology accepted?” You smiled softly as you nuzzled into Jake’s chest a little more. Finding a comfortable position to rest in as you sunk lower in the hospital bed that wasn’t built for two fully grown human beings. 

“Nope,” Jake chuckled as he kissed the top of your head, freshly shaved and matching his own. “And I don’t think Rooster is gonna be accepting any apology I give him anytime soon, so the list is growing.” 

“What happened with Rooster?” You asked cautiously. You felt the tension take over your husband’s body as he processed what you‘d just asked. Jake held you a little tighter as he once again kissed the top of your freshly shaved head. The notes of your shampoo must have seeped into your scalp. He could still vividly smell the residual fragrance of bergamot. 

“Nothing that can’t be explained,” Jake sighed softly. He hated himself with a deep-rooted passion right now. The one thing he wanted to do more than anything else was take you home and pretend everything was alright for just one night. But he couldn’t do that. “Please, don’t worry about my mistakes when you have so much on your plate already. I’ll figure it out. Rooster and I always do.” 

“Hmm,” You replied with hesitation as you let your eyes close. The lup-dup of Jake’s heartrate soothed your soul, a heart that begged to be loved in all the ways he deserved to be loved. “I hope so. Martha Stewart’s best and closest friend said the words that sent her to prison,” You explained all the while Jake’s fingers drew unidentifiable objects into the supple skin of your forearm, careful not to mess with any of the tubes attached to you. It was grounding. “So whatever happened between you and Bradshaw I hope you fix it before he spills all your dirty little military secrets.” 

“Good thing you’re a true crime author, huh?” Jake smiled with a reluctance to give in to his biggest desire. What would be the repercussions of sneaking you out of this hospital right now? 

“No way you’re ending up in one of my books anytime soon,” You giggled softly. Jake felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of your happiness. You felt it too. The moment his heart decided it needed a second to process the laughter you let out. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey,” Although the circumstances said otherwise, for a second Jake felt like the luckiest guy on the planet. To be loved by you. To be the one you called home. To be the man you chose would forever be Jake’s greatest accomplishment in life. “I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you in any of them.” 

************************

“No signs of life.” 

There’s a reason surgeons learn to wield scalpels. They like to pretend they’re hard, cold scientists. They like to pretend they’re fearless. But the truth is they become surgeons because somewhere, deep down, they think they can cut away that which haunts us. 

Weakness, frailty, death. 

It isn’t just surgeons. It’s paramedics too. First responders like to think they have a hand in what fate holds for you. They believe that if they can move a little quicker, stop the bleeding a little faster, and save you from life-threatening injuries, they can give you extra time. Even for just a day. 

But the truth is, we don’t know a single person who isn’t haunted by something…or someone. And whether people try to slice the pain away with a scalpel, pull someone from a car wreck, or shove it in the back of a closet…our efforts usually fail. 

So the only way we can clear out the cobwebs is to turn a new page or put an old story to rest…finally, finally…to rest. 

“Do we have any information on the victim?” Ilona shook her head as her unit chief looked around the scene. A single-car accident. The mangled wreck of twisted aluminium and shattered glass really painted a telling tale of destruction. No one could have survived the magnitude of injuries that they would have sustained on impact. 

“I’ll see if one of the guys picked up a phone or something, perhaps it’s still viable,” Ilona replied in a monotone voice. She was new to the horrors that her job sometimes brought with it. The hurricane forced winds that would sometimes knock her right off her feet. But she was learning how to work through the plethora of different emotions in a professional manner. “Poor guy, what do you think happened?” 

The black body bag laid out on the stretcher was a not-so-gentle reminder that life was a precious gift. Paramedics carried the deceased man until they were loading him into the back of the van. No sirens would be needed for this particular patient. 

“Crash investigation should have a report for us in about a week,” Taylor, the unit chief, replied as he watched the doors to the ambulance close with a thud. “We’ll need to get an ID as soon as possible to inform the family.” 

“I have a phone!!” Ilona heard the explanation from one of her co-workers. She turned with a grin on her face back to her boss. 

“We have a phone,” She repeated. “I’ll get right on it chef.” 

************************

Lydia still felt awful. She hadn’t quite shaken the existential dread that came with her almost career-ending mistake. She sat behind the desk at the nurses station just replaying the events back in her mind. How could she just assume someone to be someone’s emergency contact? 

In retrospect, Lydia now understood clear as daylight that relationships were interpersonal and held deeper value than what was on paper. Jake Seresin may not have been your emergency contact, but he sure was the love of your life. 

“You want me to do her observations?” Lydia heard one of her colleagues ask with a snicker. They all knew by this point in time what she had done. But now wasn’t the time to retreat and fall back. If she wanted to get past this, she needed to put on a brave face. 

“Nope,” Lydia shook her head as he rose to her feet. “I’ve got it,” She explained with a faux smile. “Is he not intimidating?” 

“Mr. Seresin?” Her colleague, Rebecca, replied with a mouthful of two-minute noodles she’d been scoffing down in the small window of reprieve. “Guy’s like a labrador. I mean, that is if you didn’t fuck up his wife’s chart badly enough to call the wrong person labelled clearly as an emergency contact.” 

“Ha. Ha.” Lydia barely had the time or the energy to humour her coworkers as they giggled and snickered as she made her way into your room. Jake was wide awake. He hadn’t noticed Lydia standing in the threshold of the door. But Lydia noticed how he held you with such care as you slept soundly. 

“Oh,” She cooed softly as she knocked her knuckles against the door. “Sorry to interrupt Mr. Seresin but I need to take some observations for Dr. Ignati.” 

“Would it be alright if she slept for even just five more minutes?” Jake was quick to advocate on your behalf. He could tell just how tired and overwhelmed with everything you’d become. Now that he was here and by your side, he was going to make sure you got the best possible treatment there was to offer. 

Lydia looked around at the Christmas lights that hung around your room. They twinkled and changed colour on a whim, never staying the same colour for long. The way they hung like they’d been thrown all over the place added a joyful smile across her face. 

“I’m sure I can take my time,” Lydia agreed as she approached your bedside. “How’s she been feeling?” 

“As good as you’d expect to feel given the circumstances, kid,” Jake replied with a yawn. He was able to stretch his limbs a little as he did so. Although, with every move he cautiously made, Jake was careful not to disturb you. “I assume her surgery is still going ahead as planned?” 

“As far as I’m aware,” Lydia confirmed as she checked over your chart and wrote down what she saw on your monitors. “Dr. Ignati should be around earlier in the morning to discuss everything once more.” 

“How long have you been working here?” Jake asked. He thought some small talk would be beneficial for not only him but for Lydia too. He could tell the question struck a nerve but pressed on nevertheless. “Because if I’m being perfectly honest, it doesn’t seem like very long.” 

“Eight months now,” Lydia replied with a short tone. Jake chuckled to himself as he watched her cross out what she had previously written and wrote down what she had originally intended. “Can you tell I’m also not very good at my job?” 

“It doesn’t seem out of ignorance,” Jake offered up his version of advice. “I just think you’re rushing things.” The advice didn’t fall on deaf ears like Jake thought it might. Instead, Lydia stopped what she was doing and took a nice deep long breath in. “In my line of work, things can go wrong in the blink of an eye,” Jake explained as he gently rubbed small circles into the palm of your hand with his thumb. If he was careful, he could feel the throbbing of your pulse point. “Gotta learn how to trust your instincts.” 

“My last instinct was that you were your wife’s emergency contact,” Lydia didn’t feel as if she needed to remind Jake of her biggest mistake of all time, but she did anyway. Jake understood what it was like to stay hung up on mistakes he couldn’t change. But he knew what he was about to say next would ease the burden Lydia was feeling. 

“Honestly, that’s more on me than it is on you,” Jake sighed as you stirred in his arms. He hoped you‘d stay asleep for just a little longer. You needed it. You deserved to rest soundly. 

“How so?” Lydia asked softly as went back to her duties. What Jake said to her next, however, had Lydia looking at the situation she found herself in from a different perspective. And sometimes a little perspective is all you need. 

“Well, I shouldn’t have let it get to a point where I wasn’t.” 

************************

Life gets easier when you realise that there’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Decisions are simply pivots. Each one you make will take you down a new road that will likely be both magic and miserable. Beautiful and ugly. That’s because life is a polarity. Easy doesn’t exist without hard. Good doesn’t exist without bad. 

There is no right or wrong answer. Trust that whatever decision you make can always be followed by another decision. 

“I hate this,” You mumbled as you walked to the bathroom with your IV support poll. “I already hate all of this so much.” You knew you were feeding into the depression, but you couldn’t help but feel down in the dumps about your current situation. 

“I think everything you’re feeling is valid, honey,” Jake answered as he trailed behind, giving you the independence he knew you wanted to keep but also staying close by in case you needed him. “After surgery–” Jake couldn’t even finish the sentence he’d planned to speak into existence.

“Don’t mention surgery,” You interrupted as you made your way over to the shower. “I don’t even wanna think about the surgery tomorrow.” 

“You do know that even if you ignore it, you still have to have surgery?” Jake asked as he frowned his brows and looked at you through the mirror. “We’re on the same page about that, right?” 

“What if I told you I’m just scared and don’t want anything to happen while I’m cut open like a fish?” You sassed as you looked back at Jake through the mirror. “If something happens–” 

“Hey, nothing's gonna happen,” Jake was quick to close the small gap between the two of you. He stood so close that your back pressed up against his chest. His eyes never left yours through the mirror you stood before. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or the kids for that matter.” 

“You left the kids with your mother,” You reminded your husband as he pressed his lips into a tight line of regret. “That alone is gonna cause them enough trauma Mr. ‘I won’t let anything happen to the kids’”

“You wound me, sweetheart,” Jake sighed as he tilted his head back and let out a sigh. “Besides, it’s actually you she hates, not the kids,” 

“Do you wanna help me shower or not?” You finally turned around to stand face-to-face with Jake. He was already smirking ear to ear. And it didn’t take long at all before his hands were dropping to your waist, slowly but surely making their slightly calloused way to the exposed skin of your ass. The hospital gown left little to the imagination. Jake wasn’t complaining. 

“When have I ever passed up the opportunity to see you naked?” Jake replied with a smirk you recognised was laced with lust. You felt him squeeze softly at your arse cheek playfully. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” You giggled as Jake made sure to count the staples on your head. He knew whatever came next would have to be soft. It would have to be gentle and full of love. Not that it ever wasn’t full of love. 

“You drive me crazy, honey,” Jake explained as he caught your lips with his. You couldn’t help but to melt into his body as you kissed him back. Jake’s hands kneaded at the handfuls of arse he never wanted to let go of as he moaned into your mouth. 

The feeling was electric. The moan your husband let out sent shivers down your spine. It was an animalistic attraction that you’d tried so hard to suppress in your separation. But no toy on earth could satisfy you like Jake could. Not even when they were bought with his money. 

“I love you so much,” Jake cooed as he pulled back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “You’re gonna get through this, I promise,” He left it at that as you wrapped your arms around his waist for a much-needed hug. 

When you let go, you took a moment to drink in the sight of your husband. You stared at all the perfect little imperfections that littered his skin. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than normal. That was to be expected though. 

“Jake?” You cooed as you reached up to swipe the pad of your thumb across his lower lip. 

“I’m right here,” Jake replied as he kept his eyes closed. If he opened them he knew the tears he was trying so desperately to keep in would fall. If he cried in front of you he'd never be able to stop himself. 

“I need you to wake up for me, alright?” 

“What did you say?” Jake frowned as he opened his eyes and looked at you all confused. He knew what you said. He heard it crystal clear. But he needed you to repeat it. He needed to hear you say it again, just once. The fluorescent bathroom light flickered as he stared at you. For a second…Jake stood alone in a hospital room he didn’t recognise. Only for him to find himself standing right before you again in the blink of an eye. “Honey?” 

“I said I need you to get my phone for me?” You repeated calmly. “My phone is ringing and if I try to race to it I won't get there in time.” The explanation fit the response you gave him. Jake thought for a moment there he was going crazy. He needed more sleep, that was without a doubt the answer to his second of madness. 

Jake silently nodded in agreement before he kissed your forehead. He was only gone for a few seconds before he returned with your phone. Still ringing. 

“Who is it?” You asked as you reached out to take your phone from Jake. By the look smeared across his face, it wasn't someone he necessarily liked. 

“It’s your boyfriend,” Jake teased as he handed you your phone. Based on that comment alone you knew it was Jensen. 

“Careful Seresin,” You teased lovingly, hoping Jake believed what you had told him earlier. “He might be my next husband if you don't play your cards right.” 

Jake knew you were kidding and if anything he deserved that comeback. He didn't like the guy, that much was true. But he could see how having someone who knew what it was like to not know your own body could be beneficial to the mind. 

“You caught me at a bad time,” Jake watched as you answered the phone and held it up to your ear. “I–oh,” You paused. The immediate worry that took over the expanse of your face was enough to have the little hairs on the back of Jake's neck standing on edge. 

“Jensen Huges–” The name hung heavy in the air around you as you listened to the woman on the other end of the line. According to her, there had been a small piece of paper tucked into the phone case of this particular phone at the scene of an accident. Your name. Your number. “Oh, no, no don't tell me that,” You begged. 

Jake was unable to hear what was being said in the silence, but as he watched your eyes well with tears, he knew. 

“Y/n, give me the phone, honey,” He whispered as he gestured to your phone. You shook your head in response as you continued to listen to the woman who had introduced herself as Ilona. A police officer with the Rhode Island police. “Sweetheart?” Jake cooed as he reached out for you. The second his fingertips grazed your shoulder…You fell. “Shit–” 

“NOOOOOOO!” The guttural scream you let out scared Jake to his very core. He’d never in his life heard you sound the way you did as you crumbled on the floor in the bathroom. “NOOOOOO!” 

“Baby, baby I'm here, what happened?” Jake asked softly as he cupped your face in his hands. Your phone was long forgotten. It had crashed down when you did. “Tell me what happened so I can help you, honey?” 

“He–he left me,” You managed to gasp out between sobs. “And I can’t–I can’t breathe, Jake, I ca–” 

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Jake promised you as he held you tightly in his arms. “It’s gonna be alright,” Jake seemed to have been in the business of making promises he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep. He had no fucking idea if things would be alright. But he needed them to be. 

“I can't do this without him,” You cried out in utter anguish. “He, he was the st-strongest,” Jake could tell where this was going as you struggled to speak through your grief-stricken sobs. “If he—then I,” 

“I’ve lost count of all the rooms you've been tall in Y/n,” It broke his heart to see you like this. So full of heartbreak. So full of hopelessness. “You gotta keep fighting, I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” 

“I don't know how to!” You admitted to not only yourself but to your husband as well. “I don't know how!” 

“I’m right here, honey,” Jake held you as tight as he could on the bathroom floor. “You don't have a choice,” He explained as you cried your heart out in a way Jake had never seen you cry before. He could hear your voice echoing in his head. 

“You need to wake up,”

“You need to wake up,”

“You need to wake up,”

“Don't give up on me now Y/n, I can't lose you to this alright?” Jake felt his own tears streaming down his cheeks. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. The way you willed yourself to wake up from this nightmare you were living broke his heart into pieces. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. “Please, you gotta keep fighting this.” 

“He was the stronger one,” You replied as you cried yourself into a ball in Jake's arms. Clutching at his arms as your nails dug into his forearms. Grief was a funny thing. “I can't–” 

“You have to,” Jake cried with you. He was losing the love of his life and there was nothing he could do to stop this nightmare from happening. “I’m gonna be right here every step.” 

“I just want you to wake up,” It was all you said. Jake knew he heard you that time. He heard you loud and clear… “Please, don't leave me,” 

But he had no idea what you were saying. 

**********************************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic

@itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere

@withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30

@accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989

[dizzybee03]

This was great! Love getting to see a somewhat insecure Jake

Nobody's son. Nobody's daughter.

Jake Seresin x Reader

Returning home to Texas for any time has always meant visiting his aunt and uncle. As a kid, their large estate outside of Houston had been an exciting opportunity to sample the finer side of life. Rubbing elbows with businessmen and their rich wives. Still, he feels he's little more than a toy soldier at these events. Perhaps he's found someone who knows exactly how it feels to masquerade.

Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey Wondering Why by The Red Clay Strays Cowboy Like Me by Taylor Swift Moodboard for this fic

Warnings: If you know me in real life do not read this, The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, fake dating-ish, rich people, smut (oral m+f receiving), (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please) Word Count: 6.5K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

Champagne bubbles sparkle as another perfunctory conversation fizzles into more ostensible laughter. Jake stands idle, nodding and responding with an easygoing politeness when required, while scanning the room for his uncle. He's always had little patience for people feigning interest in the lives of others, or masquerading in curated caricatures of intriguing lives. His eyes have never cared to be distracted by the glitter of diamonds, or the flash of gold wristwatches. Taking another sip of his drink he finds himself rather bored in this room of pretenders. 

Returning home to Texas for any time has always meant visiting his aunt and uncle. As a kid, their large estate outside of Houston had been an exciting opportunity to sample the finer side of life. Horses were kept for hobby riding rather than ranching; lush green land without a cow in sight; and a backyard swimming pool. As he got older his presence was requested at their swanky cocktail parties. He was rubbing elbows with businessmen and their rich wives. His military career has become a talking point for his relatives and he feels the eyes of the room on him wherever he floats through the grand house. “Your uncle is proud of you,” his mother always insists her brother means the best, “your grandfather was a pilot too, you know. It's in your blood”.  Still, he feels he's little more than a toy soldier at these events. 

Setting his empty glass down on a tray Jake is determined to find his uncle and make an excuse to leave early. As somewhat expected his uncle Robert is chatting with his business partner, Mr Bell. From what Jake can remember from previous encounters, he's a nice enough man, but he can only hope he's not dragged into more small talk before he manages to escape. It’s the Bells who are hosting tonight’s cocktail party, and Jake accepts that an early excusal might not be possible.

 Beside the two older gentlemen stands a young woman. She's gorgeous standing by the glow of the fireplace. He finds his feet moving him in their direction before he has a moment to consider what he might say when he gets there. Immediately, she reminds him of some kind of goddess. It's silly, childish even. But still, he can't help it. Curves highlighted and hidden in the same artful drapes of deep cherry silk of her dress. Her eyes shimmer like focused jewels as she follows the conversation happening next to her. Her shoulders relaxed in an easy elegant posture. He entertains the idea of a world where a man like him might paint her likeness on his aircraft. Comforted by her calm demeanour, and perpetual in awe of her stunning features. 

“Jake,” his uncle waves him over, “you remember my friend George Bell”. 

“Mister Bell,” Jake greets with a handshake, “it's nice to see you again. Thank you for inviting me tonight, sir”.His posture is perfect as the older man nods and claps him on the shoulder. “I believe you were just about twelve the last time you were here. You’ll have to join me in the library later for a drink”. He has no interest in staying any longer than he has to, but a glass of whiskey from a bottle worth a month of his salary, and a round of pool may serve to soften the obligation of his presence. “Yes, sir,” he accepts, and then his attention shifts entirely to her. 

He’s seen this young woman in photographs and painted portraits throughout the house, though he’s certain now the images do her no justice. He’s bold to assume her identity, and it will surely bite him in the ass if he’s wrong, but he feels certain she must be Mr. Bell’s daughter, and he greets her accordingly, “Miss Bell”.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” she smiles, “it's a pleasure to meet you”. He shouldn't be so pleased that she knows who he is, but he finds himself pushing out his chest with pride. “The pleasure is all mine,” he assures her. Her smile grows, a fantastically playful glint in her eyes that tells him she's excited to be speaking to someone she considers to be a peer. “Then it's an honour,” she insists, “if half the stories I've been told are true, you're very accomplished, Lieutenant”. 

In most scenarios like this, Jake has gotten good at walking the line between exaggeration and faux modesty, any attempt to shift the conversation away from himself, yet today she allows her to tease him. “Call me Jake, please”.

“Only if you insist”.

“I do,” he says, urging some level of familiarity to grow between them as they're both dragged into another round of bromidic small talk. 

He endures the conversation about the weather, and fields questions about what the temperatures are in California at this time of year. He gracefully sidesteps conversations about his job, and his politics, artfully avoiding escalating discussions as easily as he had mastered lag pursuit maneuvers in his first year of flight school. With each opportunity to make her laugh he manages to succeed, only fueling his desire to do it again. 

It's too soon that she's called away to speak with a group of women across the room. He kicks himself for not engaging her in more direct conversation, and wonders if the stolen glances, and the subtle wink he'd shot her way were enough to convey his interest. It's stupid, like a middle school crush, and he knows he couldn't have just asked her out in front of her father and his uncle. He’d hate to look untoward in their company. But, the missed opportunity burns nonetheless. 

An entirely unexpected fortuity is all but handed to him on a silver platter when he's asked to join Mr. Bell for a game of pool in the library. The older man pours him a generous glass of scotch before speaking. 

“I have a favour to ask you, Jake”. 

“I'm happy to help if can, sir,” Jake responds easily, though he can't help but find himself growing nervous by the prospect and any potential implications. He briefly envisions himself, ending up as muscle for hire, taking out an unsavoury business associate, his dreams of becoming an admiral slashed as he ends up on the wrong side of the wrong people. 

His anxieties are quickly replaced by absolute surprise at the words Mr. Bell speaks next, 

“I'd like for you to escort my daughter to the theatre this weekend,” there's an unexpected vulnerability as he continues, “My wife and I will be out of town, and since her engagement was called off she worries that people will talk-- you know how it is”.

In all honesty, Jake cannot say he does know how it is, but he can imagine. His aunt had been talking about some young woman of some kind of societal importance who had been jilted weeks before her wedding. He hadn't been paying attention at the time, far more interested in the apple pie he was eating and the football game on TV. From what he can recall rumours were running wild, but no one had the full story. He understands now that Bell's daughter must be the woman his aunt was talking about. Without knowing her, he had felt sorry for her. But pity is now replaced by deference. He finds himself more in awe of how she managed to walk the rooms this evening with her head held high, knowing what people must be whispering about her behind her back. He understands that a pastime and patronage she clearly enjoys has been jeopardized by the possibility of having to attend alone, but he worries that his presence, and lack of regard for certain expectations and niceties may hinder more than it helps. 

“I've never been to the theatre before, sir. I'm not sure I would be the best escort”. 

“Nonsense,” Mr. Bell stops him, “you're a good man. Dress well. Pick her up. Watch the play. Drive her home”. There's no room for argument or debate, and the truth is that despite the odd, and somewhat unfortunate circumstances Jake finds a selfish little part of himself chuffed by the opportunity to take the dreamy girl out for a night. 

“Come around six o’clock you can park your truck here, and ask Steven in the Garage for the keys to the Benz. I'm going to assume you can drive manual”. Jake easily accepts the new instructions, raising his glass in the sign of a toast before the two of them begin their billiards game as if no conversation had passed between them. 

Saturday comes around in what feels like the blink of an eye. Jake makes sure his slacks, blazer, and button-up are pressed and his shoes are polished ready for the night out. After some debate on what to wear, his choice is ultimately decided by the lack of options hanging in the closet of the guest bedroom at his aunt and uncle's house. He'd learned years ago not to visit without at least two sets of slacks and jackets, but had never considered that he might have an occasion to truly worry over the outfit he's putting on. He's eager to make a good impression, but worries he'll look like he's trying too hard; keenly aware that this evening he's not just representing himself. He will also be purporting to assume responsibility for the social reputation of a woman who has already been unfairly judged and derided.

He showers and combs his hair before slipping into charcoal grey pants and jacket. He fastens the cuffs of his white shirt with onyx cufflinks borrowed from his uncle. He's conservative with the application of his aftershave, conscious of the fact he's attending a society function, not a nightclub happy hour. He's certain either way that her opinion of him could not be swayed by a whiff of Tom Ford cologne. 

At the Bell residence, Jake retrieves the keys to the Mercedes. A stunning mid-century model painted in oxblood red, so perfectly polished he can see his reflection staring back at him. Keys in hand he rings the doorbell and waits patiently. Through the door, the faintest tip tap of high heels echoes in the grand foyer. The sound is followed shortly after by a  small clatter and a hardly muffled “shit!” Jake grins ear to ear, barely containing a laugh when the door swings open. 

“Lieutenant,” she greets.

“Jake,” he insists.

“Jake,” she corrects herself. 

“Shall we?”

She nods, shutting the door behind her, a small clutch purse in one hand. He offers his arm to her. If she notices him flexing she doesn't say anything, but his cheeks flush as he reminds himself he's not flirting with some tag chaser at The Hard Deck. Cheap come-ons are worth anything here. She won't end the night in his bed. This isn't even a date, it's a favour to her father. 

She ignores the gentlemanly offer of his arm, and all but skips down the stone steps towards the driveway leaving him to stare dumbfounded. 

“Let's go!” She calls to him, walking backwards to the waiting car.

She's dressed in a dress made of black velvet today. It flares out at her waist and ends at a conservative length. But her back is exposed and he tries to stop his eyes from tracing the plunging neckline. With stockings and her towering heels, she manages to make bourgeois sexy. 

“You look lovely. That's a nice dress” he tells her when he catches up. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, “it has pockets!” Her free hand immediately finds the hidden pouch to demonstrate. His smile graces his face, and his earlier anxieties about expectations and decorum quiet themselves as he watches her open the car door for herself quickly making herself comfortable. 

There's a casual air to her demeanour he hadn't expected. Their communication at the cocktail party earlier in the week had led him to believe that she was not as prim as the circumstances expected her to be. Her teasing tone and her eyes searching the room for more stimulating conversation told him she had been holding back, and putting up appearances. He had no reason to believe that tonight would be any different. 

A few minutes down the road she leans forward to turn on the radio, the local country station playing at a low volume. 

“Your dad must like me,” he attempts to joke. 

“I like you,” she says, her eyes looking out the passenger side window. 

“Well sure, what's not to like,” he smirks, “but your dad leant me a nineteen fifties Benz” 

“I leant you a nineteen sixties Benz,” her correction leaves him with his brows furrowed. 

“This is your car?” 

She doesn't turn her attention to him but responds, “Birthday gift”. 

He feels it, the achy routine gratitude. The compunction that comes from being forced to save face and feign grace; saying thank you for something you never asked for. There's a hollowness that accompanies the realization that this chunk of your life is not your own, and worse, wondering if you could do any better even if it were. Incidentally, he's familiar with a similar gut-churning shame. The weight of undeserved praise and misplaced guilt have often pulled at his ribs. He loses sleep each time they pin a medal on his chest; when the ends don't seem to justify the means, and he can't tip the scales enough in his favour to win a restful sleep at night. It's never enough. 

“It's a fantastic car,” he tells her honestly, “you have excellent taste”. 

“Thank you”. 

He hears his fears and scruples in her quiet sigh before the words escape her.  He knows the echo of apology in a simple thank you as well as he knows his name. Silence settles between them again. 

At the theatre, she stays seated in the car until he comes around and opens the door to offer his hand. With fluid, graceful movements she steps out of the vehicle and he passes the keys to a waiting valet. Jake matches her walking pace noting the way she slows as she makes her way closer to the entrance of the theatre. Her back straightens and she makes a concentrated effort to paint a smile. Gone is the easygoing woman he picked up; replaced by an edited version. He has no choice but to respect the way she's managed the transition with such poise. Her hand rests in the crook of his arm their footsteps falling in time. “What are we seeing this evening?” He asks her with genuine interest. 

“Much Ado About Nothing,” she tells him in a measured tone though he notices the sparkle in her eye, “it's a comedy”. 

“One of my favourite Shakespeare plays”. 

She smiles broadly, “And here I was thinking you were just an accomplished pilot”. 

He shrugs, “I accidentally joined the drama club in high school”. He's blessed with a surprisingly unrestrained burst of laughter. He laughs too. 

Massive wooden doors with ornate stained glass panels open into a grand foyer of floor-to-ceiling marble. Columns carved with care and precision line the walk to the grand staircase. Overhead a mural is painted on the smooth plaster. Pastel depictions of cherubs and florals surround the massive crystal chandeliers that light the hall. He feels out of place, the shoulders of his jacket suddenly feel too tight, and he wonders if anyone can tell he should have had it tailored. He breathes deeply determined to stop any ounce of his discomfort from showing as her hold on his bicep grows tighter the further into the crowd they move. 

As a pilot, he has to be good at evaluating scenarios and making decisions. He doesn't overthink it, he just does what feels right. He straightens his arm dropping her hand from the crook of his elbow and intertwines their fingers. If she's shocked by the adjustment she doesn't let it show. “Trust me?” He whispers. She nods her breath leaving her in laboured puffs, each one easier than the last as they glide through the room and towards the private box the Bells have reserved for generations. 

“Are you alright?” He dares to ask when they're on their own in the quiet of the balcony. 

She nods, releasing his hand in favour of taking her seat. “Yes, I apologize,” she tells him, “I saw my fiancés family-- it startled me more than I anticipated”.

He shrugs, “Nothing to apologize for. The only thing worse than running into your ex is running into your Ex’s mom”. 

A sliver of joy peaks through, the slightest spark of good humour returning to her eyes. No tears gather, but he can see the genuine sorrow fighting to make its way to the surface. He's happy to help her combat it. “What did he do anyway?” 

She scoffs, “As if you haven't heard to rumours”. 

“I've heard the rumours but I'd rather know the truth”. 

He watches as she studies him, seemingly determined to root out any dishonesty. He lets her weigh his worthiness and steels himself to the reality that while he may be far more well-intentioned than most people she knows, he's not a very good man. He's sure she knows that. He knows her eyes see straight through him. 

Her eyes avoid his as she speaks misplaced shame wraps around her like a shroud, “I found out from members of my mother's church group that he had called off the engagement. I was apparently one of the last people to know”. The statement lands heavy but she continues anyway, “I never truly got any explanation besides a list of my faults”. 

“He's an idiot,” Jake is quick to interject. He's certain she has her flaws, who doesn't? But the idea that a clever, witty, honest, thoughtful, and beautiful woman such as herself could fail to measure up to some arbitrary, antiquated or otherwise acceptable standards baffles him.

“Worst of all, I don't think I'm lacking in any capacity. I think, maybe, I was just too much for him. Too excitable. Too interested in the politics of business to keep my mouth shut--too outspoken to be his wife in any case”. 

What hurts more he wonders; going through hell to pull yourself up to snuff, or cutting away pieces of yourself to fit a mold. “Then maybe he wasn't meant to be your husband,” the advice comes easy and he prays he sounds like he's offering comfort. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her hand reaching for his with a shaken reach. He's more than happy to provide the support. 

The room shifts when the lights dim. The crowd goes silent, and for a moment before the stage curtain raises Jake can swear he hears his heartbeat. There's an intimacy that demands to be felt, and it grows between them. Her hand resting just above his knee, his arm stretched across the back of her chair. It's casual and as comfortable as possible despite the layers of clothing he's afraid he's sweating through. He watches her more than he watches the play, turning away with a flinch each time she looks his way. Her laughter is infectious, and he leans in closer to hear it over the guffawing of the audience below. 

As the show continues, any cohesive thought running through his mind is halted as she begins to draw soft circles on his thigh with her thumb. The pattern is uneven and irregular enough that he manages to write the action off as mindless fidgeting. He doesn't dare to allow himself to believe that it could be an unceremoniously daring attempt at flirtation. In the short time he's known her, he has learned to consider her to be a person of deliberate and careful action. He doesn’t think she would trifle or toy with any kind of advance; insouciant or serious. 

The lights come up again, soft music filling the theatre as intermission begins. She's no longer touching him. Their private bubble seems to burst as the chatter of other patrons fills the space. The affinity they had built in the dark hangs suspended, waiting just beyond their reaches. Neither of them mentions it. 

“Should we go get a drink?” He extends the invitation half hoping it doesn't sound like he's making a pass at her, half praying that it does. He hedges his bets on her answer; prepared to sit in silence for the 30-minute break if that's what she wants. He's shocked when she says, “I thought you'd never ask”. 

Jewelry sparkles beneath the light of equally bejeweled chandeliers, and gilded sconces. The toes of polished shoes make Jake think he's never shined a show in his life. Years of keeping his uniforms in pristine condition don't compare to the easygoing luxury of brand-new Italian patent leather. An order of two scotches on ice (the lady’s choice) runs him the same as a round of drinks at The Hard Deck would. The scotch doesn't taste any better here than it does when Penny pours it back in San Diego, but he holds his tongue for the sake of appearances. It's odd, he'll admit, standing in a crowd not identified by his rank or achievements, and yet being judged for nothing more than a projected image of inherited class. Like an ant beneath a microscope; so small, and insignificant, but under such scrutiny from the giants around him. His confidence waivers and for the second time this evening he believes he was correct when he told Mr. Bell that he may not be up to the task of escort. 

She smells like vanilla, honey, and now whiskey as she leans into his side. Her hand slipping into his own again calls him to attention as her countenance shifts; cool and calculated. He lifts his chin, and scans the room, his empty glass abandoned at the bar. 

“Miss Bell!” An older woman calls as she approaches, her hands outstretched in an overly saccharine greeting. 

“Hello, Mrs Calhoun,” she manages through partially gritted teeth accepting the uncomfortable hug the woman forces upon her. 

“I wasn't expecting you tonight,” Mrs Calhoun says, no attention spared for Jake, her focus clearly set on weeding out some kind of scandalous revelations, or calaminious scuttle to pass along to her waiting group of equally interested gossips. Growing up in Texas, Jake was well aware of how quickly news moved traveled down the clothesline-- dirty laundry aired for the whole community to chatter about. But the idle talk his mama and the neighbours shared feels so innocent compared to the chronicles passed amongst the Houston elites at cocktail parties, and theatre intermissions it seems. 

“you've been so antisocial since the wedding was called off, i do hope you've been taking care of yourself”. 

“I've been busy,” she responds quickly to Mrs Calhoun’s jab, hesitating before adding, “your son seemed quite embarrassed by the whole affair, I thought it best to allow him some time to process”. 

Jake is clever enough to see the battle fought beneath the niceties, and silently cheers her unwillingness to allow Mrs Calhoun to embarrass or belittle her. “What a sweet girl, such a shame the two of you couldn't make things work. You probably still could, you're both young enough. If he saw you in a dress like this I'm sure he'd change his mind,” Mrs Calhoun coos, “such a flattering silhouette; very slimmin--”.

“Mrs Calhoun, have you met Lieutenant Seresin, my escort for this evening?” Jake steps easily into his role of soldier and defender, a curt yet polite nod conveys his ‘hello’. “Pleasure,” he lies. 

“A lieutenant? How interesting!” The woman says, her expression souring as she suddenly makes excuses to leave. 

She's across the room in a flash joining a flock of tittering ladies who are not subtle at all as they cast their gaze towards him and a lovely girl who is now hiding her face against his chest. Her giggles are muffled but he's glad to hear she hasn't been too shaken by the encounter.

 “They're all looking at us,” Jake thinks it's best to tell her. There's nothing worse than being blindsided. He expects her to take at least a half step away from him; to straighten herself back into the straight backed paper doll their audience came to see. Instead she moves closer looking up at him with wide eyes and long lashes, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

“Maybe we should give them something to look at…” she suggests, and his stomach drops, certain he's not hearing her correctly. 

“What do you have in mind, honey?” 

She answers with a kiss, and he’s happy to be the one to kiss her, but he’ll be damned if he doesn't a proper job of it. How ungentlemanly would he be to not be thorough in his work? What a disservice it would be to her if he did not take the opportunity to deepen the embrace, his find purchase on her hip, and in the back of her hair. By the starry-eyed look on her face when he pulls away he’s convinced he’s met the mark of the task; the shocked expressions from the Calhouns confirm his suspicions of her ex lacking any kind of rectitude or skill. 

The kiss wasn't long enough or anywhere near steamy enough to be considered anything close to vulgar. He knows the two of them will be the subject of several buzz lines in the community tomorrow, but he hopes it won't be anything implying promiscuity or untoward behaviour. Her cheek is warm beneath the pad of his tomb, and he's sure his cheeks are flushed. He tries not to become too giddy at the prospect of being promoted from escort to boyfriend for the evening. He's not naive enough to think this is anything more than one of those fake dating scenarios from the made-for-TV Christmas films his Mama has always enjoyed. It's a calculated and clever choice, and he's happy to oblige; to be a pawn in something bigger than any of his own wants or desires. He's used to it. He's made a career out of it. Lieutenant Seresin reporting for duty. 

A three-bell tone notifies everyone that it’s time to return to their seats. As the lights slowly dim once more her hand returns to the place it had taken on his thigh earlier in the night, any remaining tension in her shoulders released as she busies herself with tracing invisible shapes once again. In the darkness of the room, Jake’s face blushes as he tries not to shift too suddenly in his seat, her hand moving an inch or two higher up his leg. Long-manicured fingers move at a teasing pace until they find his belt buckle. He has no choice but to stop her, even though he’d prefer not to. His lips brush the shell of her ear as he captures her wrist in his hand, “Behave,” he whispers, managing to keep his warning somewhere between stern and playful. A soft gasp escapes her, her eyes glinting in the low light with a mischievous glee. Good God, he’d be hard-pressed to deny her anything looking at him like that. He releases her wrist, and she resumes her mission. 

He feels guilty; as if he’s corrupted her somehow, and he knows that feeling alone is a disservice to her. In the extraordinarily short time he’s known her he’s learned that she is headstrong and determined in the most brilliant ways. While she’s spent her life slipping in and out of different roles to ease the minds of those she’s been forced to associate with, she has done it all by choice. As exhausted as she must be, it’s a game she’s learned to play, and she’ll never allow herself to lose. He urges himself to consider that his role in her life may just be that of a buffer, a simple stand-in to offset the weight of the outside world. His penchant for cocksure, self-assured, over conference aside, he’s not dumb enough to truly think that he could be her freedom, but he’ll allow himself to sleep tonight with the belief that he could be happy being a conduit for it. 

She’s indescribably pretty looking up at him. Her skirt billows around her where she kneels between his thighs, her hair slightly tousled, and her lips glossy. He’s met his fair share of beautiful women. He’s lost count of the partners he brought home for a night. Most of their names he’s now forgotten, and he feels dreadfully sorry to them all because he knows this image before him now will be burned into his mind for a lifetime. He won’t forget Miss Bell, nor her elegance. He won’t ever fail to recall her smile, or he erudite quips. His breath stutters, and he thanks the Lord for the players on the stage making the audience laugh as he struggles to hold back a softened moan. 

The rest of the evening’s performance passes in a blur and they’re outside waiting for the valet to bring the car around before he knows it. She reapplies her lipstick with the help of a small compact mirror, and he swears his knees go weak at the sight. He tips the valet well for the speed with which he returns, and she gives a kind “thank you. Have a good night,” to the man as she ducks to slip into the passenger seat. 

“You should come inside,” she says as they pull through the gate outside her home. “I should?” 

“Mhm,” she hums. “And why is that?” he asks hoping he’s not pressing his luck. “Because I like you, Jake,” she says simply. He doesn’t need more convincing. 

Her bedroom is as warm, plush, and luxurious as he could have anticipated. Their clothes strewn across the floor leave a conspicuous trail from the door to her bed. The dress he'd been admiring her in all night must've cost a pretty penny but it's tossed aside with his pants and shirt that she'd made quick work of. 

He lets her have her fun perched, straddling his lap as hands and lips explore exposed bodies. He's careful about leaving his mark knowing his presence in this house tonight must be that of a ghost. Neither of them say it, but they both know this is a secret they'll keep forever. Jake pinches her hip when she nips particularly hard at his collarbone.

“Careful. That's property of the United States Navy, honey”.

 His warning doesn't dissuade her and she's convinced to leave another bite in the same place. He rolls them over, settling his weight between thighs. He leaves kiss stain bruises along her torso, taking his time to lap, suck, and soothe with the goal of hearing her sighs. 

He lowers himself to his belly kissing from her ankle to her knee as he pushes one of her legs then the other over his shoulders. “You don't have to--”.

“I want to,” he insists with a playful nip at her hip, but she still looks hesitant. “I won't if you don't want me to,” he assures her, beginning to pull away. 

“ I do!” She says quickly, “it's just my ex never--”

“He's an idiot,” he replies easily before diving in for a taste. He means it too. He has abandoned reason and found heaven. He's collapsed like a man starved before her. Only an absolute fool would balk at the opportunity to please a woman, especially one who looks so pretty with her head tilted back, her fingers tangled in his hair; a plea for more. How could he deny her? 

It's a year later when he's invited back to the theatre. His girlfriend’s had held proudly in his own as they both sidestep the conversations they do not wish to be a part of. “Miss Bell,” people still call out to her, and she obliges them with polite small talk, correcting them as they ask about her Lieutenant, she's proud of him and his recent promotion, ensuring that they are all aware of the correct honorific, but insisting they just call him Jake. It's who he'd prefer to be in her company; a truer version of himself. The Calhouns make themselves scarce, avoiding himself and Miss Bell like the plague, and neither of them has any complaints about that. 

Mindless catching up, and society-bound exchanges are far less painful with a companion. They take turns filling people in on their lives out in California, slipping inside jokes between the lines unbeknownst to the people around them. Little secrets just to keep the other entertained, the reward of a smile enough to pull them through the crowds. Neither of them relaxes completely until they've made it to the Bell’s private box. His hand moves to rest on her thigh by instinct at this point, he palm warm on her exposed skin. He loves her in this dress, emerald green, with an elegant slit up the skirt. She leans over to kiss him and he’s more than happy to indulge her. 

[dizzybee03]

Ugh this one cuts so deep- honestly when I got to the end I felt Ally’s disappointment….shes willing to give everything up for Beau and to have him tell her he can’t do the same, after they’ve been through so much together it sort of feels like a betrayal

Scar Tissue: Beau Simpson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @b-bradshaw @crimeshowjunkie @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman

Companion piece to:

Nine Months - Beau comes home from his deployment to a surprise revelation.

Beau has his face buried in the pillow, his teeth biting down on the fabric as your hands smooth over his back, fingers digging into the knot in his right shoulder. It’s scar tissue from Syria, his doctor tells him. Every so often it stiffens, reducing the movement in his arm. He usually goes to chiropractor but he’s been cooped up on an aircraft carrier for the past few months and he needs the relief.

“I know.” You whisper reassuringly as your thumb presses even harder into the scar tissue. “I know it hurts but it’ll be over in a minute.”

He grunts his response as the muscle tightens before it gives way under you’re ministrations. The relief floods his senses, his body relaxing into the mattress.

“Better?” You ask and he shifts, his cheek pressing into the pillow as he nods his head. You lean over him, your lips lightly brushing over his temple before you clamber off him. He watches as you stride into the bathroom, that silk, floral kimono fluttering as you walk. You rinse the lavender oil off your hands before drying it with a hand towel he doesn’t recognise.

There’s been a few new changes to the house while he’s been away.  A dark wood antique desk has appeared in the living room, tucked underneath the window that looks out into the backyard, an ergonomic chair goes with it. When he put his clothes away he noticed office attire in the wardrobe. Power dresses, blazers and high heels.  It’s how he knows you’re serious about retiring from the military, that this isn’t just a knee jerk reaction to a deployment that was far too long for either one of you.

“Was the deployment the tipping point?” He asks you as you step back into the bedroom, rubbing lotion into your hands. “Or was it something else?”

You lean against the doorframe, toying with your wedding ring as Beau shifts into a sitting position against the headboard, the sheets pooling around his hips.

“I don’t have a choice.” You say finally. “My time with Victim’s Support is coming to an end and I found out my next posting is Naples.”

The air rushes out of Beau’s lungs, his chest constricts because a posting isn’t like a deployment. It’s longer, a hell of a lot longer. Three years to be exact. He can’t imagine going that long without you, seeing you in intervals, a couple of weeks at a time. He understands now, that you’re sacrificing your career for the marriage, that you’re giving up one of the most important things in your life so the two of you can be together.

It’s an echo back to that first time he was deployed to Germany. You’d had a choice of posting and you’d picked San Diego so you could be together but he was already shipping out.

“I had lunch with Mic last month when he came up from Washington.” You say quietly, your attention still focused on your wedding ring. “His firm is opening a new branch here in San Diego, they’ve offered me a job and I’m going to take it.”

“Is that what you want?” He asks you, his voice a little rough and you swallow hard against the emotion in your chest, your eyes stinging.

“I don’t see us surviving any other way.” You say softly, your gaze flicking up to meet his. “I can’t go three years without you Beau, no matter how much I may like Italy.”

“And you do like Italy…” He says with a mirthless smile as he stares down at his own wedding ring. “Ally… I don’t know if I can retire.”

You try to hide the hurt but he sees it, he sees everything when it comes to you.

“I understand Beau.” You say, your voice completely devoid of emotion. “You’ve got to do what’s best for you.”

Love Beau? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[dizzybee03]

They just have such an honest and raw relationship ❤️

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 10

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen helps ease Gabby’s growing nerves about meeting his family, reassuring her with heartfelt words. As the evening unfolds, their connection deepens during an intimate moment, where sweet, lingering kisses turn into something more, revealing the tenderness and passion they share. Afterward, Glen gently takes care of Gabby, ensuring her comfort before they settle into bed. With Gabby curled up against his chest and Glen holding her close, they drift off to sleep, the warmth of their bond stronger than ever as they prepare to face what tomorrow holds.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Nudity. SMUT (Hair Pulling,.Mentions of Marking. PinV Sex.) I think that's it but may have forgotten or missed something so read at your own risk.

A/N: This will probably be the last update for a few days as I work the next four days and don't know how much time I'll have to write, but I will get the next chapter up as soon as I can!

Please continue to let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know, and I will get you added to the tag list!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado @khouse712 @squirrelducks

Gabby stood in front of the mirror, her fingers smoothing over the soft fabric of her sleep shorts as she took a deep breath. The reality of where she was—and who she was with—hit her like a wave. She was in Glen's house in Austin, Texas. Tomorrow, she would meet his family, the people he’d grown up with, the people who mattered most to him. She had only known him for a month, but in that short time, he had become someone she couldn’t imagine her life without.

Her chest tightened at the thought. Love. The word had been lingering in her mind, unspoken but persistent, for days now. Could it really be that? It seemed impossible to feel something so big, so soon. But with Glen, it was different. Everything was easy with him—natural. He made her laugh, he made her feel safe, and somehow, he’d managed to slip past every wall she’d built to protect herself.

Gabby let out a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the floor. Was she crazy to feel this way? To be here, in his home, imagining what it would be like to be a real part of his life? She bit her lip, the uncertainty gnawing at her. She wanted to trust what she felt, but it all seemed too good to be true.

Her thoughts spiraled, and she lost track of how long she stood there, unmoving, staring blankly at her reflection. She didn’t even hear the soft knock on the door until it came a second time, followed by Glen’s concerned voice.

“Gabby? You okay in there?”

Her head snapped up, and she blinked, realizing how long she must’ve been. “Yeah,” she called out, her voice higher than she intended. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yeah, I’m fine!”

The door opened just a crack, enough for Glen to peek his head in. His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes met hers. “You sure? You’ve been in here a while. I started to worry.”

Gabby forced a small smile, turning toward him. “I guess I just… zoned out for a minute.”

Glen stepped into the room, his concern evident as he leaned against the doorframe. “You seemed fine earlier. Did something happen?”

Her first instinct was to brush it off, but the earnest look in his eyes made her pause. She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, nothing happened. I think it just… hit me all at once, you know? Being here. Meeting your family tomorrow. All of it.”

Glen’s expression softened as he stepped closer, reaching for her hand. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over her knuckles, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s a lot, I get that. But, Gabby… you don’t have to overthink it. You’re here because I want you here, and I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure about you.”

His words, steady and confident, made her chest tighten for a different reason. She nodded, the edges of her anxiety dulling under the weight of his steady gaze. “Thanks,” she said softly.

Glen tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “Is there anything I can do? To make this easier for you?” he asked, his voice quiet but sincere.

Gabby blinked, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t just brushing off her feelings or trying to fix them—he wanted to help. The thought sent a warm ache through her chest. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think I just… needed a second to get out of my own head.”

Glen nodded, his free hand lifting to cup her cheek. His palm was warm, grounding her as his thumb brushed over her skin. 

“Okay,” he said simply. “But if you think of anything, let me know. I don’t want you to feel like you’re in this alone.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, and she couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at her lips. “You’re kind of good at this whole comforting thing, you know that?”

He grinned, the playful warmth she’d come to adore returning to his face. “It’s easy when it’s you,” he said, his tone teasing but honest.

Gabby rolled her eyes but leaned into his touch, letting him pull her into a light hug. The weight of his arms around her and the steady rhythm of his breathing helped ease the tension in her chest. For now, that was enough to quiet her doubts.

Glen stepped back slightly, his hands lingering at her waist as he looked her over. He could see the tension had eased a little from her shoulders, but the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes told him she was still wrestling with her thoughts.

“Come on,” he said softly, lacing his fingers with hers. “Let’s get comfortable.”

Gabby let him guide her out of the bathroom, their steps quiet as they moved down the hallway toward his bedroom. The warm glow of the pendant lights on either side of the bed created a cozy ambiance, their golden hues casting soft shadows across the room. The overhead lights were off, leaving the space intentionally intimate, while a few candles flickered on the dresser and windowsill, their delicate flames swaying lazily. The faint scent of vanilla and amber hung in the air, wrapping Gabby in a comforting warmth.

She stopped just inside the door, her gaze catching on the candles. A teasing smile tugged at her lips. 

“Candles?” she asked, her tone light. “Is this your secret weapon when you bring women back to your room?”

Glen’s expression shifted at her words. For a moment, his confident demeanor faltered, replaced by something quieter, almost vulnerable. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, glancing briefly at the candles before meeting her gaze. 

“I, uh…” He hesitated, then let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

Gabby’s smile faded as her brows knitted together in confusion. “Never?”

He shrugged, stepping farther into the room. “I hadn’t bought this place yet when my last serious relationship ended. And since then… I haven’t really dated. Not like that, anyway.”

Her lips parted slightly in surprise. Of course, she’d known Glen wasn’t like the typical Hollywood actors who seemed to revel in their reputations for being serial flirts or playboys. She’d seen enough of him over the past month to know he wasn’t the type to bring a different woman home every night. There was a grounded, thoughtful side to him that set him apart from most of the industry.

But hearing this? That she was the first woman he’d brought to his home since buying it over a year ago? It hit her differently.

Her chest tightened at the realization, her gaze softening as she studied him. Glen rubbed the back of his neck again, clearly feeling a little exposed after his confession.

“Glen,” she started, her voice quieter now, but he interrupted her with a small, crooked smile.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he said, his tone easy, though his eyes betrayed something deeper. “Just thought you should know.”

Gabby felt the teasing remark she’d been about to make slip away, replaced by a warmth in her chest that was equal parts flattery and nerves.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said softly, though deep down, she knew it was.

Glen stepped closer and took her hand again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Come on,” he said gently, guiding her farther into the room.

The warmth of the space and the intimacy of his presence were almost overwhelming as he led her toward the bed. Gabby followed, but her thoughts were racing. The candles, the soft lighting, his confession—it all added to the weight of this moment. This wasn’t just a fling. This wasn’t just anything.

When they stopped near the bed, Glen turned to face her, his hands settling on her shoulders as he met her gaze. “You don’t have to worry about tomorrow, you know?” he said, his voice quiet but steady. Glen’s thumbs brushed small circles over her shoulders as he continued, “You’ve been so in your head about tomorrow, but my family? They’re just… people. Messy, loud, ridiculous people. You don’t have to impress anyone, Gabby. Just be yourself.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but she let out a small, shaky breath. “It’s not that easy,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I didn’t grow up with a big family. It was just me and my parents—no aunts, uncles, cousins, or anything like that. No big Thanksgivings or chaotic Christmases. Just the three of us.”

Her gaze fell to the floor for a moment, her voice softening further. “And now… it’s just me and my dad. After my mom passed…” She trailed off, shrugging slightly, as though trying to brush the weight of her words aside.

Glen’s heart ached at her admission. He reached up, his hand cupping her cheek as he tilted her head gently back to meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone laced with quiet reassurance. “I’ll be right there with you. Every step of the way. If it gets too overwhelming, you just give me a look or squeeze my hand, and I’ll get you out of there. Okay?”

Gabby nodded, her throat tightening as she fought to hold back the rush of emotions building in her chest. “Okay,” she whispered.

Glen smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’ve got this,” he murmured against her skin. “And you’ve got me. You’re not doing this alone.”

Gabby closed her eyes, letting his words sink in, the weight of her worries easing just a little. She exhaled a soft, shaky breath and rested her forehead against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and for a moment, the world felt far away—just the two of them, cocooned in the quiet warmth of the room.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Glen’s hand stilled on her back for a moment before resuming its soothing rhythm. “For what?”

“For being…you.” She pulled back slightly, tilting her head to look up at him. “For knowing exactly what to say, for somehow always making me feel safe.” A faint smile tugged at her lips, soft but genuine. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Glen’s brows lifted slightly, his mouth curving into a small, amused smile. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve thanked me for that tonight.”

Her cheeks flushed as she let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, well, maybe you deserve it twice,” she said lightly, her tone growing playful.

“Maybe,” he teased, his laugh lines making a brief appearance as his grin widened. Then, with a more serious tone, he added, “I’m just doing what any good boyfriend would do.”

She blinked at his words, her smile faltering for just a moment before it returned, softer and more contemplative. “Yeah, well,” she started, her voice quieter, “I haven’t had very many of those.”

His smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet understanding. “Then I guess I’ll just have to make up for the ones who didn’t know how to treat you right.”

Gabby stared at him for a long moment, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around her heart like a protective shield. She could feel her throat tighten, but instead of giving in to the emotions threatening to overwhelm her, she managed a small, wry smile. “You know, you’re dangerously close to making me cry.”

Glen chuckled, his hand moving up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin. “Not my intention,” he said softly. “But if you do cry, I’ll be right here.”

Her heart swelled, a mix of gratitude and something much deeper—a feeling she wasn’t quite ready to name yet. She let out a quiet laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You’re too good at this,” she said, her voice filled with a teasing warmth. “I’m starting to think you’ve been practicing.”

He smirked, his hand still resting against her cheek. “Nah. You just bring it out of me.” His tone was light, but there was a glint of seriousness in his eyes that made her breath catch.

The weight of the moment settled between them, not heavy but meaningful, as if the room had quieted to give space for this connection to grow. Gabby opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Glen leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss so soft it felt like a whisper.

Gabby’s heart fluttered at the sweetness of it, her body instinctively leaning into him, craving more. The kiss deepened as Glen’s hands slid up to cup her face, his fingers gently holding her as his lips parted, coaxing her mouth open with his. Her breath hitched in surprise, but there was no hesitation in her response. She met him with the same intensity, her hands threading through his hair as she pressed herself against him.

The heat between them surged as his tongue slid into her mouth, exploring with a slow, deliberate movement. She let out a soft sound, her body naturally drawing closer to him as she felt the warmth of his chest against hers. Every inch of her seemed to respond, every nerve firing with the intensity of his touch.

Glen’s hands shifted, moving from her face to the back of her neck, his grip tightening as he deepened the kiss. He pulled her flush against him, their bodies aligning perfectly as the kiss turned hungrier, more urgent. 

Glen’s hands shifted, sliding down to her waist. With a gentle but firm motion, he guided her backward until her legs met the edge of the bed. Gabby gasped softly, her balance faltering as she fell back onto the mattress. Glen followed, his lips never leaving hers, his body lowering over her with deliberate control.

His hands skimmed along her sides, the warmth of his palms igniting sparks across her skin as they reached the hem of her cami tank top. He slid the fabric up, exposing her stomach and the soft curve of her waist. The cool air kissed her skin as the top was pulled over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up.

His eyes roamed her body with an intensity that made her shiver, but the admiration in his gaze kept her from feeling self-conscious. Slowly, his hands moved lower, finding the waistband of her sleep shorts. With the same measured care, he hooked his thumbs under the fabric, sliding both the shorts and her underwear down in one smooth motion. Gabby felt her heart pound, the vulnerability of the moment mingling with the heat between them as she lay completely bare beneath him.

Glen hovered above her for a moment, his gaze roaming over her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. He kissed her again, slower this time, as though savoring every second. But as his hands moved to explore her body, Gabby felt a spark of confidence flare within her.

She reached up, her fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. He paused, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, his brow arching in question. Gabby swallowed, the hesitation in her chest giving way to a determined flutter as she tugged gently at the fabric.

“Off,” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly but laced with resolve.

The corner of Glen’s mouth quirked up in a small, approving smile. He leaned back, letting her pull his shirt over his head. The soft glow of the pendant lights caught on the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, and Gabby couldn’t help the way her fingers reached out, trailing across his skin.

Her touch was tentative at first, her fingertips grazing the hard planes of his chest, the dip between his ribs, and the warmth of his skin beneath her palms. Glen watched her, his expression softening, though his breathing deepened with every pass of her hands.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

His smile widened as he leaned down, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Not half as beautiful as you,” he murmured back, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine.

Encouraged by his response, Gabby let her hands roam further, exploring the strength in his arms and shoulders, her confidence growing with every touch. When her hands returned to his chest, Glen caught one of them, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her palm.

The gesture sent a warm flush spreading through her, and her heart thudded in her chest as he gently pinned her hand to the mattress, his lips trailing back to hers. The kiss deepened, his other hand threading into her hair, his fingertips grazing her scalp in a way that made her shiver.

Then, just as her body arched toward him, he gave her hair a gentle, deliberate tug.

Gabby gasped, her eyes fluttering open in surprise, her lips parting as a wave of sensation shot through her. It wasn’t painful—far from it. It was sharp, startling, and achingly deliberate.

Glen paused, his thumb brushing along her cheek as he studied her reaction. “Too much?” he asked softly, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

She shook her head quickly, her breath uneven as she tried to find the words. “No,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not too much.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and his hand in her hair tightened just slightly, enough to elicit another gasp from her. The sound seemed to spur him on, his lips finding the sensitive spot just beneath her ear as his hand anchored her, holding her firmly in place.

Gabby’s pulse quickened, her body reacting instinctively to the mix of tenderness and control in his touch. Her hands gripped his shoulders, grounding herself as his kisses trailed down her neck, each one leaving her more breathless than the last.

“You like that?” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and rough.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling with honesty.

“Good,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile against her collarbone. “Because I like it too.”

Gabby’s breath hitched as Glen’s lips traveled lower, his kisses alternating between soft brushes and more deliberate, heated presses. When his mouth found the sensitive spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, she couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped her lips. His teeth grazed her skin, just enough to send a shiver coursing through her, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue as he kissed the spot he’d marked.

“Glen…” she murmured, her voice low and tinged with both pleasure and a hint of warning.

He hummed against her skin, his mouth hovering just above her pulse. “Hmm?”

“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” she said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as her voice trembled slightly. “Not when I have to meet your mom tomorrow.”

Glen paused, his lips still pressed against her neck as a deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression caught somewhere between amused and undeniably heated.

“Noted,” he said, smirking. “I’ll try to behave.”

Gabby arched a brow, her lips twitching into a teasing smile. “Try?”

He laughed again, shaking his head as his hand came up to cradle her jaw, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. “You’re making it really hard, you know that?”

Her smile widened, a spark of confidence blooming in her chest. “Good,” she replied, her tone light but daring.

Glen leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened, his control threatening to slip as she pressed herself closer.

“Give me a second.” His voice is soft, almost reverent, as if he’s savoring every moment. He brushes his fingers gently down her side, lingering briefly at her waist before slipping away. She watches as he reaches over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer with a quiet clink.

Gabby’s heart races in anticipation, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Glen pulls out a condom, tearing the foil with practiced ease. His eyes meet hers, and he holds her gaze for a moment as if making absolutely sure she wants this, wants him. Then he shifts his attention back to himself, rolling the condom on with deft fingers. 

Gabby bites her lip, her face heating as her gaze momentarily drifts lower, catching glimpses of him before quickly averting her eyes. Glen notices and chuckles, the sound warm and teasing.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he murmurs, leaning over her once more and capturing her lips in another kiss. His body presses gently against hers, his warmth grounding her as he settles between her legs.

He adjusts his hips, one hand braced against the mattress beside her while the other rests on her thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her skin. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if giving her time to prepare.

Glen positions himself, the head of him pressing gently against her entrance. The sensation sends a ripple of anticipation through Gabby, and she instinctively grips his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. His gaze locks on hers, unwavering.

Slowly, carefully, Glen begins to press into her, his movements unhurried and measured. A gasp escapes Gabby’s lips as she adjusts to him, the initial stretch making her tense for just a moment. 

Sensing her reaction, Glen stills, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her temple. “Relax,” he whispers, his tone soothing. “I’ve got you.”

She takes a deep breath, willing her body to ease, and after a moment, she nods again. Glen continues, moving inch by inch until he’s fully seated within her. The fullness makes Gabby’s head spin, but the way Glen pauses, his forehead pressed to hers and his breath warm against her skin, makes her feel safe, grounded.

“You okay?” he asks again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she breathes, her hands sliding down his back as her body adjusts. “I’m okay.”

Glen grins softly, his lips brushing against hers in a featherlight kiss. “Good,” he murmurs before beginning to move, each thrust slow and measured, as if savoring every second of this moment between them.

Glen moves with a steady rhythm, his hips rolling against hers in a way that feels both deliberate and instinctive, as though he’s attuned to every little reaction she gives. His hand cradles her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone, while his other arm wraps securely around her waist, holding her close. Gabby’s fingers curl against the muscles of his back, her soft gasps and whispered breaths filling the space between them.

“Gabby,” he murmurs, her name falling from his lips like a prayer. His forehead rests against hers, their breaths mingling as their bodies move together. “I don’t—” He hesitates, his words catching for a moment as though they’re too vulnerable to say. But then he looks into her eyes, the tenderness in her expression breaking down whatever walls he had left. “I don’t think it’s ever felt like this before. With anyone.”

Gabby blinks up at him, her heart pounding at his confession. Her lips part to respond, but all that comes out is a soft moan as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot that makes her toes curl. Glen chuckles lightly at her reaction, the sound warm and filled with affection. 

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, and the way he says it sends a shiver through her.

 “It’s… it’s different with you for me too, Glen,” she whispers, her voice breathy but filled with honesty. Her arms tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer.

The connection between them grows deeper with every passing second, the air around them thick with both passion and an overwhelming sense of closeness. Glen’s hand slides down her body, gripping her thigh and encouraging her to wrap her leg around his waist. The change in position lets him press even further into her, drawing a sharp gasp from Gabby as pleasure courses through her.

His name tumbles from her lips, unrestrained and desperate, and it’s enough to make his control falter. 

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against hers before he captures her mouth in a searing kiss.

The pace between them picks up, both of them moving together in perfect sync as their breathing grows more ragged. Gabby feels the tension building, her body tightening with every movement, and the way Glen looks at her—as though she’s the only thing that matters in the world—pushes her even closer to the edge.

“Glen,” she breathes, her voice trembling as her nails dig lightly into his shoulders. “I’m—”

“I know,” he whispers, his hand tangling in her hair as he presses his forehead to hers. His own movements grow less controlled, his breathing uneven as he nears his own release. “Me too.”

With a final roll of his hips, Gabby’s body gives way, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she calls out his name. Glen follows a moment later, his own release leaving him breathless and shaking as he collapses against her, his weight grounding but never overwhelming.

They stay like that for a while, their bodies still intertwined as they catch their breath. Glen brushes a strand of hair from Gabby’s face, his lips curving into a soft smile as he looks down at her.

“You’re amazing,” he says simply, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

Gabby smiles back, her hand reaching up to brush along his jawline. “So are you,” she whispers, her words laced with affection.

Glen presses a lingering kiss to her forehead before shifting to lay beside her, pulling her into his arms. They settle into the quiet comfort of each other, their hearts still racing but their connection stronger than ever.

Glen holds Gabby close, their bodies still tangled beneath the sheets as they both catch their breath. His arms wrap protectively around her, his fingers drawing lazy patterns along her back. The room is quiet except for the soft rhythm of their breathing, and he feels the tension slowly leave her body as she relaxes in his embrace.

For a few moments, neither of them speaks. Gabby rests her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, her eyes growing heavier with each passing second. Glen glances down at her and chuckles softly when he notices her breathing start to slow.

“You falling asleep on me already?” he teases, his voice warm and gentle.

“Mmm, maybe,” she murmurs, snuggling closer to him.

He laughs quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “As much as I’d love to just stay like this, you should probably go clean up. Use the bathroom, drink some water. You know, all the responsible post-sexy-time things.”

Gabby groans softly, burying her face in his chest. “Don’t wanna move,” she mumbles, her words muffled against his skin.

Glen shakes his head with a smile, his hand brushing lightly over her hair. “Go on, do what you need to do, and I promise you can come back and have all the snuggles you want after.”

At that, Gabby lifts her head to look up at him, a playful glint in her eyes despite her sleepiness. “All the snuggles I want? Like… all night?”

“All night,” he confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “No time limit, no snuggle cap. I’m all yours.”

Her lips curve into a small smile, and she lifts her hand to brush a few strands of hair away from his face. “You’re really good at this whole boyfriend thing, you know that?”

“Yeah, well,” he replies with a grin, his fingers tracing along her shoulder, “you make it pretty easy.”

Gabby’s cheeks flush, and she leans up to kiss him softly before finally sighing and shifting to sit up. “Fine,” she says with mock reluctance, throwing him a teasing glance over her shoulder as she grabs the oversized t-shirt he’d given her earlier and pulls it on. “But I’m holding you to that unlimited snuggle promise.”

Glen props himself up on one elbow, watching her with an affectionate smile as she heads toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right here waiting,” he calls after her.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Glen leaned back against the pillows, the faint sound of running water drifting from the bathroom. A contented sigh escaped him, his body sinking deeper into the mattress as a small smile tugged at his lips. The room was quiet now, save for the occasional creak of the bed as he shifted slightly, and the warmth of their shared intimacy lingered in the air like a comforting embrace.

His gaze drifted to the closed door, replaying the sight of Gabby’s bare back and the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away. He hadn’t meant to stare, but he couldn’t help himself; there was something about her—every little detail of her—that captivated him. It wasn’t just her body, though that certainly left him breathless. It was the way she carried herself, the vulnerability and quiet confidence wrapped up in one. The way she let herself relax with him, piece by piece, like she was slowly learning to trust him with all of her.

That thought made his smile widen, his chest swelling with something that felt deeper than mere satisfaction. She was here, in his bed, in his home, in his life, and it wasn’t lost on him how rare this was. He didn’t bring people into his world lightly, and yet with Gabby, it felt...effortless. Natural.

As the water shut off and he heard the soft patter of her footsteps returning, Glen couldn’t help but sit up slightly, propping himself on one elbow. His smile remained, soft and genuine, as he watched the door, waiting for her to reappear.

As the bathroom door opened, Glen’s gaze lifted from where he’d been absently tracing the stitching on the pillowcase. Gabby stepped out, her hair slightly damp from splashing her face, and her movements unhurried, as if she were savoring the quiet moment. The oversized shirt she’d thrown on after their earlier intimacy hung loosely on her frame, the hem brushing just above her knees, and Glen couldn’t help the smile that softened his features. She looked relaxed, comfortable—at home, even—and the thought filled him with a quiet kind of pride.

Without a word, he shifted, pulling back the covers on her side of the bed in invitation. Gabby paused, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile before she climbed in beside him. The mattress dipped under her weight, and the familiar warmth of her body pressing against his side was enough to make him feel whole in a way he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

She curled up against him, tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder and letting her hand rest lightly on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm was soothing, a quiet reassurance of the safety she felt in his arms. Glen wrapped one arm securely around her, his other hand instinctively brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“See?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with affection. “All the snuggles you want, just like I promised.”

Gabby let out a soft laugh, muffled against his chest, but it was warm, genuine. “Perfect,” she whispered, her voice carrying a note of contentment that made his heart tighten.

The room soon settled into a quiet stillness, save for the sound of their steady breathing. Glen’s hand rested lightly on her hip, his thumb making slow, absentminded circles as he stared at the ceiling. There was a contentment in his expression, but also a quiet intensity, like he was lost in thought.

Gabby shifted slightly, propping her chin on his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He glanced down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just thinking about how I got so damn lucky,” he replied, his fingers brushing through her hair.

Gabby let out a quiet laugh, her cheeks flushing. “You really don’t have to keep saying stuff like that, you know.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.” Glen’s tone was teasing, but there was an earnestness in his eyes that made her heart flutter. “I mean, come on. I’ve got a gorgeous woman in my bed, curled up on me like she belongs here. What’s not to feel lucky about?”

Gabby rolled her eyes, her smile widening as she swatted lightly at his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he shot back, his grin widening.

She shook her head, unable to fight the grin tugging at her own lips. “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?”

“Ruin it? I’m improving it,” Glen said, his hand slipping from her hip to brush a strand of hair away from her face. His expression softened, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. “But seriously, Gabby… I mean it. Tonight, being with you—it just felt… right. You feel right.”

Her smile faltered slightly, the weight of his words settling over her. She looked down, her fingers stilling against his chest. “It scares me a little,” she admitted quietly. “How easy this feels. Like… maybe it’s too good to be true.”

Glen’s brows furrowed slightly, and he tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. “Why does it have to be too good to be true?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Can’t it just be good? Can’t we just… be good?”

Gabby sighed, her head resting against his chest again. “I want to believe that. I really do.”

“Then believe it,” Glen said, his tone firm but kind. “You don’t have to question this, Gabby. I’m not going anywhere.”

She closed her eyes, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear soothing her. “You say that now…”

“And I’ll say it tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.” His fingers stroked her back, his touch grounding.

Gabby swallowed hard, her throat tightening at the sincerity in his voice. She lifted her head again, her eyes searching his. “You’re really all in, aren’t you?”

“Completely,” Glen said without hesitation. “And when you’re ready, I hope you’ll be all in too.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her chest aching with emotions she wasn’t sure how to name. Then, instead of answering, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t urgent or heated like before—just a quiet acknowledgment of everything he’d said, everything he meant to her.

When she pulled back, Glen smiled at her, his eyes warm. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

Gabby laughed softly, settling back against his chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, his hand returning to her back. “Curled up on me like a damn kitten.”

She smirked, her eyes drifting closed as his warmth and steady heartbeat lulled her into a state of calm. “You should be flattered.”

“Oh, I am,” Glen said with a chuckle. “Believe me, I am.”

As the quiet settled over them again, Gabby felt a peace she hadn’t felt in a long time—a sense of safety and belonging that surprised her. And as Glen’s fingers continued their slow, soothing movements, she let herself believe, just for tonight, that this could be her new normal.

Glen glanced down, catching the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheek as her breathing slowed, each exhale a little deeper, a little softer. He let his hand drift to her back, tracing slow, lazy circles over the fabric of her shirt, grounding himself in the moment.

“Goodnight, Gabby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her hair as his own eyes began to grow heavy.

“Night, Glen,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as she drifted closer to sleep, her body melting into his.

Glen felt her body grow heavier against his as her breathing started to even out. The corners of his mouth tugged into a soft smile as he looked down at her. She was so peaceful like this, her face relaxed and framed by her loose hair, her fingers still faintly curled against his chest.

It struck him, how different this felt. Normally, after moments like the one they’d just shared, he’d find himself retreating, giving the other person space—or taking it for himself. He wasn’t the kind of guy who got overly clingy. Cuddling? Not usually his thing. It always felt a little suffocating, like it was something he did out of obligation instead of genuine desire.

But with Gabby? He didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want to stop holding her, feeling her warmth pressed against him, or watching her lips curve slightly in a dreamy half-smile as she drifted off. The thought made him swallow hard, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. She was different, in every way that mattered.

His hand moved instinctively, brushing lightly through her hair, savoring the silky texture. She stirred slightly at the touch, her brow furrowing for a brief moment before she settled again, nuzzling closer into him. Glen couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that escaped him. She was so damn cute without even trying.

He let his head fall back against the pillow, his eyes drifting up toward the ceiling as his thoughts wandered. How had he gotten here? He wasn’t used to this kind of closeness, this kind of… contentment. And the crazy part was, he didn’t even question it. It felt natural, like they fit together in a way he’d never experienced before.

He then thought back to how he’d blurted out I love you yesterday back in Los Angeles, shocking even himself. It hadn’t been planned, just something that slipped out because it was true. She hadn’t said it back right away. Instead, she’d told him she “thought” she loved him, clearly unsure if she was ready to give all of herself to those words just yet. He hadn’t pushed her. He knew what those words meant for her, what she’d been through. But hearing her say them at all had meant the world to him.

Glen was lost in the thought when he felt Gabby shift against him again, mumbling something so faint he almost missed it. His brows furrowed as he glanced down, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.

“I love you,” she murmured, her words soft and slurred, caught somewhere between consciousness and sleep.

Glen’s chest tightened, his heart skipping a beat as her words settled over him. She hadn’t hesitated this time, hadn’t qualified or questioned it. It was simple, unguarded, and real. Something stirred deep inside of him, a warmth that spread through his entire body as he looked down at her.

“Gabby,” he whispered softly, his voice full of affection. She didn’t respond, her breathing slowing as she drifted further into sleep.

Glen’s lips brushed against the top of her head, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the weight of her words. “I love you too, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and tender.

She didn’t stir, lost in sleep, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t saying it to hear it back—he just wanted her to know, to feel it in every moment they shared.

His thoughts began to drift further, imagining what it would be like to introduce Gabby to his family. His mom would love her, he was certain of that. She’d take one look at Gabby’s bright smile and start calling her “sweetheart” before the introductions were even over. His dad would be quieter about it, but Glen knew he’d approve. His dad didn’t say much, but when he did, his words carried weight. Glen could already imagine him pulling Gabby aside after dinner one night to tell her she was good for Glen—and that Glen was damn lucky to have her.

His sisters, though? That’d be another story. Gabby was sharp enough to hold her own, but his sisters were nosy as hell. They  would pepper her with questions, teasing Glen mercilessly in the process. He could already hear his older sister’s sarcastic drawl: “So this is the girl who’s got our brother all googly-eyed? About time we met you.” His younger sister would be subtler, offering sly smiles and warm hugs, but she’d be just as curious.

The thought of Gabby laughing with his sisters, sharing stories with his mom, and sitting at the big dining table in his parents’ house filled him with a sense of anticipation he hadn’t felt in years. He’d never brought anyone home before—not really. He’d introduced past girlfriends to his family, and some had gone to events with him and his family, but it was different this time.

Holding her a little tighter, he rested his chin on her head and let himself soak in the quiet. For the first time in his life, loving someone didn’t feel scary or complicated—it just felt right.

[dizzybee03]

Oh my gosh- the absolute punch to the gut this must have been for Maeve! So glad they finally got the guy tho!

Lilies: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

Safe - You and Gibbs work through your grief in different ways.

Check In - Gibbs checks in with you after the night before.

Wait It Out - You and Gibbs wait out a threat to your saftey.

All Dressed Up - You and Gibbs have a frank conversation about an office event.

Right Here - You come home to find Gibbs waiting for you on your doorstep.

Revelations - Gibbs is surprised to discover a connection between you and Mike Franks.

Haunted (ft: Mike Franks) - Mike reflects on your prior history.

You’re fine. That’s what you tell Gibbs when he catches up with you at the cemetery but you’re not fine, the evidence is littered around your sister’s grave in the form of white lily petals from the bouquet you’ve destroyed before he got here.

You’re sitting at the base of the grave, your elbows resting on your knees as you stare at the stone despondently. The sun is starting to set and the orange plays across the colours in your hair, highlighting the strands as he takes a seat alongside of you. The night’s coming in fast and he doesn’t like the thought of you sitting here alone in the dark.

“I’m fine.” You say again, your voice terse and he shakes his head in response to your statement.

“You’re not fine.” He tells you. “Noone would be after that.”

That being the fact you’ve just learned that your sister’s murderer is a man the two of you grew up with, the one who invites you to his home for Christmas Day because ‘Violet wouldn’t want you to spend the holidays alone’.

“OK.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “I want to tear his fucking throat out and watch him choke on his own blood.”

It’s a raw, visceral image, one that Gibbs understands entirely. Every time he thinks about what happened to Shannon and Kelly, he envisions wrapping his hands around their killer’s throat and squeezing until his eyes bulge and crimson starts to leak out of his mouth.

That’s how he knows what you were planning to do tonight. The two of you may handle your grief in different ways but you’re both protective of the people you love, vengeful when someone hurts them.

“Maeve…” He says softly into the air between you. “I need you to give me the gun.”

You raise your eyes skyward as a deep exhale leaves your body. Gibbs had known the minute he’d opened the bottom drawer of his desk and found it missing that you had been the one who’d taken it.

“I gave too much of a shit about you to use it.” You tell him, removing it from your bag and thrusting it into his hand.

You’d sat outside that house for over an hour with that gun in your hand. You’d thought about Violet, the life she could have had with Mike, the places she would have gone, the things that she would have seen and you’d almost gotten out of that car and blown that motherfucker away. But then you’d thought of Gibbs, of bullet striations, how they could be traced back to his weapon. He was finally getting his life together and you realised you wouldn’t just be killing David in that moment, you’d be killing him too.

It's that thought that brought you here, to the place here your sister was laid to rest because the truth is you didn’t know what to do anymore.

“What happens now?” You ask him, tilting your head towards him and he meets your gaze squarely with his own. He should arrest you, take you in for possession of an illegal fire arm but he can’t do, not to you, not after everything you’ve been through.

“I take you home.” He tells you, raising to his feet and holding out his hand to help you up. “And then we wait by the phone for Franks to tell us they got that son of a bitch.”

Love Gibbs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[dizzybee03]

Oh my gosh loved this!

Ultraviolence | part 2

Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader x Jake Seresin

click here to read part 1!

Summary: You and Bradley loved each other, and Jake Seresin was just your old friend from high school who you tried to pay no kind to. At least that’s how it used to be.

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, infidelity, Bradley sucks, angst, smut, oral, choking, Jake Seresin has a praise kink because I said so, a little redhead slander (I am so sorry if you’re ginger).

Announcement: Yes I know part one came out a year ago. Yes I know nobody cares anymore. I want to get back into writing again and this has been sitting in my drafts for so long.

It had been 2 weeks, and you hadn’t confronted Bradley. But, in terms of how he’s been treating you, it’s been paradise. Things were back to how they used to be, or at least that's how it looked on the surface. You wondered if the girl he was cheating with is still in the picture or not. You wondered about her a lot. It was really hard to not think about her. In fact, you thought about her so much that you had a clear picture of what you thought she looked like in your mind. Of course, she’s blonde. Shiny, silky, long blonde hair. She’s slightly shorter than you, with a slightly better figure. Her tits were bigger than yours, and her stomach is flatter. She had a bright white smile and a bubbly personality. 

You hated her. But you also felt sorry for her. 

Jake had been literally blowing up your phone. He called and texted you so many times. You responded at first, saying you hadn’t confronted Bradley yet, but you were going to. He asked you every day after that if you had done it yet, and you never responded. The only other text you responded to was when he said he was worried that something happened and you needed help. It was embarrassing, that’s the real reason you didn’t want to talk to him. It was embarrassing that you were prioritizing guilty attention over your own self respect. 

One day when Bradley got home from work, he was pissed. “What’s wrong, baby?” You asked from the couch as he kicked his shoes off. 

“Hangman’s just the same fucking dick he’s always been.” He mumbled.

At this point, you were all ears. “What’d he do?” You set your book down on your chest..

He shook his head. “Always in everyones fucking business.” He grumbled and went into the kitchen.

Interesting. You pulled your phone out and went to text Jake to ask him what he did, but when you opened his contact, you saw that he had texted you this morning and you didn’t see it.

Since you’re not gonna call him on it, I will.

On your day off, Bradley asked if you could bring his laptop to work because he forgot it. Of course, you eagerly got in the car and drove it to him. When you entered the office building on the base, you tried to remember your way around. And because you fucking deserve it, because of some kind of weird karma from the universe, Jake was the first person you saw.

“Hey.” He said slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. You half smiled and gave him a nod, hoping that was the end of the interaction. It wasn’t.

He came closer to you, ducking his head like he was trying to be secretive. “Can I talk to you?” He said softly. His presence made you want to break down crying in his arms. It made you resent Bradley in a way that was unlike you.

“Jake, no. Not now.” You shook your head, trying to move around him. He blocked you and you gave up all too easily. 

His hand came up to your shoulder, resting it softly on you. He towered over you, but he was still so gentle. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you but you never answer. Me and Nat saw that girl with Bradley again, they were in his car, and we were able to find her on facebook. Her names Clara and-”

“God, you're a lifesaver.” Bradley groaned in delight, entering the lobby. Both of your heads whipped in that direction. You forced a smile and laughed, shrugging Jake’s hand off of your shoulder. As Bradley walked closer, you and Jake looked at each other. His eyes had sympathy and a little bit of anger, and yours said don’t-say-another-fucking-word. You could tell it made Bradley physically uncomfortable that you and Jake were talking to each other. Actually, the energy in that room made all three of you uncomfortable. It also made him uncomfortable that neither of you were saying anything. “Did I miss something?” 

“No! No, here you go.” You held his laptop out to him, forcing a smile. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead. You were so embarrassed you almost recoiled when he touched you. 

“I was just gonna show her where your office was. She looked lost.” Jake’s voice was noticeably different. It's almost like it went back to normal, he sounded so much softer when he talked to you.

The tension between Bradley and Jake was intense. They both had an obvious dislike for each other that was never there before.

“You wanna see my office, babe?” He looked down at you. You nodded enthusiastically. 

“See ya Hangman.” He said, pulling you away from the magnetic force of a man that is Jake Seresin. 

Back in Bradley’s office, you felt sick to your stomach. From the little information you were able to hear, he is not done with that girl. And now, you have a name to put to that stupid fucking face that you can’t stop thinking about. Leaning against Bradleys desk, you couldn’t help but stare at the picture of the two of you that sat front and center. It was from your wedding. You were both laughing, wrapped completely around each other. The happiness that you had in that picture, the happiness that was in endless supply, surrounding you every second of every day, was nowhere to be found now. You haven’t seen it for a while. 

It was different this time. When you first found out he cheated, you were sad. Cried whenever he wasn’t around, threw up, the whole nine yards. Now, just finding out that it is still going on, you were mad. So mad it was almost funny. For some strange reason, you wanted to laugh. An anger unlike anything you have ever felt in your entire life brewed in each and every cell of your body. It was white hot and it was making you sweat.

Sitting down at his desk, Bradley’s eyes were on you. “Are you okay?” His voice was worried, like he might be in trouble if you’re not. “You look sick.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine” You smiled. The familiar feeling in your stomach, the same one you got when Jake had first told you, started crawling up your throat. You were absolutely disgusted by him and it was making you sick to look at him. 

He reached out and touched your leg. “Come here.” He spoke softly.

You pushed off of the desk and away from his hand. “I have to go. I have a call- a work call- in a little bit.” You scrambled for an excuse. 

“Oh.” He said.

Backing up towards the door, he looked increasingly worried with each step you took. “Bye, see you at home.” You said, giving him no time to respond or question as you walked out. Out in the hallway, you could finally breathe. You stood still for a few moments, the cool air conditioning of the building filling your lungs as you took long, deep breaths. This time is different. He knows what he’s doing to you and he’s happily letting it happen. You were fucking done with him. Your legs started working again and you made your way down the eerily quiet hallway. That place feels like a museum, everything looks clean and untouched. 

As you were inspecting the cleanliness while you walked, you stopped in your tracks when you read “Lt. Jacob ‘Hangman’ Seresin”. This was his office. You looked around the hallway, saw nobody, then knocked lightly. “Come in.” You heard his muffled voice say on the other side. The door clicked as you opened it, peaking your head inside like you thought you would be bothering him if you came in. He was standing behind his desk with papers in his hands. When he saw you, his posture and his eyes softened. He dropped the papers onto his desk.

“Hey.” You said, still not fully stepping into the room. 

“Come sit.” He said. You shut the door behind you and you were finally able to let your guard down. You took a shaky breath and walked over to his desk. Not wanting to intrude, not wanting to make yourself at home, you stayed standing. 

You cleared your throat. More than anything, you wanted answers. “Can I see a picture of her?” 

He started walking around to meet you on the other side of his desk. His desk was much more neat than Bradley’s. Bradley’s was littered with pictures and trinkets and notes. Jake had a couple of awards on display off to the side, and that was mostly it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Jake. Please.” You pleaded, trying to be as stern as you could even though your voice shook.

He looked down to the ground. Without a word, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. It was silent as he typed a few words and your stomach started to twist again. 

He cleared his throat. “Here.” He had her facebook page pulled up.

To your surprise, she was not blonde. Well at least not all the way. She had strawberry blonde hair and dark eyes. And of fucking course, she had dimples. But the biggest thing that stood out was how young she looked. With a second more of scrolling, you saw “UCLA class of 21” in her bio. “Class of 21?” You gasped. You and Bradley were both 30. She was 22 at most. That pissed you off even more, you felt like you couldn’t even see straight. 

Jake grabbed the phone out of your hands. “That’s enough.” He said, putting it back in his pocket. You saw her full name, it’s burned into the back of your eyelids, you could look her up later. 

It was quiet again. Jake didn’t know what to say. He had a million things he wanted to say, but none of them were a good idea right now. 

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” You admitted shamefully.

“Y/N.” He sighed “Don’t say you’re sorry, none of this is your fault.”

Looking down at the ground, you were unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. She’s so pretty and she-”

“Hey.” His voice was stern, it made you flinch. His hand came up to your chin and lifted your head to look at him. “This was not about you. This is about Bradley being selfish. You are prettier than her. You understand me?” His hand was still gripping your chin. You nodded, eyes locked in his. “You are so god damn beautiful, and Bradley is fucking crazy for not giving you the world.” His grip got softer as he spoke that sentence, but he didn’t move his hand. “Got it?” He asked.

“Yes.” You agree softly. He was breathing hard and his jaw clenched like he was mad. Not that you would ever admit it, but it was sexy. Your knees started to feel weak. Jake has an effect on you that Bradley never did. Right now, it felt like Jake knew that. That he knew he had some otherworldly effect on you and your knees were getting weaker by the millisecond. 

“You promise?” He spoke, almost in a whisper. You realized he had dipped his head down at some point, and you tilted yours up. 

“Yes, Jake.” You whispered back. You could feel his breath on your lips, making your eyes flicker down at his. Now you couldn’t look up. 

Within seconds, everything that Bradley had done to you flashed through your mind in a blur. The most prominent image was him with that 22 year old fucking ginger underneath him. It only made sense to tip your head up further to kiss Jake. 

When Jake first found out about the other woman, he knew this day would come, and he swore he wouldn’t take it too far when it did. But right now, now that your warm lips were touching his and he could taste the toothpaste on your tongue and it felt like his whole body was completely lit up, he didn’t know if he could stop himself.

It felt good in so many different ways. It felt good, like a sort of revenge against Bradley. It felt good to be kissed by someone who actually wanted you. And it felt so good because it was Jake. 

His hand on your jaw threaded back through your hair, his other pulled you fully against him. He kissed you eagerly, like he couldn’t get enough. Your heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was about to explode out of your chest, like your whole body was struck by lightning and each one of your nerve endings was on fire. It was feverish and nerve wracking and wrong but so fucking right. He backed you up until the back of your thighs hit the edge of his desk, making the desk shift slightly on the floor. Both of his large hands cupped your face, his fingers reaching to the back of your neck. 

His hips pushed yours back even further; he wanted you on his desk. Of course, you complied. His big, shiny desk creaked as you adjusted yourself on it and opened your legs to let him stand in between them. Your shorts rode up your thighs and his hands were on that exposed skin immediately. The only sound in the room was both of your heavy breathing. Your tongue swiped along his bottom lip, which he took as a green light to stick his tongue in your mouth. This was the most exhilarated you had felt in years. It was different from the many make out sessions you had with Bradley throughout your life, it was so much more intense. There was so much more meaning behind it, so much fire. 

It’s obvious to anyone with a brain that Jake is rough in nature, especially in bed. Oddly enough, he was taking it easy on you thus far. That is until you felt his fingers graze against your neck, seemingly testing the waters. You tried to kiss him harder, tried to say yes without actually saying it. He must’ve got the message, his huge hand covered your throat, his fingers wrapping around it. It wasn’t choking as much as it was holding you in place. His teeth pulling your lip made a short whine come from the back of your throat, completely unintentionally. This made him rip his lips away from yours, his hand still holding your throat. 

He held your face an inch away from his. “Did you lock the door?” He sounded so different, his voice was so much deeper, so much darker than normal.

You managed to shake your head within his grasp. The door isn’t locked, there is no way you could have predicted this was going to happen when you walked in 10 minutes ago. It was logical to assume he was going to go lock it, your husband was literally two doors away. Jake Seresin is anything but logical, you should know this by now. He kissed you again, so much dirtier this time. Wasting zero time, his hands were back on your thighs. Unexpectedly, your legs were lifted off the desk and pulled forward, leaving you laying on the desk. Jake pulling your shorts and underwear down your legs, kneeling as he did so, was a sight to fucking behold. 

A loud sigh left his mouth as he set his gaze on your pussy. It was nothing short of heavenly, celestial even. For the last 8 years, you were forbidden fruit, and now he’s on his knees right in front of you, ready to taste you, ready to sin. 

Stopping didn’t cross your mind once. Actually the only thing on your mind the whole time was more. It wasn’t even revenge at this point, it was desire in its purest form. Papers on his desk shifted under your hair, a few of them slipping onto the floor, not that you noticed. 

Slowly, almost experimentally, he runs a single finger through your slit. It struck you that it was gonna be really hard to stay quiet. “You this wet for me?” He faked flattery, pulling his finger away. 

“Jake, please.” You whined. Trying to get him to do something, you lifted your legs up so your calves rested on your shoulders. 

“I wanna take my time with you.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, the light touch sending jolts throughout your whole body. “Give you what you deserve.”

Apparently, ‘taking his time with you’ meant diving into you and going absolutely feral. It was feverish, the way he licked and sucked you was so greedy. There was no time for you to feel bad about squeezing his head between your thighs, but you suspected he liked it anyway. He does. His nails dug into your thighs so he could hold onto you for leverage. There was no way of telling if he was sucking or biting your clit, but whatever it was, it made your vision blurry and your thoughts completely disappear. It was necessary for one of your hands to cover your mouth or else this whole office would know how good Jake is. 

All this time, his cockiness was not for nothing. You understood why he had girls obsessed and delusional, you would do the same for this treatment. Maybe he’s had a lot of practice, but there is no way he is this fierce with every other girl. He was making you feel like you were the only girl in the world, like your head was spinning. He didn’t use his fingers, he really didn’t need to, his mouth already had you fighting to not cum so quickly. Ever intuitive, the only time he broke away from you was to say “Give it to me” against you. His deep voice sent vibrations through your core to your fingertips. The bright fluorescent light above you seemed to expand as your vision went white. The air left your lungs, your head spun, every muscle in your body tensed. His tongue worked you through your orgasm perfectly, and he let you grind against him as you hit your peak. “Good fucking girl.” He moaned against you.

Once he was positive you were done, he reluctantly pulled away. If he had it his way, he would keep you just like this all day. You couldn’t sit up yet, all you could do was lay there and catch your breath. 

Jake knew this was bad. Not because you were his best friend's wife, but because now he had a taste and he knows he won’t be able to stop any time soon. He picked your underwear up off of the floor and gently slid them onto your shaky legs. You let him dress you again, eyes still closed. When he was done, you sat up and the look he gave you was nothing short of sinister. 

He leaned his hands on the desk on either side of you, looking at you like he wanted you to say something. You brought your hands up to either side of his face and kissed him in response, words could not do what he just did to you justice. This kiss was much slower than the rest, he let you taste yourself on his lips. 

Two voices talking in the hallway passed his door, making the two of you jump apart. The voices faded down the hallway, leaving the two of you tensed. For a second, the only thing either of you could do was look at each other. Every emotion possible coursed through your body, and you didn’t know whether to smile or cry or laugh or kiss him again. 

“Jesus, Y/N.” He finally spoke, stunned and shakily. “I didn’t think that was actually ever gonna happen.”

That made you smile. He had thought about it before, which came as no surprise. The cold air of the office washed over you, bringing you back into reality. “You are…” Words failed you, nothing could describe how you felt. “So good.”

Of course, his cocky smile made an appearance. You could no longer judge him for it, he has every right in the world to be cocky. “You better leave before your husband sees you here.” He backed up to let you get off his desk. 

“Yeah.” You agreed begrudgingly, looking down at the ground. You got a sight of your legs, your thighs were glistening and there were nail marks in them. 

As you stepped away from him, he grabbed your arm. “This isn’t a one time thing. At least not for me.” He spoke inches from your ear. “And lock the door next time.”

You swallowed. “Okay.” 

Back at home, you had 2 hours before Bradley got back. You had done your mourning of the relationship, you had spent your time wishing Bradley was different for weeks. Wishing he was sorry. But he’s not. And he’s never going to be. You could continue to be sad, continue to be a victim, continue to cry every day. But there were some other options.

A quick google search of the name that was burned into the back of your eyelids; Clara Bitner, you found her facebook. There was a time where you felt sorry for her. Bradley had obviously lied to her and she got caught up in something she didn’t even understand, so she was probably hurt too. But now that you know she has chosen to continue seeing your husband when she knows he’s married, you hate her. It’s so unfortunate that she was pretty. It would help if you could look at her pictures and say she was ugly, but that wasn’t an option. She had long strawberry blonde hair with deep brown eyes and classic southern charm. She was from Tennessee, but she went to UCLA, and now she’s a kindergarten teacher. “Of fucking course.” You scoffed at her occupation. Is there anything bad about this girl? She had a lot of friends and she lived in a beach condo maybe 20 minutes from here. You had been scrolling for a while, and a certain picture made you stop in your fucking tracks. It was a picture from her 22nd birthday dinner, all of her friends sitting around the table smiling, and there was Bradley. He was sitting next to her with his hand resting on her leg, with a huge fucking smile on his face. It was posted 4 months ago. If he was important to her enough to go to her birthday dinner four months ago, you didn’t want to know how long they had been seeing each other. 

How did he have time for this? This wasn’t a hook up, it wasn’t an affair, it was a second life. You began to think about all of the flight tours, weekend trips, and week long missions he had gone on in the past year. How many of those were lies?

Your marriage is completely ruined, 100% done. You could mope about it. Or you could keep having fun of your own.

By the time you heard the garage door opening, you were in the kitchen making dinner. You played the song “Jolene” by Dolly Parton because it was ironic and weirdly specific to your life right now. And it was just plain funny. 

 The front door opened and you turned the volume up. “Hey baby!” He shouted from the front of the house.

“Hi!” You said. Acting normal was going to be harder than you thought. You heard him playing with the dogs for a moment, baby talking and petting them. 

His footsteps approached the kitchen and you took a deep breath. “God, you look sexy.” He said.

You were wearing shorts and a t-shirt and no makeup. You brushed off his comment as guilty flattery.

He came up and you had to brace yourself. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the side of your neck. It made you fucking sick. 

Not replying, you started humming along to the music. He swayed with you for a moment so you started singing.

You’re beauty is beyond compare,

With flaming locks of auburn hair,

Ivory skin, and eyes of emerald green.

“I love this song.” You stated. 

“Mhm. Dolly’s the best.” He unwrapped his arms from you.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm begging of you please don't take my man.

He side eyed you and you stared right back at him. Yet, in perfect Bradley nature, he played it cool, walking to the other side of the counter.

“Poor Dolly.” You sighed. “Especially since that bitch Jolene is ginger. That just plain sucks, getting cheated on with a red head.” Trying to focus on the pot you were stirring, you couldn’t help but look up at him. His tongue was in his cheek and he had a terrified glint in his eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently.

“Nothin’.” He shook his head and walked away. 

This was kinda fun.

“You have any plans tonight?” You asked Bradley over dinner. It was a Friday, so you figured he was going somewhere, be it with Clara or not.

“Eh, Jake and Javy wanna go watch the game at a bar, I’ll probably go.” He said. “D’ you?”

That was probably a lie. “I think Jenna wants me to come meet her baby, so I’ll probably go over there. Plus she said she needs a wine night.” Jenna was your coworker, and she hasn’t even had her baby yet. It was so empowering to lie back.

While Bradley did the dishes, you got out your phone to clear some things up.

Are you hanging out with Bradley tonight?

“What time do you think you’re gonna go?” You asked from the table. His eyes were on the dishes and it was incredible how he lied so often without flinching while it made your adrenaline rush and your heart pound. 

“7:30, 8?” He said. 

No? Is he saying I am?

The feeling you got was the perfect definition of disappointed but not surprised. It’s a confirmed lie now. “Okay, that’s probably what time I’ll leave too.”

Yes. He’s leaving at 8. Can I come over then?

Of course.

Were you doing this purely to get back at Bradley? No, not entirely. That was a huge driving factor in your actual actions towards Jake, but you’ve always wanted to, so part of it is something you’ve always wanted. 

Not long after dinner was cleaned up, Bradley was kissing your forehead and heading out the door. You watched out the window as his car pulled out of the driveway, and once it disappeared down the street, you rushed up to your room. There was a lacy black bra and thong set you had just bought waiting for you in your closet. Once you pulled it on, you admired yourself in the mirror. If Bradley won’t appreciate it, Jake sure will. You exchanged your t-shirt for a sweatshirt, you didn’t want to look like you were trying. Obviously, you were. 

After spraying yourself with perfume and taking too long to decide what scent of lotion you wanted to use, you nearly ran down stairs and slipped your shoes on. A quick goodbye to the dogs and you were out the door. It seemed that every time you drove to Jake’s you were rushing. While you were driving you thought about what you were going to do when you got there, fully intending to be bold and get straight to it. The fluttering nervousness in your stomach made you feel like you were a teenager again, you hadn’t been nervous to see a boy in years. When you pulled in the driveway, the boldness started to fade out, and you almost felt shy. There was a split second where you felt guilty, your conscience waved a huge red flag and your brain told you this was wrong. One thought about where Bradley actually was right now, and you swung the car door open and got out. The thought that Bradley probably just got to Clara’s fueled your steps, and by the time you made it to the front door, you were seething. Hopefully Bradley has fun tonight, because you sure will.

Despite the vengeance coursing through your body, you knocked lightly on the door. All too quickly, the lock clicked and the door opened. “Hey, Y/N.” Jake said casually, like you weren’t his best friend's wife. He was freshly showered, his hair was still a little damp. He wore gray sweatpants and a white shirt that was entirely too tight around his biceps. 

“Hi.” You said simply. He stepped back, allowing you to come in. It was quiet, and when he turned around to face you, there was an unmistakable anticipation present. It made a shiver run up your spine and goosebumps breakout on your arms. He nodded his head as a way to say ‘follow me’, and started leading you through the house. Silence still hung in the air. It felt like a volcano waiting to explode, like the calm before a storm. 

You made it to his room, and your heartbeat started to speed up. It was getting real now. You had never seen his room before, but it’s just as nice as you expected. Jake has expensive taste, and his whole house reflects that. His bed was lazily made, but the rest of the room was spotless. 

He reached his bed and sat down on the end of it. The way his hooded eyelids cast a shadow over his eyes made you notice how dark the lighting was in there. Unsure of what to do, you just stood and looked at him. He led you here without a word, he should know what to do now. 

“Come here.” He said darkly, the voice you heard in his office earlier that day made a return. He spread his legs open so you could stand between them, a complete contrast to what happened on his desk. You still hadn’t said a word since you walked in the house, but you didn’t need to, your body said it all. The back of your thighs fit perfectly in his hands, and his shoulders fit perfectly in yours. His huge warm hands on the back of your legs made you want to melt into the floor. “Do you want this?” He asked, looking up at you. 

Bradleys face flashed in your mind. So did Clara’s. You nodded.

“Say it.” His grip tightened on your thighs. 

“I want it.”

“You want what?” He was really making you work for it, apparently.

You went to say it, but you hesitated. It sounded worse out loud. “I want you to fuck me.”

You swear his eyes changed in that instant. He let go of your thighs and pushed you back lightly, confusing you for a moment. “Strip.” He said. Heart in your throat, your jaw could’ve dropped to the floor. This was a lot. But you liked it. 

Taking a deep breath, you started by kicking your shoes off. It only felt right to tease him, so you toyed with the rim of your sweatshirt for a moment. You slowly lifted it over your head, taking your sweet time. When you finally got it off, you heard him exhale. You secretly thanked yourself for wearing such a nice bra. The dim lighting made his face darker, but you could still see the pure lust in his eyes. Next, you hooked your finger in your shorts and pulled them down, revealing the underwear you picked out just for him. Once you kicked your shorts off of your feet, you reached your hand behind your back to unclip your bra.

“Leave it.” He said. You dropped your hands and let him look at you. He reached his hand out to you, making you step forward and grab it. As he was pulling you towards him, his eyes moved all over your body. “You pick these out for me or for him?” 

Your face grew hot. “You.” You replied softly, your hand still in his. He used his grip on your hand to pull you down to kiss him. It was searing, and for a second, both of you reveled in the feeling. Without him having to ask, you climbed on top of him, stradling your legs on either side of him. When your core felt how hard he was under his sweatpants, it made your whole body twitch. If that’s what simply feeling him through his clothes felt like, you had no idea what was going to happen when he actually fucked you. He must have felt it too, his hands gripped your ass and pulled you closer to him. 

Things were moving quickly, but it was still entirely too slow. He flipped you over onto your back and sat up to take his shirt off. This was by far not the first time you had seen Jake with his shirt off, but by god, it was the best. Maybe he was flexing, but you didn't care. He was sculpted like an angel, like there wasn’t a single flaw about his body. His hair got messed up when his shirt was pulled over it, it ruffled the top. It only made him look hotter. It was hard to not notice his dick through his gray sweatpants, and simply the size of his bulge made you nervous. When he bent back down to meet your lips, you kissed him in a rushed manner. It was beyond the point of wanting him, you needed him. “You want my mouth again?” He asked against your lips.

The thought made your eyes roll back in your head. Yes, you undoubtedly wanted his mouth, but you needed him inside you more. You hooked your fingers in his waistband and shook your head. He got the message, but that didn’t mean he was going to give you what you wanted right away. He used both of his hands to pull your underwear down. “Slutty fuckin’ panties.” He mumbled. Your lips met again and it felt like you couldn’t spread your legs any wider for him. Without warning, without a single preliminary touch, he stuck two of his fingers inside of you. This earned a theatrical reaction from you, like it was the first time someone has touched you that way. While it wasn’t the first time by a long shot, it somehow felt like it was, you had never been touched like this. 

“Jake” Was the only thing you could get out of your mouth as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. When you tilted your head back to moan, he took the opportunity to kiss your neck. He felt like he wanted to moan more than you did. His mouth sloppily worked its way down your neck and onto your chest. It would have been smart to ask him not to leave any marks on you, but you didn’t care one bit anymore. Not while his teeth were pulling your bra down. He sucked one of your nipples into your mouth, his fingers were still moving in and out of you. 

“You’re so perfect” He mumbled against your chest. You had never felt a complement that sounded so sincere, just the sound of him saying that made you feel perfect. Under his touch, under his body, under his lips, you were perfect. His fingers curled inside you and your back couldn’t arch any higher, your whimpers couldn’t get any more desperate. He used his arm next to your head to sit up, looking you up and down. His eyes roaming your body didn’t make you insecure or shy, they just riled you up even more. 

His fingers were amazing, but they could only do so much. You both knew what you really wanted. “Please Jake. Please fuck me.” You cried. With one last particularly harsh curl of his fingers, he pulled his fingers out of you. He brought his fingers up to your lips, only having to brush your wetness onto your lips for a second before you sucked them into your mouth without thinking. A low groan came from the back of his throat when you gagged on his fingers, licking your own slick off of him. 

He let his fingers stay in your mouth for longer than they needed to be, purely for the way you looked while taking them. Your eyes bore into his the whole time, and you thought that if he was going to humor himself with this for any longer, you were going to take matters into your own hands. The tips of your nails dragged down his chest, over his stomach, and to the waist of his sweatpants. Teasing was an option, but you couldn’t anymore, your hands gripped his sweats as you pulled them down. While doing so, a realization crossed your mind; he isn’t wearing any underwear. That’s Jake, ever classy. 

He enjoyed letting you do the work, so he leaned down to taste your wetness on your lips. His tongue licked into your mouth, trying to collect anything that was left; the taste of you was addicting, he had gotten a taste in his office earlier, and he knew he was already addicted. You didn’t see his dick right away, but you felt it when you wrapped your hand around it. When you realized how thick he was, your heart fluttered. He was thicker than anything you had ever taken, thicker than your husband. A moan slipped from your mouth into his, and that was his tipping point. Before you could make any further moves, both of your hands were pinned above your head with only one of his. He used the other to pull his sweatpants down further, then line himself up with you. The sound of his breathing was loud as he slid his tip up and down your slit, making you squirm. “God,” he shook his head, his eyes glued to your pussy “you are so fucking wet.”

“Because I’m with you.” You said. It sounded like a simple observation to you, but to Jake it meant that you wanted him, you have always wanted him, the way that he has always wanted you. It meant that you were this wet every time you were around him, the way that he was rock solid every time he was around you. That thought was his breaking point, there was no teasing left that he could do, he slid himself inside of you. You knew that he would stretch you, but the feeling still surprised you. 

“Oh my god.” You whined as he bottomed out. He stopped all of the way inside of you, partially to let you adjust, and partially to revel in the feeling of being inside you. Everything was hazy, his vision, his mind, but he still was able to think about how long he had wanted this. Just the thought of seeing you with Bradley at the bars every weekend, and the fact that you were now underneath him, was enough to make him want to cum. Sweat started to bead on his forehead, and he decided to wait a little longer to start moving, his hand came up to hold your jaw, making you look at him. “You’re so big.” You croaked under his touch. 

His lips were an inch from yours, you could feel his breath. “Take it.” He spat. With that, he started to move. Even with your head against his pillows, you felt lightheaded and your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled all of the way out and went slowly back in. From there, he was no longer slow. It only took seconds for his pace to quicken, until his skin was slapping into yours and the sound was infiltrating your ears. The stretch definitely hurt, but the pain was mixed with the most mouthwatering pleasure. Without even trying, he was hitting the perfect spot deep inside you, and soon the sound of skin slapping was overtaken by your high pitched moans. Without realizing it, he screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, making this last as long as he wanted was going to be a lot harder than normal. You felt his lips against your neck and with his face closer to your ears, you could hear his grunts every time he thrust inside of you. 

His hand was still on your jaw, and even though your wrists had been freed above your head, you hadn’t even noticed. His other hand grabbed onto your hair for leverage. It seemed like his thrusts got harder each time he entered you. “Talk to me, pretty girl. Tell me how you feel.” His tongue swirled behind your ear. 

“So good.” You choked out. “You’re so good, Jake. So, so, so good.” Rambles fell out of your mouth as your arms wrapped around his back. The feeling of nails scratching down his back was one of Jake’s favorite things in the world, so when your long nails stroked all the way from his shoulders to his tailbone, he threw his head back. He sat up so his face was above you again, and slid his hand from your jaw to your neck.

Your eyes found his, and the sight of his tanned, sweaty, toned body above yours made you throb around him. His pace was insane, the pain of him slamming into you was drowned out by the tip of his dick hitting your g-spot with every single thrust. The sight of him, the power behind his thrusts, his size, it was all too much. The tears that had been stinging your eyes for the past 5 minutes started to fall. The throbbing of your pussy and the tightening of your stomach told you that you were close. “J-Jake…” You stuttered. “I’m… I…”

“Beg.” He squeezed your throat. 

“P-Please.” You said the word that you felt like you had already said 50 times tonight. “Please, I’ve waited so long. Please, please, please please please” You rambled, more tears falling. 

“Fuuuck, give it to me.” He groaned and dropped his head, the sight of your doe eyes and tears were going to make him cum himself if he didn’t look away. It didn’t take long after his demand for you to let the wave of pleasure consume you. Mouth falling open, your whole body pulsed and your mind went completely blank. More tears welled in your eyes and the only sensation your body could make out was the feeling of his lips on your jaw. It lasted long and it was powerful, and when you were finally coherent again, there was a noticeable wet spot underneath you. “Good job, sweet girl.” He praised, his sweetness making your stomach flutter. 

Coming back up to hover over you, he kissed you. Believe it or not, Jake is not a complete and total dick, despite popular belief. He had told himself he would not ask you this question, that it would be crossing a line and it could upset you. But, when he pulled away and he saw how fucked-out you looked, and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him clouded his mind, he couldn’t help himself. “Does he fuck you like this?” He asked darkly, his face close to yours.

There was a clear answer. It was staring you right in the face. But saying it out loud just felt wrong. Even more wrong than what you were already doing. “Jake…” You breathed as a surrender. 

“Tell me.” He said. Your mouth opened to answer, then closed again. He raised his eyebrows, his cockiness reflecting in his eyes. To his defense, he had absolutely every right to be cocky about this. You shook your head. “No. Say it.” He said through gritted teeth. 

“No. No he doesn’t.” It came out as almost a laugh. “Nobody ever has.”

“Yeah?” His arms flexed underneath your fingernails that were digging into them. You nodded. 

His energy had an obvious change, the admission had done something sinister to him. He sat fully up and pulled out, earning a loud wince from you. All at once, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over onto your stomach. With one hand, he reached under your stomach to pull you onto your hands and knees. Only having been out of you for seconds, he slammed himself back in. You were already sore, and he wasn’t even done yet. 

Now that your big, tear-filled eyes weren’t staring into his, he was able to start really talking. “Y/N,” one of his huge hands gripped your ass, the other held onto your waist. “I don’t even want to tell you how many times I’ve thought about this.” The only response he got from you was a high pitched whine. “I felt disgusting for thinking about you like that, but I couldn’t help it. It drove me fucking crazy, having to imagine taking you like this every night, my best friends wife.” That probably wasn’t the best thing for him to say right now, but he couldn’t control the words coming out of his mouth anymore. Unbeknownst to him, it just turned you on even more. His thrusts started to lose rhythm, and as much as he would like to keep this going all night, he was coming unraveled. “I always knew I would take better care of you.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I knew he couldn’t fuck you the way I could. The way you deserve.” 

It felt almost like you were going in and out of consciousness, like you could barely even process his words. Without warning to him or yourself, you pulsed around him and another orgasm poured over your body. No words came from your mouth, and by the end of the second-most powerful orgasm of your life, your body was nearly limp and your face fell to press against the mattress. “Jesus, baby.” Jake breathed. “You just… so much… fuck, where do you want my cum?” he asked, almost rhetorically because of how little time you had to answer. He pulled out at the exact last moment, and you felt his warm cum start to run down your back. He collapsed, trapping your body underneath him as his armed caged around your sides. 

Time felt different, and your hazy mind didn’t know how long the two of you laid there, breathless. Finally, gaining full consciousness, you felt Jake get off of you and walk out of the room. You were smart enough not to turn over, his bedsheets were already wet enough. The feeling of a cold wet towel against your core made your whole body jolt. “Relax, relax.” Jake said, his voice completely different than just a few minutes ago. As he gently wiped your back with the towel, his other hand came to brush hair out of your face, noticing your completely blank expression. “Are you okay?” He asked.

A smile cracked through your lips. You could say the smile was sinister, a I-just-fucked-my-husbands-best-friend smile, or you could say it was pure bliss, a I-just-had-the-best-sex-of-my-life smile. You preferred the latter. “Yeah.” You giggled “You could say that.”

His shoulders relaxed, and a very similar smile spread across his face. While he was putting his sweatpants back on, you glanced at his alarm clock. Nine o clock, it had only been an hour since you left your house. You sunk into the bed with the realization that you had all of the time in the world. Unintentionally, the math of where Bradley is calculated itself in your head. Clara lives further north, on the coast, about 25 minutes from here. Bradley has just gotten started there. 

When Jake climbed in bed next to you, the thought of cuddling made a chill crawl up your spine. For some reason, that felt like crossing a line. It felt more intimate than anything else that had happened in this bed tonight. But, Jake didn’t seem to think twice about it. When his strong arms wrapped around you, and you pressed your cheek against his warm chest, all of your inhibitions melted away. His hand rubbed up and down your back, and your eyes fluttered closed. The feeling of your eyelashes closing against his chest made Jake’s heart swell. Fuck.

-

When you walked up the stairs to your bedroom, the house felt eerily silent. It was unsettling. The stairs didn’t even creek as you walked up them, and your dogs were nowhere to be seen. You started to move quicker towards your bedroom, and you flipped the light on right away when you opened the door.

The sight of strawberry blonde hair splayed across your pillow reflected the overhead light. Your mouth fell open, and you tried to talk, but nothing would come out. Furthermore, you tried to yell, but it felt like you couldn’t even get a breath in to do so. You couldn’t even move your feet. 

Clara’s eyes opened, and she didn’t look shocked to see you. She sat up and met your eyes. A smile spread across her lips. 

Your whole body flinched and your eyes shot open. When you realized you were laying in Jake's bed, you were finally able to take a breath in. The realization made you relax into his arms for a moment, closing your eyes again. When the clouds in your mind started to clear, and you finally had a coherent thought, you realized that you were just asleep. In Jake’s bed. Your eyes shot open again, and your head whipped around to look at his alarm clock. It was 12:30. “Shit.” You gasped. Moving on pure instinct, you rolled out of his bed and started to gather your clothes. By the time your shorts were on, Jake woke up. 

“What’s wrong?” He groggily spoke. 

“We fell asleep. It’s 12:30.” You pulled your sweatshirt over your head. “I have to go home.”

“Oh.” He said. He was obviously not as freaked out as you were, but he wasn’t the one going home to his spouse. The room was quiet while you put your shoes on, and in the darkness you were able to make out Jake’s figure standing up and rubbing his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” You turned your head to say as you walked out of his room. Fully intending to book it to your car, your rushed movements were stopped by Jake grabbing your wrist right before you reached the front door. He pulled you to his chest and kissed you. His lips were soft, and his hands held your hips gently. Only letting the kiss last a few seconds, you pulled away. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears and you wondered if Bradley had tried calling you, if he was worried about you. Just past his shoulder, you saw Jake's couch, the one you were sitting on when he had originally told you about Bradley’s affair. Just the sight made your blood start to boil. 

You kissed him again. “Goodnight Jake.”

“Goodnight.” His hands left your hips and one last glance was shared between the two of you before you were out the front door. No promises of this happening again, no ‘text me when you get home’, just a pit in both of your stomachs that said this was wrong, but there is no way we are stopping. The air was chilly as you walked to your car and you didn’t have it in yourself to speed home this time. You didn’t care. Driving slowly, you let the radio play softly in the background and when you turned the corner to your street and saw Bradley’s car in the driveway, you hardly reacted. The lights were still on, and with a glance at your phone let you know that he still hadn’t texted or called. 

It was 12:45 and Bradley was on the couch watching TV. Not unusual, but you were still quiet when you walked in. “How’s Jenna?” He didn’t take his eyes away from the TV.

“Good.” You kicked off your shoes. “Her baby is so cute.” While you hoped the questions would stop there, you knew it would be suspicious to just go upstairs right away. How does Bradley do this every day?

He lifted the blanket he was using up so you could crawl under it. His warm skin felt safe and familiar. As usual, his hand fell to your hair to pet it. Closing your eyes, you could already feel the guilt seeping through your skin and crawling up to form a lump in your throat. “How was the game?” You faked curiosity. 

“Mm.” He grumbled. “Philly lost. Per usual.”

You began to wonder if he actually watched it. “How’s Jake?” 

His chest rose under your cheek as he took a breath in. “Good, I think. Same old same old.”

“Mhm.” You agreed. Fucking liar.

An overwhelming feeling of disgust overtook you. He was lying, but so were you. You were just as bad as him. You thought back to the early days of your relationship, when you said you would do anything for each other, you would never leave each other, that you loved each other more than anything in the world. What happened? Where did you go wrong?

Tears stung your eyes and nausea crept up your throat. "I'm gonna go to bed." You sprung off the couch and booked it towards the stairs.

Bradley didn't flinch. "Goodnight." He spoke, eyes glued to the TV "I love you."

You glanced back at him, and maybe if he was looking at you he would see the disturbance of disgust and infidelity on your face. Regardless, you said nothing in response and walked up the stairs silently.