jakeyt

[jakeyt]

Scout’s Honor will be yours sooner than later.

BUT, this week is a B I G one, for me, personally.

Not to get too personal on main, but this week is the anniversary of my dad’s death (whom I was very, very close to). So, this week (and all of April, for that matter), I don’t usually function as normal. ✨ptsd✨ is fun like that — my body and mind know this month well.

Plus, I had to work an extra day this week due to being out for Good Friday. AND, my students are performing in their school play this week…so, tack that one on there for good measure. lmaooo

Sooo… this week is ~abnormal~, to say the least lol.

But, I promise I am still planning on having an update schedule + I am still planning on it being Mondays. This is because I’m usually off on Mondays. (Oh !! Speaking of… last Monday I had a training, too! Grrr… SO, I’ve worked two Mondays in a row…which I’m not used to having to do anymore — I’m spoiled, I know lol 😨).

Aaaaanyway.

Some might say an explanation isn’t necessary. However, I felt it was, since I said I wanted to do regular, bi-weekly updates with this story… aaaaand, I totally let you down with this past Monday (was supposed to be the first update day).

I want y’all to have the opportunity to be invested in this new story — it is very special to me. These characters have already secured their own little places in my heart… I owe it to them to write their story and share it with all of you. So, I am going to do my best to supply updates to it as regularly as I can. 🩷

Here is the prologue in the mean time… <3

Also, chapter 14 of Covet, if anyone is interested in reading or re-reading. It, arguably, is my favorite so far. :)

[jakeyt]

Scout's Honor: Prologue

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Scout's Honor Summary:

They’ve always been the other’s constant. Their goals, only ever meant to align with the other's. The main necessity in their friendship: to be whatever type of support — whenever needed — for every circumstance life may throw their way. 

So, considering the weight of their bond and the travesties of life, they made a spoken promise. A promise to never cross the line into romance, for fear it would shatter their rare connection. 

Until one night. 

Fueled by countless frustrations and failures in the dating world, they decide to explore something new. . . An arrangement meant to be harmless. . . a seemingly safe way to relieve any left over tension from the tumultuous cycles amidst life and dating. 

Rather, this might very well be the thing that breaks every promise. Whether they be spoken or unspoken, oaths are struck down one by one. 

Everything meant to protect the once-unshakable foundation of their bond, soon left in the shadows — as more than they ever expected is brought to light. 

Warnings: 18+ (minors stay away); DEATH of parent; very sad feelings; GRIEF (in the mind of a child); angst; trauma/ptsd; bullying; etc. also. . . idk if this is a warning, but jake won't be famous in this lol *each chapter will include the warnings that you should be aware of as the reader*

Please enjoy the playlist as you read (i've decided to stop hiding my love for r&b on my blog, so there is quite a bit of that on there. each song i've chosen fits the theme of the story in some capacity. if you don't like this playlist, you don't have to listen, ofc <3)

Chapter Word Count: 7.1k

Scout's Honor Masterlist

a/n:

literally me to me this a.m.: what if i dropped the prologue today instead of monday......???

ANYWAYS. welcome to my newest brain child..... i hope you all fall in love with this story, just like i already have..... <3

to preface: this story is a sweet one, yes… but… you know me and you know it wouldn’t be me if this wasn’t some sort of emotional roller coaster… so, just you get ready for this fun journey

also. YES. you will meet Jake in this prologue…. his entrance occurs at the end…… and it’s definitely worth the wait <3

now, let me introduce you to our reader / y/n in the Scout’s Honor!verse…… (i love her so much, your honor)

-♾️♾️♾️-

January 

2004

—  

Life could change in an instant. 

In the blink of an eye, everything that had once seemed so unshakable was suddenly rubble on trembling ground.

By the time you were nine years old, you knew. . . Life could be mishandled by anyone. 

Loved ones were equal parts shatterproof and the most delicate glass, all at once.

— 

“The three of us against the world, y/n,” was what Dad had begun to say, on a loop, as tears clogged his throat, hugging his little girl tightly to his heaving chest. The soft material of the Carhartt t-shirt against your wet cheek added reassurance and familiarity amidst the utterly traumatic and unfamiliar time. “You, me, and Amias. . . We will be okay, babygirl. We have to be.”

— 

He was right. 

It was now just you, Dad, and your little brother, Amias. Very freshly, only the three of you, against the world. 

No more mom. That was your brand new reality. You’d lost your mom, so recently – so suddenly. . . in a most unjust fashion. 

She’d been ripped from your life — stolen from you— too soon. 

Your beautiful, vivacious mom – who’d been filled with unfathomable grit, light, and joy – had been the victim of a multiple car pile up on the highway. All because one person had been looking away. . . One person had started it. For the briefest moment, that person’s actions had affected the lives of many. 

All it had taken was a single moment. A blip in time – yet, permanently marring the rest of forever for so many. 

Careless behavior didn’t ever end in good. That was for certain.

— 

Your mom died right before Amias turned two years old. . . His second birthday was the saddest in all of history, you were sure of it. 

Three days after her death.

Thankfully, family had gathered around and Dad had plastered on a smile for a couple of hours for pictures that would stick around forever. 

You had turned nine, roughly a month prior to losing your Mother. . . Mom had hardly known nine-year-old y/n. 

— 

The idea to move had been instantaneous. 

You’d witnessed the decision happening at Amias’ birthday party, as you’d cut open the boxes to all of his new toys for him. Dad’s family had stopped to talk to Dad before they left for their home in Michigan. Dad’s home state. 

The home you lived in in Glen Ellyn, Illinois was the same one that he and Mom had established prior to you being born. This was their home – the one that had belonged to a family-of-four that was no longer. 

This wasn’t your home without her.

—

It took all but two days after the funeral proceedings had subsided for your Dad to announce that you were going to live in the same town he’d grown up in. 

A town with a silly name, resembling a famed green monster with a block head. 

Dad hadn’t taken time to fully grieve. Or, maybe he had. . . You still weren’t totally sure how he’d handled all of that, so smoothly, all on his own. 

— 

The winter day you moved into that little house at the end of the cul-de-sac in the teeny-tiny town of Frankenmuth, Michigan would forever be sealed with a feeling of fondness. 

Frankenmuth, Michigan was a microtown. 

It was what “small town” dreams were made of, with the quaint Main Street and town square. In pictures Dad had shown you, you saw the colorful, flowering plants and pretty architecture. . . Truly that of sweet tales in the little chapter books you’d grown to love at Forest Glen Elementary in Glen Ellyn. 

—

Dad’s family had helped you unpack boxes at the beginning of the move. 

It all happened in such a flurry of your Grandma’s perfume and endless words of wisdom for your Dad. Your PeePaw’s badly timed jokes, filling the air as you tried not to cry. . . Then, about two days into getting settled, your Aunt and Uncle and their loud kids had made an appearance. 

They all lived in Bay City now, not making another stop for the rest of January. It granted you some reprieve before you had to go back to school.

Dad let you take the entire month of January off of school to adjust to the new reality of your life. And for that, you were grateful, yes. . . 

But, you needed a distraction that wasn’t your obnoxious cousins. And you loved school. . . You missed it. 

All your mind was filled with these days was images your mind had created based on the one mini headline you’d seen on a magazine. It had been stuck, in the front of your mind, since seeing it in a gas station on your way out of Glen Ellyn. 

Glen Ellyn Woman’s Body Found In Pieces On Freeway Alongside Red Convertible

You needed school. You needed to get the flashes of images your mind had curated out of your head. 

There was only so much your mind could take.

—

Within the month of moving to Frankenmuth, as a freshly nine-year-old girl, you decided you didn't want to ever let anyone else in.

There wasn’t a point. Life hurt people. Life took away the ones you loved. In life, there was death. One couldn’t have life without death. This was a vicious, disgustingly cruel cycle that every human was born to experience. 

Besides, you had the world’s best dad and brother. 

And, even if life had already begun to take good things, you still had them. . . Those two, your reassurance that even if you closed everyone else out for the rest of forever, they’d still be there. And, even if not. . . 

Grief was now a brand new friend. 

Grief now held you in the new, lonely moments. It would hold you, encompassing you with emotions, in a much more complex way than a nine year old should ever have to bear. But it was slightly comforting to take it on. . . Felt like a badge of honor in saying goodbye to your Mom. 

The agonizing ache that now permanently resided in the innermost parts of your soul taught you that you could learn to cope with even the darkest of dark. And, even if you lost your dad or brother, grief would always be there. 

Truly, you needed no one else. 

Might life continue to take what you held most precious – your Father and brother– you had the lasting companion of grief. A close friend who would be there until you, too, lost to the game of life and death at the end of your days. 

But, unfortunately, as your dad tucked you into your bed, on that Sunday night at the beginning of February, you knew you would have to escape the dark bubble. 

The next day, you would be starting school at List Elementary. You would have to associate and come into contact with newness and unfamiliarity that didn’t resemble the tunnel you’d been stuck in. 

You would be forced to surround yourself with people who didn’t understand that life could do bad things. People who only knew a perfect life. . . No death. Both parents, still alive. . . All normalcy. 

Yet, what none of those people – the kids you’d be around at school the next day understood. . . .  they didn’t understand that none of them were safe. They could lose normalcy in a heartbeat. 

Safety was a lie. 

Everything most precious could be yanked out from under you in a flash of a second, leaving you to land directly on hard ground as soon as something so fragile as ‘safety’ was given. 

—  

The first month of school at List Elementary was long, hard, exhausting, and emotional in ways it had never been before.

You made no friends. 

Every day, you did have a hard plastic chair that was too cold through your leggings. And, you had a desk that was covered in scribbles, from kids of years’ past. Every day you walked the halls, the fluorescent lighting kept you company on your scheduled breaks with the school counselor. 

You would watch your pink Skechers as they lifted and fell, guiding every step on the silver-speckled, white linoleum floors. The colors of red, black, and white, surrounding you. 

In that first month of school, you didn’t make any new friends. Nor did you make friends in the second month. The counselor was your only ‘friend’ – Mrs. W. 

And, as bright as you were, you didn't have the patience to try to learn Mrs. W’s full last name. Sure, it might’ve been considered rude to not learn it, but you didn’t have the time. And, the less you knew about people, the less attached you got. . .

What was the use in building new connections when life hurt so bad?

—

Soon, after living in a new town and getting used to life without your Mother, you learned your dad needed your help in ways he hadn’t ever before. 

You had to step in to help care for Amias, who was barely two. And, as everyone knew, caring for a new toddler at the age of nine wasn’t ‘normal’. . . You didn’t get to do ‘kid’ things, because you proudly accepted the responsibility of helping your dad. 

You loved your Dad. You’d always been a daddy’s girl. And, now, you were more proud of the title than ever before. 

It was the least you could do for Dad – helping him at home. He was working himself to the bone, day in and day out. His shoe soles, worn thin from work on construction sites and hours on his feet in a hard laboring warehouse. 

The sight of him, the tanned skin of his handsome face, filled with so many new lines of worry – that new, dim shade of overwhelming sadness that never seemed to leave his hunter green irises. . . He was balancing everything as the newly only parent, while also taking on two jobs while he waited for one that matched his past profession to become available. 

All of this meant there was almost no time left to do anything you ‘wanted’ to do, at all. But, that was okay. 

You still caught the Fairly Odd Parents on TV in the afternoons after school while you watched Amias. You still got to eat an Uncrustable and a Fruit By The Foot while watching your favorite cartoon, even if you were caring for a fussy toddler. You had enough of what you wanted. 

Besides, the most important thing was having time for your homework. You’d learned in Mrs. Mim’s third grade classroom in Glen Ellyn, that third grade work was much more difficult than second grade work. And, in Frankenmuth, that didn’t change. In fact, it was a little worse. Because, on top of trying to catch up to where everyone else was, you were still learning more and more new, tricky material – just the same as you had been before. . . .

So, you had to make sure to prioritize your homework to stay on top of everything. No matter what life had handed you, you kept your nose to the grindstone. 

— 

You’d always done exceedingly well in school. Getting good grades were something more than satisfying to you. They had been from the time you got your first purple smiley face and ‘WOW!’ – both written with grape smelly marker, on a paper full of lines and letters in kindergarten. 

It was an understatement to say you enjoyed learning. You thrived and glowed with pride when you got affirmation from a teacher that you were catching on quickly to material. When you left Forest Glen, there had never been a question that your grade card would hold only A’s. And, you intended to keep it that way in Frankenmuth. 

And, by the time your dad got home at eight every weeknight, you were reassured that you could do this. 

He made sure to take over everything by the time he got home, so you had a whole hour and a half to tackle all of your homework before you had to take a shower and wind down for bed. You wouldn’t even leave youroom to take a shower if you didn't feel confident in your ability to grasp the material. 

And, by the second month of school in Frankenmuth, you’d made it a goal that by the time your dad would sit at your bedside to read you a chapter of Harry Potter every night, you would feel relieved and refreshed more than stressed. 

He’d ask you how you were feeling, every night, with a kiss to your forehead. And, after talking through your day with you. You never told him too much about not having friends. . . didn’t want him to worry about you. But, you would talk to him about the tricky work and what you were learning. You’d even told him a bit of what Mrs. W had talked to you about, concerning the loss of a parent. 

After saying something wise or giving advice you always needed he’d pick up where you left off in Harry Potter the night before. In spite of having a day much longer than yours, he insisted on reading you a chapter of this newer series that your Mom had been dying to read with you.

As he’d read you tales of wizards and witches and fantastic beasts, you’d watch his expression light up in ways that gave you hope that everything was going to be okay. You knew you wouldn't trade what you were doing for him for the world. You loved helping your dad. 

And you truly did like having the responsibility. Loved it, in fact. 

Being in charge was fun for you. (You were a big sister – so, of course being in charge was fun.)

In whatever way you could, you felt as though you were thriving. . . Even if only just a little bit. But. . . you struggled with it feeling wrong and slightly disrespectful to your Mom. It didn’t always feel like it was okay to continue being ‘okay’ without your Mom there. . .But, you knew you had to do it. 

Your Mom would have wanted you to pick yourself up. Your Dad currently wanted you to. And Amias was watching you, everyday, as an example.

— 

Thankfully, before long, you felt the ‘school-focused version’ of yourself click back into place without issue. 

It might’ve seemed like a small step to some, but it was a giant leap for you. 

Even if you were crying yourself to sleep every night – choking, sobs racking your small body as you buried your face in your pillow – you at least felt like you knew what you were learning and doing in a new school. . .

And catching onto it very well, at that.

Maybe you would be okay.

At least a little.

Okay enough.

— 

School, homework, and watching your brother after school. 

By March, you and Dad both knew those were your priorities. 

Dad took over all of the dishes and laundry, even with his double jobs. Though, some nights, you liked to surprise him by having them done by the time he got home late from work. 

Life without Mom wasn’t what you wanted – ever. But, you couldn't deny how well you and Dad handled things together. 

He’d always been your biggest fan and you were his. 

And all you wanted to do was right by him. 

— 

The first day of counseling came as a sort of surprise. 

You hadn’t thought you were being overly obvious with your emotions, but apparently you’d carried yourself poorly enough – and shed enough tears – in front of your dad that he’d found the ‘best counselor in the area’ for you.

Dad had decided to take off every Friday. And while yes, he’d done it to have time with Amias and to prepare the house to go into the weekend. . . . You had heard him on the phone, that first day, on the way to counseling – confirming that you ‘really did have the last available time slot.’ 

Your eyes had pricked with tears as he’d hung up, offering you a little wink and grin before he was turning up Led Zeppelin, just a bit more. 

Amias, giggling, and kicking his feet in the backseat as you soaked up every minute with your dad.

And, as soon as you knew your Dad had gone out of his way to be available for your transport, you knew you’d take counseling as seriously as you could. . . If nothing else, you would get better for your Dad. For Amias. 

For your Mom.

— 

By mid April, it got to the point that every Friday afternoon, you were watching the clock for the ticks to meet two o’clock. Because, at two, the office would call down for you. At two, you got to experience one of your new favorite things. 

The twenty minute drives to Saginaw for counseling at two thirty became an instantly positive, core memory. 

It helped that your counselor, Sadie, was so incredible. In that small office on the side of a busy street in Saginaw, Michigan, Sadie Kruse helped you in ways that surpassed your mind’s wonders at nine.

The woman had worked in such a tiny office. . . but the healing that’d happened in those four walls was as big as the entire world, in your opinion. 

(Even as you aged, Sadie’s strategies worked like such magic that you were sure – you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt – that you wouldn’t have survived without Sadie’s careful, guiding hand.) 

Those Friday afternoons changed your heart and outlook on life for the best, as the years went by.

Two on the clock. Dad’s gold Toyota Camry. The roads to Saginaw. Dr. Sadie Kruse. And a McDonald’s McFlurry run, before stopping at the Bavarian Inn to grab two two-topping pizzas from Hungry Howie’s. 

Dad had done his best to swoop in and save you. 

Grief hadn’t been quite so daunting anymore. It had become less of a toxic friend and more of an acquaintance that offered sentimentality and healthy mourning rather than all-encompassing darkness.

Those Fridays had successfully saved you from the doom and detriment that had once threatened swallowing you whole. . . .

But, unfortunately, no amount of counseling or Fun Fridays (as Dad had penned them) could take away the tangle of fear that clung on naturally to most victims of PTSD and trauma. 

—  

Slowly but surely, your vibrance came back. Bit by bit, you glowed like you had when you’d had a Mom. 

You began to shine like life had hope. . . Even when it was hard to believe that life could be okay again, you located a semblance of hope from your heart’s ability to be bright, even now. 

It was a heart you’d inherited from two of the most incredible people you’d ever met and would ever meet. Your Mom and Dad, free-spirited and kind-hearted to a near fault. These two people, who hadn’t wanted anything but the best for your life. 

So, you’d decided you would do your best to handle the life you’d been given with care. You needed to care for what you had left. . . . 

Whatever life gave you, you would hold precious and not let it turn to dust in a too-tight grip. You would be smart. You would be kind. You would be careful. 

— 

It was Field Day. 

The second-to-last day of school. A party day, of sorts, for List Elementary. 

Your last school had held a Field Day, too. . .Better known as ‘the hottest day of the year, where the students were allowed to go crazy and teachers only assisted if they were absolutely needed’. 

Kids, running everywhere. Outdoor games, galore. Ring tosses around cones. Hacky sacks, aimed at wooden boards with holes cut in them. Bright colored pop-up booths with face painting and stick-on tattoos, littering the playground. An intense tug of war fight that most of the sporty boys were partaking in. Water balloon fights, in the far parking lot. 

Students, screaming with excitement; their pure laughter, filling the air. No cares in the world. Not tainted by anything unfair that life may have handed them. . . . At least, that was the bitter thought that went through your mind as you sat on a bench, all alone.

The teachers were sort of close by, at one edge of the playground. Some were standing, others were lounging in lawn chairs. They were keeping just enough of an eye on everything to not get fired from their job. . . but were mostly focusing on keeping conversation with one another.

Everyone was past done with the school year. Ready for it to be over. Ready for summertime. 

But, you sat on the lone bench next to the grassy area, where the tug of war took place. You weren’t ready for summer. It would be day after day, Amias’ growing attitude and newfound love for screaming, being your only distraction from the loss of your Mom. 

There wouldn’t be any school to help keep your mind busy.  So, most of summer would be spent in thoughts surrounding the fact that you didn’t have a Mom around to spend it with. 

No more lazy evenings, driving around in Mom’s convertible. (The thought of the car, making you sick to your tummy. . . It hadn’t been able to be saved – 'in pieces' – right along with your Mom, as that taunting article had put it.) There would be no family vacations that Mom had spent the past several months preparing for your family of four. No homemade popsicles, lemonade, or long hours spent at her store, reading a book, as you watched her fit client after client in the most beautiful clothes. . . 

You knew Dad would do his best to provide the best summer possible. He’d already mentioned it and your Dad was always true to his word. But, he was busy with work. He had finally landed one solid job at a big construction company in Bay City. He was back to leading projects, just like he had in Illinois. No longer the hardest working laborer on the lot, but a leader. 

It was easy to be proud of your Dad. 

You’d made up your mind that you would start new traditions of sorts, with Amias. . . You would do your best to help him grow up with amazing summer memories – just like your Mom had provided for you, all eight of the summers you’d spent with her. You already had plans, but you were dreading having to do any of it without your Momma nearby. 

Sweat was dripping down the back of your neck, temporarily distracting you from your thoughts. It was a hot day and you felt the way your cheeks burned from the sun’s rays. You’d forgotten sunscreen this morning. In years’ past, your Mom had never let you go a summer day without lathering your face with sunscreen – until you were greasy from the lotion.

You watched with timid curiosity at the field in front of you, feeling like you were interfering with the game, simply by existing. No one that you watched ahead of you was a friend. No one on the field, playground, or parking lot. No one around you was a friend. . . . It had been this way all year.

It was hard to make friends in your circumstance. 

For one: you had not been fully yourself when you’d started school here. 

In fact, you hadn’t shown these kids yourself at all – even in the later months. The only part of you that had translated in school from Illinois to Michigan, with no problem at all, had been your academics. And, now that you’d officially ended this year with all A’s after working hard to get those grades, you were at a loss. 

For what it was worth, your teacher loved you. For the less-than a half year you’d been in his class, Mr. Barthow had become quite the fan of your big brain and hard work. 

Other kids just hadn’t been accepting enough of you to be your friends. They’d given you dirty looks for being a ‘suck up’, a ‘goody-two-shoes’, a ‘teacher's pet’. . . You were sure you’d heard just about every negative thing known to man that one could say to insult an unassuming kid who minded their business and tried hard at school. . . Truly, you’d harmed no one, but you were being shunned like you’d offended the entire student body. 

Frankenmuth was such a tiny town that you not only continued to feel completely out of place, you knew you weren’t included in anything. . . On purpose. It was absolutely no accident. Since your first day in February, you’d watched as groups of kids in third grade sidestepped you and whispered to each other while eyeing you skeptically. 

And, when all of the name calling had started after only a couple of months, it had solidified that no one would be pursuing your friendship. . . No one wanted to associate with the weirdo new kid. And you knew much better than to think that would change anytime soon. You saw the way the rest of third grade gawked and giggled at you with judgemental eyes.

The laughing behind the hands and occasional pointing was not something you wanted to get used to, but you were afraid that was your future. . . until you managed to prove yourself to the microtown. You knew that because you hadn’t been born in this town, you were no good to all of the kids who’d grown up together. . . . . And, until someone made a real problem, you’d suck it up. . . You had much more important matters to deal with. 

Like the fact that this was the first grade you’d completed without your Momma. 

You had a feeling if you pointed at a random kid on this playground right now, chances were, they would be going home to two parents tonight. And, that made you so completely envious. It wasn’t hard to admit. You’d proudly admit to that envy. You would scream of that envy from the roof of the school if you could. . . . .

Because. . . well. It wasn’t fair. Not at all. Not a bit. 

And all you wanted at this moment was your Mom. 

Reaching into your jean shorts, you pulled out the 4x6 photo you’d been folding to slip into your pocket for the past couple of weeks. 

It felt nice to have it with you. A photo of your Mom – right there, whenever you might need it. Even if it made you sad to look at her, you’d finally warmed up to looking at her face again. 

And right now, all you wanted was to look into her hazel eyes – the flecks of green that would appear in certain light, the same exact color as the green in your Dad’s eyes. . . . Meant to be. Yet, where was she? And why did he have to be here without her? Why was he being forced to suffer? 

You wanted to scream until your lungs were raw and red – airless. You wanted to rid them of all their air and force them to scrape the sides of your ribs for relief. . . . Surely it would hurt less than the way you needed your Mom’s arms around you.

Feeling overwhelmingness starting to creep in, you followed some of Sadie’s advice. You brought your thighs up to your chest, tucked your knees under your chin, and you pressed the front of your thighs to your chest. Pressure. You needed pressure. 

‘Applying pressure to the chest is a great way to calm down,’ Sadie had advised, having hugged her arms around herself for reference. ‘However is most convenient at a given moment. . . Just apply pressure if the stress begins to feel like too much.’

As soon as you laid your eyes on the picture of you and your Mom, your chest tightened with new emotion and relaxed with familiarity all at the same time. Your thighs squeezed tighter to your ribs. 

You loved this photo. It was a sweet one Dad had taken on a disposable camera a few months before Amias had been born. You could remember the day it was taken. The details of the pink and teal ice cream parlor you’d been sitting in – an older one in Chicago. 

This had been one of those day trips that the three of you had taken after a long week for Mom at her boutique and a taxing week for Dad at a site. You had just been the lucky recipient of the additional time and love from your parents. They’d loved to spoil you to make themselves feel relaxed and at ease. . . Crazy. Selfless.

You saw your smile in your Mom’s. Your Mom’s nose, the same as the one on your own face. . . The curve of your brow, almost replicating Mom’s.

It was odd. . . because, while it hurt so badly, it healed you even more to remember and memorize every feature of her face. . . Every freckle on your Mom’s pretty face, reminded you that there was inexplicably more you had to conquer on this planet to make your Momma proud. 

On the same hand, it was like Mom was still here every time you looked at a picture of her. Every minute you spent actively remembering her, the more it felt like there was hope just around the corner. . . Like she was waiting, just around the corner with said hope.

“Hey, Newbie.”

You blinked tears away that you hadn’t even realized had gathered in your doe eyes. Your chin lifted from your knees, but you kept your legs tucked under you. You were planning to ignore the person in front of you. 

It was a mean voice. . . .The voice of this raven haired jock boy from your class. Mr. Barthow’s least appreciative student. The guy who had a comment about everything. The type of kid who knew he was smart, but rather than using it for good, he used it to insult and hurt people. 

Lucas Grady.

“I’m talking to you, Goody Two,” Lucas tried again, a snarl in his voice that you really didn’t want to acknowledge. “Little Miss y/n. . . .”

And, you would have continued to ignore him if he hadn’t kicked the bottom of your flip flop to get your attention. The action nearly made your knees come into contact with your chin forcefully. Your thighs, once leaning restfully against your chest, were no longer comforting. Instead, now they were delivering their own harsh blow. Your body, working against you to assist this bully. 

“Ow!” You blurted, pain shooting up your tanned calf. You wrinkled your brow before looking up at the boy in front of you. Lucas Grady wasn’t super tall, but he wasn’t short. And, he was already so strong for his age. His face was almost always posed with a mocking smile. And when you held your hand over your eyes to block out the sun behind him, you saw he already had a sarcastic grin on his face. “What, Lucas?”

“Oh. . . She knows my name?” He grinned, the smatter of freckles on his cheeks seeming to darken with the harshness in his eyes. “I didn’t even know you knew anything about us, Goody Two. . . All you seem to know about is school. No friends. Just work, work, work. Huh, Goody?”

The nickname alone was making your cheeks flame, but you decided to be the bigger person and not say anything in response. You just clamped your jaw and narrowed your eyes at him. Thankfully, he was alone and not surrounded by his normal posse. It was a small comfort in this otherwise uncomfortable and unfortunate moment. 

“Do you only respond to your name?” He asked, practically spitting the word ‘name’ at you. 

At that point, you had decided enough was enough – that you could and would move. You didn’t have to stay on that bench and be humiliated by this boy. 

So, very quickly, you were removing your legs from your upper body and slapping your flip flops on the ground in a sort of statement. You needed to move. . .before he decided to be any more hateful than he was already offering. 

It seemed he knew your plan, though, as he was coming up closer to you to stop your movements. His smelly, sweaty body was blocking you from moving any further than a step. His black hair, looking like a barcode against his forehead. Stuck to his skin with the gross amount of sweat coating his face from the tug of war game he’d participated in. 

Your nose turned up at him, your mouth snarling. You flicked your lashes at him, emphasizing your annoyance and disgust before you spoke. “Move, Grady.”

“Don’t you call me by my last name, Goody Two,” he corrected you, moving a hand much more quickly than you could calculate, managing to grab the photo that you were trying to slyly slip back into your back pocket. 

No.

“Hey! Give that back!” Your chest heated in fury. Everything on the playground, turning as red as your heated cheeks. No longer, was there only sunburn painting your cheeks. The anger that ignited in your veins, reflecting in the tone of your skin. 

“Not until you,” he waved the photo in front of your face, “apologize for calling me something I don’t want to be called.”

“No! Because you keep calling me things I don’t want to be called and fair’s fair, Grady,” you spit, saliva actually landing on his face. Trying a move, you decided to step around his body to grab the photo from the back while distracting him. 

But, he was quick, and noticed you doing it immediately. And as soon as your flip flop had made two steps, he was stepping on the back of the foam of your left sandal. You didn’t notice in time, and instead of gaining what you wanted, you were toppling to the ground. Your knees, scuffed, the gravel of the playground pressing into the young, soft skin of your legs. You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. Because, still. There were worse things than Lucas Grady in this world. 

Even if he sucked – so bad. He was small. Unimportant. 

Speaking of unimportant, you looked to see if anyone had noticed the situation happening with you and Lucas. And, to no surprise, all of the adults were stuck in conversation with each other. And, any of the kids who hung with Lucas were off doing their own thing, leaving him to this task of his. 

The boy continued to laugh, obnoxiously, down at you while fanning his face with the picture of your Mom. 

You were about to succumb to the tears at the thought of your Mom being dead and being used as a face fan for this boy’s disgusting, sweaty face. It didn’t help that the pain of the gravel was quickly becoming very real and you saw blood accumulating in a big cut at your knee. Subtly, you noticed the big, jagged rock that had caused such offense, beside your knee. 

Without even considering anything, not caring if it made your Mom or Dad or little Amias proud or not, you were grabbing for the rock in one tight fist. 

But, just as you were about to look back up at Lucas to throw the sharp rock, you saw a pair of small, black and white checkered Vans sidle up beside you. In all of your time studying the kids in the third grade, you hadn’t noticed one kid who wore these shoes. And you’d done a lot of watching. . . You’d had no friends to talk to, only eyes to wander and people watch. You were sure you’d seen almost every pair of shoes and this hadn’t been one of the pairs. 

Who was this? Someone else, coming to pick on you? 

But. . . timidly, you realized the vans weren’t facing you. No, they were facing Lucas. 

“What could you want, Kiszka?” Lucas barked, sneering at the new addition to the group. 

‘Kiszka’? 

Yeah, you definitely hadn’t heard that name. . . You’d remember that one. 

Gaining some bravery, you looked up from where your tawny, lanky legs were splayed out underneath you. 

And the first thing you saw was shaggy hair. A lot of long, brown, unkempt hair. And, briefly, a boyish face was looking down at you with concern before he was looking back at Lucas with drawn brows. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to look him in the eyes before he was addressing Lucas. 

“What are you doing, Lucas?” The voice was light and raspy, yet tough for a kid. The way he snarled Lucas’ name made your heart rate increase. . . . Because, well, he didn’t seem to like Lucas either. 

And he was coming to help you? There hadn’t been one person like this kid in your entire time being here.

Who was this ‘Kiszka’? 

You looked back at his legs as you noticed him take a brave step toward Lucas. His Vans became clearer in your sight. They were torn up, messy. Covered in black scuffs and dirt. His calves, scraped to high heaven and bruised worse. This kid wasn’t one to mess around with and that much could be gathered from the gutsy nerve in his tone and the way he looked alone. 

“She’s a freak!” Lucas squawked with a laugh. “I’m teaching her what we’re all about here in Muth.”

“I’m going to give you the next thirty seconds to apologize to her,” the ‘Kiszka’ kid said again, pushing the sole of his shoe into the gravel. 

“What makes you think you’re so scary, Kiszka?” Lucas joked. At the same moment, you noticed ‘Kiszka’’s shoes push against the concrete towards you, sliding back with a bit of force. Lucas had shoved him. But, still. He stepped towards the bully again, his steps even steadier than before. And this time, the shoes did turn to face you. Just the slightest bit. Then, there was a tan hand reaching down for you. 

You looked at the hand, tentatively, for a few seconds. It was small, like yours – only slightly bigger. And, rough where yours was soft. This kid was definitely trouble. 

But, it seemed to you like he was the ‘good guy’ in this situation, so you grabbed his hand with a trust you didn’t realize you had anymore. And, in no time, he was pulling you to stand beside him. He was the same height as you, shorter than Lucas, but not by much. 

When you were at full height, you looked at his face, his hair shaggy in front of his eyes before he tossed his hair to the side. You caught the slightest glimpse of his brown eyes. They were very kind, with dark circles underneath them just beyond the long hair dusting the top of his face. 

But, his jaw wasn’t so kind. He was still tense. His shoulders, squared to show the seriousness behind his stance. And, when you glanced between your hip and his, you noticed his fists were tightening – ready to punch. 

Soon, he was looking away from you and back to Lucas. “It’s been thirty seconds, Grady.” 

“Don’t threaten me, K–.” ‘Kiszka’’s feet took one serious stomp towards Lucas and the words stopped on Lucas’ tongue before he was pushing forward, too. Almost chest to chest with this boy beside you. ‘Kiszka’. “Watch out, little kid. I will not be embarrassed by a second grader in front of this loser new gir–.”

But, Lucas’ words were cut short when this ‘Kiszka’ kid you’d just seen for the first time less than three minutes ago, landed a sharp fist to the front of the raven haired boy’s jaw. Lucas’ mouth hung open, before he looked to the side, dramatically. The show Lucas was making with his reaction was like a movie, even spitting to the side before sizing the kid beside you up, once more. 

Though, his plan only worked briefly before this shaggy haired kid was drawing a quick and pointed fist, hitting Lucas’ cheek, up and under the jaw this time.

Lucas only looked back in your direction briefly, looking dazed with wrinkled, confused brows. And, from your peripheral, you noticed the picture fall from his dirty fingertips. Using the moment he was down for the count to your advantage, you leaned down to grab the picture. Then, you heard another crack. 

And, above your bent form, you heard Lucas gurgle an ‘o–oh!’ sound, the noise tumbling with shock, out of his mouth.

And then, there was a wail.

Quickly, you were straightening, getting up from the ground just as Lucas fell to the same spot, grabbing his swollen, bleeding nose in pain. 

“Help! Help!” He screamed, crying like the baby he was as blood poured from between his fingers, onto his face and the dark gray concrete. “Teachers! Please!”

You looked at the kid with the unruly hair beside you, hastily – you were anxious to thank him before he (surely) got in trouble. This was the first time anyone had been kind to you (besides a teacher) in this tiny town. You would always owe this mystery ‘Kiszka’ person who’d punched Lucas Grady in the face for you. 

“Thank you–.”

“You okay?” He asked first, his tone full of genuine concern as he took a step closer to check on you. Yet, just as he was coming closer to speak to you, teachers began rushing to Lucas’ aid. 

“Y-yes! I– thank–thank you, I don’t know how to– What’s your name?” You hurriedly asked, the words jittery and toppling off your tongue.

And at the same moment he was opening his mouth to answer you, the principal was coming up behind him, grabbing roughly at this ‘Kiszka’ kid’s bicep. 

“How many times does this have to happen, Mr. Kiszka?” Mr. Hibbs was disappointed, there was no question about that. Your own cheeks flushed at the exasperated anger in the older man’s tone. But, ‘Kiszka’ just pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. 

You couldn’t help the little smile that reached your lips at his reaction to Mr. H’s words. 

“Why must you react like this, kid?” Mr. Hibbs continued to question, desperate for answers you were sure he wouldn’t find from the young kid. 

Even with Hibbs taking a firmer grip around the kid’s bicep, beginning to pull him, you stood firm on needing to know his name. Your eyes searched the kid’s face frantically, hoping for an answer. 

“It’s Jake,” the shaggy haired kid said, nonchalant as he grinned at you. 

You remained worried for him, but he was unphased. This was obviously a normal occurrence for him. But, you knew he wasn’t ‘bad.’ Because, the gentle grin that continued to grow on his lips spoke louder than any words you’d heard from anyone else in this school so far. Your heart warmed. 

Maybe, just maybe, you finally had a friend here.

Even as Mr. Hibbs dragged him away, Jake was still speaking. The words, raspy and flying past his lips to get to you. “My name–it’s Jake. Jake Kiszka.”

— 

a/n: he's jake.... jake kiszka <3 hehehe

........and they're about to have the most incredible story together eeeeee *heart eyes*

----

I will also be posting this to Wattpad, so here is the link for that <3

For this fic, I'm going to do my best to have a posting schedule. It is already completely outlined, so I'm hoping this can go as planned! Every other Monday is my goal. <3

-----

taglist:

@joshym, @builtbybrokenbells, @alwaysonthemend, @gretavangroupie, @gretavanmoon, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf,@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow , @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmarge , @creadliz98, @mackalah , @lek-gvf , @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini , @welllauragvf , @highway-tuna , @dont-go-home-without-me , @sarah-gvf01 , @polemicandcontent , @ageofbajabule , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jennyraye20, @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo , @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas , @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave@chichi610, @freyjalw , @scoreofinfantryvines , @stonecoldmo , @divapadam@hailthegodsong@fleetingjake@demolitiondanchipsversion@stardustsamm@blankvz@mikiepeach,@demolitiondanchipsversion, @lipstickitty, @gracev0609

please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist!

[jakeyt]

Scout's Honor (Masterlist)

Summary: 

They’ve always been the other’s constant. Their goals, only ever meant to align with the other's. The main necessity in their friendship: to be whatever type of support — whenever needed — for every circumstance life may throw their way. 

So, considering the weight of their bond and the travesties of life, they made a spoken promise. A promise to never cross the line into romance, for fear it would shatter their rare connection. 

Until one night. 

Fueled by countless frustrations and failures in the dating world, they decide to explore something new. . . An arrangement meant to be harmless. . . a seemingly safe way to relieve any left over tension from the tumultuous cycles amidst life and dating. 

Rather, this might very well be the thing that breaks every promise. Whether they be spoken or unspoken, oaths are struck down one by one. 

Everything meant to protect the once-unshakable foundation of their bond, soon left in the shadows — as more than they ever expected is brought to light. 

— — — — —

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Genres/Tropes: childhood best friends-to-lovers; friends with benefits (when they're adults, ofc - don't be vile); slow-ish burn; secret romance

Warnings: 18+ (minors stay away); death of parent; angst; trauma/ptsd; divorced parents; bullying; use of alcohol; (a lot of) sexual situations; etc. also. . . idk if this is a warning, but jake won't be famous in this lol *each chapter will include the warnings that you should be aware of as the reader*

I will also be posting this to Wattpad, so here is the link for that <3

For this fic, I'm going to do my best to have a posting schedule. It is already completely outlined, so I'm hoping this can go as planned! Every other Monday is my goal. <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read (i've decided to stop hiding my love for r&b on my blog, so there is quite a bit of that on there. each song i've chosen fits the theme of the story in some capacity. if you don't like this playlist, you don't have to listen, ofc <3)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV

Jake (Interlude 1) CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

Jake (Interlude 2)

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

Jake (Interlude 3)

CHAPTER XVII

EPILOGUE

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MOODBOARD:

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 14

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary: Life was good. No, life was great. Was. Until. Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture. You welcomed him into your life—your home. Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; LANGUAGE; sexual tension + tense themes; self deprecation; mentions of sad childhood; vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; jealous!reader; angry!jake; possessive/territorial!jake; pregnancy hormones of multiple variety; crying; INFIDELITY; Y E A R N I N G !!!; joshua being THE FUCKING BEST; BABY KICKS <3333; touching; kissing; unprotected p in v sex; rough sex; dry humping; fingering; oral (m!receiving); post-sex v*ginal/body pain PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 14 Word Count: 45.7k+

a/n: my favorite chapter to date. so, there's that. love you guys <3

as always, massive thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits + listening to every time i have anxiety over my writings <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person - forever + ever. <3 additionally, a BIG OL thank u to @builtbybrokenbells. you are a queen whose throne is one to be bowed at. always. you'll never understand just how much your help + friendship means to me... in this silly story, other stories, and in LIFE. ily more, canadian me <3 an ode to my wonderful, fellow ginger pal (and coffee supplier !!) @gretavangroupie for being my constant push to keep writing always, helping me in the final revisions and edits when i release my cry for help. you are a true friend + i hope you know how much i appreciate u <3 a shout out to my homie @gretavanmoon for being my daily partner in flipping shit over anything + everything jake kiszka. you're a fuckin' real one, babe. <3 and, finally, an ever-present thanks to my girl @alwaysonthemend. Thank you, my love, for always being just around the corner when i need you. you're a personal favorite of mine + you know this <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

I VERY HIGHLY SUGGEST LISTENING TO: Giving Up + A Song For You by Donny Hathaway as you read a ~certain scene~ towards the end of the chapter... you'll know when hehe (both are featured in the story's spotify playlist) ok byeeeee

Covet Masterlist

"One be covetous when he has little, much, or anything between. For, covetousness comes from the heart, not from the circumstances of life."

Charles Caldwell Ryrie

August 16, 2022

Jake’s POV

Surprising her on her shift was part of the point of my errand today, yes. But, it was also the only day this week that I could go grab the Stevie Wonder record I’d asked Josh to special order for me. 

According to Josh, they weren’t ‘technically supposed to special order records’. He’d told me some shit about how it ‘goes against the owner’s morals’. . . how the older man liked to be an ‘easy-to-please customer for his suppliers’. But. . . when I’d asked Josh if he’d done it before, he’d affirmed my assumption. 

If he could special order a vinyl, I could, too. Especially since it was for a particular person who’d put just as much energy into that damned store as my brother.

When I posed him with the exchange of him ordering a certain Stevie Wonder record for me and me doing any work his fuck ass car might need done, he’d agreed. We all knew that the man spent too much damn money on that stupid ass car. And, for some reason, he still refused to part with it. I knew he had a healthy enough savings account to get a new vehicle, but he was Josh. Stubborn ass motherfucker.

And I’d sacrificed my limited free time to help said-stubborn-shithead with his hell on wheels – for y/n. I’d do anything for the woman. Anything.

Josh had checked my purchase out as y/n had gone to the back room to grab a few things. He hadn’t been as speedy in the process as I wanted, instead choosing to talk my leg off about everything that came to his mind. We hadn’t been able to really talk, just the two of us, for a few days. So, I’d only assumed he was making up for lost time. 

Though, I didn’t have time to shoot the fuckin’ breeze, since y/n was surely almost done in the back. 

When he started on a new tangent about Sam possibly looking for a place to live, I finally interrupted him. “Can you please hurry? I have shit to do after this and you’re taking way too damn long.”

With a look that said he was judging me for daring to get in the way of his rambling, he made a show of scanning the orange record. And the stupid ass flourish of the black bag as he got it ready to slip the vinyl inside was unnecessary. But I didn’t say anything, just rolled my eyes as he pulled his overdramatic ass. 

Finally handing it to me, I breathed a sigh of relief, growling out an exasperated ‘thank you’ to him as I looped the plastic around my hand.  Safe and secured, hidden from her. 

But, unbeknownst to me, he’d been watching me be meticulous with how I made sure the bag was closed to not let anyone get a look. And, it was just plain careless of me when I’d looked over my shoulder, in the direction of her voice behind me, as she spoke to customers. 

Careless, because I should’ve known his little overly curious musing was coming. “Why so jittery, brother?” He slyly asked, my eyes popping back over to his, where I saw his brow raised in question. “Y’know. . . Y/n loves Stevie Wonder. . .”

God. Why was he pulling this shit? “Yes, Joshua, I know this. Her goddamned cat is named after the man for God’s sake.” 

“And you’re buying a Stevie Wonder vinyl. . . A rare one, at that. . . Fuckin’ forced me to special order it. . .,” he pondered, trailing off momentarily. He started tapping his chin in a way that had me wanting to slap him. “Does this have anything to do with y/n perhaps?”

“What the fuck does any of that have to do with me wanting this record?” I countered, my tone a little too sharp to not be suspicious. “Maybe I just wanted a rare pressing of a classic to add to my collection. Did that happen to cross your mind?”

“It’s just. . . Quite a convenient situation, wouldn’t you say?” He smirked, as if he knew something. “A mighty funny coincidence, yes?”

Fuck. Why was he being like this? And, as her voice started coming nearer, no less. Didn’t have time for his bullshit. Scrambling so he didn’t give away my purchase to her to put me on the spot, I decided I could say something to get him off my back. For now. 

“She’s my friend, Josh. I wanted to surprise her with this. I’m trying to make up for being such a prick to her when I moved in,” I reasoned, the words, thankfully, coming quick to my aid. They weren’t a lie, necessarily. . . Just not the full truth. I was hoping against hope he wouldn’t catch on. “Is it so wrong for me to try to mend a bridge with my roommate?” 

“Well, you’ve been doing this shit for the past couple of months, Jake. . . First, the lavender plant drop off that I’d found, placed on the desk,” he patted the desk in front of him, as if to emphasize a point. “With a note and everything. . . . Now, a pricey, unique record by her all-time favorite artist. . . . You seem to be awfully fond of y/n, no? Seems to be going past the point of being friendly. . . . To me, at least.”

Goddammit, Josh. Mind your motherfuckin’ business. Stay out of my shit. 

Seriously. Why did he have to pin me with this accusation? Right now, of all times? I needed him off my back.

“Well, it’s not anything more than me being friendly, so shut the fuck up before she gets up here and hears you spouting nonsensical bullshit,” I demanded. 

My jaw tightened with stress at the prospect of exposing our arrangement or letting her on to what I’d bought with this conversation that would do nothing but worry her. The last thing I wanted was for y/n to begin worrying over shit my lovely, prying brother was saying. 

Thankfully, he’d backed off, and by the time she’d made it to the register, he’d moved on to some other ramble. Thank god.

And hours later, back home, after spending the past couple of hours getting ice cream and shopping for a new, nicer pot for the lavender, I couldn’t have given two shits about where Josh’s mind was. I figured I’d covered up well enough. 

We’d walked through the door to the apartment a few minutes ago, and y/n had immediately gone about getting the lavender switched over to the new pot we’d just bought on the way home. 

It was only three p.m., and we had the rest of the day together — a fucking dream. I was more than looking forward to spending the rest of my day doing absolutely nothing with y/n.

Looking forward to doing nothing with her. . . . God, she was steadily becoming everything to me. She was the most incredible woman and I had the privilege of being so near to her, all of the time. The idea of sitting in an empty room, simply staring into her eyes was past invigorating to me.

So, once I’d safely secured the Stevie vinyl in the back of my closet, I was on my way to the kitchen to be with her — to check on her. See if she needed any help with the lavender and the new pot. Knowing y/n, she already had it pristinely potted and back in the window. . . . But, all I wanted to do was be near her – no matter what she was doing. So, I went in the direction I’d seen her last.

And, what greeted me when I entered the living room to walk towards the kitchen was a welcome surprise. 

Y/n, beautiful as ever and still drying her hands on a fresh tea towel after dealing with the soil and lavender. 

But. . . the best part. The part that had me stopping in my tracks, ready to fucking bust, had nothing to do with the plant or the crisp towel. No, the best part was how completely fuckin’ naked she was as she waited for me. Sitting, so prettily, with her legs crossed, on the arm of the couch. 

The way the late afternoon sun shone in through the living room curtains had her skin painted with these shadowy, intricate and beautiful details of the lacy curtains. The patterns that highlighted every damn inch of her skin, combined with the golden hue on her soft, tanned skin. . . . Left me speechless. 

The ethereal vision of her, as she played oblivious to my presence, with this cute, little knowing smirk on her pretty features. . . fuck. My dick took no time to respond, instantly hot with need as my blood turned hot. 

This sight had me unbuckling my belt and slipping the leather through the brass buckle as I walked towards her slowly. Every step was purposeful, as I made sure to slip the belt smoothly enough from its loops. The swift swoosh sound was meant to gain her attention. 

But it didn’t. 

Dammit. Wanted her to look at me. . . needed those eyes looking into mine. Needed her to see what she’d done. Though, when she continued to look at her hands, swiping across them gently a few more times with that damn towel, my breaths became harsher. My skin heated and tingled with the feeling of deprivation that was simmering, just below the surface. 

Instead of saying anything yet, I decided I could take advantage of the image of her, once more, before I tried my next trick. 

But, I fucking couldn’t. 

This little game she was playing had her arms blocking my entire view of those pretty tits. Aggravated at the lack of visibility, I let my eyes wander. Yet, when they traced the curve of her hips, all the way down to the middle of her thighs. . . I couldn’t get a damned view of the pussy I was sure I’d never get enough of. 

I was quickly reminded of the way she’d crossed her legs – starving my eyes of what they wanted to devour most. And, while I could absolutely appreciate every other part of her body, I had priorities right now. If this woman was going to be naked in front of me, I was damn sure going to do something about it. She knew better than to pull shit like this and not give me what I wanted. 

Done with the bullshit and ready to take advantage of the problem she’d caused in my jeans, I cleared my throat in a way that seemed to rumble from my chest directly to hers. Her face reddened, the small smile, never leaving her features as her eyes finally cast up to mine. 

And, now that her eyes were on me, I noticed how her eyes instantly flitted to my hands as they worked to undo the button of my jeans. The pants were out of the way in seconds, my shirt getting stripped as I took the last few steps towards where she was perched on the arm of the couch. Her skin, so fucking smooth that it seemed to reflect every goddamn beam of light from the sun. . . Her flowing hair, doing just the same.

When I finally stood in front of her, my thighs touching her knees, her eyes found mine. They way they bored into mine showed me that she’d absolutely known it would lead to exactly this. 

“Felt like giving me a little show, hm?” I asked, a hand reaching out to let my knuckles graze gently against the flushed, satin-like skin of her cheek. 

She hummed, turning her face into my hand, encouraging me as she nuzzled against me enough to open my palm. I let the action bleed into the next and let the same hand move from her cheek to the hair at the base of her neck as I angled her face to look up towards me. 

“Now, I’m going to kiss you. And after that, you’re going to finish what you started,” I said, my voice holding no room for her to argue with me. “You’re gonna bend over the arm of this couch and let me fuck you like you deserve.”

“And how’s that?”

I leaned down, just enough, until my nose was brushing hers, fitting her lips to mine as I spoke against them. “I think it’s your turn to wait a bit, don’t you think?” 

“I didn’t even make you wait that long,” she smartly responded with a little huff, her lips grazing mine with every syllable – every petulant breath. “Practice a little patience, Jacob.”

“It’s hard to have any when it comes to you, baby,” I muttered, letting my lips leave hers, floating to her neck instead. I’d take my damn time – do what I goddamned wanted. Let her feel this irritation with me. She needed to understand. She knew how this worked.

Her body curved, so deliciously, right up into mine. Where she belonged. Those beautiful, full tits, connecting with my skin as a groan left my chest to connect with her throat. Her nipples, showing me just how ready she was as they pressed to me. Her breaths were choppier now, her chest heaving in rhythmic thrums to communicate with my body in a way only we knew the melody. 

“Jake, please,” she careened fully into me, her body molding to fit against mine from where she sat in front of me. Her thigh, slipping skillfully in between our bodies to delicately graze my damn-near aching dick.

Fuck. Yes. I’d gotten her – just where I wanted her. And it was time to show her what she fucking deserved. My mouth moved, languidly, back to where she was whimpering, desperately from hers. Needy little thing. She would never understand the way these sounds affected me. 

When I was standing straight again, I kept my hand on the back of her throat. But, I let the other join on the other side of her neck, making sure she was looking at me. Fully. She needed to hear me. 

“Probably best not to test me,” I said, lowly, as I raised a stern brow. “I don’t think either of us are very patient people, baby. . . You know this.”

“Yes,” she sighed, her eyes wide and trustful of whatever I had planned. She bit her lip, her eyes going from mine, to my chest, and down to where I was full on throbbing with need for her. Her delicate hand reached out to faintly touch me, the small touch, making the pulsing heat in my cock travel straight to my head. God fuck. “Let me prove to you that I know better?”

“That’s my girl.”

End of Jake’s POV

Present Day

Christmas Day, 2022

The gift you’d been most excited to give your Grandpa had been an original pressing of Stevie Wonder’s Songs In The Key Of Life. So, you’d gone in the natural order of events and gave him the socks and shirts you’d bought him first before you handed over the flat package. 

He’d given you an eye when you’d handed it over to him. And you’d simply sat on your knees, hands planted on your thighs, next to his chair with a small grin and a wink to communicate your excitement. 

You never failed to feel like a little girl in these moments. . . That feeling of being so excited to give her parents an ornament she’d made at school. But, for adult-you, it was always your record gifts — for your Grandpa specifically — that made you feel so anxious and anticipatory. 

It helped that every year, he got just as jittery and enthusiastic — like a little boy, himself — when it came to that one flat gift he’d come to expect from you. Of course, he always knew it was a record that awaited him. And being the one to give you your love for the music you listened to, he knew to trust your choice And, every year, you relished in his anticipation. Giving him records had always been the singular time you ever got to see your Grandpa act in such a way. . . And now that his soul got so vibrant with Jake around, today felt like a double whammy as you saw his face light up for the thousandth time over the excitement for the gift. 

 You’d always looked up to the man. He was the first man who’d ever saved you. And he’d saved you from what you were now remembering as the closest thing to hell on earth (and you knew that was without remembering everything). When you were a little girl, your Grandpa had held the stars in the sky that twinkled with hope impending. He was the only father you’d ever known – hardly knowing your own. And he’d been a damn good father, at that. No matter how quiet, pensive, and slightly impatient he was. . . You knew that deep down, he was a sort of kindred spirit with you. For as long as you could remember, you’d inherently, naturally felt like you saw him in a way others couldn’t. 

Because you saw yourself in the way he processed the world around him. 

Music was just one way you witnessed this with him. Everyone knew what music meant to you – and you loved it because of your Grandpa. It was a genetic trait that you’d inherited from him, you assumed, after years of witnessing how he digested music. But, it was also due to his wondrous introduction to the ways of melody and rhythm. 

He was your biggest influence when it came to music. He’d shown you the ins and outs of it – backwards and forwards – as a little girl. The older man had taught you the beauty of healthy escapism, through melodies and grooves in songs. . . . Your favorite form of art. The art form that’d rescued you, time and again, even through the most confusing years of your adolescence and adulthood. 

You felt a connection with this old man, down to the deepest recesses of your soul. The part of you, where music had first come into play in the most beautiful and healing way, there he was. . . Countless memories of him and you, listening to record after record on the living room turntable. . . . From Stevie Wonder to Elton John to 90s R&B. . . He’d taught you how to hone in on that appreciation.

“You know, Plum, I was going to wait until your birthday. . .  But, I feel like I have to give you this vinyl gift I’ve found for ya. . . .now,” he grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with a wink. “We can open at the same time.”

Even though your heart rate sped up at the idea of him gifting you a record (your favorite type of gift), you felt guilty at the prospect of getting one more present from them when they’d already spoiled you with their influx of Christmas gifts. “Grandpa, you seriously don’t have to do that.”

“No, no. . . I have to give it to ya, Sugs. . .,” he responded, handing you the vinyl you’d gifted him, carefully. He was sliding out of the chair when he continued. “Keep that one safe for me. I’ll be right back.” He was grunting and getting out of his chair before you could argue it any more. And once he was out of his chair, you realized how hateful you’d feel if you were to tell him to sit down. Standing up and getting around was a feat for your Grandpa these days. . . . It was something you didn’t give yourself too much time to think about, lest it break your heart that he was aging – quite quickly, as of late. 

“Really, babygirl,” your Grandma started, drawing your attention to her raised brow. “He’s been on the edge of his seat waitin’ to give it to you. . . . You’ll understand why once you see what it is.”

“Is it a rare Stevie?”

“Not quite. . . He told me it’s one you used to search for endlessly as a younger girl. . .”

You wracked your brain – totally lost as to what it could be. For as long as you could remember, you’d been focused solely on getting any and every Stevie Wonder vinyl you could get your hands on. There had been a period of time where you’d searched for all types of soul, but. . . Just couldn’t remember a specific vinyl that you’d searched tirelessly for. . . . You could only hope that your reaction was worthy of the gift. Hopefully seeing it would trigger something. 

For your Grandpa’s benefit, though, you’d do your best to fake it – if you had to. 

As you waited for him to walk back out, you were fidgeting with your new bracelet from Elsie. . . The most perfect gift, hidden under the lid of that slim box. 

It was a thin silver chain, perfectly suited for your wrist with a little lavender charm. It was such a beautiful, dainty charm. Mostly sterling silver, with the faintest tint of purple. And, the more you looked at it, the more you noticed that every beam of light in the living room was sparkling off of the pristine, practically white silver. . . And the guilt was starting to set in. If you were correct in your assumptions, this bracelet could not have been cheap. . . Which, most likely meant that Elsie had spent much more on you than you had, her. First Josh and now her. You should have assumed she’d go all out. . .

“Elsie Mabel,” you began, raising your head from the bracelet to look at where she stood with Josh and Jake in the entryway leading to the kitchen. “How much did you—?” You began, trying to keep your sights set on her and not the handsome man across from her who took over your every waking thought. 

You couldn’t finish your question to her before your Grandpa gleefully made his way back into the living room. 

He was making these happy little noises that distracted you, momentarily halting your train of thought. You watched him with big eyes and a wide smile, practically prancing on his toes  to his chair. When you glanced over at Elsie to see if she was noticing this, she was gaping at him, her brows up in her hairline. It seemed she was just as shocked as you to see the old man, almost dancing to his seat with little ‘ra-ta-ta’s and ‘woo-wee’s. 

Once he was seated back in his red chair, she left the room with a little giggle and a shake of her head, leading Josh and Jake wherever she went. Jake caught your eyes briefly, your insides turning to mush temporarily under his gaze. 

But, soon, your Grandpa was clearing his throat and all of your attention was trained on the old man again. You noticed the vinyl he had for you was tucked inside of a folded sweater, rather than being wrapped. It made sense that it wouldn’t be wrapped for your birthday yet — that wasn’t until February. 

But the ‘wrap’ job he’d done was endearing and it made you giggle. Looking up at him from where you sat on your knees, still, you waited until his eyes were on you again. When he was finally looking at you once more, you took a second to sit in the blip of time where you’d found yourself. 

You really felt how similar he was to you at that moment. The giddiness over a record, the love for someone he greatly valued, fueling him. And his eyes — looking into them was what made your own glisten with tears. These eyes, which resembled yours greatly, though his were glassy with age and cataracts surgery. His eyes betrayed the soul beneath the surface. And, briefly, you wondered. . . maybe, after all, you were more like him than you could ever be like your mother. 

And if that was the case, maybe you weren’t so bad for those around you. . . . . Maybe you were worthy of good just like your Grandpa–.

“Alright, Sugarplum,” Grandpa started, interrupting your thoughts with his little closed mouth smirk. The apples of his copper skin, rounded with excitement. “Give me that little thing in your hands, because I can only imagine what you’ve found for me. . . But, as I’m opening yours, you’ve gotta open this one I’ve got for ya. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, Gramps,” you grinned, exchanging the flat gifts with the old man. 

Once you were both holding them, he counted down from three. You smiled softly, having done this plenty of times before. Then, it was on and you were going in, full force, paper getting ripped to shreds. You kept a careful eye on him, checking once you felt like he was getting close to having his unwrapped. Seeing his reaction was something you’d been looking forward to since the moment you’d grabbed it up for him at the B&G.  

And once that iconically groovy, orange sleeve was out of the paper and in his grasp, his mouth opened in joy, his eyes getting huge as he scanned the cover. You knew he was looking for the little hint at what made it special. It was a known fact that your vinyl gifts for your Grandpa were almost always special pressings.

Finally, once he’d slipped his bifocals over his eyes and lifted the cover to his face, he saw that little sticker in the corner. The worn sticker, fresh from the 1970s, indicated its uniqueness. The way his face became a wide smile (rare for Gramps), with his brown eyes huge and unbelieving, you knew you’d done well. . .  He was giving you the exact reaction you needed. 

It was an original pressing, from the year of its release. The little sticker you’d been waiting for your Grandpa to notice indicated that it was the ultra rare, Limited Edition French Pressing. It had been one of those that you’d received at the Black & Gold that you couldn’t pass up for its value. It had definitely been a bit outside of your budget, but it was worth every penny for the way your Grandpa looked at this second. 

He leaned over to your Grandma to show her, to which she responded with a little ‘wow-wee!’. She loved the record, too, for sentimental reasons that you were sure would present themselves once the vinyl made it on the player later today. . . You knew he’d be spinning it in no time. 

Aside from the uniqueness of the vinyl, it was just a good fuckin’ record. It was a classic for a reason. Songs In The Key Of Life was a staple to all true music listeners. And, as a Stevie Wonder fan, it was, in your opinion, the Elite album of all his others. The record was a go-to conversation starter for you, with customers at work and as you got to know someone. The record was legendary. Couldn’t miss an opportunity to listen.

“Thank you, Suga,” your Grandpa said, tone so calm and collected. That deep gravel in the undertone of his voice, one you’d always cherish. His voice had led you out of countless fearsome scenarios. 

All you did was squint your eyes with a broad smile, proud of yourself. You winked at him before going back to your own, sweater-covered, gift. Your task didn’t take as long as his had, since all you had to do was slip it out of the fabric. So, you closed your eyes to add emphasis to the sentimental moment. And once you could tell it was fully out of the material, you kept your eyes closed as you leaned over in the direction of your Grandma to hand her the deposited sweater. 

“You goofball,” she joked with a snort identical to Elsie’s. “Open your stinkin’ eyes. You’re going to love it, babygirl. Gramps swore you would.”

You truly were dying to see what the man was so stoked about. The only part you were dreading was not knowing why it was special. Your childhood was so clear in some aspects, but in others, not so much. . . A lot of the instances that’d happened near the time that you’d come to live with your grandparents had long been lost in the wind. As you opened your eyes, you first looked at your Grandpa. He was chewing his lip, waiting on bated breath to see your reaction. Heart racing, you finally glanced down at the piece of history in your lap. 

And, instantly, you knew. 

Holy fuck. 

Donny Hathaway’s self-titled vinyl. 

As a little girl, you’d had this fascination with his music. It had started the summer after you’d come to live with them. Your grandparents had both been anxious to bring as much joy as they could to your life and Elsie’s. And while your Grandma had helped Elsie find an escape in cooking, your Grandpa had kickstarted your obsession with music. 

You couldn’t forget this record. But, somehow the memory had been lost on you until this moment.

You’d seen this Donny Hathaway by Donny Hathaway record in a store window while out with your Grandpa on an errand. 

(It had been an emergency ingredient run for Elsie and Grandma’s dinner of choice that evening — so long ago. You hadn’t even driven to a grocery store, you’d walked — on hurried feet — to the corner market with your Grandpa.)

You could still remember the soft purple color of the ivy hat he’d been wearing. His favorite style of hat. And, he’d worn that particular purple hat into the ground that summer. 

. . .That thought made you pause for a few seconds. 

The purple stitched into that hat, very similar to that of a certain plant you loved very much. . . 

And, considering how that hat was associated with some of your first fully positive memories. . . 

No way.

You knew the human brain was a fucking weirdly intricate place. And, you had a feeling, deep down, that the color of the plant alone might have brought a sense of comfort with seeing the color in your kitchen window on a daily basis. . . Why you’d wanted it in your apartment in the first place. . .

You’d have to come back to that later. 

But, that evening, you’d asked him about it when you got home. You’d been anxious to understand every in and out of music that you possibly could. And, he’d fucking illuminated at the idea of getting to show this ‘under-appreciated’ artist’s music to you for the first time. He’d pulled out his Extension of a Man vinyl, almost tearing the worn inner sleeve with how excited he got to put it on. 

And, the instant your Grandpa had played “Someday We’ll All Be Free”, you’d known. You’d known that music was truly magic. It was a vast canvas of possibility to travel to other worlds. Music was a sort of intricately designed machine that could transport you to places all over space and time. Music created the ideally orchestrated rhythm that had shown you that life had bright meaning, beyond the dark scenes that had overruled your life until that point. 

As your Grandpa had swung your lanky, sun-kissed, freckly ten-year-old self around the living room doing a sort of swing dance to “Flying Easy”, you’d felt hope sprout in your little heart for the first time.

The next day when you’d explained to him what you’d seen in the little shop window, he’d exclaimed with a ‘well then, what are we waitin’ for?!’. Instantly, you were leaving Elsie and Grandma in the garden as you left the house with excitement rushing through your veins to have your own little piece of hope. But, sadly, when you’d made it to the store window that afternoon, the record had been swiped by another customer. 

And you remembered, clear as day now, how for nearly two years, you and your Grandpa, individually and together, had searched for this vinyl. But. . . You’d never found it. It hadn’t ever even landed at the B&G, either. . . The longing to look for it, having stuck around in the back of your mind. . . But the importance as to why you were looking for it had become lost in the shuffle of disastrous self-healing. . . And, simply time itself.

Taking your lack of words and stilled body as a sign that you weren’t remembering its significance, you heard your Grandpa begin to speak.  

“You probably don’t remember this, Plum, but we looked for that thing for a minute,” he laughed to himself. 

Your eyes glanced up to show him your rapt attention and the wetness that was hastily gathering in your tear ducts. “Grandpa,” you began, sniffling. “I—I can’t believe. . . You found it. After all this time,” you gasped. 

The feeling of fulfillment took over and the smile that adorned your face was unshakable. And, suddenly, you were really wishing that Jake, Elsie, and Josh hadn’t gone off to do their own thing in the kitchen. You wanted so badly to share this entire story with Jake. . . But, maybe it was right that it was just you and Gramps. 

“I’m finally holding Donny Hathaway by Donny Hathaway in my hands. . .,” you said, a tear falling to collide with the vintage, fading cover. But, where you normally would have cringed at that, you didn’t now. 

At this moment. . . It seemed symbolic that the tear might collide with the found piece that encapsulated the cherished memory all on its own. You ran your fingers, nimbly, over the papery cover, at the same time that two more tears left your eyes. One droplet, landing on the cover again. And the other, falling to land on your white sweater, just at the top of your bump, temporarily staining the material.

“Y/n. . .Plum. I gotta tell ya,” the man began again, your tear-filled eyes instantly finding his. The irises, replicating yours across from you. “I never stopped looking for that darn vinyl,” he laughed a bit, shaking his head. “But. . . I’m glad I kept on ‘a searchin’. . .,” he continued before his eyes became serious with the following words, once more catching yours. 

“Because, babygirl, special little things that catch our heart’s eye — they really are worth holdin’ onto until they’re secure in our hands.”

As soon as “Knocks Me Off My Feet” came on, you knew that it would result in this. . . The melancholic moment between your grandparents was a given. When they’d decided to slow dance to the song, you watched on with nothing but overwhelming love in your heart. 

A grin rested upon your lips, tears threatening as you tapped your foot to the beat and sang the lyrics under your breath. Memory upon memory came trickling in as your Grandpa sang the words, aloud, to your youthful, yet fully- white-haired Grandma. He was an incredible singer, still, and your Grandma blushed as he sang the lyrics over her. And when he dipped her, your Grandma’s little laugh was reminiscent of one you figured she’d worn when she first fell in love with him. 

This song had become “their song” since its release in 1976. You’d been told this through countless stories as you’d grown up. Even as a young girl, who’d wanted nothing but what they told in their stories. 

You could remember the first time your Grandma had explained it. Only a little girl at the time, you’d wondered out loud why there were tears in her eyes as this song had come on the radio in her kitchen. And, she’d continued cutting angels into the Christmas cookie dough as she’d told of the night he’d sung it to her for the first time — ‘years before you’d ever come to be’. 

Even as you’d lived a hopeless life with your mom and sister and only got to see your grandparents on the big, food supplying holidays, you found a sense of joy in that moment. A joy you hadn’t known existed. A joy that’d come alive in the confines of those stories of times long ago. 

The love in those tales had seemed so much like a fairytale. It had seemed impossible to understand that type of love, then. But you got it now. You understood feeling that deeply for someone. You even had a certain song you shared with that someone. A song that resonated a touch too well with your heart, if you were being honest. . . And, if things were different, you’d get to dance to it with him in a sentimental way. Just like your grandparents got to, with each other.

And while it wasn’t unique to have a ‘song’ you shared with your lover, this was different. Yes, many couples, past and present, had ‘that one song’. . . However, this someone you shared your song with had never been your ‘someone’. Never a couple. 

The summer fling had been just that: a fling. Yet, it continued to feel as though it had been so much more — even more than a relationship. It’d been something unspoken and unique that you two had shared. . . A sense of serenity in his company, as you shared your time, music, and bodies with the other. . . The connection rivaled a nuclear, stereotypical relationship. 

The pull to look over at him was so fucking strong. You couldn’t stop yourself when you let your eyes wander to him. He was standing at the entryway to the hallway, leaning against the archway that led to all of the other rooms in the quaint little home. You were across the room from him, right outside of the kitchen. The pies had been awaiting your eyes to check on them when your Grandpa began to queue up the album you’d bought for him. 

You knew you couldn’t miss the moment that you’d known was bound to happen between your grandparents. These two elderly people had shaped everything good from your childhood – they’d given you safety after having none for so long. They’d done that job so incredibly well. . . And, it was almost as if a torch had been passed when Jake came along. Without you even realizing it, your Safe Haven had become an entirely different place. A new person.

And, thankfully, when you glanced his way, the man who provided it wasn’t looking at you. He didn’t catch you. Instead, he was talking to Josh quietly about something. They were laughing over a shared joke, it seemed, as their eyes glinted at one another in a mischievous sort of way at each other and Josh’s phone. 

The Kiszka twins were two of the best men you’d ever met. Right up there with your Grandpa, in fact. And that was saying something. These two. . . Your best friend, and his brother, who now happened to be the father of your baby. These men, who’d opened your heart in a way you’d believed impossible until recent years. 

The smile that clung to your lips upon watching their interaction was natural and made your entire body feel warm with hope and a sense of everlasting home. Because, on top of their sweet interaction, you also saw your sister. The first person you’d cherished more than life itself. . . Your first person. Her face read the same contented, peaceful emotion yours did as she watched your grandparents laugh together – in their own little world. 

All of these people, you loved so much, in one place. 

A hand floated to your tummy – a gentle, serene reminder that there was an additional person who would, one day, be a physical part of the entire scenario, too. A giggling, bouncing, joyous baby girl who would be the most enchanting cherry on top of this group of people. Though, at the same moment you let your mind wander to Lav, it seemed Elsie’s mind wandered to Josh. 

You saw her look back at him once before she was pulling him away from Jake, grasping her boyfriend’s arm to join her in the middle of the living room with your grandparents. The two instantly began to sway to the music as well, their eyes filled with a combination of stars and hearts that had your chest aching for the same.

Once again, the longing for Jake was overwhelming and you were letting your eyes trail over to him. And, to your sweet surprise, he was already watching you. You felt your entire body flame as his dark irises took you in. 

And while you wanted to stand there and stare at him — get lost in him — you knew you couldn’t let yourself be so obviously entranced by him. Mostly, the romantic song, combined with the display of affection that you were surrounded by, was simply too much for your heart at the moment. 

Your feet were momentarily glued to the floor, as his eyes began to nestle deeper into your own irises — through to your heart, communicating feelings beyond words. Though, rather than returning the look, you did what you did best and fled the still moment.

The kitchen was waiting on you.

You’d had the self-delegated task before the dancing had begun. You had to check the pies. There were more important matters at hand than getting ridiculously lost in the tresses of Jake Kiszka’s enigmatically beautiful stare. 

In the kitchen, the air was clearer. Crisp, cooler, calm. . . In comparison to the stuffy and lively living room. No longer was there warm air stuck in your chest. In fact, the amount of deep breaths you were able to take helped you to clear your mind. . . Even if the love song and sweet laughter still trickled through to the kitchen, you were away from Jake. . . The man who personified your heart’s greatest desire. 

God. Ridiculous. 

The pies were almost done. So very near the point of completion. Only about ten minutes. The overwhelmingly appetizing aroma of cherries, blueberries, and homemade pie crust infiltrated your senses. You reset the timer for about nine minutes, just to be safe. You closed your eyes in delight, taking a moment to enjoy, by yourself, as the lovely (and depressing) display of love took place in the room right next door. 

After a minute or so, though, you heard boots clicking against the hard wood of the kitchen floor. Boots you’d recognize that specific click of – anywhere. 

You relaxed at the idea of him being near. The ecstatic energy was dominating. Being in his presence again, after a couple days of being completely distanced from him. . . . It truly was like a puzzle piece was being clicked into place. Your heart, lighting up, beating in your chest, all the way to the pit of your throat was a striking indication of this. 

The mere sound of him sighing and settling behind you made your heart rate settle and increase, all at once. You’d come to find that he had that strange effect on you. Without even turning your back from the oven yet, you could imagine him. You pictured him, leaning against the kitchen island or something. . . From the little sigh he released, it sounded as though he was easing against something. 

Just the two of you, in one room. And he was only feet away from you. Inches, really. . . The sheer knowledge of his nearness was so relieving. 

Then, his voice. God. Your favorite sound. With a slight laugh, he began. “I’m assuming you didn’t want to partake in that sickeningly cute display of dancing in there?”

A sad smile found its way to your lips. You didn’t turn to look at him. You swiveled on your heel – just a bit – to face the kitchen window above the dining table. It was safer. Safer than looking at him and getting all sad as you continued to hear Stevie proclaiming the words “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over again, from the living room. 

You imagined the sweet, sweet dancing. . . And the only person you wanted to dance with. . . Who was now speaking to you. Seeking you out, for the second (or would this be third?) time in a single day.

“Don’t have a someone to dance with,” you replied, eyebrow raising as you took in the gorgeous rusty glow of early evening settling over the familiar, quiet, and quaint Valley Stream, NY. 

His lack of response had you feeling real stupid for pointing out the obvious. . . So, you went ahead and decided it best to point out the other glaring matter at hand. “Jake—,” you began, your voice catching on his name. You softly closed your eyes and looked down once more. You wanted to gather your thoughts before you gathered the strength to look at him. “. . .I’m sorry they don’t know it’s you.”

He took a few moments to respond. And your heart rate picked up, your skin heating with shame and self-consciousness. Though, before you could ponder your inner thoughts much longer, he was speaking again. 

“It is up to you what they know. You are the one doing all of the work all day, every day,” he said, reassuring you with his gentle tone. 

Your heart rate slowed to normal for the first time in hours. He didn’t sound mad. . . At all. 

“However. . .,” he countered, continuing. “Whenever she’s here, I think it’s going to be obvious when I finally get to help you with the heavy lifting. . . What I want is to be around all of the time – involved. . . You know, there, right beside you. . . Caring for our little girl alongside you. . .,” he cleared his throat, and you did your best not to show your emotions regarding his words. He was making your heart yearn for something that you wanted – so badly. “I just — I have a feeling you’ll have to explain it to them at that point,” he finished with a small, huffed laugh. 

Your eyes pricked with tears at the thought, wanting that reality right now. 

“To begin with. . .,” you began, clearing your own throat of any leftover emotion. “If I have my way, there will be no denying she’s yours. I hope it’s obvious. . .,” you let your eyes float up to his finally, catching the sparkle in his golden irises that you wished for Lav. Your grin fell a little, though, as the guilt still ripped at you at the thought of her inheriting his traits – all while you left him out of the picture. “But–Jake. I promise they will know way, way before then. . . Don’t lose all faith in me.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything, y/n,” he grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. That was, before his dimples pressed a little further into his cheeks, with a soft roll of his eyes. “And I haven’t lost any faith in you, babydoll. I promise that.”

“Well. . .,” you sighed, brushing a hand through your hair as a blush stained your cheeks at the pet name and reassuring words. “I know I don’t have to. I want to reassure you of that, though. You are very much her father and I want them to know that. It just – it hasn’t come up yet. . . It’s on me, completely. Obviously,” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched at your over explanation. Come on, y/n. . . “I just. . . Uh, haven’t quite figured out a way to explain the thing we had going on in a ‘PG’-way. . .”

He snorted at that, looking down as he swiped a hand over his chin in thought. There was pink coloring his cheeks, indicating he was either reminiscing on past times or simply feeling joy with you again. 

You watched him for a minute. And even when he made eye contact with you once more, you didn’t quit. Wanted to match his gaze, now. . . wanted him to see you. . . . to understand. You found comfort in his eyes, now that things had settled more between you. First time since the phone sex that everything felt okay. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t told them,” you finished, repeating your sentiment, yet again. 

“Y/n. Please, baby, don’t be sorry,” he insisted, rounding the corner of the island towards you. Your heart began beating in your ears at his anticipated nearness. The moment moved in slow motion. Then, he was right in front of you and continued his prior command. “Please. You don’t need to feel sorry for anything.” 

His hand came up to hold your cheek for a brief moment, his eyes connecting with yours as the palm of his hand cupped your jaw. His eyes held fire, setting your body alight with tender flames. They licked your cheeks, making you blush at the intensity of his stare.

The calloused pads of his fingers grazed over the crest of your cheek, right on your cheekbone. The hand moved to tuck your hair behind your ear, softly running his fingers through your hair, your body shivering at the delicious chill that ran up your spine and down to your toes at your hair being played with so carefully. Felt so good. Then, after brushing it behind an ear, he was adjusting the hair just so, over your shoulder, to fall smoothly down your back. 

He let the first hand fall, his eyes following it as he grasped your forearm in a steady grip. And, just as you began to miss the feeling of his hand on your cheek and in your hair he was doing the same to the other side of your face with his opposite hand. But the right hand didn’t do what the left had done by holding your arm. . . no, once he was finished, both hands went to its own front pocket of his black jeans.

“Do you understand me?”

Fuck. You wanted to say ‘yes sir’, but you denied the urge – knew you shouldn’t. He hadn’t continued that text conversation for a reason. You knew. And you’d be damned if you added any unnecessary stress for him. Not with the way he looked this morning and last night. So tired, the circles under his eyes so dark and jaw clenched. . .

Damn. Even in present time, as he stood in front of you, he continued to observe you. Just as he had this morning. Although, there was no wettening of the lips this time. And for that you were very grateful. You were already struggling with his incredible sandalwood, amber, and vanilla scent wrapping around you at his closeness. His eyes continued to drown in yours. You couldn’t look away.

You shifted from one foot to the other, subtly, to get more comfortable. Why the fuck was all of this working against you and making your damn panties wet? In your grandparents’ kitchen, no less! You were trying so damn hard to stay logical and composed in the face of your inner confliction. Why did he have to make this so difficult? All of it, always so difficult. Why?

You know why, y/n. . . You know, said the knowledgeable and comforting voice in your mind. Don’t be afraid to feel it. 

But you were. Right now, you were afraid. So, all you muttered in response was, “I understand.” Your gaze, never leaving his.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice gravelly as he edged closer. . . . the movement was very slight, but it had been enough for his chest to now be nearly touching yours. 

“Oh, Jake, no. . .,” you sighed, just as his chest made contact with yours. “Thank you. . .”

The situation in your pants got worse as he pushed against you, just enough for your nipples to respond in delight. Fuck. No. Not here. Not now. 

So, as much as you didn’t want the moment to end, you blinked to gain some sort of traction. If anything were to happen in the kitchen, it would be foolish. Someone could walk in at any moment. And that would be quite the way to have to explain to your grandparents the burning connection you shared with this man. 

. . .And, further, have to figure out a way to explain how the baby in your belly was a result from said connection.

But something must’ve clicked for him, too. Because, when you opened your eyes, he was stepping back. The disappointment you felt licking at your heart was bothersome, but you ignored it. He was right for backing up. You were right for trying to end the moment. 

“What you said before, y/n. . . It’s not all true, you know,” he began, breaking the silence. His voice was pitched just a tad lower. 

His tone made your cheeks heat, but before you got too tied up in him, you softly grinned — didn’t know what he was talking about. “What did I say before? I can’t remember. . . Pregnancy brain, lots of emotions about everything. . . Hard to keep up these days.”

“Yeah. . .,” he breathed a laugh, reaching out and laying an open palm on the island countertop. “No, but you said that you didn’t have someone to dance with. . . I was going to tell you, before you started apologizing. . . You do have someone to dance with. You always will have that — with me.”

It was, in theory, a sweet thing to say. But— it wasn’t true. And your heart hammered in your chest at the thought, heat engulfing your skin in irritation. 

“Jake, you know just as well as I do that that isn’t the truth. . .,” you trailed off, crossing your arms across your chest to stay firm on your point. “You’re with—.”

“No matter who I’m with, y/n. You’ll, at the very least, always have a friend in me,” he said, the word ‘friend’ piercing your chest. 

“‘Friends’. . .,” you scoffed the word without thinking, the term falling off your lips. You hated the term, quite frankly.

“There’s more to what I was implying, y/n. . .,” he remarked, coming closer, leaning back against the island, right next to you. 

And, the way he crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned easily against the island. . . It had you wanted to chew a fucking head off. He wasn’t your someone. Seriously — emotional was an understatement these days.

“I can’t care about the implications, Jake,” you snapped, outwardly sighing deeply from your chest. You shook your head as you looked down to your socks, padding your toes on the kitchen floor. The beat of “Summer Soft” filtering in from the living room — it was too catchy not to tap it out. 

“Y/n, you know that I’ll always—.”

Without a second thought, you were spinning on your heel and pinning him with a stare. You couldn’t hold back any longer. Looking into his eyes, the moment, the song. . . The honesty was pushing at your lips, begging to be heard. You’d done so well this morning. All day long, in fact. . . But not anymore.

“No, Jake,” you insisted, staying strong as you lost a single breath at the sight of him. You had to pause briefly as you looked into the eyes you loved so dearly. But when his mouth twitched to speak, you stopped him. “You won’t always. Stop. Please. You can’t—do what you did on Friday, then ignore me all day yesterday, reject me last night, and then say you’ll always be this or that for me. Not when you’re obviously that for her. First and foremost. Everyone fucking knows it. So, please.”

“Who did I choose to spend Christmas with?”

That didn’t fucking matter to you right now. Nor when his ass leaned a little further into the kitchen island, pressing deliciously against it. Fuck. Stupid fucking islands. You despised the other memory associated with him and your goddamned island. Him, moaning. Maya, on her motherfucking knees. 

Jesus fuck. Of course that was what was coming to your mind. 

“Okay, yes,” you momentarily relented, crossing your arms at your chest. “That’s fair, sure. But—don’t you worry, Jake,” you began, wanting to push him. “I haven’t forgotten how you spent the last national holiday.”

His brows furrowed, confused. “Friendsgiv—?”

“Oh, no no, Jake,” you smirked, no humor at all in your tone. And his raised brows indicated he knew exactly where this was going. The way his mouth had formed into an ‘o’. “I will never forget how thankful, grateful, and blessed I felt on Thanksgiving to come home and see Maya on her knees for you in our kitchen. Happy Thanksgiving to me. So, thank you, Jake, for not making me bear witness to that again. Thank you so much for choosing the road less traveled today.”

“You’re not the road less—. . . God,” he began, a growl taking over before he mirrored your stance. Crossing his own arms across his chest as his heated stare danced with yours. 

Neither of you said a word for a couple of minutes. It was long enough that you started to feel your heartbeat in a way that was threatening more need for the man. So, you’d taken that bodily response as an excuse to look away. You bent to look in the oven, opening the door a bit to get a good look. You blew your hair out of your face. 

Before you could turn back to him, he’d decided to begin speaking again. And as much as you wanted to outwit him again, you didn’t. You loved his voice too much. You’d missed it. Needed to hear him.

“No matter what, y/n, you will always be someone I want to dance with. . . No matter who we are with. You are and will always be special to me,” he’d insisted. Finally you turned to him once more, not even trying to mask the look of sadness evident on your features. He could see it. You weren’t going to hide your facial reactions when you’d just bit his head off. “Baby or not, you changed me. You helped me heal. . . and that is never going away. No matter how much we hurt each other or how many people come between us.”

You were at a loss for words. Didn’t know what to say to all of that. Your heart was already threatening to break through your chest and land at his feet. 

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind that you weren’t ready with a response. He began an entirely different subject. “I. . .,” he started. And, you knew, with the way he was trailing off that he was waiting for your eyes to meet his. 

But you weren’t ready to look at him. Couldn’t. 

Still, though, even without your eyes, he kept on. “I fed Stevie before I left. Figured you might want to stay here with your family until later tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed, eyes watering at his gentle gesture. Why must you do such kind things, Jacob? 

“Thank you,” you grinned, bashful as your eyes remained glassy. “That was really sweet and thoughtful of you. I appreciate it,” you grinned, your cheeks undoubtedly hot pink at the thought of his kindness. “I’m—um—really happy that you came today,” you said, clearing your throat before looking over at the oven timer. Only a few minutes left. But you wanted longer in here with him. . . Damn it. “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you myself, but I just thought you’d be with. . .”

His eyes floated over your face, brows dipping. Thinking — considering your words. 

“Yeah, no. . .,” he awkwardly huffed a laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck. He messed with his hair, fluffing it a bit. He was obviously nervous by all of the feelings transpiring. . .but. . . so were you. “Also, your present is at home,” he quietly said, the space between you filling with something you couldn’t put a finger to. “I wanted to give it to you when it was just the two of us. . .”

Jake getting you a Christmas present was not something you’d been expecting. . . The idea that he’d done so made your chest heat. He’d thought to get you a gift? Just as you had for him? Maybe he had meant half of the shit he’d said. . . The back and forth was just beginning to wear you down. 

Not that you had much room to talk. . .

“I actually left yours at home, too. . . ‘S sitting in the corner of my room,” you replied, your cheeks hot under his dark gaze. Your eyelids fluttered as you went to rub your belly. Briefly, you remembered the frame from that store. “Is my gift that frame we found?”

“No, silly. . .,” he grinned, walking towards you once more to meet you. He reached his thumb to brush the apple of your cheek. “That was for Lav, remember?” Suddenly, his voice got lower and his eyes hooded as he kept your eyes locked with his. “You, sweet girl, have got your very own gift. . .”

Thankfully, the timer to the oven went off just in time, making you jump. The sudden action was enough for his hand to drop and for your line of sight to go from him to the stove. The blinking 00:00 was telling you to cut it out.

You cleared your throat, nervously pulling at your sleeves before you looked at him from the corner of your eye. “Can you help me with the pies?”

“Of course, babydoll.”

Fuck. Of course, he had to say shit like that that left your heart pounding in your ears. Even after he’d helped you set the few pies out on the stove, your head was in the clouds. 

And as you made your way back into the living room with him following behind you, you were feeling such a sense of calm at how you’d mended things in that short span of time. . . You wanted to sink into him and keep working on things. But, was that risky? Scary? Impossible to fix everything?

When you made it back to the living room, the dancing was over and your family was sitting around enjoying their gifts. Josh and Elsie, giggling to themselves as your grandparents admired the scrapbook Elsie had put together for them. It made your heart so warm, the feeling too peaceful to not sink into. 

All of your favorite people in one place. That especially applied to the man behind you and the little one within you. It was second nature at this point to place a hand on your tummy in moments like this, so you did just that.

Although, when you glanced behind you to gauge Jake’s reaction to the serene moment, he was furrowing a brow as he read the screen of his phone he was now holding in his hand. His jaw was clenching once more as his fingers made a few swipes. Just like this afternoon, his face was hard. 

You didn’t want to gain his attention, though. No, his attention to his screen only proved your lack of importance in comparison to the woman he’d decided to love when you broke him. He was so immersed, looking at the screen. Before you knew it, he was walking away with it held to his ear. 

You didn’t have to guess who it was. And, unfortunately, he was already answering it as he left the room. Your line of sight stayed locked on him as you watched his retreating form, broad shoulders tight under his sweater. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on, My?”

Where you usually would have leaned into the music playing around you, you couldn’t even do that in your bitter state. Because, of all songs, “Ordinary Pain” was playing. The lyrics were perfect for the current, tangled mess of your heart. . . the song was just resonating a bit too perfectly for your taste. 

Don't fool yourself

But tell no one else

That it's more than just

An ordinary pain

In your heart

You hated how much this sad fuckin’ love song resonated with your broken heart. And, the smile you forced as you sat beside Josh and Elsie was so fake — all you wanted to do was scream into a void. 

When you catch up

But she says goodbye

Hold back your tears and before you start to cry

Say you feel unnecessary pain. . . 

In your heart

Seriously. Who in the fucking fuck gave ‘Little Stevie Wonder’ the right to narrarate your broken heart? 

Jake’s POV 

Her hair still smelled the same as it did all those months ago. Coconut, vanilla, a hint of strawberries. . . and something so warm and distinctly her. . . but it was a little different now. 

Heady and intoxicatingly sweeter. Thanks to her growing our baby, her body was going into hyperdrive and making her more. Apparently, in every way — even her smell. And taste. Goddamn — the taste. . . 

The past few days had been fucking torture. . . because all I’d been able to imagine was her. Me, inside of her. Whether it be my tongue, my fingers, or my dick. . . I’d imagined all of it. Had wanted to fulfill all of those thoughts and needs when I got home. . . But, unfortunately, last night had not ended up the way I’d wanted it to. 

I’d fallen asleep with tension all the way from my head to my fucking toes. And, even though I’d fallen asleep (literally) as soon as I’d hit the covers of my bed, I’d woken up stiff. All of me, hurting. My head, throbbing with the way my neck hadn’t eased at all throughout the night. . . Somehow, my neck and back had been worse when I’d awoken. Like it’d had time to settle in all of the places it’d wanted to make me suffer the most. 

Thankfully, it’d dissipated a while after I’d taken a few ibuprofen as I’d enjoyed a nice, hot cup of my coffee after waking up. And, as I’d leaned against that counter with the worst headache known to man, massaging my forehead, I’d heard her. Those keys. In the dish. She’d tried to be subtle and silent, but it’d failed. And I’d been so glad that it had. Seeing her had made everything better. Even if my head had still been hurting, seeing her — glowing and more gorgeous than I’d ever seen her — had been a fix my body had needed to ease up. 

She made things easier. My bones and muscles, loosening for her. . . Felt so safe around her. No matter her unpredictable emotions, I felt at home in her presence. Love. That was what I felt. An all-consuming and reassuring love — a feeling that made me see the light. All brought out in y/n.

Things had been awkward at first. The night before, having been left with me acting like an asshole when she’d only been excited to see me. I had let her down, not at all doing what I’d promised I wanted to do. Because of my exhaustion over all of the Maya shit. I’d felt guilty all around. Guilty towards Maya and being annoyed by her. And guilt towards y/n for not giving her all of the attention she was owed from me. All of my attention, ever, could be given to her and I wouldn’t regret it. 

But. It couldn’t be like that. I had a girlfriend. Fuckass situation. And I’d felt every bit of that fuckass shit boiling to the surface that morning. Upon looking into y/n’s eyes, in the daylight, and knowing I had cheapened an opportunity we’d both been waiting for. . . I’d fucked her over so many times within the past couple days. . . I wouldn’t blame her for not wanting me anymore. I’d used her. Yanked her around. Stood her up. 

But this minute, this scene. . . The way she laid with me, everyone else having slinked off to bed at the later hour. 

Y/n had been the first to fall asleep, but she’d made no move to leave the room like the others. 

I knew her well enough to know her desire to be present with the ones she loved. Quality time was a love language of hers. And tiredness was not going to get in the way of that – time with the ones she cared for most came before any heavy eyelids. 

I had noticed in recent times that she got tired much easier than before, the task of making a human life, physically taxing in a way I’d never understand. In a way that made me want to wrap her up and possibly feel any of it with her to take some of the weight off. 

I’d gotten to help take some of the load off – the tiniest bit when she’d let sleep take her a couple of hours ago. Her body had already been leaning into mine before she’d gotten sleepy. But when she dozed, the first place her head landed was on my shoulder. That was when the smell of her hair had infiltrated my senses, captivating me. Wrapping around me like a warm hug – familiarity in the most genuine, beautiful sense. 

At her bowed head on my shoulder, I’d moved my arm, up and behind her to accommodate her soft, sleeping form. She hadn’t moved an inch away after the sound of her light snores, that met my ear. If anything, she’d only nestled her head deeper – a little more into my neck, her head more on the curve of my collarbone.

Her grandparents had been the first to bid us all goodnight. At the end of the first movie, claiming their age as the reason. They had kissed her so delicately on her forehead. Her lips had even perked in her sleep at the gesture – her response to the love they showed her. She was deserving of the world and every act of love that was given to her. 

Elsie and Josh had asked if I wanted to watch the next movie in the series with them, giving me a look as they surveyed how y/n was snuggled against me. I’d simply ignored their ridiculous behavior and happily agreed, not wanting to move or react for fear of losing the moment with her. The rise and fall of her sleeping body, too calming to rid myself of. . . her soft breaths steadied me in a way little else could. 

Though, again, after her Grandma and Grandpa had clicked their door shut, Elsie and Josh had turned to me and y/n. Y/n, completely oblivious to their bullshit and still sleeping soundly. And, after giving her sweet form a simultaneous, tender smile, they’d smirked at me and fucking eyed me — again. 

Weasels. 

Then, both of them had shared a secret smirk with each other before giving me the same pondering stare – like they were curious about something. Then, almost in sync with the other, they’d raised their brows at me. But before I could tell them to fuck off or before they could make it any more than whatever that had been, they were turning back to their initial place on the loveseat, her leaning back against him, snuggled between his legs. 

Like I selfishly wanted y/n to do. . .  dammit.

With that thought, though, I’d bravely decided to move her. . . Just a bit. 

I shifted just enough to maneuver her body, keeping her comfortable while also laying her down further on my lap. Truly, it was to avoid a crook in her neck – mostly. But the position was an added bonus for me, too. It felt so much better – closer. More like us. I made it so she could lay her head on a swiftly placed throw pillow, situated just so on my lap.

To my complete and utter relief, she’d seemed to subconsciously welcome the change. Her body even moved a bit on her own to adjust. She’d curled up against me, on her side, pressing into the bottom of my stomach. She'd done so just enough for her hair to touch a sliver of skin on my stomach, just a tad exposed at the hem of my sweater. To my surprise, she’d even reached a hand up to clutch my thigh, right next to her head and the pillow. 

She’d sighed, too. Content. At peace. But the way she’d gone to hold my thigh with the sigh. . .? It’d made me very grateful for the throw pillow. 

It had been that way for the entire movie. A fucking dream. 

Once that film had concluded, it had taken almost no time for Elsie and Josh to jump up from their spots. They were all quiet and giggly and weird and touchy, barely paying me any mind before they were on their way to Elsie’s room. Josh’s hands had not been to himself one bit as they stumbled over each other, but he’d managed one lone, sly-ass wink in my direction before rounding the corner of the hallway. 

In all honesty, of course I knew what the fuck he was implying. He’d been very clear on his opinions concerning y/n and myself. But, all that mattered was how she laid, peacefully in my lap, at the present moment. 

Now. Heaven. 

Me, y/n, and our baby girl – warm and safe inside of y/n’s belly. Our Lavender. It still astonished me that we’d wanted the same damn name. What in the fuck were the chances? 

I hoped to god y/n didn’t want to give up on us yet. The past couple days had been fucked. But. . .  I needed her. . . And I especially felt this way as she moved in a certain way on top of me — only slightly, but enough that she made a little whimper in her sleep. Had my head spinning and my dick throbbing. 

I needed to taste her again. Her release, emulated melted sugar against my tongue three nights ago: in the shower, and then again in her bedroom. At the moment, I just wanted to say fuck all of the obstacles that kept her from me. And, even more so, the ones that have kept me from her. 

The way we’d connected earlier had made me feel nearly sick with love for her; just our eyes doing the talking while her Grandpa played the Stevie Wonder record she’d bought him. 

(Which, as fate would have it, was the same one I’d bought her. Songs In The Key Of Life. . . a cult classic amongst all classic music connoisseurs.  I’d tried hard to find a special pressing of it – knowing how much she loved Stevie Wonder. Though, she still had no idea, of course – wanted to give it to her at an intimate time, where it could just be us.) 

The lyrics to every one of those three songs I’d heard. 

“Knocks Me Off My Feet” had resonated with my pure and unadulterated lovesickness for her, of course. I wished I could repeat the words “I love you” to her over and over again – just like he had in that song. . . . And then, as we’d left the kitchen, “Ordinary Pain” had punched me in the gut as, ironically, I’d been causing myself and her pain by walking away from her. For Maya. . . .again.

But, the one that had played while we were in the kitchen. . . “Summer Soft” – fuck.  That shit had cut me deep. That song sang our entire summer love story, in such a melancholic, depressingly nostalgic way. I wanted that again — more than anything. I’d even searched the lyrics afterwards, while on the phone with Maya as she’d had some sort of anxiety attack (which had caught me off guard, as she’d never had one before). 

And, as Maya had cried to me over extremely tiny shit (in comparison to what I knew y/n’s mind to reel with), I’d read through them. . .

Morning rain

Gently plays her rhythms on your window pane

Giving you no clue of when she plans to change

To bring rain or sunshine

And so you wait to see what she'll do

Is it sun or rain for you

But it breaks your heart in two

When you find it's October

I wanted the sun and the rain. . . I wanted it with her. Didn’t want her to push me away. . . wanted to be tender with her – care for her. Hold her. Touch her. Feel her. Simply be with her. Just like summer – wanted another try at August, September, October. . .  Just as he proclaimed in the song. I wanted her always. Still hated that we parted in the first place. 

I’d always hate that.

When she shifted the slightest bit once more, her eyebrows crinkled and her fingers fanned over her belly before holding the bottom of it. Safely. Securely. She was taking care of our baby. Every time I thought about it, my heart would beat just a little steadier after halting for a moment. 

The sexy lounge set she’d chosen to wear today hugged her curves so damn well, I couldn’t help but admire every soft curve of her body visible to me. . . And the bracelet that she held on her wrist, compliments of her sister. I carefully messed with the lavender charm, not wanting to wake her. The way she’d wiped delicately at her eye before Elsie had been there in an instant to help her put it on. Every detail of her in that moment, I’d watched in wonder. So beautiful. So angelic. So pure— contrary to her belief. She was so flawlessly elegant to me. Just as refined as the untouched, cream-colored lounge set she wore.

I watched her, in the sharpest quality, as she laid so gracefully on my lap. Everything about her, in 4-fucking-K. . . And, it made my heart come alive more than ever before when I glanced at the charm once more, thinking about how she quantified the importance of lavender as I did. Lavender, so consecrated between us. . . Enough to make it our daughter’s name.

She burrowed deeper against the pillow, turning more to her belly. Not laying on her tummy. I knew her well enough that she did her best to stay aware of that, even whilst sleeping. It was y/n. Of course she thought about shit like that even when asleep. 

Once situated, she’d sighed with a teeny tiny whimper, again, as her hand slipped over her tummy, lifting the bottom hem of the sweater a little. . . Before she was moving to grip firmer onto my thigh. She held me gently, still, but surely. And, her fingers moved higher. . . . her hand fanning out a bit on me as it just had on her belly – just enough to graze awfully close to the zipper of my jeans. . . 

Fuck.

With that action, I decided I needed to touch her, too. Something to distract myself from the growing problem in my pants because of her innocent touch. The hand that had been balanced on the back of the couch came down to rest gently at her side, framing her waist. Then her hip, where I then grazed the underside of her swollen belly. I started by barely grazing my fingers over the soft, cream colored sweater. 

It wasn’t long that I held my hand there. . . before I felt her stir. Her free hand, slowly reaching to smooth over mine, so delicately to hold mine on her tummy. Fuck. Felt so nice. Like home.

She cleared her throat. And before I knew it, she was speaking, so softly. It was a serene moment and her tone said as much. Such a pretty, pretty voice. 

“I felt her quite a bit during the first movie,” she sniffed sleepily with a sigh and a yawn, breathing deeply with the hushed words. The side of her breast grazed my arm that laid against her body. I pressed the pillow on my crotch down just a bit more. Now was not the time. “But I think she’s resting right now. No kicks for the time being.”

Wait. . . moving? Kicks? What?! 

“Kicks?”

My eyes were glued to the parts of her face I could see past her loose curls, now more like gentle waves after a full day.  So beautiful. But. . . Rather than getting distracted by her features, I watched her. Waited for a sign that she meant what I thought she meant. I mean, what else could she have meant? 

“Oh. . . Yeah,” she said, slowly, measured in her response. Her hand gently flexed over mine on her swollen belly. “She—um, she actually kicked for the first time last night. Right before you got home, actually,” she sighed, the thigh hand coming up to her face to cover a little yawn. “Minutes before you walked through the front door last night. . .,” she breathed a laugh, resting the hand over my thigh once more. 

No. . . Lav had kicked?!

Not while I was. . . Fuck! 

Fuck it all. 

My life was a goddamn joke. Trapped in that motherfucking car — right outside in the parking lot. All the while, arguing with Maya over trivial shit and revealing the gender without y/n’s permission. . . as she was upstairs feeling our little girl. For the first time. 

I’d fucking missed it. For nothing. 

I didn’t want to act too disappointed, but I couldn’t help the way it leaked into my tone and words when I spoke next. I was heartbroken, understandably. Foolishly. “I’m so upset I missed it. Goddamn. Just fuckin’ missed it, too, huh?”

She was silent for a few lengthy seconds. Her eyes were trained ahead and nowhere near me. She was watching the dancing title menu for the movie we’d been watching. I wished she’d look at me. . . But it was okay. I didn’t want to make her feel as if she owed me anything. Not right now. I was the stupid fuckin’ asshole in this entire situation. 

“Well. . . Not technically. She was still doing it when you walked in — went crazy when she heard your voice. . .,” she commented with a melancholy huff of a laugh, then a sniffle. “I— I actually tried to tell you. When you walked in. Remember?”

Yes. Obviously I remembered. It had been lingering in my mind since I’d passed her up. 

Fuck. Gotta be fucking kidding. I was a selfish fucking moron. A prick move to not take the time to hear her out when she was so excited — after everything that had transpired. After ignoring her for an entire day after the phone sex. I’d already felt like shit for that. But now that I was finding out that I’d missed it? Willingly? Passing up the opportunity to feel my baby girl move because I was tired. . . A massive, debilitating punch to the gut.

I mentally vowed to myself that that would be the last time I missed a damn thing that happened. It was ridiculous to even act like y/n wasn’t important in the first place. And I’d done so enough on that godforsaken trip. It was all because of that fruitless trip. I’d been mentally drained from the stupid ass conversations with my suddenly nosy-ass girlfriend. And her dickhead of a dad. 

Completely rejected my family for these people who didn’t matter nearly as much as my baby girl or the woman who carried her. . . 

So many monstrous ideas swirled in my head as I watched her hand float from my hand on her tummy to her hair, turning up towards me just a bit, tucking some behind her ear. More of her face was visible for me to admire. And there was no missing the wetness in the corner of her eye. Dampening her eyelashes. She’d kept it hidden. She was blinking like crazy. I knew she was trying to hide how much it had affected her. Another punch to the gut.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you out, baby. I’ll regret that shit forever. God. . . I’m so damn sorry.”

“You had other important things on your mind, I’m sure,” she sniffed, a gentle hand, going to subtly dab under her eye. “I’m sure it was an exciting weekend — getting to be with Maya’s family, and all?”

“No,” I said it without a second fucking thought. And I meant that shit. I was tired of lying. 

“No?” Her brows crinkled with her question. I had to resist the urge to run my finger over the perfectly waxed edge of it that faced me.

“Not at all. I missed you more than life itself the entire time. And if I would’ve stayed home with you— we would’ve gotten everything we’ve been wanting. . . And—,” I sniffed, the emotions taking over and annihilating my heart. The conflict was crippling my heart. “I wouldn’t have missed my little girl kicking for the first time.”

“You had no choice.”

“And I wish I would have had one. I should’ve made up an excuse to get out of going.”

“No, Jake. . . Don’t— you have to keep true to your word, honey.”

She was the most selfless woman. . . And the fact that she wouldn’t let herself feel that part of her heart broke me. Instead of giving into those emotions and understanding herself, she rejected them for the sake of past hurts. It broke my heart for her. I didn’t want her to carry that shit and I, personally, was still learning how the hell to respond to it.

“But—,” I began, but she was quick to correct me. 

“But nothing.” She still wasn’t looking at me, just staring straight ahead, before blinking and letting her eyes go to look down at her bump.

I moved my hand from her belly, feeling momentarily undeserving of it. . . Y/n, being so excited to see me, waiting for me. . . Our daughter, waiting for me. . . At the same moment I'd been giving Maya access to very sensitive information pertaining to the other two. God damn.

A couple of silent minutes passed before she was slowly reaching up, delicately grabbing my hand from her side. Gently, she placed it on the curve of her belly once more. She kept her soft palm over the back of my hand. She held me there. Right in the center of her swollen abdomen. Not a word was spoken between us. Both of us, just letting the moment sink in. Waited for Lavender to pick up on the cue. . . 

But she didn’t. 

“What do you think she’s doing?” I asked, finally finding my voice again. I had to get over myself. I wasn't going to let my personal upset bleed over onto y/n tonight. I couldn't. Just as soft as my tone, my fingers danced the slightest bit to make delicate letters against her sweater-clad tummy.

“What do you mean?” She giggled a bit with the words, taking her hand away from mine to gently lay on my wrist, instead. Oh, the feeling of her holding onto me – purely for the feeling of being close. Her own finger skated on the back of my arm, just as I did the same to her belly. . . It made my chest feel so damn warm. 

The warm glow from the living room lamps and the tree, sensually highlighting her beautiful, smooth complexion. Her features, lighting up — she was enchanting me in the golden glow. Ethereal, mesmerizing goddess of a woman. 

My lips lifted at the feeling of it all. Her laugh, her body under my hand. . . how she held onto my arm just because. . . It helped my soul tremendously to just be in the moment with her. Our breaths, our voices – the only sounds circling the silent air of the living room. Thankfully, the menu screen for the movie was silent. I only wanted to hear her.

“Is she dancing, you think? Jumping? Kicking? Rolling around?” I pondered aloud, continuing to move my fingers over her belly, drawing our baby girl’s name against her sweater. 

L-A-V-E-N-D-E-R. . . . . I wondered briefly what her middle name would be. . . Would we somehow come up with the same idea for that name as well? Would it be easy to agree upon? 

“Hmmm,” y/n interrupted my thoughts with the low hum of her response. 

I flattened my hand on her belly, focusing in on y/n. And, without even thinking, I used my spare hand to brush back some hair from her face so I could see her better. The action made her turn a smidge, gently, slowly flipping around to be on her back fully – the best she could, at least. Those eyes. . . looking up at me, for a second, from my lap. My favorite sight — the deep tresses of her eyes. They were glowing in the dark room – shining with every single color on the Christmas tree. They seemed to wrap around mine and pull me in even further. 

“I’d say she’s playing the air guitar. Wants to be just like her daddy,” she said, looking down briefly as her hand smoothed over her belly once. Her touch caused her sweater to hike up — just a little more than before. . . But enough. 

Enough so that I was fucking done for with the combination of her sweet words and the glimpse of her soft tummy. . . Goddammit. 

“Yeah?”

“Well. . .,” her big, beautiful eyes found mine. Mother of fuck. “I want her to be just like her daddy, so. . . I can only hope she wants the same.”

The way she stared into my eyes, letting her irises mold to mine, I felt every word she said. I sensed her heart in every syllable of every word. This woman. . . 

So, before I could process another goddamned thought, I was sliding my hand up her sweater. Had to feel her skin. More of her, had to touch her body. . . I let my hand rest firmly on her belly, before my eyes were searching hers for permission as I let my hand glide further up. 

Without even meaning to, my fingers merely grazed the underside of her breast. . . But I wouldn’t go further until I knew she wanted that right now. 

Though, rather than giving me a verbal response, her eyes only seemed to sparkle more. Looking up at me, piercing my soul. . . Her lips, lifting into a secretive grin. Her nose, twitching just a bit, cutely. And before I could make another move, she began to rise from her position. Though, she didn’t even give me time to worry that her next move could mean her possibly leaving me. I didn’t have time for that thought when she was smoothly adjusting her voluptuous, goddess-like body on my lap. 

She rested on her knees, on either side of my hips, straddling me the best she could in this spot on the couch. Her chest took no time to meet mine, her belly pressing, snugly, against my abdomen. . . She was surrounding me. I was completely immersed in her — just as the universe fucking intended. 

I felt her full, swollen breasts against my heaving chest. And, thanks to the thin material of her cashmere pants and whatever panties she’d decided on today, it wasn’t long before I felt all of her. And, maybe it was just my overactive, wishful imagination, but I swore I felt how warm she was underneath those pants. Felt her connect with my pulsing dick. I swore to fuck. 

I knew how warm and wet she could feel. . . All I wanted was to make her get there. Wanted to get her there, through her pants, her underwear, and mine. . . It felt like her body was burning mine, begging me, with fervor, for more. And who was I to resist such a damn incredible temptation? 

Not taking a second longer to contemplate it, I thrusted up into her. I needed her – it was almost like her body was inviting mine in. . . Felt how her body enveloped my straining cock, even through our clothes, as she pushed down against me. She began rocking her hips, in time to some beautiful, unspoken rhythm. I fit, so tight, so right, in the heavenly crease of her clothed pussy.  

Pretty, desperate moans escaped her lips, but she didn’t let them for long before she was covering her mouth with a quick hand. My face didn’t hide anything, as I let my disappointment show in not being able to hear her. I wanted to hear her. But with a subtle turn of her head, in the direction of where her grandparents had gone earlier, my mind became clearer. She didn’t want to wake her grandparents. And neither did I. . . But. There was a solution for this. 

Stilling my hips, granting both of us some reprieve, I removed her hand from her mouth. With a gentle hand pulling her towards me, and her eagerness to follow my lead, the shell of her ear was touching my mouth. Right where I wanted her. “I need to hear you, y/n. . . .,” I urged, lowly, wrapping my fingers, gingerly, into her locks. “Make those pretty noises against my ear, hm?” 

“Yes sir,” I heard her sigh into thin air, her head falling back to rest further into my hand. 

Fuck yes. With the same hold on her, I nestled her head right against my neck. My other hand, keeping a sure hold of her left hip as I pushed my hips to meet hers once again with a languid, lazy movement. And, just as I desired, she was now making those perfect sounds against the crest of my ear. Even better, I got to feel her gentle, rasping breaths against my neck as I continued to move our bodies, grinding my dick against her in a pattern we both knew – very well.

I felt like I could damn well explode at any moment. The sighs fell softly and directly into my ear. She wrapped her arms around my neck in no time, showing she wanted to be right there, pressed against me in every way, and I was so damn relieved. Because god knew I needed it.

I tucked my nose into her neck to muffle any sounds I’d make, too. And when I did, I felt my eyes become wet at the way she smelled so much like home and safety. She’d created my safest haven, all of those months ago. I hadn’t thought it possible to feel so safe — especially after I’d left a place that had felt like the exact opposite.

But she’d shown me. . . Y/n had shown me that there was safety, beyond the limits of my mind’s imagination. . . She had offered a complete stranger a home, and had been bound and determined to make me feel at peace, as soon as I’d moved in. All the while, I’d decided to fuck all because I’d been so damn afraid of how much I’d felt for her. . . Instantly. 

This same smell that I was breathing in now, so much closer than moments ago when she’d been asleep on my lap. . . This sugary, delicious fragrance that had come off of her in waves that day. Anytime she’d been near me, I’d been instantly soothed by the fresh fragrance that she exuded. It was that of vanilla, coconut, strawberries. . . and a warm, sweet musk that belonged specifically to her. . . And, like I’d already noticed earlier this evening, her scent was even more powerful with pregnancy. . . Pure fucking ecstasy.  

“Jake,” she sighed into my ear, her hand wrapping up in the hair at the nape of my neck, tugging on me in a way that had me groaning and bucking up into her, needing more from this goddess on my lap. 

When my rock hard front made contact with her sensitive pussy, she let out the tiniest little whimper that had me threatening to bust on the spot. I tucked my nose closer against her neck, my mouth grazing her ear before I nipped at the flesh there. “Yeah, baby? You like that?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to, Jacob Thomas,” she corrected me smartly, the words spoken into my ear, so low. My skin buzzed with overwrought need, tension, and longing for her. 

Without a second thought, I began to give into an impulsive urge. My hand flattened at the bottom of her belly to slide up and under her soft sweater – just as I’d begun before she’d climbed on top of me. The fabric bunched up against my arm, as I went higher. And, as I made my way to her tits,  I decided to take my sweet time to spread my hands out against her and trace the hot flesh underneath with my well-practiced fingers. Her skin was so soft – essentially silk, truly. The way her skin felt under my touch had always amazed me. I’d never felt a girl so flawlessly smooth. 

I had a goal in mind, though, that was more than simply feeling her skin. 

And, once I made it where I wanted, I felt for whatever material the bra she’d worn was made of. Thankfully, when I located it, I realized she’d chosen a thinner bra. It was more bralette than anything, but was still tight enough against her chest when I pulled it, that I knew it was maternity. The way the cups stretched under my hand indicated the hidden support the delicate, lacy material offered. Though, it still wasn’t so tight that I couldn’t easily pull down the right side’s lacy triangle of material. 

My hand immediately went to grab ahold of her warm breast, my thumb grazing over her oversensitive nipple. She trembled on top of me with a breathy moan and pressed herself into me. Her breath hitched as I continued to massage the supple flesh. I admired the way she felt in my hand, the way her breast was so heavy, as her body prepared itself for my baby. 

Goddamn. My dick strained against my jeans that were undoubtedly too tight. Her body responded to me so well, her right nipple having become impossibly harder against my palm. 

That’s fucking right, baby. . ., I thought, wanting to say it out loud, but not able to form words with how she was making my brain short circuit. Show me how you like that. 

I felt territorial with her body. I wanted it to be my job to take care of her changing body. . . I didn’t want anyone else caring for her body like this. The thought alone had my blood pressure rising, my heart pumping hard in my chest, all the way to my ears. 

She was mine.

“Jake,” she sighed into my ear, her hips languidly keeping a rhythm with mine as I focused on occasionally rutting my front up into hers, while also paying mind to this tender part of her body. “I really did miss you. . . So badly.”

Briefly, I noted how the swell of her growing belly peeked out from the bottom of her sweater. The way the material had gathered, while I was able to feel her perfect chest, I also got a view of the most miraculous task I could imagine a woman completing. I kept one hand on her chest, using my leverage there to move her a little. I wasn’t too rough with her, since I knew how that might hurt her. But, I kept my grip firm enough on her tit that I was able to manipulate her movements at the top and middle part of her immaculate body.

I felt this overwhelming sense of possessiveness take over me for this woman, in a way I knew I shouldn’t have felt. . . But it was my mind and body’s natural response to y/n. Even before she’d carried my baby, I felt this way for her. I couldn’t help it.

I assisted in her movements as she rocked against me, with a tempo that felt so achingly familiar. . . I could have cried with how damn right it felt to hold her like this. That bold and measured flow of her hips, unique to y/n. As she pressed down further against me, she reminded me of the incredible power she had over me. . . And now, it was every time her front connected with mine. 

With one meticulous roll of her hips, there was zero doubt that I felt her pussy fit to me through our clothes. And, she must’ve felt it, too, with how she suddenly stilled. She held her hips there, her breath catching. I felt the distinctive way her pussy liked to tighten around me. It was different from any other woman. 

And, as I sat, utterly dumbfounded in wonderment of the woman on top of me, she took advantage of my weakened state. After leaving a gentle kiss on the column of my neck, she was pulling her face from the crook of where I’d placed her earlier. 

When she was out from where she’d nuzzled against me, she was looking down at me with this fire in her eyes that should have indicated she was about to do something that could end me. And, very nearly, she did when she flattened her hips, to get as close as she could to me. When she did this, there was no question in my mind that I felt the clench of her sweet pussy around the tender head of my dick. She watched my face intently, while also releasing a moan of her own at the way we fit together. 

My head rolled back against the back of the couch, but not for long, as she was sighing my name, asking me to look at her. When I made eye contact with her again, my heart skipped a beat in my chest at the vulnerability her gaze showed. Then, I noticed she was rising up from her knees again, her hands gripping my shoulders for leverage, before her round ass was going to sit on my thighs. She arched her back to get a better angle, her belly bumping into me as she made languid figure 8’s, the best she could, without actually riding my dick. 

Our bodies, in tune with each other, as I felt myself leak in desperation, just the slightest bit from my tip. While, at the same moment, I felt a touch of wetness seep through her thin pants onto mine with a particularly intentional, brutally slow roll of her hips against my throbbing cock. She obviously knew what was happening in her pants, and I assumed she wanted me to know, too. 

Her next words confirmed this. “Do you feel that, Jake?” She whispered, huskily into the space between us. My head swam with it all, my hips bucking up into hers of their own accord. I bit my lip, nodding at her once to continue. Wanted to hear her say it. “Do you feel what my body does when you’re near? Need you so badly. . . Not even my panties can contain it. . .”

Mother of god. Control. I had to gain some of it back. My dick was raging with need, threatening a reaction I did not want in my pants. I wanted it inside of her. 

“You want me to fuck you in this living room?” I sighed the rhetorical question, into the crest of her ear, before nipping at it. Just wanted to see how she’d react. And when it made her moan and push down harder against my dick, I knew she was fully in it with me. Dammit. “Right here? You wanna ride my dick? Where anyone could fuckin’ see?”

“Fuck, Jake. . . . I don’t even care at this point. . . Just need you,” she responded on a shaky breath, her body twitching when I shifted my hips up and into hers once more. Her eyes were dazed as she quickly regained composure, grinding against me in gentle sweeps, her core circling my dick, where she rubbed herself against me. 

I couldn’t help the little laugh that came from my lips. I was trying to act like I was in control when I most definitely wasn’t. There was no use in covering my weakness for her at this moment,  body betraying me when the smile turned into a low, pathetic grunt when she let her hips bounce effortlessly on top of me, so gently — just enough pressure. Her body moved on top of me, mimicking something I needed so badly. 

That sweet pelvis of hers, doing all of the work, up and down, on top of me. I couldn’t stop myself when I reached forward to grab ahold of her soft hips. My fingers, slipping beneath the cashmere of her sweater, holding firm to her body. I tried to regain some sense of control, as I began to move my fingers in the opposite direction, on her warm skin. I was measuring her little thrusts in time to what my dick was needy for, figuring out the rhythm she’d started for what I had planned next. 

This little pattern. . . I kept one hand on her hip, as the other one continued to dip further and further into her pants. As I pushed her down harshly onto me with the one hand, making her sweep her across where my body needed her most, I finally let my hand make its way to her heated center. I tapped my pointer and middle fingers against that little swollen clit, looking up at her face to gauge her reaction. Her hips stuttered on top of me as her eyebrows dipped in, pleasantly surprised. Her perfectly straight teeth bit into the plush skin of her lower lip. I repeated the action with my hand on her hip a few times, testing the waters a little more when I cupped her pussy in my hand. The guttural moan that escaped my lips as I felt her, soaking wet through her panties, was natural and a touch louder than it should’ve been. 

When she didn’t even look at me to correct me and shush me, I knew she was lost to the moment. She didn’t even care for her family to hear us at this point, and fuck – was that so damn hot. We were both being absolutely pathetic, writhing against each other on this damn couch, our bodies each demanding more from the other. These sexy little noises she was making, once again going to press her lips against the blazing hot skin of my neck, staining my neck to hell with every sigh, moan, and whimper. Against my neck and my hand, I could feel every reaction from her. It was almost too much for me. . . My dick, hard and hurting in my jeans.

I couldn’t stand this. She was downright desperate for me, just as I was for her. I was dizzy as fuck, my mind swimming with everything I wanted to do to her. I needed to feel more of her, but it was impossible on this tiny couch in this living room – out in the open. All I wanted was to rip these pants and thin-ass panties off her body and bend her over the arm of this couch. Wanted to fuck her until she didn’t remember a damned thing but the shape of my dick. 

But. . . . we couldn’t. I’d been bluffing with my earlier question of doing shit in the living room. I couldn’t help myself, though, as the thought continued to infiltrate my mind.

The way her core continued to gain friction against my hand with these hungry rolls of her pretty hips. I could feel her, growing wetter and wetter by the second – felt how her soaking panties warmed my palm to the point that I was sure she was leaking through them, onto my hand. . . . . Fuck. I had to say or do something before I busted a fuckin’ nut in my pants. So, against my better judgment, I decided to continue with the train of thought from earlier. . . . Just to drive her a bit more crazy. . . . Get out of my head with my own wants and needs. 

I took the hand from her hip, placing it at the base of her skull instead, wrapping a fistful of her hair in my palm. I needed a hold on her – just enough to bring her face up to mine so I could whisper what I wanted in her ear. And, once she moved with me and the side of her head was touching my mouth, I moved to speak into her ear. 

“How good would it feel, y/n? For me to take you, right now? Wanna fuck you until you can’t walk. . . On this couch, against every window, over your grandma’s kitchen island,” I spoke low and dark, licking her earlobe into my mouth as she mewled needily, her hips continuing to rub against my palm for more. “Force you to think of the way I fill you up, every time you’re in this damned living room from now on? Maybe then, even when you’re here and I’m not, you’ll remember who the father of our baby is. . .” 

“Jake. . .,” she sighed, whimpering for more than just pleasure, against my forehead. She placed a kiss there before she spoke, sadness painting her tone. “I’m sorry, baby. . . I thought you weren’t–?”

“I’m not mad,” I reassured, though my tone didn’t change. She needed to understand this. “But I do need the whole fuckin’ world to know who put that baby in your belly. . .,” I decided to go the extra mile and slipped my palm from the front of her panties. She whined from the loss of contact, but I knew she’d like what I wanted to do. Instead of simply holding her there, over the panties, I let my first two fingers slip under the hem of this poor excuse for underwear. And, as my fingers pressed against her, I felt how swollen, ready, and slick she was – all for me. Fuck. But, still, I wanted to put her on the spot. “And who the fuck were you wearing these panties for, baby?”

“Only you, Jake. Always — it’s only you,” she sighed, hiccuping as I gripped her hip again, to move her on top of me, just as I teased the tips of my fingers inside of her. 

Before I knew it, though, she took the initiative. She began grazing my fingers with her warm, soaking cunt until her entrance met my fingers. And as she sunk down onto my hand, all on her own, I thought I was going to fucking collapse. I kept my fingers strong and steady, as they became engulfed in her – so fucking wet and gripping me so tightly. . . . All I wanted was for her to be wrapped around my dick, just as she was imitating on my fingers. 

She grasped my shoulders, starting a rhythm of her own. And briefly, her daze wore off, just enough for her to test me back, it seemed. “But what gives you the right to question who I wear these panties for when you spent all weekend fucking your girlfriend?”

Maya being mentioned should have made me pause. . .But it didn’t. Not at all. In fact, it only made me want to make y/n fall apart more. She was the priority to me, always – but especially right now. I took control, once again, lifting her hip off of me. And when her brows crinkled in curiosity, dark eyes flaming at me, I didn’t even give her time to question me before I was slamming my fingers back into her fluttering pussy. Once they were completely engulfed in her, I flattened my hand against the front of her satin-smooth pussy, slapping the skin there with my palm to emphasize the intensity behind my actions. 

“I didn’t spend all weekend fucking her, though, baby,” I informed her on a ragged breath, still moving my hips in time with her as I changed my rhythm to let my fingers fuck her a little slower. I found it more than necessary for her to know what I was going to say — didn’t need her distracted. “You and I both know who the fuck I was cumming on my hand for this weekend. . .,” I continued, letting my hips begin a harsh, relentless rhythm against her, continually fucking my fingers deeper inside of her with each thrust. “Poor girl barely fuckin’ saw me, y/n. . . . I was too wrapped up in my fuckin’ phone – in you – to pay attention to her. That’s what I was doing all weekend and you goddamn know it.”

She glared at me. I let my thumb graze her clit, her eyes shutting for the briefest of moments to rub against my thumb. But, she was trying hard to stay focused. When she opened her eyes again, they were still heavy with lust amidst her irritation. “Don’t call her a poor girl when she gets to ride your dick anytime she wants,” y/n huffed, indignantly. Her lip curled, visibly upset at the thought. Her motions, paused. “She gets to have you in her mouth – whenever she motherfucking pleases.”

Hell. . . My dick pulsed, hard as a fuckin’ rock. The way I’d grown in response to y/n over the course of the past several minutes, had made things completely painful for me against my zipper. All I wanted to do was free my dick and sink inside of her ready and waiting pussy. . . .

At that moment, stuck in the heat of it with y/n’s beautiful body imitating sex with mine, I figured that honesty was the best policy. I didn’t want to hide the truth from her, especially when I knew it might reassure her. “She isn’t who I want on my dick, y/n. . . I’ve come to terms with having her for that because the only woman I want to fuck all of the time only gives me the time of day when she feels like it.”

“At least I don’t leave you on delivered for an entire fucking day and ignore you as soon as I see you, Jacob,” she clipped, sniffing just a bit with the words. The tenderness of this moment, showing me how it had affected her. 

Fuck my life. I couldn’t watch y/n cry. I was so tired of being such a dick – the constant reason behind the majority of this perfect woman’s tears. . . 

“Baby. . . .,” I began, reaching a hand out to hold her cheek tenderly, my eyes scanning her eyes, her soft cheeks, the way her lower lip trembled. “Let me make it up to you,” I offered, downright begging her to hear me. I needed her to understand that I’d do whatever it took to show what she truly meant to me. 

“I think I’d actually really fucking appreciate that,” she clipped back. And, for a second, I thought she was going to hop off my lap to prove a point of some sort. But, quickly, her face was betraying her words, as a little smile came to her pretty lips. This woman. . .  “I will gladly let you make it up to me however you fucking want, baby. . . Please,” she pleaded, going right back to submitting herself to me. And just like before, she went to nuzzle her face into the warm skin of my neck. 

When her body leaned forward, I hurriedly positioned my arm to accommodate her new position. And, unintentionally, I felt when I hit that sensitive sweet spot inside of her, right behind her needy little clit. I felt more of her release accumulate on my fingers as she let out a moan. She ground her hips into mine at the sensation, repaying me with a few hard rolls from her tired hips, setting the pace with these relaxed, yet expert thrusts – nudging the head of my cock with her soft mound, over and over. 

This woman, knew better than any other, how to turn me into a mess – knew how to force me to my fuckin’ knees.

When her face found my neck, I hastily realized her intentions this time around. Unlike before, she wasn’t resting her head there. No, now she was causing my cock to damn near explode its load when she licked a long stripe up the skin of my neck. Momentarily, it made me still my fingers inside of her as I had to focus on everything but imagining how that tongue would feel against my dick. 

After marking my neck with her spit, she was sitting up again, peering down at me. And, any control I thought I had was lost as soon as her eyes dug into mine. “I need you, Jake.”

“Oh, baby. . .,” I moaned, doing my best to press my dick into her throbbing center, with my hand in the way. 

She went limp against me, her body putty in my hands — even with the slightly botched movement. My hand and hips had apparently done something to her, causing her to slump into me with a satisfied whimper that soon turned into a groan as I decided to pull my hand from her pussy. And, being y/n, impatience was soon taking over her. She began to try the best she could to create friction, her hips attempting to dig into mine. A valiant effort on her part, yes. Though, there was no point, as I was continuing with my preconceived course of action, situating my own hand on her ass to hold her down, on my dick. I pressed her, as far as she could go, against me. I forced her to feel every inch of me that needed her. I leaned back a bit, so my hips could shift up, just enough to coax a response from her clit. My free hand went to brush the underside of her left tit, finally paying it mind. 

At the attention to her breast, she reacted, her pussy pushing harder against me. I took no time in grasping hold of the thin bra cup covering the left side of her chest, pulling it completely down, just as I had on the other side. Now, under her sweater, I’d successfully exposed both of those irresistible, swollen tits. I was happy with my action. Because, even if I couldn’t see them bare, I could see her hard nipples through her thin sweater. And, I could still feel just how warm those heavy tits were in my hands. . . 

She arched forward, once more, as my thumb flicked at her oversensitive left nipple.

“Do you want to go to bed with me?” She asked, her lips grazing the shell of my ear as her hips continued lazy movements, the best she could. Those impeccable curves, measuring gentle sways on my groin. She was grazing me just how my body craved. 

But—. She’d just asked me a very weighty question. I dropped my hand from her breasts, my mind suddenly running circles around itself. . . She wanted me to go to bed with her. This was it. This was what my heart, body, and soul had been yearning for, pathetically, since I’d let her go in August. 

But. . . Maya. 

She really was a factor, and with the offer from y/n hanging in the air, I couldn’t help the image of my girlfriend’s beautiful face, those chocolate irises — the way she was always there for me. . . It all invaded my mind. Fuck. I. . . I’d done this to myself. I’d dragged Maya into this. . . And was I really okay with completely breaking her trust? Just as Amelia had done to me? 

What the fuck did I do? I didn’t want to miss a moment with y/n – I loved her. But could I do this? I didn’t know. I didn’t fucking. . . . . Shit.

Because, the other woman in the equation was y/n. My y/n. . . .

I considered how I was continuously leading y/n on, only to leave her hanging for Maya. Was it time to just let Maya go? Or was I risking losing a solid relationship for y/n to just break me again? My heart, being left in shards and vulnerable, right before my daughter was born. . . 

My heart couldn’t be in pieces. I needed to be strong and whole. For her. For Lav. “Y/—.”

“It’s comfier than this old couch. . .”

What was I supposed to do? 

“I’m— I’m good. I’ll be good,” I responded, not at all taking the proper time to consider it. As soon as the words left my mouth, I closed my eyes, looking down. I had to momentarily avoid her eyes. I was completely unsure of my words. I cleared my throat to alleviate whatever awkwardness I could. What was I doing?

She stayed on my lap for a moment. And, when I opened my eyes, I found her eyes, slowly dissecting anything I could be hiding behind mine. I didn’t know what to communicate to her, though, so I looked down at my lap — like a coward, once again. I flexed my fingers against her hips to appreciate her body while it was still on top of me. . . 

Though, as soon as I’d pressed languidly into her tender curves, she was taking that as a sign to get up. 

No. Fuck!

She maneuvered as smoothly as she could, a hand on her back to keep balance with that beautiful, round belly. I tried to reach out to help, but she just shook her head, gently pushing my hand away from her. Fuck. I was losing her. 

Why?! Why was I doing this?! Torturing myself. 

The words ‘inner turmoil’ couldn’t get it said. Not when I’d willingly given up the prospect of laying her down and worshiping her body with mine the way we’d both been working towards. The way we both wanted. No, I’d let her leave my arms. And, now, I was being forced to stare at the woman I loved, her flushed cheeks and suddenly hardened eyes. And that soft, voluptuous body – had just been in my arms. . . The woman was fucking stacked. No matter the season of her life — she was so exquisitely made. Goddamn. 

And, here she was, standing in front of me — having offered her bed and her body.

But. . .  I couldn’t do it. Because, even with her beauty ahead of me, I knew there were too many factors at stake. Her heart, the most valuable piece of all. . . I didn’t want to break her any more than I already had by fucking her and going straight back to Maya. But, what was worse? Me, not going at all? 

What was Maya to me anymore? I knew she was my girlfriend. . . But was she my future? It all depended on y/n. Y/n. . . The woman I wanted as mine — in every future imaginable. Though, it was completely unclear if y/n wanted me in that way — for the rest of forever. I knew that the word ‘forever’ was daunting to y/n.

“That’s okay.” She wasn’t even going to argue? What? “I’ll go get blankets for you. Give me a sec.”

And without giving me a chance to argue, she was going to the hallway. Effectively, making it known that the moment was over. Fuck me. I heard what I assumed was the hall closet, open and close, with a soft click. I was too consumed by the decision I’d made to move. I felt like a prick. A coward. An asshole. A fucking moronic loser. 

Why was I letting myself miss out on this woman? I loved her – so goddamn much. I’d spent an entire evening two nights ago, getting her worked up. I’d promised to come home to show her what she meant to me. Moments ago, I’d promised the same damn thing. . . But, I apparently sucked fuckin’ ass at keeping a damned promise to the one woman I yearned to trust me. 

And, at this exact moment in time, I wasn’t making any effort to show her that I wanted that. She was being vulnerable, offering herself to me, and I was turning her down. . .?

Meanwhile, she wasn’t reacting poorly at all. No, because her precious, delicate heart wouldn’t allow it right now. I knew that. But why wouldn’t her heart allow it? Was she that hurt? Or was she that done with me? She’d seemed hurt and done this morning in the complex’s parking lot. . . Fuck if I knew. All I truly knew was that she was in the hallway, getting my bedding for the night. Meanwhile, I was stuck in my head, sitting on my ass. 

Before I was able to fully process anything, she was walking back out into the living room with a folded blanket. She was holding it just under her tits. I couldn’t help it when my eyes landed on them, bouncing fuckin’ beautifully under her sweater. She’d put them back in her bra, albeit haphazardly. This gave me an impeccable view of how she hadn’t put the entire thing back in on one side, her nipple still hard and showing under the soft, cream fabric. Fuck. Me. 

Then, there was her hair, beautiful waves cascading over her shoulders. . . And that face. She was adorable and dangerously sensual all at once. . . But her eyes. . . Where I usually found something, I now saw. . . Nothing. My blood turned cold at the woman who stood in front of me. She was y/n, but she wasn’t the y/n who’d been so open and honest with me mere minutes ago.

She wasn’t letting me see through to her — already doing a damn good job at closing herself off to me. . . Again. There was a tsunami of emotions that raged war in my chest. Any word I might have wanted to speak, died on my tongue. . . She had a very similar look in her eyes to the one she’d had, months ago, in her kitchen. . . 

Was this how it was destined to end up anyway? Was it worth it to just follow her to her bedroom and fuck her how I wanted, only for my heart to never fully have her? She was the one entity I needed — while also being the only one I’d never actually have. Or could I have her? I didn’t know. What the fuck was I doing? Should I take that chance? Even if it led to two shattered parents, come Lavender's birth? Or could we make it work? 

“Alright. There’s your blanket. . .,” she said, her voice sounded small as she went to tuck her hair behind both ears. Momentarily, her palms pressed to her flushed cheeks and I wanted nothing more than to replace hers with mine. “Would you like a pillow?” 

God, the more she spoke, the more emotion was lacking from her tone. I was watching and listening as she faded away from me. . . Mother of fuck. 

“Nah, I’m good,” I replied without full consent of the words passing my lips. I was trying to sound nonchalant, to match her. But, was that the right move? “Thank you for the blanket, though.”

She gave me a grin that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes whatsoever. It was barely a smile at all – mostly all it was, was her pressing her lips together. Fuck it all. I wanted to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. . . But what the fuck did ‘okay’ even mean for us anymore? 

“Alright,” she responded, emotionless. And, once again, her lips were rising in the teeniest, tiniest non-smile. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Good. . .,” I trailed, watching her go to leave before I even finished the word. “Night.”

I barely had time to register that I’d spoken the words. Since, as I said them, she’d already been turning smoothly on one heel. . . And, all I’d had to see of her was the back of her. Which, all things considered, was always a welcome view. Her tight, round ass that seemed to get better and bigger the more the belly grew. . . Just like her tits. Fuck.

I didn’t know how to feel about any of it this time. Arousal didn’t seem right because it was just as heart-aching and terrible to watch her leave. . . Was this the end of us? Her, walking away from me, my dick slowly but surely fuckin’ deflating as I watched her walk away from me. Was it the end? Not even five minutes ago, things had been incredible and erotic. And now, everything was so damn bleak. The world felt gray and meaningless, when only minutes ago, I’d felt like king of the fucking world. 

All in a matter of moments, we were back where we’d been at the end of August. But. . .  was it too late now? Because, if it was, I fucking hated myself for it. . . I knew it was all my damn fault this time around. 

I only had myself to blame if I’d lost the love of my life once and for all. . . I just had no earthly fuckin’ clue what to do anymore.

End of Jake’s POV

Crying wouldn’t solve anything. It hadn’t before. It wouldn’t now. You were tired of crying. 

Tears, combined with never having the fulfillment of Jake in your arms at the end of them, was getting old.

So, the only logical thing to do upon crossing the threshold of your childhood bedroom, was something else you could accomplish with your face. 

Washing your face was the most logical first step to feeling better. Though, it went further than simply ‘feeling better’ this time. You needed to feel grounded in the here and now. No longer could you live, delusionally, in the past. In fact, you were desperate to feel as distant as you could from the past — both recent and not. The past that had belonged to Jake Kiszka. 

The way of life you’d been craving was leaving your grasp. The connection you yearned to consistently foster — was nearing its end. . . That was, if it hadn’t met its end already. 

He was slipping through your fingers. The more he gave in, the more he pulled away. A vicious and cruel cycle that you knew he didn’t purposefully do. It was just the way of things. All of this was just as much out of his control as it was yours.

It was the way your relationship with him was fated to be. . . And you truly didn’t want to wrap your mind around such a terrible truth. But you had to.

The hasty stripping of your too-warm clothes came first. You were suffocating under the fuzzy fabric. 

And, while you wanted music at the moment, you also. . . Didn’t. Music was now a shared language for you and Jake. Melodies were a bond that you shared intimately with him. . . And, with how close you felt to music, that was terrifying. You couldn’t even get started on the human life that was cozily nestled in your womb that was half of him. Your eyes welled with tears, heavy and threatening to flood your checks, right at your lash line. 

Not now, y/n, you counseled yourself. Just go through these motions first. Once you’re in bed, then you can let it out. . .

Once bare, you ran one smooth palm over your belly before grabbing your belly oils, lotions, and face wash from your bag. Then, you were making your way to the bathroom that sat within your room, connected to your bedroom. The faster you washed your face, completed your oil and lotion routine, the faster you could lay in your bed and cry out every lingering emotion from the tiresome, taxing day. 

It would be the beginning of saying goodbye to the idea you could ever feel your truest love the way you wanted to again. It was bound to be a long path of letting go to the idea of him, but it had to begin sometime. 

And sometime soon. Had to begin focusing on the things that would come to fruition, beyond any shadow or any doubt. . . Like the babygirl in your belly. 

Face washed and teeth brushed. Check and check.

Though, before you began your stretch mark routine, you’d finally decided to put on music. Didn’t want any residual oils on your fingers interfering with the one record that held the utmost significance to you. The one record you’d been dying to hear on vinyl for years. 

Soon, after you’d placed the vinyl carefully on your childhood record player, Donny Hathaway’s self titled album was spinning smoothly. Its steady thrum helped guide you through the rest of your nightly routine as you tried to not think about Jake. 

But. . . It was harder than one might imagine to block out all of the ways you felt so utterly deeply for Jacob Kiszka. Your mind was first lingering on the truth you’d focused on before. It wasn’t far from your mind, what you’d already decided, weeks prior to this. You’d put yourself in this heartbreaking situation of back and forth. . . It was understandable if he wanted to stop and it definitely seemed he did. . . But, even if you knew this, why did it hurt so damn bad?

Because you love him, y/n, said the soothing voice that fought to occupy more brain space. And that’s okay.

The song that spun was called “Giving Up,” which you realized was quite ironic as you dried your face in your bedroom’s conjoined bathroom. You looked into the mirror, the lyrics hitting home. 

Giving up

Is hard to do

When you really

Love someone

Giving up,

So hard to do

When you still depend upon

[Her] warm and tender touch

Damn. Okay, Mr. Hathaway, you thought with a snicker of a laugh. 

You couldn’t lie. . . it was pretty funny that music seemed to consistently match your moods these days. “Please Don’t Go” playing at the bar, the night of the E.R. visit. “Memory Lane” playing as you rode in Josh’s car to Jungle Juice — quite actually strolling down memory lane (the X-rated version) when it had come on shuffle. Stevie narrating, yet again, with “Ordinary Pain,” when you’d stood, forlorn in the living room as Jake left your serene little bubble to talk to Maya. So, “Giving Up” being the first song on this vinyl was the icing on the cake as you sulked over the countless failed attempts with Jake. The deep love you felt for someone who–. Fuck. No. 

No more fluffy, love-filled thoughts. You were done with those. . . . You had to try, at least. It was nearing the point of you feeling at a complete loss. Every time you took an inch, you went several back with his responses. You were tired. Tired of feeling like a goddamn fool. 

You didn’t want to imagine it, but. . . Was it truly time to give up?

Jake’s POV

She was talking. Through music, she was saying everything she hadn’t said to me before she’d left the living room. In the smaller, quaint home, her bedroom was in the hallway right beside the living room. 

And she was playing the song just loud enough for me to hear. . . Whether she meant for that to happen or not, I was using it as a way to see into her heart.

It was a beautiful, older song. It expressed her fantastic taste in music to an exquisite extent. And, the brilliant, gut wrenching, melancholic melody was crushing my goddamn heart. My brain was screaming at me to stay logical. The idea of going to her was wrong. For many reasons, I shouldn’t want to go to her room. It would be irresponsible — fucking careless for me to leave this couch. 

I should have just gone home. . . Hours ago, I should have gone home. But. . . my heart had kept me here. Y/n had kept me here, without even trying. The illustrious, truly statuesque woman was everything to me. I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d missed her. I needed to be near her. . . So, I’d stayed. Hours ago, I’d stayed. . . 

Because my heart had known the truth. My heart had known what needed to happen. The universe itself was waiting for it. Whether it should happen or not didn’t matter. . . At least, a few hours ago, it hadn’t mattered. . . 

But now? I didn’t know what the hell the wisest option was. . . Felt like shit for everything I was doing to Maya. Though, I felt even worse for what I was putting y/n through. Especially when I knew what my heart wanted. . . I just wanted her. Y/n. 

My heart was screaming at me to get my ass off this couch — to go to the girl. . . The woman of my dreams. . . 

“What in the living  fuck are you still doing out here, loser?”

My head snapped up at the sound of my brother. 

Brows, instantly furrowing, at how his eyes sunk into mine. He was a fuckin’ mess. Curls all out of whack and his face the color of these red walls. He was flustered to hell. But—he was still reading my mind. The way he was standing there, staring holes through me. . . Asshole. 

The telepathy shit was so real. Anyone who questioned it was a fucking shit-for-brains. The connection was very much a factor of being twins—identical, at that—with someone. 

It was detrimental in situations such as the one I was in, where I knew he was feeling everything I was. His gaze, quite literally, matching mine. He was about to call me out. I knew it. Knew this motherfucker like the back of my hand. 

“Do you not hear the song she’s listening to? It’s Donny Hathaway. It’s a song all about giving up, Jacob,” he explained, giving away the basis of the song before the lyrics had even started. “Giving. Up.”

“Obviously I hear it, Josh,” I snapped, already aggravated with him.

“Well. . . I’m just making a point, fucker. The woman speaks in music. She’s trying to say something with the lyrics or melody—.”

���Yes, Josh,” I growled the words, unable to control the rage bubbling up in my chest. “I know. She communicates using music. It’s ingrained in my brain. I’ve experienced it first hand,” I reminded him, making sure to stare him down until he remembered how I knew. The situations we’d been in. Wanted to make him squirm, but he didn’t. Just raised a brow and balanced his hands on his hips. God. Whatever. “She’s perfect, yes. I fucking know this, Josh.” 

“And whether she’s speaking to you or herself. . . I don’t know, but— god, Jake. Why the fuck aren’t you in there?” 

“Why the fuck are you blatantly complimenting her body?” I challenged, thinking back to earlier in the day when he’d made a show of capitalizing on her gorgeous body with a damned photoshoot gift. “I knew you wouldn’t hold back either, you fucker. With how goddamn beautiful she is, carrying my baby,” I scoffed, shaking my head to emphasize the sense — the truth. “Anytime you’re given the opportunity to talk about that shit. . .As soon as a woman’s body is brought up in conversation, there he is. . . Josh fuckin’ Kiszka. And apparently my pregnant—.”

“Your pregnant what? Girlfriend? She’s not yours, Jake. You’ve made certain of that, brother.”

Fuck him.

He shook his head just the same as me, a smarmy smile on his lips, continuing. “Besides, you act as if you don’t view a woman the same damn way, you fuckin’ miscreant—.”

“And I’m sure when you reassure her, you give specific details of her body to remind her that she’s beautiful,” I continued, feeling insane, but not able to stop. “And you have no fucking right to—.”

“Jacob. With all due respect, shut the fuck up.” And, I followed his instructions. There was nothing else for me to go on about. It wasn’t Josh I was mad at. . . It was only myself I had to blame. “You and I both know there is nothing there between y/n and myself. . .,” As Josh spoke, he came to sit beside me on the couch, moving the still-folded blanket she’d laid next to me. I hadn’t even come close to unwrapping it. Didn’t know if it was the right move. He continued. “And someone had to compliment her before she posted that story. . . Considering you weren’t here to do the damned job. . . No, you were out of town, fuckin’ around with Maya.”

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, knowing ge was right. But I had my own truth to share with my other (arguably better) half. “For one: I did compliment her. . . More than. Don’t talk on shit you don’t know the full truth about,” I corrected him. 

I knew that me complimenting her from afar and then denying her in person was bullshit, though. Completely unjustified, on my end. I knew I was wrong for what I’d done. Josh had gone about it the kind, pure-hearted way. And I’d fucked it up — mishandled her. One of my hands rose to mess with my hair, without me even thinking about it. Then, I was biting my lip before I smoothed my hand over my chin. 

“Quit fidgeting, Jacob. It’s just me,” Josh reassured, patting my right thigh, the one nearest him. 

It was no surprise when I eased up under his touch. As much as he pissed me off (for always knowing me better than myself), he was the only other person in this world who came close to y/n and Lavender on the metaphorical love scale. 

Deciding there was no harm continuing, I went on. “And secondly: Maya is my girlfriend. I wasn’t just ‘fuckin’ around.’ What else did you expect me to do, Josh?”

“Well, Jacob, what I expected of you was to leave relationships in the dust for a while after Amelia, but. . .,” he said, looking me right in the eyes with word. He wanted my attention, and he had it. Even if I already knew what he was going to say before he said it. “The one woman you could’ve truly, finally flourished with. . . you fucking fumbled her. You let the perfect woman for you go — all for another woman who will never truly understand you.”

“Maya’s a good woman, Josh. Why are you making her out to be—?”

“But— is she y/n, Jake?”

“Y/n doesn’t want me like she used to. Besides, she’s so damn hot and cold, I never know where I stand with her and I can’t—.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“She is, Josh. You wouldn’t understand. You haven’t been in a relationship with her,” I stopped, clasping a hand over my mouth. Sarcasm dripped from my perturbed face, my voice over-dramatic as I expressed my point. “Oh, shit. Y/n wouldn’t want me to call it that. She has a strange distaste for relationships.”

“Yeah, and you, brother, have an equally strange affinity for relationships. . .,” he poked right back, bugging his eyes out at me. Dick. “Specifically the type that drain the living hell out of you. . . .And why?”

Could he stop? “Maya doesn’t drain me, Josh—.”

“Oh, please, Jacob. Please,” he held a hand up, emphasizing his insistence that I shouldn’t speak. “Quit bullshitting me. You know I know you better than that.”

“It really just started happening this weekend,” I relented, giving him an in on how she’d pissed me off over the past few days. I hadn’t divulged any of that yet. “And I am being serious about that. She’s usually a dream.” But was she?

“But. . . Doesn’t it drain you to have to lie to yourself and say you feel a certain way for Maya when you truly feel that way for y/n?”

Fuck. “I do feel those things for Maya—.”

“No you don’t, Jacob,” he argued, shoving his shoulder with mine to make sure I knew he meant this shit. “Not the same as you do with that extremely melodramatic woman,” he pointed towards the direction of the hallway, where the sound filtered out from, “Who’s feeling all of her sorrows through her own life-fucking-soundtrack. . . And you like that about her, don’t you, Jake?”

“I love that about her, Josh,” I snapped, turning to him suddenly. The action made him raise a brow, a smirk lifting his stupid ass mustache. Yes, Josh, you’re right. But I won’t fucking say it out loud. “Are you kidding me? She loves music just as much as I do. I didn’t believe that kind of woman existed until her. And, along with the unreal love for music, she has that massive, beautiful heart to match? I feel it all with her, Josh. . . don’t you fuckin’ worry, brother.”

“Hm. . .,” he continued to smirk, rubbing his chin with a little glimmer in his eye as he peered at me from under his curls. “Okay. Alright. . . So. Let me pose you with this question: would you say she’s your ideal woman?”

“Absolutely.” Fuck.

God knew I couldn’t lie to him. I rolled my eyes as the cocky bastard continued smirking at me, enjoying the fact that he was ‘always right’ or some shit. And, unfortunately for me, his intuition was usually one to trust. . . 

“What does that make Maya?”

“Not that, Josh. She’s not that,” I bitterly spat, scrubbing  a hand over my face with a groan. Staring straight ahead as my elbows rested on my thighs seemed the best way to avoid his eyes. There was no lying to him. “She’s not my ‘ideal.’ God, fuck. Are you happy now?”

“Jacob, this has nothing to do with my happiness. It has everything to do with yours. . .,” he insisted, his hand resting on my thigh in a loving gesture that had me relenting and looking over at him. “And, brother, if you pass this up with y/n, she will close off again and you will lose any and all progress you’ve made and god knows if she’ll ever trust you again,” he explained all of this shit I already knew. And it was making me mad at myself as he continued. “You’re fuckin’ damned if you don’t go in there. Lost chance for your ultimate happiness — forever.” He said, his eyes searing mine with the word before he stuck me further with the blade of it. “Forever, Jake. The woman’s trust is shaky at best.” 

I just sat there, taking it all in — knowing that he was completely right. I’d just needed his voice of reason to say it. 

And, as if he needed to persuade me any more, he continued. “And, if you’re going to let Maya get in the way of that, then I guess I was wrong all along about the energy I picked up on between you and y/n. But… I’m hardly ever wrong, so I doubt I’m wrong about that obvious display of longing.”

I still didn’t say anything, completely agreeing with Josh on everything. But, loving the sound of his own damn voice too much to shit up, Josh kept going. “And if you miss out on this… you will regret it forever, brother. Do not let another woman get in the way of what you truly want. Go for it. If you reject what the heart wants, it has a way of catching up with you. That’s just the logic behind the divine structure of the human psyche and the science of the domino effect.”

“I know, Josh,” I said, placing my head in my hands. 

“If you don’t go in there, Jake,” he said, the hand that had been on my leg, going to clasp my shoulder instead. “I hate to tell you, but a man who is essentially her brother — me — giving her a maternity shoot for Christmas will most definitely be the least of your concerns.” He continued, squeezing my shoulder. “Y/n is a goddamn catch. You and I both know she catches the eye of every person she passes. And she already has that Theo guy wrapped around her finger. . . Don’t let someone else take what you both want. . . What you both deserve.”

I hated all of that. Everything he’d said, so uncomfortably true. There was no doubt she would be taken from me, in every regard, if I didn’t act on something. I knew I had to. . . Before it was too late and she was out of my grasp. And for the simple fact that she was the only person for which my heart, body, and soul longed. I had to have her. 

But, I had to tell Josh something important. Had to tell someone. . . And Josh had been my someone since the womb. The fact broke my damn heart every time I thought of it. My baby girl had kicked for the first time, all while I was passing that time with y/n up. . . . For a woman I didn’t love nearly as much as Lavender’s mother. . . I had to divulge all of this to the angel-devil man, whose hand still sat atop my shoulder.

“Lavender kicked for the first time while I was with Maya,” I said, my tone mopey, and 

 demeanor completely pathetic. 

“Well. . .,” Josh cleared his throat, clapping a hand to my thigh once more before getting up to stand across from me, just as before. “If that doesn’t give you your damn answer for what you should do. . . I don’t know what else it will take, Jacob.”

But. . . I was back to square one, my mind flashing with an earlier topic of conversation. There was the daunting factor I had mentioned and he had alluded to agreeing with. “She doesn’t want a relationship, Josh. We know this.”

“Maybe. . . But— I know that girl,” he proclaimed, hands going on his hips to address me. His relationship with her, how well he knew her, meant he was quite handy in situations such as this one. . . I had to admit. “And I know she has some preconceived ideas based on her own life experiences, just as we all do. But, trust me, Jake, when I tell you to not give up on her. Don’t give up on the possibility of more with her.”

I couldn’t give up. Not yet. 

“I guess I just needed you to tell me that. . . You know her so well, and,” I sighed, ashamed of myself for being so selfish in all of this. “Didn’t want to be that idiot holding out for something — all delusional and shit,” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to get my head to stop spinning with depressing shit. Because, at the end of the day, I had to have hope. “She is damn well worth it, though, huh?”

“Hell yeah she is, brother. . . .,” he agreed, a gentle smile lighting up his face. “Now, go — and get the damn girl. When I’m done getting the whipped cream from the kitchen because my girl is waiting for—.” 

“Oh, god, Josh,” I squinted my eyes shut, wrinkling my nose at the thought. “Seriously?”

“Whatever, you’re just jealous you’re not doing that shit with y/n right now,” he rolled his eyes, before continuing his walk to the kitchen. Right before he entered the other room, he turned around and hushed a few more words my way. “When I get back in here, your ass better be off of that damn couch. I swear to god.”

Then, he was gone. 

And I didn’t take  another  moment to let myself dig back into a stupid hole that shouldn’t even fucking exist. I got up off the damn couch. 

I was tired of hiding. It was time to take her back.

End of Jake’s POV 

You dried your hands, patting your flesh dry with the ultra-fluffy red towel that hung in your bathroom. (Your Grandma’s choice of linens had never lacked in quality.) Once your complexion — face and belly — seemed like they were shining in the healthiest way, you smiled. Well, you grinned — closed-mouth and half-heartedly at best. It was the best you could do. 

But, you still wanted to admire your reflection; you turned to the side to observe your bump in the mirror. When you tried to smile, it was still half-assed. It made you feel like a shitty mom. The few freckles on your cheeks, barely moving with the action. The smile was the fakest shit you could’ve mustered at that moment. All over a man who didn’t need you. . . But this baby did. And you couldn’t give her all of your excitement, because you were stuck in a predicament with her father. 

God, why was your life like this?

The tears, once again, were gathering in your eyes. You were fucking distraught. Lost. . . And unable to comprehend what your next steps were. If you were never going to be able to have Jake Kiszka again, the future looked mighty different. Apparently, you’d put more faith in the situation than you should have. In fact, you hadn’t even realized you were doing it.

It was impossible to stop, though. Because, while you knew you couldn’t have him-have him, your body couldn’t resist yearning for him. You wanted him in a way you could satisfy, if shit would stop getting in the way. . . It was a way you’d believed he wanted to satisfy, too. . . But you were just — never good enough for him anymore. 

So. . . You posed the question to yourself, once more. . . Was it time to ‘give up’? Time to stop opening yourself up? Over and over again? Only to usher in hurt you didn’t need to be dealing with. . .?

The lyrics that filtered out of the speaker landed like a weight in the pit of your tummy, moving your heart in devastating directions. 

Giving up

So hard to do

I said I've tried

But it just ain't no use

But my light of hope is burning dim

How many times? Even within a few days’ time, you’d given your heart over to him, for him to continue to turn you away for someone else. . . Your thoughts were interrupted by the slightest knock on your door. Eyebrows drawn in, you grabbed the sports bra you’d brought with you, slipping the thin, gray Calvin Klein material over your head. After you’d adjusted your tits to not be falling out of the bra, you turned off the light to your bathroom before slowly, tentatively making your way to the door of your bedroom. 

And, just as the saxophone started to musically emote every feeling the song’s lyrics professed, you twisted the old, golden knob. . . to find. . .

Jake.

He was. . . He had come. . .? He was standing here – actually at your door. And his eyes were dark, drinking you in as he stood there before you. Your gaze left his, traveling down to his chest; you watched the way it heaved with slow, deliberate breaths. The way his breathing took over his entire upper body, the muscles of his chest expanding underneath his black sweater. . . it made your own heart rate increase.

When you snapped your eyes back to his, completely overtaken by what was in front of you, you noticed how his gaze was drawn directly to your own chest. Your breasts, steadily rising and falling, under his captivating stare, your breasts swelling, peaking for the chance to be touched by his hands again. 

Your blood rushed, blazing hot, through your veins and to your head. Anything that had happened before this moment that might have stalled you. . . All of it was insignificant now. You could not pass this up for anything. . . If he was willing, you would make yourself available. 

Pitiful? Definitely. Pathetic? More than. But, you didn’t care.

Just as the song’s tempo slowed, he started walking slowly towards you to match the time of the track. You stayed, frozen, feet rooted firmly in their spot. Your heart was daring to thump straight out of your chest at the anticipation.

Barely able to process it, as you stood captivated by him, you felt his lips before you even noticed they were coming towards yours. His full lips, nearly grazing yours before reality snapped back. He couldn’t. 

You put a hand to his chest, pushing him back just a bit to look up and into his eyes. “Jake—no, you said we can’t kiss, baby. I can’t let you do that and have you regret it,” you hushed into the few inches of air between your bodies. 

“Baby, the only people in the entire world are you and me. Even if only for tonight, we are letting the rest of the world fade. . .,” he emphasized with a gentle graze of his thumb to the crest of your left cheek. Your eyes blinked innocently, up at him. “There is no one here but you and me,” he encouraged, tilting your chin up to look at him more directly. “That means I can kiss you. So. . . If you’ll have me, I would really love to feel your lips on mine ag—.”

You didn’t even let him finish before you were crashing your lips against his. 

And god bless it all. The press of his soft lips against yours again made your entire being light up in a way that compared to nothing else in the entire world. This kiss, it reminded you of how incredibly dull life was without the regular feeling of having his lips against yours. . . How fucking dim things were when you were so distanced from him. . . Now, in this moment, you wondered how in the fuck you had ever willingly given up this access to him. He’d offered himself to you, begged for you to give him a chance, and you’d still let this go.

No tongues were involved – not yet. This was solely based on the plump softness of his pretty lips, and how they meshed with yours so seamlessly. Until Jake, you hadn’t realized that lips could feel like they were made to grace another’s. And, by some cruel twist of fate by the universe, you were reminded that this man – who was too good for you, destined to always be right outside of your grasp – happened to also be the perfect match to your mouth. 

“I don’t want to ever leave you again, babydoll. . . Being away from you is one of the worst feelings on this damn earth,” he murmured against your lips, pulling away as little breaths came out in warm puffs against your freshly washed face. “I am so, so sorry.”

You wanted to lean back in, and not talk about that for the time being. But, it seemed Jake had other plans as he reached to hold your shoulders, pulling you back just enough to look into his eyes. The amber-brown irises that honed in on yours screamed honesty. 

“Do you believe me?” He softly asked, heart fully exposed in front of you as his eyes evoked vulnerability. 

You knew he meant the truth – knew he wanted to resolve any possible hurt feelings. . . But, it wasn’t worth it right now. Having that conversation and somehow losing the guts to go through with this? Absolutely not. You couldn’t lose him for the millionth time. . . You had to have him. Just this once, at the very least. This was your moment. This was your opportunity. You could worry about the rest later.

When you stood there, not willing to speak, his gaze questioned you – very obviously worried that you were upset with him. He took that as his indicator to continue. “Y/n, I need you to know. . . every stupid thing I’ve done within the last few days. . . All of the things that might’ve made it look like I didn’t care,” he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. Then, his eyes were looking into yours once more, begging you to listen. “I promise you, baby, I didn’t–.”

“Jake. I–,” you sighed, shaking your head as you ran a hand across your forehead, nervously scratching your brow. “At this moment in time, I really don’t want to worry about that,” you sighed again, closing your eyes for a moment before you reached up and out to wrap your arms around his sturdy shoulders. His body moved closer to yours, naturally. Ready for whatever you were going to give him. “Right now, I only want this. Please, Jake. Just let me have this with you. . . .”

“Anything you fucking want, y/n,” he responded vehemently, the seriousness behind the utterance of the words made your chest tighten. “I mean it.”

So, without saying a word more, you simply leaned to kiss his lips once again, not able to help yourself. Lingering for a bit, you savored the taste of him. . . You’d missed it so fucking badly. Kissing him again felt like endless, hope-filled summer nights where the worries were few and the exhilaration was overflowing. . .

The next song began in perfect time with the moment – with your emotions. 

“A Song For You”. . . And, quite honestly, until this fragment of time, you hadn’t realized how perfectly suited this song was to you and Jake. To be fair, you hadn’t thought of this album in ages. Props to your Grandpa for reminding you of its brilliance, at the most idealistic time. 

I know your image of me

Is what I hoped to be

I treated you unkindly

But darling, can't you see?

There's no one more important to me

Baby, can't you see through me?

'Cause we're alone now

And I'm singing this song to you. . .

Songs. Music. Melodies. . . .Your favorite way to communicate with each other. . . and this song, in particular, the perfect accompaniment to the waging storm of love and care you felt for the man in your arms. . . 

His lips hardly left yours, forming to yours in a way only his lips could. His tongue pushed into your mouth, just as you opened your mouth, more than eager to feel him there. He continued drawing shapes against your tongue with his own, as you made your way back towards your bed. And, suddenly, the backs of your knees were hitting the edge of your mattress. His jean-clad thighs, flush with your bare thighs. 

This was not going to work. The jeans had to go. Now. 

When you both pulled away, gasping for a breath of air, you decided to go in a different direction than his lips. Moving back in towards him, you laced your hands in his hair and tilted his head to the side, letting your lips graze the side of his neck, sloppily tasting him. You were doing everything but biting against the warm skin there. You didn’t want to mark him up – fearful of this night being found out. 

No matter how dizzy and lightheaded he made you, you had enough wherewithal, still, to remember you could not leave any trace of your touch. 

His tanned skin was quickly showing for your mouth’s work with temporary smudges, though, becoming red from the heated breaths and long, open-mouthed kisses you were planting there. His breath hitched when your tongue reached the shell of his ear. And, when you got there, you did let your teeth bite. Lightly, enough to pull a whimper from his lips. Your belly buzzed with delight, toppling over itself, ready for more. 

You gripped his sweater, holding him there as your mouth trailed to the pulse point at the front of his neck, lapping at it. Your tongue tasted the saltiness of his skin, enjoying the way its essence mixed so intricately with your tastebuds. No matter how sad he’d made you — particularly over the course of the past couple of days —, you couldn’t help but feel utterly pathetic and needy for any and everything Jake could give you. 

And, one of your favorite things he could give you – the thing you needed most – was right in front of you, hiding behind the constricting fabric of his jeans. Some sort of primal instinct took over your body, your chest igniting with heat at the possibility of feeling his dick in more places than one. And one place you felt was crying to feel him, was your tongue.

Your hands became tighter in the fabric of his sweater, finally pulling it up from his waist. Thankfully, he was quick to assist you. He grasped the sweater himself, with one hand behind his neck, making it one quick swoop of taking off the offensive material. 

And, then. . . There he was. You bit your lip, your core heating at how incredible his body was. . . That beautiful, taut and tanned chest, in front of you. The curve of his pecs, intoxicating and begging for your teeth. . . But. You couldn’t bite him and make a mark. So, you went with the second best alternative. Your tongue went to trace the rounded, smooth muscle of his chest, licking underneath the curve of his right pec.

He hissed, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, above you. “Fuck, baby. . .”

You then pointed your tongue, flicking the tip of your tongue against his pretty nipple, closing your eyes at the same time he pushed his body against you. You grabbed his waist to stay balanced as he began to move. His arms, coming to loop around your body, grabbing the stretchy waistband of your sleep shorts. Before he took them off, though, his hands slipped into the back of the shorts and held onto the supple skin of your ass. He used his leverage to push your body closer to his, just before he rutted against you. You whined against his chest, but continued to taste him, trailing your tongue across his sternum,  giving the same treatment to his left pec as the right. 

Then, it was time to accomplish your ultimate mission. You held tight to the warm skin of his sides, keeping a sure hold as you didn’t want to lose your balance. Once you felt confident, you went on your toes once more to give him a tender kiss, gently sucking his bottom lip between yours. When you released his lips, you looked up at him through your lashes. His hands, still holding tight to your ass, squeezed in response to how you bit your lip, your stomach dropping at the way his eyes had darkened as he watched you. 

No words were exchanged, though, as you went back to moving — further down his body, this time. Once you were past his belt loops, your hands switched to gripping his thighs to keep a sense of gravity. Instantly, he knew exactly what your goal was, responding in a low and husky rasp. “Fuck, y/n. I swear to fuck. . . You better be careful,” he warned darkly. 

Finally on your knees in front of him, you once more peered up through your fluttering lashes, playing innocent. “I just want to help you take these tight pants off, baby. . .,” you smoothed your hands up his thighs, then kept one hand on a strong thigh as the other did the most important job. Your fingers teasingly traced over the thick imprint of his dick in front of your face, then you stopped the gentleness. You were ready for him. So, you decided to take advantage of the pretty impression you were staring at. Your fingers switched from delicate to intense, as you gripped him, sliding down with a stroke through his pants, to the swollen outline of his tip. 

His knees buckled as he breathed out expletives, his thigh shaking in your left hand. You grinned up at him, finding his eyes watching you — so intently. He was scanning every bit of your face with partially closed eyes, weak under your touch. 

And with his eyes still connected to yours, you grabbed his thighs with both hands again and went in with your mouth. You let your mouth close around the head, hollowing out your cheeks to suck on him the best you could through the jeans. You moaned, solace flooding you at the feeling of him in your mouth again. His legs trembled under you, as your tongue reached out to tap the muscle in your mouth. Between your legs, you felt your panties dampen when he twitched in your mouth. 

It made you realize just how badly you needed the real thing. No more motherfucking pants. But, you knew it could be so much better than this — for both of you. You were ready to give him and yourself exactly what you both wanted — needed. 

Your knees pressed further into the shagged carpet of your old room, anchoring to your spot as you prepared for him. With deft fingers, you undid the button of his jeans. And once it popped open, you heard him release a sigh of relief at the same time you watched his thick cock push his pants open further. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, a groan following when you placed your hands on his hips to adjust better. 

His body loosened just a bit as you held him there, his throbbing cock, begging for attention as it pushed against the seams of his briefs. Wanting to do the best for him that you could, you didn’t waste time pushing his boxers and pants down in one go. 

“Y/n, goddammit, baby,” he mumbled on a strangled breath. 

Perfectly groomed, as always. You grinned at how meticulously he kept himself trimmed — hardly any hair to obscure the view of his pretty cock. Any and every woman would kill for a man who paid such incredible mind to his hygiene as Jake did. It was a small, thoughtful gesture that exemplified how much he cared to make things comfortable for his partner. 

Aaaaand, you were done thinking about that. Your mind didn’t trail any further than that, stopping that thought process before it could even start. 

His cock bobbed deliciously in front of your face, pre-cum making the tip glisten. Thick, flushed, and so hard it looked painful. . . He was practically pleading for your mouth. And your mouth, reacting similarly, with how much saliva began to accumulate behind your lips. 

With one more glance upwards, you looked to gauge how he was feeling. And when you did, you felt your belly become a tangled mess of wanton adoration for this man — the way he was watching you, pupils blown out and irises black with lust. The throbbing heat pooling between your thighs at his expression, and being face to face with his dick was already making you lose stability. But, when he encouraged you with a knowing smirk and a gentle nod of his head, before reaching down to form a grip on your hair. . . it only worsened. 

And then he spoke, moving your head just enough to get a better look into his eyes. “Think of this as your penance, y/n,” he said, his timbre so low, you felt it in the pit of your tummy. “Should’ve been your mouth around my cock the night you posted those pictures. . .,” he trailed off, the rough pads of his fingers brushing the side of your cheek while his other hand tightened in your hair. 

“‘S not my fault you can’t control yourself. . .,” you smirked, replying with a gentle kiss to the tip. 

He choked on a breath, hips jutting out for more. “You know you make me lose all sense of rationality, y/n.”

“Do I?” You asked, eyes never leaving his, your brow raising as you teased the lip of his tip with your tongue. 

“Dammit, y/n,” he said, letting out an exhausted huff, his head rolling back a bit. “Stop being a smartass and open that pretty mouth for my dick.”

Only wanting to obey his every word, you did just that, making sure his cock was lined up perfectly with your waiting mouth. But, you didn’t move forward. You only blinked up at him, acting blameless. He knew that you were at his mercy as soon as you gave him a subtle nod of your head, letting him know exactly what you wanted from him. And, acting in time with your desires, he used the hand threaded in your hair to push your head forward until your lips were closing around him, wrapping around his thick and throbbing shaft. 

You could’ve cried, it felt so fucking satisfying to have your mouth full of him again. The long, low, guttural moan from him as you took him in — his gasps for air above you — indicated that he was feeling the same satisfaction.  

He was warm, heavy, and smooth as satin against your tongue. The slightest taste of him from the pre-cum, making your toes curl. He tasted better than any other thing. You sucked on him gently, your tongue doing what it had every time before this. With long and slow strokes, it pointed to neatly skim the crease beneath the head. His hands tightened in your hair, tugging in a way that made your breath catch and your tummy light up.

“Shit, y/n. . .,” he breathed above you, hips jerking in response to your continued ministrations. 

You took him deeper, bending your thumbs to prepare for him hitting the back of your throat. As you sunk your mouth further onto his aching cock, you made sure to treasure every moment of him being on your wet tongue. And when he finally connected with your uvula, you closed your eyes, focusing on what you wanted. You didn’t want to become overwhelmed. And when you gagged, you didn’t let it stop you from hollowing your cheeks. You sucked on his shaft as you let the head slide into your throat, where you did the best you could to swallow around it. 

The pitiful whimper he let out was one that you immediately tucked into your heart, holding the way that sound made you feel, close to your chest.

And, once you’d repeated that — the pulling of him against your tongue, the suctioning of your cheeks, and the notable swallow — a few times, you felt like a fucking queen. 

“I will never, ever get over how fucking good you are at this, baby. The best,” he praised you, the words coming out heatedly, with strangled effort. 

You continued nursing his warm cock, soaking it with your wet mouth as you focused on the pressure you could apply with your mouth alone. And, with a sudden surge of impulsive courage, you decided you’d see just how far you could go down your throat with him. How much of him could fit inside of you? This way? It admittedly hurt to accommodate your throat to fit his size, but the tears and stretch of your throat was worth it when you heard that little whimper again, from before. You pulled back to try it again, but at the same time that you began to envelop him again, he grabbed your head and thrusted forward.

With tears beginning to streak from your eyes, you pulled him from your throat again and bobbed your head on his tip, focusing on it with little flicks from your tongue. When you felt it was wet enough, you popped off of him, a string of saliva coming with you that you quickly wiped from your chin, before looking up to survey him.  

You found him, his eyes seeming locked on you — so dark — watching you as if you were some deity he was made to worship. With a little smile, you went back to it — reaching between his legs, to hold his balls in your hand. When you did this, he emitted a deep, ravaging moan — the sound going directly to the little juncture nestled between your thighs, as your pussy leaked, worshipping him. Your body slumped just a bit, as your knees got tired from holding up the extra weight of your belly. Once you felt comfortable on your lowered knees, you relaxed enough to let the bottom of your little bump rest right where it met the very tops of your thighs.

“I’m gonna— fuck, y/n,” he started, sounding urgent as his hips lost control. His hand resituated to grab ahold of your hair better, but you only focused on the little whines and moans and the shape of his cock in your hungry mouth. You gave a particularly tight suck of the head before flatting your tongue on his shaft, licking a healthy stripe from base to throbbing tip. With your mouth still opened around him, you delivered a slight squeeze to his balls at the same moment your uvula nudged his tip again.

“Y-y/n,” he suddenly breathed your name, little desperate choked breaths of his, accumulating in the dense air. You hummed around him in response, waiting for him to say more. “I can’t—I’m going to fucking cum. But I want to—. Fuck, y/n!”

Fuck yes, Jake. Let me have it, baby. . .

But, he kept trying to pull away from you, which had your anger flaring in your chest. What the fuck did he want?

Momentarily, you pulled your mouth from him before you decided you’d finish him off.  “What, Jake?”

His eyes were hard set while he brushed a hand through the front of his hair. He placed his other hand on his hip, trying to apparently find a sense of reprieve. 

But you weren’t done yet. Was this seriously as far as he was willing to let it go? Your heart raced in your chest at the possibilities of what could possibly happen. . . What did he want?

“Do you not want this?” You quietly pondered, your eyes dark with a cocktail of emotions. “If you didn’t want this, then why—?”

“Y/n, if I fucking finish now, it’s going to be about ten minutes before I can get hard again and be inside your pussy,” he explained, like it was essential information. And, it was. You hadn’t stopped to consider that. The words rolled off his tongue in a hushed tone. “And I don’t want to wait one more goddamned minute. Much less ten.”

You blinked a few times, trying to take in what he’d said. “Did you not want me to. . .?” You nodded at his dick, hot and hard, still wet from your mouth’s hard work. 

“I want whatever you want to give me, y/n,” he responded softly, his hand coming down to caress the top of your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “And if it’s only this, I guess I’ll take that. . . But if you want more, then I want that shit — most of all.” 

“Did you not like—?” You squeaked, eyes watering in spite of your tough demeanor. 

“I loved it, babydoll,” he replied, the word ‘loved’ enunciated in a way that had your head spinning. “I would fuck your mouth all day if I could. But. . . I need all of you — more than anything — right now.”

Before you could utter another word, your confidence coming back to you, he was asking his own question. “Do you want that, too?”

As much as you loved having him in your mouth, on your tongue, you were ready for the answer to that question before he’d even asked it. 

“Fuck yes,” you sighed, raising your arms up as an indicator for him to help you up. Your body was not what it had been in the past when you’d done shit like this. Getting up took extra effort now.

He quickly bent to help you, his strong hands hooking under your armpits as he lifted you up. But, he wasn’t putting you down. No, he carried you, about a foot to the bed, from where you’d been prior. He’d carried you. Your center pulsed for his care and his attention and his strength. . . For him. 

You loved him so fucking much.

Once you were sitting on your bed, he was kneeling in front of you. His sure hands, already on the waistband of your plaid sleep shorts. “You have way too many fuckin’ clothes on, baby.”

“Yes,” was all you could sigh, lifting your hips to help him as he swiftly took off the shorts and your thong all at once. No words were exchanged as he tossed the shorts over his shoulder. And, in the seconds-worth of time that took him, you focused on reaching around your chest to yank your bra off. 

And to his pleasant surprise, your chest was naked and heaving beautifully for him when he turned back around.  

“God, baby,” he breathed, his hands going to cup your full, aching breasts. When his touch came into contact with your body, your nipples hardened, almost painfully. But, he made up for it as he massaged your entire breast, on both sides. You sighed with complete and utter relief at how good his hands felt, supporting you. “I haven’t stopped fuckin’ thinking about my dick being between your thighs since I was there last,” he groaned, lifting from his knee, to full standing height above you. “I think it’s past fucking time to remind that pretty pussy who can treat it best.”

God, fuck. Your head swam with all of his words, your cheeks burning and heart racing. Every pulse your heart emitted, pouring against your eardrum. 

This was it.

He came down, eye level with your face. A few strands of hair, hanging in front of his handsome face. After you tucked a few tendrils of his long waves behind his ear, he lifted your chin to offer your lips a kiss. He took his time, his tongue tangling with yours for a moment as he focused on languidly kissing you. Just as before when he��d kissed you, you had to see again what he looked like when he kissed you. And, just as you remembered, his brows were dipped in concentration, taking the moment more seriously than any other man you’d known. You closed your eyes to finish the moment with him, before you were opening them as he pulled away.

“Tell me how you want me, baby,” he whispered against your lips, standing up again, crossing his arms at his handsome chest. 

And, so, you did. You figured it would be best for you to start on top. As he situated just how you requested, you explained why you wanted it like this — ‘at least to start,’ you’d emphasized. You went about telling him how it was known to help women avoid back pain during sex. And, as he gave you a grin, while you rambled about it being ‘a sure fire way for most women to not experience too much pressure of your belly better that way’, you realized you’d been talking far too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, suddenly very bashful and embarrassed for how you hadn’t stopped talking. “I don’t know why I—.”

“Because you wanted me to know it all,” he reassured you, the curve of his close-mouthed grin reaching high on his cheek to create his dimple. “And I will gladly listen to whatever you want me to know. . .,” he said, motioning for you to come towards where he was leaning against a few pillows for leverage — ‘to be able to do what he wanted’, he’d explained only seconds ago, before you started on your tangent about being on too. Each word he spoke, said in that sexy raspy tenor, that made your cheeks heat and your heart pound.

You did as he wanted, crawling on all fours to him. You followed the motion of his finger and finally settled just right on top of him. Once there, your ass balanced on his bare thighs and his swollen cock seemed to pulse against you, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

The moment was almost too much for your soul to handle. Almost. But, at the end of it all, it absolutely wasn’t. This was what you’d needed — been waiting for, for months. Simply having him under you again was the cure to months and months of heartache. Finally, it felt like everything was going to be okay. 

And when he leaned up, just a bit more, to get some leverage, you knew exactly what he wanted. Your forehead went down to touch his. When you did this, he grazed your nose with his own in a gentle Eskimo kiss. It didn’t last long before you were leaning further, angling your face to get a kiss from him on the lips. When your lips touched his, it felt like electricity was igniting every last one of your veins. . . Still couldn’t believe you were kissing him.

Let alone, naked, on top of him, with the shaft of his thick cock tucked in your entrance. He was so hot and literally pulsing, where he was nudged in between your wet and waiting folds. Fuck, you needed him. So badly, you had to have him. You couldn’t miss this opportunity again. This was your driving force. That singular, most prominent worry that he could be ripped from you again, had kept your ass moving towards what you wanted most.

And right now wasn’t any different. 

So, you raised higher to your knees, balancing on your bent form. And, very carefully, you waddled up to him, on said knees, until they were on either side of his strong hips. Until your wet and waiting core was lingering above his thick, hard cock. You were right there – right above what your waiting pussy had been longing for. . . Without another thought, you let his tip nudge between the swollen folds at your center, your entrance, right where it needed to be. 

You took a moment to let the head tease you, raising up and then down, just barely letting him get to the point of entering you. And, while you were absolutely living for the way it felt to have him just there, almost entering – the self-induced teasing driving you nuts. . . .that was not the sole reason you were taking your time. The more you’d taken in the sight and feeling of his girth against you, the more you began to feel intimidated at his size. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten how thick he was. After all, you had seen and handled this part of his body a few times in the past few months, even as your core had been starved of it. 

So, no. You hadn’t forgotten what he looked like or how he felt. It was that, in the past several moments, you had absolutely remembered the way your entrance seemed a touch too small for him. You knew that once he was inside, it would be okay. It had been before. . . but, it was daunting to feel him nudging at you. Besides, it didn’t hurt to take just a bit more time to warm up to the idea, since he felt so damn good where he was – against your wanting, pulsating cunt. 

But, after enough teasing for his taste, he was taking a bit of initiative when he grabbed hold of your hips. You gasped as he began to drag you, so slow and purposeful, back and forth, over his heated tip. He did this for a bit, his cock gliding from the back of your pussy to the front – making your entire body feel like fire. Then, he was pulling you forward, just enough, that your hardened, swollen clit repeatedly nudged at the head of his cock. The stimulation of him against you – the way he growled at the feeling – fuck. He let one hand slide to grip your ass, as the other held strong to your aching breast. . . . You tossed your head back, fire licking at your skin. Goosebumps rose on your skin, your spine feeling jolts of electricity, as you began to feel how eager he was to see you fall apart. His movements switched from purposeful and helpful to completely forceful, needing you to reach your precipice. 

Both hands came to grab a fistful of ass, his fingertips, exquisitely tugging at your skin. He skillfully swirled you on top of him, rolling your hips with his hold on your ass – your throbbing bundle of nerves getting exactly what they needed as you felt your body become tingly and fuzzy. You gazed down at him with hooded lids, in complete awe of his ability to work you up by doing everything and nothing, all at once.

You watched as his eyes trailed from your face to where your breasts bounced with the increased fervor of his actions, then down to where he was moving you against him. He gripped your ass even tighter, earning a squeak from you, the way he held you was bound to leave the faintest of bruises on your ass. A girl could definitely hope. . . 

You could feel and see that he was getting desperate to see you let go, before he was saying it. Your heart rate sped up as he continued on.

“Come on, baby. . . You can do it,” he encouraged, voice husky and low to not bother the other occupants of the house. The rasp in his words, combined with his dick teasing at you, left your nerves on fire. The tight coil in your belly, begging to unfurl.  “I can feel how wet you are already – I know how badly you want this, so fucking show me, y/n.”

With the words ‘show me’, he pulled you, just right, against him – and you suddenly saw stars. With a low moan, your toes curled and you felt every worry leave your body as you came apart on top of him. 

“That’s right, honey. . . Soak my dick,” he cooed, still manipulating the motions of your hips, slowing you just enough for you to come back to. 

You did just as he said, letting every single drop of you paint him – needed him to know how much you appreciated his help and attention to see you through each and every need your body could conjure. Your body did the talking as you swayed and rubbed against him, showing him every bit of gratitude through your heavy release. And, finally, after your body had given you what you needed, you gained the courage to reposition. 

As if he knew you were ready to try it on your own again, he let his hands fall from your body to rest against the bed. But you did not want that. You needed to feel him on you, as he entered you for the first time in too long. With a shaking hand, still feeling the effects from your orgasm, you were able to grab hold of his hand. And, once it was in your clutch, you placed it back on your waist. You pointedly looked at him – making him understand what you needed from him. 

A little grin found his pretty lips, his brow raising as his eyes settled on yours, at the same moment you felt his other hand on your opposite side. “Still want me touching you, hm?”

“Don’t ever want you to stop touching me, Jake,” you replied, as if it was the most obvious statement.

With his touch and your newfound strength since you’d finished, you let his hot and heavy tip burrow into the spot, created just for him, between your thighs. You kept those gorgeous eyes of his locked with yours, needing to watch him as he entered you again. Just barely, you let him slip in, not able to help it when your eyes began to flutter closed, just barely, in response to the pure ecstasy of the moment. 

But, just before you could push completely down, his hands gripped tighter to your waist, thumbs fanning the sides of your bump. “Hey,” he said quietly. And, at the simple word, your eyes popped open and you gave him your rapt attention. He grinned softly, his eyes squinting just a bit to question you. “I need you to know. . .”

Your heart began to pulse in your ears, the steady thrum washing out anything else but him. You studied him. The curve of his brow. The golden flecks in his irises, reflecting the dim, yellow light from the lamps on both bedside tables. The way he carefully licked his full lips. Your core fluttered around him at the sight. 

“What?” You asked, your expression going to match his, as a worried sense of curiosity took over. What was he about to say?

“I needed you to make you finish – as always. . . sure. Of course,” he began, eyes glancing at every detail of your face before finding your irises once more. “But. . . I mainly did it so you could feel just as confident in yourself as I do.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, a little lilt of a smirk on your lips. 

“Needed your body to remember, just as well as I do, that you can take it,” he said, emphasizing the words with a gentle push of his hands against your hips, pulling more of your body, onto his. Your body lit up at his movements and words. He slipped in just a bit more, not nearly all the way, before lifting you off to your previous position. “You’ve taken it before, many times – and you handle it damn fuckin’ better than any other woman I’ve ever known. . . As far as my dick is concerned, your pussy is the only one that fits it perfectly, y/n,” he repeated the same action as before, still leaving most of himself out of you. 

You very quickly realized you were no longer worried, as you were now the one growing tired of his teasing. Needed him. “Jake, I–.”

“This pussy was made for me and you know that shit,” he finished, finally stopping his actions as his jaw clenched with the seriousness behind his words. “Now. . . God slowly as you need, y/n. . . I’m not going fuckin’ anywhere. . . . But, once you do feel like you can give me all of you, don’t you dare hold back from me.”

And, at that, you went for it. You spread your legs as far as you could, and, very slowly. . . . .  you buried him inside of you. Inch by thick inch. . . Your nearly identical sighs of relief, weaving together in the stuffy air of the room. 

You should’ve known it before. You had known it. And you hated that you’d made both of you wait, as you’d worked up the courage to take him. Worrying had been unnecessary, in the end. Because, while it did take a bit for you to readjust to his size, your wet and waiting body was fucking made for his. Every inch, tucking inside of you – both of your bodies rejoicing at the long lost connection. Truly, sinking onto his cock again was ethereal. Like no other time before. 

It felt like you’d finally made it home after being away for far too long. And, yes, while the other things you’d partaken in had been wonderful – you’d be an idiot to say any different – the feeling of having sex with Jake? Pure and unadulterated sex? The act was different, more fulfilling than anything else you could put a finger to. 

“Look at how damn well you take it, y/n,” he encouraged you, those hands going fully to your hips, holding fast to you. “Perfect fuckin’ body, baby. . . . Made to fit mine.”

The delicate, yet purposeful way his calloused hands held your hips to guide you and keep you going at a steady pace was fucking breathtaking. His fingertips were equal parts hard and soft against your skin–pressing into you in a way that felt as though he was marking you. 

The tender action, combined with the intoxicating stretch of his dick within you, after so long? It tore you apart and put you back together, all at once. And the thought of what you held inside of you, yours and his together, did not help matters. This man, he meant more than the world to you.

He was everything. So remarkably special to you. He was Jake. Your Jake. . . . For this moment, at least.

The thought made you loosen your movements, going to rest on your forearms on either side of his head. Naturally, this put your breasts in the ideal position, right above his mouth. He was biting his lip, watching your hips, focusing solely on the way your bodies were meeting once again. 

Yet, with one particular roll of your body against his, his lips parted. When his eyes caught yours, every secret he kept hidden was out in the open for you to see – or so it felt. Whatever it was, you were getting a glimpse into his soul again. His brown eyes were darkened to a shade reminiscent of the night sky as he let his eyes lock into yours. 

There was no looking away. No losing this moment. And, even when your tightened, sensitive nipple came into contact with his lips, he didn’t break eye contact. Taking one tender bud into his mouth, his amber-brown irises never left your eyes. You could’ve cried, your knees buckling at the simultaneous feeling of having him fill you so intimately, while also sucking your sore breast into his mouth. 

Your breasts, sore from the way your body changed for the little life you’d created with him – that you carried inside for him.Yes. It was all for him. Dammit. And you were proud to fucking say it. 

“It’s all for you, Jake,” you sighed with the squeak of a whine. Suddenly you were throwing back your head at the flick of his tongue against you and the way the tip of his dick had just nudged the sensitive spot hidden inside of you. When you looked down at him again, he was still watching you. His pupils, still darkened, but eyes opened in a way they hadn’t been before. Like he was listening. You’d caught his attention. So, you continued with a sigh, “I needed this world to have a piece of you. Needed to share this baby with the world so there could be more of you. You are worth it, Jake. You always have been.”

His eyebrows dipped at your words, surely considering your heartfelt words. You would probably regret saying that later. But right now? You didn’t give two fucks. He needed to know. And you wanted to scream it from the motherfucking mountaintops. 

He groaned against your heavy breast, giving one more slightly aggressive suck that you wanted more more more of. . . His movements faltered ever so slightly, but only in the tiniest bit, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment. He moved enough for him to remove his mouth, your body releasing even more arousal for him. 

You needed more. 

But, for the briefest of moments, you had images of a woman flash through your mind. No matter how angry she’d made you in the past, there was a woman across the state that he very much belonged to. . . A woman who wasn’t you. Should you have wanted more at this moment? Much less ‘needed’ more? The guilt started to tap at your brain, forcing you to put yourself on the spot. 

What the fuck were you doing?

Though, more concerning, was that the man below you had stopped his ministrations. Fuck. Was he having the same thoughts? 

Eyebrow raised, you tried not to let your nerves show, as to why he’d stopped his licking and sucking. . . “Ja–?”

“You are the most incredible woman to ever grace this planet,” he gruffly responded, but heartily as he kept a comfortable rhythm with his hips. Up, down, up, down. . . So smooth, exactly what your body longed for. No other thoughts swept through your mind. All you could focus on was the fact that he knew just how to give it to you. But. . .as soon as that thought entered your mind, you mentally froze. Was it the same for M–? 

No. Not right now, y/n, a gentle voice within you pleaded. 

“Y/n,” Jake spoke again, interrupting the soft voice in your mind. With a slight growl, his lips were tight as he reached up to hold the base of your skull, nestling a hand under your hair. “Get out of your motherfucking head, baby. We are here. This is our moment. Feel it.”

Feel it.

With those words, he delivered a particularly sharp thrust to your center, making your entire body limp for a moment. Even more desire for him leaked from your core. You needed it–this. Every single thrust – sharp, easy, hard, soft. . . you needed it. All of it. 

Feel it, y/n. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his grip loosening on your hair only to pull a tad harder. At his order, you did as you were told and caught his eyes yet again. Falling back into the familiar color of dark chocolate felt like the coziest blanket. His stare was intense and quiet all at once. “You are the most incredible woman and I am honored that you chose to carry the life we created. I am honored, baby. I only want it with you.”

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes and you didn’t try to hold back the lone tear that dripped down your cheek, landing on his heavenly, sculpted chest. You gripped one of his pecs in your shaky hand, your hips tightening just a bit at the position. It was just a little harder to maneuver with the extra weight at your front.  

Your face must’ve twinged with a look of discomfort because you felt a steadying hold at your hips. 

“Hey,” Jake softly beckoned your attention and you had to open your eyes to look at him. “What’s up, love?”

Love. You’d ignore that for now. 

“Body’s just different. Heavy, y’know?” You explained, staying balanced next to his head with one palm as you leaned up. Your other hand laid gently against your growing belly. “Need to move.”

His eyes softened and he slid up the bed just enough to get good enough leverage to reposition.

“Just tell me how,” he requested, the hand at the base of your skull massaging there. His other hand went to comfortably hold and lift your hip and the curve of your ass. It was obvious what he was doing – holding you up, trying to alleviate any unnecessary pressure. “However you need, honey.”

Another tear left your eye of its own accord. And with his next words, your heart sped up.

“As long as I get to stay inside of you.”

Your skin flamed, your heart lodged in your chest. “You bet your ass you’re finishing what you started,” you quietly responded, knowing your cheeks were blushing so bright under his heated stare. “I’ve needed this more than I can explain, Jake.”

With that, he smirked and pulled himself from you. But before you could get too sad, he was using the hand, still placed at the base of your skull and the other, still on your hip to adjust your body to be laying down. You, laying on your side and him, right behind you. It was the perfect idea, your muscles relaxing immediately. It felt wonderful.

“How did you know this would feel so good?”

You knew the answer before you even asked it. 

“I’ve done my research,” he replied, his hand brushing some of your hair to the side, so his breath could fan against your ear.

Imagining him doing research on pregnant sex had more release accumulating between your thighs. How he was managing to get you wetter and wetter without actually making you come was beyond you. But he was sure as hell doing it.

Behind you, you felt him squeeze your hip, his tip nudging against your entrance before entering you once more, so slowly. As he did this, his hand came to lay gently on your swollen tummy. 

While your eyes rolled back in bliss, you suddenly detested one detail about the position. “I can’t see your face,” you noted, voice melting with a hint of sadness. “That part sucks.”

He leaned down, his lips lightly pressing to your skin. Just a dusting of kisses against your cheek, before he was letting his lips trail from your face to your mouth. With that, he reached around and grabbed your chin between his pointer and thumb, angling your face just so, locking eyes with you once more. His hips, languidly keeping their pace as his lips locked with mine before his tongue was dipping into my mouth. He took his time to trace the inside of your mouth, his tongue sliding across yours, slowly. After one steady stripe on the roof of your mouth, he very smoothly pulled his tongue across yours before pulling his mouth from you completely. 

Your body trembled against his, the sensation of him inside of you and the way his tongue had intentionally taken time to pay mind to each and every line of your mouth, so carefully. And when he pecked you gently once more, his lips pressing so intentionally to yours, you felt tears well in your eyes. 

And, no matter how hot it had been to feel your tongues tangling so intricately, you couldn’t help the tear that slid down your cheek. For, as much as the moment had made your skin lick with heat in ecstacy, you felt the painful pang of familiarity. The longing for what had been your heart tugged against nothing in your chest when he pulled away with a sense of finality. Then, you were able to focus on the expression painting his handsome face. And that was the worst part of all. His face, the one you loved more than any other, held every bit of empathy he could muster – you were sure of it. Not pity for you or the situation, but pure understanding for everything encompassing your current reality. 

As his eyes remained locked with yours, his hand stayed on your chin, holding you steady in place as he continued to move inside of you. He wanted to see you just as badly, his teeth going to bite his lip as he watched your face in awe. You wanted to communicate every feeling he was offering you, to him. He needed to understand what this meant to you. What he meant to you. 

It was too much and not enough all at once. 

You wanted to say three simple words, to seal the serene moment, but you couldn’t. That would, somehow, be worse than the sex. Because, the words would admit vulnerability and expose your heart in a way you were not sure you were ready for – not yet.

Also, he wasn’t with you. That was your other factor to consider before you could ever let those words leave your mouth. He was with her. And this was. . . you didn’t know what this was. No, actually. . . You did know. This was a moment. One moment, so utterly intimate and inevitable, with his dick situated snugly inside of you, fitting with you as if he were made specifically for you and no one else. . .  Hence your debilitating confusion. 

What in the fuck were you doing? And did you even care to question it right now? No. You fucking didn’t. Not now. Fuck everything else. Because, this was how it should’ve stayed, months ago. . . Before you’d ruined it. Squandered it. You’d destroyed the best thing you’d ever experienced in this life, in a matter of minutes, in that motherfucking kitchen. 

And, every single day, the reasoning behind losing him became less and less clear. Especially in moments such as this. 

You’re bad for him, a grating voice reminded you, forcing another teardrop to slip down your cheek. You could hurt him if he got too close. This is what you can do for him. All you’re good for is this. You can fuck him and have his baby. That is your contribution, y/n. 

Your vision was suddenly much blurrier, a few more tears accumulating that threatened to spill over your bottom lashes. 

“Hey,” he smoothed one calloused thumb against your cheek, the same one he’d just placed the sweetest kiss upon. “We’ll keep working on positions, okay?” 

It’s not just that, you wanted to say. Silently, you plead with him. I want to keep working on this. Us. But I’m not for you.

Though, rather than speaking those pitiful words into the warm air shared between your mixed breaths, you just grinned the best you could. Focused on the closeness of this moment. Reveled in this. How he felt right now. How familiar this was. Cruelly familiar. 

“Okay,” you mumbled, a few tears straying yet again. Gently, you nudged your chin against his thumb, causing him to get the idea and move it to rest upon your bottom lip. You  kissed the calloused pad of his thumb. 

His finger pulled a bit at your lip, testing something. You moved your hand that laid against your side, reaching around to him the best you could, to cup his cheek. He leaned into the motion, nuzzling his warm cheek against the soft skin of your palm. 

“If you need, you can turn this way to see me,” he assured, looking down at how you’d leaned back into him. The way you’d moved, accompanying your head, which was still turned after the earlier help of his hand. “But just relax, baby. Let me do the work.”

And with that, you truly focused on the feeling of his thickness once more. He fit you exquisitely, your body acclimating to him like he’d never left. No matter how intimidating his girth was and how tight your body seemed to be, it was like your body realized just how necessary it was for him to nestle inside. Your core, forming around him, having been anticipating his presence since the last time you’d felt him. 

Suddenly, you felt him nearly bottom out – the pressure suddenly much more intense. He was beautifully and intoxicatingly intense. Your eyes pinched shut in sweet bliss, falling into the way your body was full of him. Just how God fucking intended. 

As much as you didn’t want to, your neck was starting to hurt from the angle. So, you turned your head to once again face the pink walls of your childhood bedroom. The crown of your head naturally came to rest against the slightly sweaty skin of his toned chest. Your back, arching to get impossibly more. And more you got, somehow, as his body adjusted into the place that needed him most. The base of his dick, resting at your entrance, as his balls were cradled in the space between you, between his thigh and yours. 

You were one. 

Until he was pulling out, his arm that laid underneath your head, flexing as he went to grip the bedsheets in front of your face. His fist began to tighten, strong white knuckles appearing in front of you as he clutched the mattress beneath them to anchor himself as he prepared for what was next. You moaned, straightening your back a little to steady yourself, your head pushed back to rest against his shoulder. Your ass curved, just like it knew how, to accommodate him. 

You heard the slap of his skin against yours before you felt it, your body needing a moment to come to after the harsh thrust. As the head of his dick made its home, over and over, against your cervix, you felt the heaviness of his balls as they slapped against you with each purposeful thrust of his hips. His breath, so hot against your sweaty neck. His body had taken completely over, remembering every line of your form, everything you liked. 

But, this time was different. There was an eternal connection, created by the two of you. And, as though reading your mind, his hand came to rest, once again, on your tummy. He held it as though to protect it, and with a spare hand, you let your palm float to lay upon his. What was underneath, the two of you shared more intimately than anything or anyone else. 

She was you and him. The most precious gift that you’d created together. 

One strong, weighted jut of his hips against your ass brought you back to him. Only him. Your whimpers filled the air – no longer cognizant enough to control your sounds. You simply had to count on everyone in the house being asleep. 

You knew that Jake was immersing himself into every little whine, his groans of approval, could only be described as possessive. They were hard and harsh, just like his thrusts. His face came to rest in the crook between your neck and ear, nuzzled just right before you felt repeated kisses placed behind your ear. 

You tried your best to move your hips to keep in time with each measured pump of his hips. With each rut of his front against your back, you realized just how much you’d missed the feeling of him inside of you. It was seemingly essential to you feeling complete. You hadn’t felt this good since the last time you’d fucked him that hazy, golden morning in August. 

And, fuck, he was so damn thick, stretching you, fucking the inside of your heated core to the point of complete fulfillment. The combination of moans and sighs were hushed, both of you doing your damndest to be quiet. But, you knew it was a near impossible feat. While you both seemed to know it best not to be noisy at the risk of your grandparents being privy to what was going on in their house, it was getting more and more difficult to conceal it. 

You breathed in tiny hushes against the hot air of the room, his own echoing into your ear from his spot, nestled into your neck. His hand, having been holding your belly, trailed up to your chest. And in a healthy grip, he cupped a full breast, your taut nipple running against his palm, making your entire body shiver. Your pussy contracted around him, throbbing healthily and leaking a bit – naturally, to spur him on. At the feeling, he slid out a bit slower, milking your body’s response to him. He sucked in a breath of air between his teeth as he sunk back inside, just as slowly. Though, it didn’t last long before he was once again increasing his speed, to a merciless rhythm. His dick marked you as his own – to the point that you were positive he’d leave a mark inside of you. 

You fucking hoped so.

“You are so fucking perfect,” he breathed into your neck, the sound vibrating against your skin and into your ear. Another rough thrust had you biting into the plushness of your bottom lip. The feeling of him hammering against your cervix, while simultaneously rubbing, purposefully, against the secret spot opposite your clit, made your eyes roll back in your head. “Do you understand me?”

You whined pathetically, with each steady rock of his hips. The way he filled you on top of how sharp the thrusts had become, threatening to make you unravel. Your body had been craving this. And that term didn’t even come close to describing it. 

You could feel it coming, slowly but surely, your body wanting to take its time. But, Jake’s power over you had your abdomen beginning to clench with a fiery sense. Your uterus, aching and begging for his release. The growl that emitted from your lips, eyes shutting on their own – all a sign that your entire being was ready to let go and accept his release. From the inside and out, your body was withering away to nothing and begging for his body’s response. 

But not yet. You were not ready for this moment to end. And you by god, were not going to do this shit until you could watch him. And you didn’t want to have to turn your damn head. 

Without a care for how it might hurt your back, you decided to give up the careful position you were laying in. For a better view of the man that held your heart, so comfortably, in his hands – it was absolutely worth it. 

“Jake,” you whined his name, your body writhing against him and the sheets with the roughness of each perfectly timed rock and sway of his hips.“Lay me on my back, baby.”

His response was breathy, barely letting up on his movements. His hair, stuck to your own neck at his closeness. “Are you sure? Won’t that hurt your bac–?”

“I don’t care,” you stated, not to be argued with. “Wanna see you when you make me finish, baby.”

“What if I don’t want you to be hurting when I make you finish?”

“What if I don’t care?” You tested him for no reason at all, just felt like it. Felt like getting under his skin a little. . . that was definitely not new. And he knew it. “And what if I said that now I want to lie like that because I know you don’t want me to?”

He scoffed a sly chuckle, moving your bodies just so, giving you himself in a way that you so desperately craved, every waking moment. And, then, when he snapped his strong hips against your ass in response, you felt equal parts aggravated and needy. You knew what you wanted was fucking valid and that you would die on this damn hill until he understood you meant fucking business. Because all you knew was: comfort did not matter anymore. Not in this moment with him, the moment you’d found yourself carelessly envisioning for far too long.

Months. It had been months since you’d been able to fall apart on his dick.

“Always so fucking stubborn,” he rasped, pulling from your wet center abruptly, with no warning. You gasped at the sudden loss, instantly regretting your decision for him to have to move out of you to appease the adjustment for your new position. You knew he was frustrated to have to leave your body. And, you expected more of a fervid response to indicate this. But, when he made contact with you, it was with gentle hands – offering help in guiding you onto your back. “Even when she gets what she wants, she’ll always want more.” 

His husky, whispered voice, gave his irritation away. The statement, spoken at a depth that you’d only heard on the occasions that he was the most animalistic and angrily hungry for more of your body. His voice, at all, made your little game of testing him crumble beneath you. . . .And the specific timbre in this tone let you know that he wasn’t going to be quite so gentle with you once you were facing him like you’d so stubbornly desired.

He’d slipped himself out of you just long enough to place you in the position you’d requested. After getting you like he wanted, your back supported by a couple of pillows, he settled above you. His heavy cock rested between your thighs only briefly before he was pressing forward. As if his body couldn’t stand not being intertwined with yours for even a second, he found his way back inside of you nearly instantly. Both of you, hissing deliciously at the new position. And somehow, whether it was the pillows he’d placed under you or what, your back wasn’t the issue you were expecting it to be. In fact, the way he’d laid you out now, felt even better than before. 

Perhaps it was for the simple fact that you could see his face. Admittedly, looking into his eyes always left your body feeling more at ease. Which was why you’d prefer this view to anything else – especially at this moment.

His face. His perfect, flawless features, carved with a yearning equal to one the one you felt as you looked up at him. Those eyes–they said so much. And while you couldn’t hear the words, you could see them – every single one. They were written in a language so specific to Jake, a dialect you’d come to understand so intimately. And, to be in the place where you could read those beautiful lines once again–your heart knew each and every word with a single glance. 

He placed his forearms on the pillow, next to your head, boxing you in. In this protective position, he brought his lips to place a full kiss against your lips. You sighed with relief, feeling more air enter your tired lungs. When he pulled away, you held onto his dark irises with your own. His stare, penetrating you just as his body did. . . . . You were pinned to your mattress. There was not a chance in hell for escape. And you wanted it just like that – wished this could last for-fucking-ever. 

His desperate, deep strokes came one after another, at a carnivorous pace, his hips unrelenting in their quest to make you fall apart. Just as you’d guessed, he was not taking it easy. And you had a strong feeling if he continued like this, it would easily make you fall apart, completely, at the seams.

You reached a hand up to cup his cheek in your hand. Your thumb, fanning sweetly across his birthmark as you studied every intricate and sweaty detail of his face at this moment. You wanted the way his eyes were unrelentingly trained on yours, the sweat accumulated at his hairline, the way his lips were curled. . . . . You wanted it branded  into your mind, never to leave, for all of eternity. You wanted this version of him to be the last thing you thought of when you went to sleep, the first thing you envisioned when you awoke. . . . All because it was carved so deeply into you that it would also take up residence in every dream.

You couldn’t let this go. Couldn’t let him go. Had to keep this glimpse of his face, near to you. The way he looked when he was entranced by you, stuck in a moment made only for the two of you. Having this with him  again, it was completely surreal. The idea that you were in your old bedroom, him above you, sweating just as much as you were. . . His brows, knitted together with his mouth, suddenly agape when your body responded to a roll of his hips – fluttering around him, pulling him into you. . . 

You knew he’d find his end soon, too, if he didn’t slow down. You could feel the way his body was tensing every now and again, the way the thrusts were growing more ragged. Goddamn. The last time this had happened, it had resulted in a baby. Your baby. His baby. You let both hands rest on his shoulders, suddenly feeling the urge to bring him down close to you. Because, all you wanted at this moment was to kiss him. Since you could for this blip of time, you’d take advantage of that shit. In this moment of space and time, where only the two of you existed, you could feel his lips on yours. So, once he was finally close enough to you that every breath that left his opened mouth entered yours, mixing with your breaths, you leaned up just the slightest bit. 

And, once you’d met in the middle, you let your lips mold with his. Your top lip, tucked snug between his slips. You sucked on his bottom lip before you let the kiss deepen briefly, tangling your tongue with his to entwine with him in every way you could. Languidly, you kissed for a few stolen minutes. The kisses were measured perfectly and messy, all at once. His body, moving just enough to keep a rhythm. You crossed your arms at his neck, just as your ankles went to cross at his lower back. This made your belly come to rest snugly against his abdomen. 

Still, somehow, you needed him closer — he was never, ever close enough.

He pulled away once breathing became a necessity once more. The words were mumbled, his voice strangled on a low moan against your lips. “When I–when it’s time. . . . where do you want me to finish?”

Not able to help it, a giggle released from the tenderness you felt in your chest for him. “It won’t affect me either way, baby. . .,” you sighed, your words lilting with the steady, now-soft force of his thrusts. He was pacing himself. Thank god. You were trying your best to do the same. You played with the tendrils of hair that had fallen to cling to the column of his throat. You loosened your legs momentarily –  just enough to tighten them again, proving a point. You pulled him close enough to you that the roundness of your bump meshed completely to his abdomen. If she kicked now, no doubt he’d feel it against his skin. “I’m full of your baby already.”

He stopped moving momentarily. His breath, catching in his throat as his mouth dropped open at your words. Eventually, he came back to you. This was after he’d let his eyes trail down from your face, to every other part of your upper body. He’d watched, in utter admiration, where your bodies connected. 

He moaned once his eyes were on yours again. From deep in his chest, you felt it rattle through your chest. You’d never heard the sound from him. It was dark and guttural —territorial, almost. Your body did the talking for you as you processed the sound. Right along with the darkness in your gaze, your center squeezed him – right where his hot, heavy dick rested inside of you. 

You’d meant it as a joke. But. . . His reaction was telling you that he didn’t seem to find it so funny. And now, you weren’t finding anything funny at all.

When his movements stuttered back to life, he clenched his jaw before biting the plushness of his bottom lip. When his eyes found yours, after tracing intently over your heaving tits, his pupils were enormous, his eyes were so dark. No light. Nothing. Only neediness. Hunger. 

The fire that blazed in his eyes when he went to kiss you, before sucking a mark behind your ear – marking your little secret night together. . . He’d liked that. He liked you talking about being pregnant with his baby. Your chest flamed.

“Damn right you fuckin’ are,” he finally replied, the fire in his voice unwavering as he let a hand trail to your thigh. He lifted your leg higher, to rest higher on his back, getting even deeper, hips never ceasing. His eyes, still blazing, seemed to hold an important thought behind them. “But. . . baby, where do you want me to. . .?” 

It took you no time at all to know exactly where you wanted him to finish. That was no damn question at all. In fact, you were a little offended he had to ask at all.

“Inside,” you sighed, your chest heavy with need for the man above you. “As far as you can get – inside. Please.”

“God— I was hoping you’d fucking say that,” he mumbled, bringing the other leg up by the thigh, before he did just as you said, sunk as far as possible. Just as he had earlier, from behind, but now you could see his face when he (very nearly) bottomed out. The way his eyes rolled back in his head was hardly caught by you as you reacted, just the same. He grabbed the headboard above you, pulling it from the wall the slightest bit, the bed creaking a bit from being manipulated. Then, he was reaching for a spare pillow with the other hand, grasping the one next to your head. Then, he was tucking it, securely, between the white metal of the headboard and the wall. 

You crinkled your brow. . . Why is he. . .?

He then used a powerful rut of his hips to push the bed back into place, pounding his hips into you as the bed squeaked back against the pillow. 

The groan that left your lips matched in perfect time to his own, as the head of his cock surely left an imprint against your cervix. Then, as soon as he was seated in you, he was tucking your legs up a smidge higher to sink further into you. He couldn’t go as far as you wanted, because, even with your legs lifted, the belly hindered him a bit. Not too much, but enough that you were longing for the last couple centimeters of him. Your legs tingled in the best way with the new position, before you felt him all around you – moving in the pit of your tummy. 

“Jake,” you pathetically cried his name, miserable for him. And he met it with harsher, harder thrusts. . . Less controlled. More reckless. . . starved. 

His eyes briefly lifted to the headboard, just in time, it seemed as he rushed out a ‘fuckin’ pillow’, before he hurriedly pushed his palms against the headboard, holding the offensive pillow in its place.

Even though you knew what was going on, you still asked. “What’s wrong?”

“This damn pillow,” he grunted, his hips still keeping the same time as before. He was a sex god. Plain and simple. Fuck. “Keeps trying to move. Can’t let the headboard hit the wall. But I’ll be damned if I slow down.”

Your face heated at his statement, core gaining more wetness, all for him. “Well, I think. . . .,” you started, his gaze finding yours to acknowledge you. “ I think. . .  Therein lies the problem, baby. . . . The poor pillow can’t keep up with us.”

He huffed a laugh, the dimple in his cheek showing as your mind drifted to the way his sweaty abdomen rubbed against the underside of your belly. “I’d say you’re correct, babydoll.”

You looked above you, to watch him, his face contorted in concentration as he went back to watching the pillow. Then, he was clenching that pretty jaw, your body jostling with each and every powerful roll of his hips. From where you were writhing beneath him, you got to admire the strong underside of that jaw, as he looked up to watch the headboard tempt to hit the wall. The bed was shaking—creaking with the power of his movements.

God, his arms looked so incredible as they flexed in their position, stretched above your head. His hips never letting up, creating a rhythm between your bodies that was absolutely un-fucking-rivaled. Then, he was looking at you again. With the most awe-inspiring irises you’d ever seen. His eyes . . . Dammit.

“You know, y/n. . . .,” he began, easing up on the work of his hips for a minute. His eyes scanned every inch of your face before finding your irises, pinning them. “I think the pillow is a symbol.” 

“And what symbol might that be?” You wrinkled your brow, nose twitching when a gentle grin perked your lips. Your hand, coming to rest over his rounded pec, skin warm and smooth and sweaty. His heart, beating a steady thrum under your palm. 

“That I will always keep going – working – for you. I would hold this pillow for all of eternity, my arms falling off with the effort, just to be with you,” he responded, body slowing down, almost stopping, to accommodate what he was saying. The words were raspy as his eyes began to glisten. One hand left the headboard as he stopped completely, still hot inside of you. He reached down, arm brushing yours. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, just as he always had. Then, he cupped your cheek, affectionately running his thumb against the apple of it. “You, y/n  y/m/n  y/l/n, are worth every type of pain in this world and more. I will always believe that. You are worthy, baby. And I will show you however I can, for the rest of our lives – no matter what,” he sighed on the words, his hand leaving your body, going to the headboard once again. 

Then, his body was picking up its pace again as a small smile clung to his lips, eyes glancing to the pillow above you briefly before he was scanning your face once again, wonder encapsulating his amber-brown irises when he found yours. 

Your eyes watered at the fierce way he seemed to care for you. . . . But, you didn’t know what to say. Agreeing with him definitely wasn’t on the table. You weren’t there. . . You didn’t agree with him. Everything he’d said about being worthy  –that did not fit your perception of yourself. But. . . The fact that he thought to utter those words at all, had your heart about to beat straight out of your chest. Your head was light and heavy with thought, all at once. 

Deciding a response was respectful of the bold statement, you went with something light. “Even if it’s a damn pillow and my old bed?” You asked, sweetly, reaching to touch his face lightly. His skin was damp against your fingertips from exertion. 

He chuckled on a breath of air before letting his eyes settle on you once more, the level of care behind his gaze just wasn’t fathomable to you. “Even that,” he said, so sweet. “And even then.”

It was at that moment, you realized you’d do it all over again. The night you’d given him permission to finish like this before, when the baby had come to be. . . . You wouldn’t change a damn thing about any of it. This chapter of your life was the best you’d experienced so far and it was because of him. 

Damn. Just the thought alone and his heartfelt words and the constant effort, no matter what. . . . It had your body quivering. Your legs grew weak and your walls fluttered around him, before holding onto him. You felt it all. Felt the way you would give him all of you, so freely. It felt like the first breath of spring after a harsh winter. 

Loving Jake was so easy. . . It was the easiest, most freeing thing in the world to sink into him.

To let loose for him. 

Your mind pondered as your legs slipped down to his hips, wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders. The tips of your fingers twirled around the long wisps of hair at the base of his head, before you combed your fingers fully through his hair. It was tangled and sweaty after the night's events. You shuddered a breath at the thought of everything he’d done for you. All of the time. Even tonight, when he was giving all he had for this significant moment. 

He felt it all with you. Every bit of emotion you’d felt for the past several months – the passion that took over your entire being. . . . Had he truly felt it this entire time? In the spirit of vulnerability, and the raw, emotional moment, you decided to ask him. And, you decided you wouldn’t even specify. You’d simply ask. And, if he knew what you were referring to, that would give you your answer all the more. 

“Jake. . . .,” you began, fingers still combing through his hair. Because, now, you were determined to get the tangles out. 

Instantly, his sights were on you, setting your soul on fire as he raised his brows with a, “Hm?” in response.

“The whole time?” You asked, and instantly, you were waiting for him to be confused. He didn’t look confused, necessarily. His eyes, holding a sense of care that emphasized he was listening intently to whatever you had to say. 

God. You were so stupid. What you were asking made no sense whatsoever. It wasn’t fair to ask him – that you expected him to just know. 

You were about to follow it up with something else, but weren’t able to by the time he answered. 

“The whole time, y/n,” he said, finishing off with a gentle, relaxed motion from his hips. You sighed, both from the feeling of his cock making home inside of you, over and over. . . and the fact that he’d understood. He knew. Fuck. Your eyes welled with tears and the few that trickled from your eyes were impossible to contain. A calloused thumb came to wipe away the wetness. “From the first time I laid eyes on you, babydoll. . . . My soul knew before I did. Knew I needed you somehow, forever. . . And then the universe gifted us Lav. The most incredible answer to my soul’s deepest desire.”

Fuck. 

“Oh, Jake. . . .,” you murmured, your wet eyes bouncing between his, weighing the emotion behind each iris. “I. . . . You are. . . ,” you paused, contemplating if you should say it. What wanted to fall from your lips. And, you decided, not bothering to fully consider it, that you had to say it. It was the truth, and this was the chance to say it. At the very least, you could say this. “You are everything, Jacob Thomas.” 

Your hips lifted up to meet his, encouraging him as tears continued to fall down your cheeks, one by one. He kept with his motions, that same grin from before, evident on his lips, still. His brows drew together at the feeling of it all, just as yours did the same. God, you wanted to fall apart around him more than anything right now. So, you kept meeting his forceful thrusts, felt his heavy dick sink in, then out, in, then out. . . . 

This was it. Both of you knew it, your eyes meeting in a nostalgic gaze. This was a mirrored moment to the one, so many months ago in August, where you’d allowed the same thing. . . . The results, very visible from the allowance that night.

“I need it, Jake,” you whispered, the words sacred – meant only for his ears – on a shaky sigh. “I need you to feel it when I let go. I need you to know – to feel how much I mean it. My body needs yours and it’s ready to show you just how badly it aches for you, all of the time. . .”

He was receptive immediately, reaching behind him to push your legs a bit lower. And, you eventually got the hint that he wanted your legs to be down. So, you did as you assumed, planting your feet on the bed and spreading your legs as far as they could go. Your hips burned a little at the position, your back finally beginning to feel the effects of this position. . . But you didn’t care. When you did this, he laid his body down further against you, meeting you completely. His chest, nearly flush with your own. And when your hard, sensitive nipples skimmed his strong chest, you mewled, grinding up into him, needing more. 

Once he was nestled just as he’d apparently wanted, he tucked his face into your neck. The bridge of his nose, running lazily against your neck before his lips were making home there as well. Leaving wet, open mouthed kisses, lazily against your burning flesh. Once he’d made it to the column of your throat, right next to your ear, he went back to that spot from earlier. His mouth rested under and then behind your ear, as he curled a fistful of your hair in his palm, angling your head a bit to the side so he could bite there. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, careening your body into his, getting as close as you could. His dick shifted a bit in your body at the action and you moved against it the best you could, craving friction everywhere. As you did that, he began sucking, intently, to make an even darker bruise than you were sure was already there from earlier. 

His lips were then against your ear, his hot, labored breaths brushing against your skin. He stopped moving completely, pushing into you, entirely (or, nearly – thanks, belly) before his hips stilled. “Stop moving and listen to me,” he demanded. His voice was low, his tone dark and husky. “You are mine, y/n. And I am yours. We both know this. Don’t we?”

“Yes,” you sighed in response, needing no time to confirm you felt the same. There was no way in hell you could disagree. You’d learned there was no denying the pull you felt to the man on top of you. You were his – beyond the shadow of a doubt. You squirmed beneath him, feeling yourself leak around him, encouraging more. “Yes, Jake. I am yours, baby.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer, his hips beginning a slow, steady, and deliberate rhythm. His breaths, still hot against your neck. But. . . that wasn’t what this position was intended for. . . You could’ve had his head in the crook of your neck from behind. You’d moved for the one reason to be able to see his face. 

“I need to see your face, Jake,” you reminded him, breathing the words into the stuffy air of the bedroom. “P-please,” you stuttered in time with his hips.

Without any other prompting, he was placing a kiss on the column of your throat, before doing just as you asked. When he’d moved from your neck, and was once more looking down at you, you smiled in unison. The secret smiles you shared, making a little giggle bubble from your chest, his lips quirking beneath the incoming facial hair above his upper lip. 

“Hi,” you sighed, a sense of relief washing over you. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he responded, two delicate fingers brushing a few tendrils of hair back from your sticky forehead. “Better?”

“Much.”

He wasted no time getting back to it. He kept one hand against the headboard, just above you, but brought one down to hold your left hip. His grip was so strong and practiced, as he lifted your body for him. You knew he had plans. Knew that he needed you just so, for what he intended to do. You had zero question that he had a plan – exactly how he intended to make you fall apart underneath him.

The weight of his body on top of you, his abdomen, completely damp with sweat, and so firm and sturdy against your belly. You felt so safe like this, with his dick – so fucking thick – so deep inside, his body hovering over you in a way that made you feel completely secure. You were sure nothing on this earth could harm you when he was like this: with you, in you, around you. You watched his face, letting his expressions fuel your impending orgasm. And, for a brief moment, you truly felt as if no time had passed, because the way he looked now was so similar to how he’d looked, every time he’d worked to make you finish all of those months ago. Every time, there was this pinch of his brows, his concentration honed in on you, watching your bodies, then he’d watch your face. . . His focus, untouchable, as if getting you off was his sole purpose for living. 

Yet, even with how familiar it felt – this way he looked, just the same as before. . . . it still wasn’t the same. It hadn’t been like this for so long. But, it wasn’t a sad realization this time. No, it made your skin light with fire as you realized his handsome features seemed to be communicating more than before. There were new indicators on his face, in his actions that told you things were different. And not a ‘bad different’. Quite the opposite, actually. 

You’d had no idea it was possible then, but you knew now it was entirely possible for him to look at you with even more intention. It showed that he was paying even closer attention to the responses your body gave him, more meticulous in his decisions to lead you to the precipice he wanted for you, just as badly as you wanted it for yourself. 

The feeling of him – sliding in and out, in and out. . . It sent a shiver up and down your spine. This sensation alone, if you focused on it long enough, could make you finish. You were sure of it. But your mind began a slew of thoughts that aided in getting you there. It lit your skin on fire to remember how wrong this was. Rather than infuriating you, you whined at the combined push of him inside of you and the reality of how he wasn’t choosing her over you. 

Not this time. No. This time, he was saying things that made you realize. . . . Maybe it really could be you two, in the end. After all, he’d said it himself. You were his. He was yours. That left anyone else out of the equation. And whether or not it was true in the morning, it was true right now. Right now, as his cock controlled your pussy, there was no one else. You spread your legs further, welcoming him in, offering your body to him. All of you. Your breath hitched on each skilled jolt of his hips, into yours. You let him reclaim you, mark your body in any and every way he wanted. You didn’t care. Because even if he wasn’t yours fully, you were undoubtedly his. In every sense of the phrase. 

Neither of you were ready to let go of this, that much was apparent. No matter when or what, your bodies would always find refuge in the other’s. You knew that much. The spark that ignited with every pull and push of him inside of you – that little spark forced you to feel that truth. There was no denying it. 

Fuck. You could feel the pressure building, coiling up in your tummy, before jolting straight to your throbbing center. His hips snapped – harder – into you, feeding the way he, no doubt, noticed your pussy begging for him. He was pumping into you, with such a primal urgency, you were sure the bed was lost in thought and slamming against the walls. Afraid you were too lost in the rush of thoughts, you came back to, to survey the situation. But somehow, as you glanced up, you noticed he’d kept enough sense to continue pressing the pillow into the wall. 

Damn. He really was everything. You’d meant that shit with every fiber of your being. Your core gripped him, tightening around him of its own accord. Fuckfuckfuck. Suddenly, you weren’t ready – wanted to stay in the moment forever. But you knew better – were aware that it was almost time. It was all too much, your body needed to release the tension. You’d held on to the moment for too long. It was time to pay your dues. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders, as he continued to wreck your soaking wet pussy, relentlessly, above you. The sound of your wetness, repeatedly coating his cock, was all you could hear. The gasps for air, drowned out by the sound of your bodies claiming each other – thrust after thrust. Again and again. . . It was dirty, intoxicating – just the same as the practiced tempo of his hips. The tempo, which matched that of your pounding heart. 

“Jake,” you cried his name, not sure what the fuck you were pleading for. . . . Just felt it necessary to breathe his name like a prayer. “Jake.”

Though, he paid almost no mind. The only indicator that he’d heard you, being his eyes. Those lovely irises, floating from where he’d been watching your breasts bounce on your chest, to your eyes. A droplet of sweat came from his nose, to meet the center of your chest – marking you. You wanted that evidence of exertion to soak into your skin and stay there forever. . . His eyes were soft, full of that unnamed emotion you were too afraid to name aloud. That four letter word. You could see it behind the amber-brown pools that haunted your every thought. 

Though, tender as his gaze was, his body had the opposite reaction. He didn’t slow down at his name. No. He only pressed deeper, both hands going to hold the headboard again, his energy coming to a fierce head as his cock hit a spot inside of you, repeatedly, that had your vision blurring. 

“Cum for me, y/n,” he demanded, the rasp in his tone mixing with a sense of domineering urgency. “Cum around my dick. Let me feel it. Do it for me, baby.”

His words were filthy and desperate – urging you. And, as his eyes connected with yours once more, he bit his lip. And there you were. Right at the edge. Somehow, you found it in you to challenge him. “Why should I?” You questioned, panting unceasingly.

Sure, now wasn’t the time. But, his answer, whatever it was, would push you over that edge – where you were teetering and tempting fate. This banter, that had been the beginning of your relationship, had become something you’d come to cherish. It now lived permanently between you two. Challenging him had become a favorite pastime of yours long before you’d ever felt his body with yours.

“Because you know who the fuck this body belongs to and all you want to do is show me, y/n,” he snapped, his tone sharp as his eyes held every memory and feeling possible. “Because your goal is to make me cum. Isn’t it, baby?” He said this with a curl of his lips, satisfied with the way you’d groaned, croaked a tiny whimper in response to the words. “And I can’t fuckin’ do that until I make you fall apart. You want to drown in me – want my name to be the only thought in your mind. Don’t you, y/n? Do it. For me.”

‘For me.’ Goddammit! Those words, all it took to make you shatter around him, your muscles tensing inexplicably, legs shaking uncontrollably beneath him as it flooded from you. You released an appalling cry, not at all worrying for anyone but him and you. Thankfully, mid-cry, Jake swooped in and silenced you with his plush lips. His mouth and tongue, absorbing every sound you released for him. All you saw were stars and JakeJakeJake, for a solid minute. Once his mouth had left yours, your back simultaneously arched to the point of near impossibility, body still trembling beneath him. You were not even aware, until this moment, that your body could curl in such a way, forming to his every line. Your nails scratched at his back, surely leaving angry red stripes. But–fuck everyone else. You wanted that. Needed the world to know that he wasn’t theirs. He belonged to you. 

“That’s right, babydoll,” he encouraged, on a rushed breath, hips not once letting up. He continued to milk you for all you could possibly give as he chased his own release. “Fuckin’ mark me, y/n.”

The sound you made in response to the words and his relentless rutting was absolutely humiliating. It was this lewd combination of a growl, grunt, and a starved fucking wail that slipped past your lips. After you were sure you’d left deep scratches, you let your hands fly to the covers, gripping them as his hands left the headboard altogether. And, in an instant, he was flipping you both, never leaving you. And, he was below you as you very suddenly found yourself on top. 

One might not guess it looking at him, but those broad shoulders weren’t for fucking nothing. Jake Kiszka was a strong ass motherfucker. And, damn, it felt delicious to be the recipient of his rugged handling again. 

You leaned down into him, taking the new position with as much grace as you could. Your hands found home on his chest, tugging at the taut skin there like your life depended on it. And, as your swollen clit nudged, over and over, against the underside of his tummy, your toes curled. And, in this revisited position, you dissolved into another wave of pleasure. Your knuckles were flexed and tight to the point of whitening. When his eyebrows seemed to furrow in pain at your grip,  your hands traveled to his shoulders rather than his chest. You were more secure like that, anyway. 

“That’s it, baby,” he coached you through your fourth orgasm, your eyes hazy as you looked down at him. He was blurry through your blissed out eyes. “Take it,” he continued with a growl, grabbing a firm hold of your hips, locking you in place as he fucked up into you with one purposeful thrust. Soon, you noticed him losing his composure, though. It was his turn. . .

His hands slid over your ass, then over your hips, sides, belly. . . and finally, he held fast to your breasts. Right before it happened, his hips beginning to stutter, he went to hold your aching tits in a vice, covetous grip. You throbbed, right along with him inside of you, at the feeling of his hands possessing your body. It was all his. And he fucking knew it, too.

Even as his hips jutted up into yours, he stilled for long enough that his hands had time to come down and hold your hips. He let out a strangled whimpering moan of his own, his brows creasing in a way that looked as though he was pleading for mercy. And then, you felt him pulsing inside of you. You could practically taste his warm seed as he emptied into you, his head thrown back, his long locks fanned out on the pillow beneath him. 

“Yes, baby. . . Fill me up,” you sighed, continuing to circle your hips on top of him, creating an illustrious pattern of swirling, along with a rhythmic bounce on his dick. You gave him all of you – everything you had left in you, owed to him. “Give it all to me.”

It overwhelmed you as you sat atop him, watching him do just as you said. As he gave his all, you continued to come down from your monstrous high—your body, completely loose and sensitive in the most fulfilling way. You continued to quiver as his faltering, slower movements indicated he’d reached the end of his peak. 

But, you were quickly proven wrong when you felt him suddenly pulsing inside of you, again, as he once more swelled inside of you, and with a few slow sways of his hips and yours, you felt more of him empty into you. 

What in the fuck? 

There was the wisp of a whimper falling from his lips, his eyebrows knitted, eyes vulnerable as he finally looked at you again. His perfect teeth bit his bottom lip. . . You felt it. Felt him. This second release, painting the inside of you. . . . 

“Did you just. . .?” You began, pushing up a bit to eye him curiously. Your lips curled into a proud smirk.

“Twice,” he responded, eyes wide and shock evident in his own tone. “I don’t–I guess it’s just been so long. . . . that my body was–.”

“Making up for lost time?” You finished quietly, your eyes watching where your fingers deftly combed back the hair stuck to his forehead. 

“Exactly,” he responded, raspily. 

Then, his fingers were skimming, occasionally gripping, up and down your sides again. Slowly. Tenderly. Sensually. You peeked back over at him, the way your soul settled at the serene moment. . . It had you wanting to live this moment, on repeat, for the rest of forever. 

“Hi,” he said, once your eyes made a home in his again.

“Hi,” you softly echoed, leaning your body down to tentatively try something. It could be humiliating if he wasn’t wanting it anymore, but god, you already needed to feel his lips on yours again. 

You leaned down onto your forearms, on either side of his head. Positioned just as he’d been earlier, his bare, sticky chest pressed to your own. Both of your bodies, having cooled down. Once you were molded to him, your body tucking into his like two pieces of a puzzle, you let your lips hover over his.

But, before you could move the final breath it would take to kiss him, his body jerked, before he shivered below you, making you pause. You pulled away momentarily to check on him. Somehow, worried you’d gone too far, with the almost-kiss. Even after everything that had just transpired, you instantly worried over that miniscule action. 

“What’s–?” You began, trying to play it cool. But, you couldn’t finish before he was stopping you. 

“I want to kiss you, too. Don’t start worrying about that. Please.” He said this, his hands reaching up, holding both of your cheeks in the palms of his hands. “I’m just sensitive as fuck from that double fuckin’ orgasm. . . How the hell do women do it?”

“Because we’re awesome like that,” you countered back.

“Yes, you are,” he agreed, tapping his finger to the tip of your nose sweetly with the word ‘you.’

You would’ve stayed like that all night, but when you moved just slightly, again, you internally cringed. Tried not to show it on your face. But, you were steadily realizing and feeling the effects of his dick. Your center, very obviously sore and fucking sensitive for reasons of its own. You tried to play it off, winking at him before you went to lift off of him. 

Though, you were afraid there was no hiding it when you squeaked at the loss of contact, your eyes squinting shut at the momentary stinging tinge of pain. Very carefully, you went to position on your knees, away from him. “Fuck,” you sighed, to yourself, once you’d turned your body to face opposite him.With the additional movement, you noticed just how fucked your back was, after the variety of positions. . . Your poor muscles, beginning to practically groan after what you’d put it through – exercise, one might say, that  it was not used to. 

The poster of Diana Ross across from you seemed to judge you, but you had zero patience for her owl eyes staring into your soul, so you closed your eyes to feel out the slight burn crawling up your body, from your back to your pussy. The sting, unique to each body part, as they bounced back and forth, causing  their own little jabs of pain.

Your chest heaved, with each motion you made. But, as you felt him leaking from you, you knew you’d have to get up and go pee anyway. A damned UTI was the last thing you needed right now. So, very slowly and carefully, you went to basically crawl to the end of the full sized bed. Ironically, it felt best to keep yourself tucked in a sort of fetal position. But, soon, you’d found the edge of the bed and you realized you’d have to uncurl from yourself in order to get to the bathroom. And, honestly, there was nothing that sounded worse than that at that moment. But, you had to get up. You had to pee, had to clean up. 

“What’s up, honey?” Jake asked from behind you, the rasp in his voice making you feel a bit lighter.

You wanted to lie to him – didn’t want to ruin his high by indicating you felt knives shooting up from your fucking vaginal canal. Like, seriously. All you’d wanted was what he’d given you, and your fuckass body was acting like it was of satan. The damned thing, ever doing its best to betray you, as it continuously put you through hell, all on its own.

But, god forbid you receive good sex. It hadn’t been this bad before being pregnant. And he’d definitely gone that hard before. . . That wasn’t a new development. And while, yes, it had been awhile. . . Deep down, you knew it wasn’t because of the time transpired between the last sex and now. If you had to guess, it was this pregnancy, making your body its own on the daily. And, apparently the oversensitivity that came with pregnancy was astronomically worse when sex was too rough. 

You loved that for yourself. 

“Y/n?” He questioned again, still not having received an answer. But, before you could contemplate it any longer, the bed’s old springs were squeaking from the loss of his body weight. 

And then he was in front of you, his eyes filled with worry for you. His stare hurriedly traced every single part of your naked body, searching for an issue. But, knowing he’d find none, you decided to tell him. But before you could begin on that, his gaze was suddenly stuck on what was coming out of you. You knew he was most definitely enamored by the sight of his seed spilling from you, but his eyebrows furrowed in a way that said there was more to what he was watching. 

Yet, when you looked down to survey what he was looking at for yourself, you saw only that. His release, covering your shaven front and thighs. “It’s just–.”

“I fucking hurt you, didn’t I?” He gaped, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. His eyes, coming to connect with yours, filled with nothing but ashamedness for his actions. The same hand grabbed at his chin as his eyes screamed an apology you did not need from him. This wasn’t his fault. “I am so fucking sorry, baby. . . God. I can’t believe I was so rough with you. The last thing I wanted was to cause you any sort of p–.”

“Jacob. Stop it,” you ordered, your eyes stern as you got onto him. You did not want him upset with himself. At all. “Please, baby. This isn’t your fault.”

“Y/n,” he replied, just as stern. His thick eyebrows, drawn in. “It’s absolutely my faul–.”

“I wanted every bit of what you gave me, Jake,” you reminded him, your brows raising to emphasize it. “Begged for more, actually, if you can remember correctly. . .”

You felt your face get hot at the talk of what had just transpired. “Yeah, but I shouldn’t have been so careless with you–.”

“The last thing you were was careless, Jake,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead. His eyes were now covered by his hand, forcing you to lose that access to him. Absolutely not. “Jake, look at me. Please. I need you to believe me.”

He uncovered his eyes, scrubbing a hand down his face as his eyes unwaveringly stayed on yours. His hand held his cheek as he shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, y/n. . . It’s that I should have slowed down. I shouldn’t have given in to those damn near animalistic urges.”

“And upset a pregnant woman? I don’t think you’d want to deal with that either, honey,” you said, giggling a little in spite of yourself. “Trust me.”

But, he wasn’t smiling. Instead, he looked even more saddened as his shoulders drooped just a bit more. “I’d rather not hurt one either. . . Especially the one that belongs to me.”

God. ‘Belongs to’  him. . . He was still holding onto that, even after the passionate moment. Those words. . . . they had a heat licking in your belly that was begging you to lay on your back and spread your legs for more. Right at this moment, you’d do it. No matter the pain, you were already ready to take more from him in a heartbeat. Your hormones were truly of the utmost inconvenience. . . .

Though you knew even if you professed how badly you wanted it, he would definitely not agree to it at this moment. So, you once more tried to ease him, moving just a bit more to the edge of the bed, until your knees were touching the fronts of his thighs. “The one that belongs to you is going to survive. I’m seriously fine, Jake. It’s just a little bit of pain after sex,” you reassured, reaching out a hand to grasp his strong bicep. “I’m sure you’ve read, with all of your research, that pregnant women are more sensitive – everywhere, all of the time. . . . And that’s, without a doubt, including sex itself. This is normal. So, please, stop beating yourself up.”

He was quiet for a small bit of time, his gaze never leaving your face and body as he, more than likely, ruminated over everything you’d said. Then, with a little scratch to his brow, he was sighing. “Can I at least help you? Get off the bed? Clean up?” 

“Please,” you sighed with a gentle laugh, squeezing his bicep tighter to balance yourself. “All of the above are more than welcome.”

He’d done exactly as he’d promised and helped you to the bathroom. Your body, loosening a bit and relenting its terrible clutch on you once you’d stood up and stretched out. That had calmed Jake’s anxiety a bit, but he was still watchful of you as you’d cleaned up. His eyes, watching you through the mirror, as he’d run warm water on a towel, before wiping your core and thighs for you with it. Then, as you’d sat on the toilet to pee, he’d watched very carefully, for any twinge of anything that might have crossed your features. 

Still, even after you gave him a spare toothbrush to brush his teeth (per his request, of course), you held his gaze through the mirror as he’d brushed. 

And, about an hour after sex, you were both tucked under the pink sheets and white, ruffly covers of your white metal childhood bed. Still completely bare, neither of you wanting to waste time on clothes, when you both obviously craved the skin-to-skin that you’d been lacking for so long. He was spooning you, his breathing light and faint against your back. His hand, caressing your sore breasts, like you’d needed – every night for the past couple of months. Your legs were tangled together, your feet rubbed against his calves. Finally, you could say you felt fully relaxed again. 

He tucked his head to kiss behind your ear, where he’d marked you earlier. He kept his arms around you as he spoke, letting them graze over your breasts and down to your swollen belly. “You will never understand how much you mean to me, y/n  y/l/n.”

Your heart leapt at his words, while also feeling like you were floating in response. Surely this couldn’t be your life. . . “I think I do u–.”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump.

“Jake–.”

“Was that–?”

It seemed someone had decided to finally make an appearance. And at the sound of his touch and his voice, no less. She was intent on letting him feel her.

“I guess she wanted you to feel her before you went to sleep,” you joked, tears filtering into your words.

“Me? I’m not sure about that. . .,” he responded, his own voice wet with emotion. “I’m sure it was because of the way we had you moving so much earlier. . . And it’s nighttime. Both of those are prime times for babies to go crazy. I just can’t believe that tonight she. . .,” he sighed, laying his palm flat against your belly, following everywhere there was a thrum. 

“Of course you know all of that,” you responded, with a raise of your brow, as you let your eyes travel to where his hand was wrapped around your front. His strong, skilled hand, seeming so delicate and gentle, suddenly. It was already so apparent that when it came to Lav, he morphed into the softest version of himself. 

His hand stopped following her, stilling against your abdomen. She wasn’t slowing down any time soon, you could assume that much. She was going to town. . . . Right before bed. But, where it might have annoyed some parents, it didn’t annoy you. Instead, you viewed it as her being urgent to spend every waking moment with you – wanting to stop you before you’d inevitably leave her for dreamland. 

And, in this moment, you especially understood her. Yes, Jake was right about his research. But, you’d done your own and when babies heard a sound they recognized as familiar, they’d light up. And, so far, it had been obvious that Lavender liked to respond to her Daddy’s voice and presence. 

 Your throat was tight with emotion when Jake spoke again. “Can you turn around so I can see your beautiful face?”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You huffed a tiny giggle before rolling carefully, not on your belly, to face him. “Me?” You posed, voice a sigh into the air shared between you two. “I’m not the star of the hour. . . That’s all our girl.”

“You are always the star of the hour, to me,” he said, voice soft as his breath dusted your lips. “Wanted to be able to look at you while I felt her doing this for the first time.”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your chest clenched, heart lodged in your throat. God. This man. Tears also gathered in your eyes, at the point that Lavender continued to prove in your womb, getting a little more frenzied in there, anytime he’d talk. 

With a gentle hand, you reached forward to position his hand to lay comfortably against your belly. At the same moment that his hand touched you, he leaned toward you to press his lips to yours. She’d slowed down, only a kick or so per minute. Perfect time to test and prove your theory. He hadn’t talked again since she’d slowed. 

“Talk,” you urged, holding his hand on the spot where she seemed to move most, as his eyes found yours. You nodded towards your belly, then at him. 

With a raised brow, he scooted a little closer to you before doing as you requested. “You’re trying to prove me wr–?”

Thump. Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump. 

His eyes widened, noticing the difference right away. When he was talking, versus when he wasn’t. . . It was obvious the girl already had a favorite parent. And you honestly couldn’t blame her a bit for how much she loved him. . . You loved him an awful lot, too. She was right to get excited in his presence. 

She rested a bit, once again, as he let the air settle between you. Then, he started talking again. It seemed he was enjoying the theory testing. This time, moving down the bed a little to be closer to your belly as he spoke. “Hello, babygirl. . .,” he began, earning the string of kicks. His face lit up, a wide smile overtaking his features as he looked up at you. You smiled, too, a weighty tear falling down your cheek. He was looking at your belly, once more, before he started again. “How’s my Lav?”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You couldn’t help but treasure what was happening. This moment in time, the first ever shared with your little family. . . Saying it was a dream come true would be the understatement of the century.

It kept on like that for a while, until she finally started to settle a bit and he decided to give her a break. “She’s  not a dancing monkey,” he remarked, shaking his head at himself, as he moved up. Once situated on his elbow, he leaned over and kissed your forehead. 

“No, she’s just a Daddy’s Girl,” you replied, brow raised at your statement as you looked up at him. He only shook his head, but his cheeks were pink with a knowing grin. He then moved down, kissing your lips languidly before you added the last bit to your statement. “You know it’s true.”

Once the moment had settled, Lavender’s kicks having ceased, he cuddled up to you. His face, pressed to your full breasts, nipples peaked at his closeness. The burning desire to be nearer persisted. You could feel it – in your every pore. It was in the way he held you. It was how he kissed your lips, like you were the most precious creature he’d ever encountered. And after that, how he’d once more massaged each of your tender breasts, kissing them, too, before licking around each nipple, just so. The action, creating the relief you’d craved, so effortlessly, for your ever-aching chest. 

And, still, after that, leaning up to kiss your mouth again, before letting himself fade away into the crease of your chest. 

Most of all, though, it was in all of the moments in between. Specifically, it came to mind how he’d lock eyes with yours. From across the room, from above you, below you. . . Anywhere you found yourselves, he was watching you with nothing short of adoration. 

You’d felt it in how he’d cared for you – pre, during, and post sex. How he cared for you all of the time, truly. It was such a knee-jerk response for him, it seemed – to help you. And now, laying together — being together— it just felt like the most natural thing in the world. You knew it was—for you, it was so unexplainably natural. And you had a very strong inkling that he thought so, too. 

As your eyes closed, heavy from the exhaustion of the night’s events, you briefly wondered what might greet you in the morning. When the sun was up, reminding you of reality. . . Your grandparents, Elsie, Josh. . . they’d all be waiting for you, in the morning, to eat post-Christmas pancakes. What would happen when they all witnessed Jake and you, walking out of your room?

And then, there was Maya, across town, completely unassuming and now completely and utterly betrayed by her boyfriend. . . . .

Then, you remembered. His back. Covered in scratches from your fingernails. He was definitely going to be exposed – was going to have to answer for your stupid choice. What in the fuck had you just done? And what in the fresh hell was bound to happen? 

When morning came, where would your mind be daring to take you? And would you fall into it, for the millionth time? Or could you, somehow, let yourself fall into this? You didn’t know. . . .Only the morning held those answers. 

So, for now, before your brain decided to attack you and remind you of your wrongs, you decided you could treasure this. You could sink into the feeling of his steady breaths, warm against your bare chest. . . And, slowly, you let his contented breathing lull you to sleep. 

And the last thought that crossed your mind before sleep took you was how nice it felt to live in the delusional bliss that this could somehow be your forever. 

a/n: Fucking FINALLY. it was ABOUT DAMN TIME. and, ohhhh, sweet peace and contentedness..... ahhh..... and, you know what, knowing these two, absolutely nothing will get in the way and cause difficulties for the next 14 chapters.... right? all bliss and happiness, surely....

..... ;)

AS ALWAYS -- please send in asks, respond to chapters, etc. I PROMISE I SEE THEM AND IT IS THE BEST REWARD FOR THE DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS SPENT WRITING THIS STORY! <333 this story takes up SO MUCH time in my already busy family-filled, work-filled, etc. life, but YOU all make it WORTH IT. So I LOVE to hear from you!!!!! <3 xoxoxo

trying my best to keep up w the Covet Visualizer... you may view it if you'd like. however, you don't NEED TO. i simply am a very visual person, sooo i made it for my fellow visual learners/lovers. the photos i pulled inspo from for y/n's photos in this chapter will be in the visualizer :D !!! (IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO USE IT, PLEASE VIEW IT IN PRINT LAYOUT!! — esp if you’re using the docs app/are on your phone!!)

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @gretavangroupie, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow , @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmarge , @creadliz98, @mackalah , @lek-gvf , @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini , @welllauragvf , @highway-tuna , @dont-go-home-without-me , @sarah-gvf01 , @polemicandcontent , @ageofbajabule , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jennyraye20 , @builtbybrokenbells , @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo , @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas , @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave @chichi610, @freyjalw , @scoreofinfantryvines , @stonecoldmo , @divapadam @hailthegodsong @fleetingjake @demolitiondanchipsversion @stardustsamm @blankvz @mikiepeach, @gretavanmoon, @demolitiondanchipsversion, @lipstickitty, @gracev0609

I always try to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! ughhh. Please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3 AND IF I MISSED TAGGING YOU -- PLZ LMK <3

[jakeyt]

Oh? A teensy-weensy peek below the cut?

See you tonight… 😌😉 Chapter 14, much like this snippet, is very much 18+. So… MDNI.

(Prepare for c*ck jumpscare lmao)

[jakeyt]

ppl who send nice messages on anon go straight to heaven

[jakeyt]

Oh, Still, Us…. My beloved.

Life always has a habit of getting in the way of what we want most, hm? Things aren’t quite as easy as a child might believe, once you hit adulthood. Life doesn’t slow down… Not even when you wish it would.

I’m not crying, you are.

Poppy and Jake… GAH. They end me. They ruin me. They are so wonderful and pure and enthralled by each other to the point of confused insanity.

Guys. READ READ READ. Please, loves, you have to understand why I’ve fallen so in love with this story between these two precious friends.

*whispers* — alsooo, Jake basically told you himself to read this when he posted Bad Company with those diabolical pictures… because, well, Noel was already on the same wavelength as the motherfucker with this story weeks prior. It is terrifying how things line up sometimes…

Still, Us

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 30.7k

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Begging, Heartbreak, Sadness, Crying, Talks of Marriage, Touching, Kissing, Graphic Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Masturbation, and More.

Listen to the Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A/N: Wow this has been a long time coming. Sorry that I have been a little bit MIA lately, it was never my intention, life got crazy! I hope you will accept this as an apology. I have poured into this for weeks and I truly couldn’t have done it without the constant support from @gretavanmoon and @jakeyt. They have given me the drive to keep going even when I felt like giving up. This story would not have happened without them. Period. Anyway, I hope you like it and will accept my apology for being away so long. I have so much more planned for you all and I cannot wait to deliver. As always thank you so much for every comment, like, and reblog. It means so much to me to know that you enjoy my writing. ❤️

Frankenmuth, Michigan 

May 2014

“Jake, can you please turn it down just a little bit?” you plead, your feet propped up on the dashboard, and your hand hanging leisurely out the car window. The warm air feels magical as it glides through your fingers. You’d both been waiting for the warmer weather to blow through town and it was finally here.

You turn to look at Jake, his brown shaggy hair finally growing out like he wanted, just barely dusting over the tops of his shoulders now as it blows around him in the wind. 

“Turn down ‘Shooting Star’? Bad Company? Come on Pops, you know that’s not gonna happen,” he smirks, looking at you over the tops of his wayfarers. “This is like the story of my life.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you smile, watching him dramatically mouth the words to you as you coast up 83 towards your house. Jake is your best friend, has been for ten years now, and as you readied yourself for college life, he continued to pursue the dream he’s had since you’d known him, but now bringing his brothers into it with him.

“It’s hardly the story of your life,” you quip, “Maybe the life you wish you had.” you tease, elbowing him in the arm over the center console. 

He laughs as he purses his lips, and pushes you away, “Yeah you say that now, but watch. We are getting that damn record deal, I don’t care what it takes.”

You turned to look at him again as the two of you pulled off the freeway and headed toward your exit. He believed it. He truly did, and you believed that he would do exactly as he said. He has always been that way. Some would say he is hard headed, but you would say he is just determined. 

“I know, I know,” you start, being quickly cut off.

“You’re still coming right?” he urges, looking at you before looking back at the now green stoplight.

“Of course I’m still coming!” you laugh, “I pledged twenty bucks to be there, remember?!”

“Damn right, and you better be in the front where I can see you,” he grins, “Or should I say, where you can see me.”

You roll your eyes at him again, watching the shit eating grin stretch across his face. “You're so full of yourself Jacob Thomas, it's gonna get you in trouble one of these days, and I'm not gonna be there to save you.”

He puts his hand over his heart and looks absolutely offended by your comment, “Save me? Baby doll, you know I don’t need saving. You need saving. From yourself.”

“Oh really? How so?” you ask, challenging him with a quirk of your brow. 

He smirks as he keeps his eyes on the road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, “You’re headed to college to be some hot shot lawyer or something. You’re way too cool for that, Pops. You should stick with me and the guys.”

You groan as he pitches his grand idea to you for the hundredth time.

“Seriously. You can do so many other things. You can tour, party, see the world, instead of sitting in some bleak office building reading dusty law books all day.” he says matter of factly.

“Jake…” you whine, knowing this conversation always goes nowhere and leaves your mind a mess of emotions. 

He sighs as his car comes to a stop in the driveway of your parents house. He looks over to you, and his voice is stern, “I’m serious Poppy. You’re a freebird, you’re not cut out for that boring life. I know it.”

You cut your eyes at him as you twist in the seat to face him, “So instead I can be some groupie, waiting on you guys hand and foot, cleaning up beer cans, and holding your hair back when you puke in some nasty bar bathroom? No thanks.”

He huffs in annoyance, “You know damn well that you'd be more than that. You'd be like…an honorary member of the band. You're not really the groupie type. You're far too good for that.” he says, twisting a lock of your messy hair over your shoulder. You can't help but to feel heat start to creep up your chest from the simple gesture. 

“You think so?” You ask timidly, your eyes locked in on his tawny brown eyes. 

His demeanor softens, and his finger twirls around the same lock of hair, “Poppy you are, without a shadow of a doubt, the smartest, toughest and coolest chick I’ve ever met. You are so much more than just some groupie.”

The nickname he gave you sounds different somehow– sweeter, maybe, in this moment. In an effort to quickly break the mounting tension growing between the two of you,  you nudge him hard in the arm, “You going soft on me, Kiszka?”

He laughs in response, his fingers releasing the lock of your hair and running them through his own before bringing it to rest on the steering wheel, “I may be many things, P, but soft is not one of them.” he grins playfully. “Now get out, I’ve got practice in ten minutes.”

You scoff and toss the passenger door open, grabbing your tattered bookbag on the way. As you shut the door he leans over the center console to look at you through the open window, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“You know it’s just because I’m gonna miss you, Pops. More than I care to admit.” he confesses. 

“I know, Jake.” you answer, tossing your bag over your shoulder. “I'll miss you too.”

“Good. Oh, don’t forget I can’t pick you up tomorrow morning. We’re heading straight to Groovebox after classes to set up.” he says, flipping his glasses back down. 

“I remember,” you say with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t be late, Y/N,” he says sternly, lifting a brow.

“Rich coming from you,” you taunt, beginning to walk to your front door. 

“M’never late, just running on my own time,” he winks. “Catch up with you later, P,” he says finally, pulling away as Bad Company begins blasting through the speakers once more. 

—

Jake 8:57 PM: which shirt should I wear tomorrow

You 8:58 PM: Um, maybe that denim button down you like? With the pearl buttons?

Jake 8:59 PM: it’s dirty

You 9:00 PM: Ok uhhhh, what about that colorful shirt with the aztec looking patterns on it

Jake 9:00 PM: do you think that will look good on camera

You 9:01 PM: Yes

Jake 9:02 PM: do you think I should like, iron it or whatever

You 9:03 PM: Do rockstars iron their clothes?

Jake 9:04 PM: see you tomorrow ;)

The air is a bit cooler now that the sun has set, the wind whipping right through your thin shirt as you reach for the door handle to Groovebox Studios. Tonight was the night, finally. This has been all Jake has talked about for weeks and weeks on end. Tonight they would record seven songs, live, in front of all of their friends and family, and anyone else that pledged enough money to be there. It had been grueling listening to Jake torture himself over what songs they would choose to record tonight, but they finally narrowed it down. At least, you hoped they did since everyone was here and waiting. 

As you entered into the lobby it was bustling with familiar faces, all waiting to step into the studio to watch the session. You could hear the guys warming up through the wall, the wail of Jake's guitar immediately sticking out to you. You could also hear the crashing of the cymbals as Danny tested his kit and the deep thrum of Sam’s bass. You nervously picked at your fingernails as you waited to be let inside, eager to see the guys, but mostly Jake. You needed him to know you were here, on time, at that. 

A few minutes later the large double doors opened and everyone filed into the small studio. You weren’t really sure what to expect but there were bright lights, and cameras everywhere, scattered between recording equipment and wires. Jake hadn’t noticed you were here just yet, but you saw him immediately in the shirt the two of you decided on last night. Something about that made you warm inside but you forced it back down where it came from. It was Jake. It wasn’t like that. Right?

The first song began, the guys seeming completely relaxed and not at all phased by the large equipment and people surrounding them, watching their every move. Josh’s voice was as strong and confident as Danny’s drums. Finally, Jake looked up from his guitar and let his eyes scan the crowd. A small and relieved smile filled his face as his eyes met yours. A small nod of his head said everything you knew he wanted to say, seeing you there supporting him in the front row of people. You knew that being there meant a lot to him, and gave him the extra boost of confidence he needed to make it through this set.

You were completely transfixed watching him play, giving everything he had for those seven songs. It seemed to fly by in a flash, the show ending with all four guys sweaty and a little winded. The crowd that showed up for them broke out into a round of cheers and applause as you all marveled at the budding talent in front of you. You watched as Jake placed his guitar in the stand and moved towards the producers of the show, thanking them profusely as he shook their hands. 

Immediately after that though, his eyes found you. He walked straight towards you, ignoring everyone else around, wrapping you in a sweaty hug.

“Well, P, you made it on time,” he grins, pulling you in tight against him, your head resting against his chest. He smelled of sweat, cologne and faintly of smoke and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your knees just a little bit weak.

“How was it?” he panted, “Sound alright?”

You laugh pulling away from his grip, “Jake, that was amazing! Of course it sounded alright.”  

He smiles as you pull away, fidgeting with the tip of his nose,  “Yeah? You’re not just saying that ‘cause you’re my best friend, right?” he says with his signature smirk.

“When have I ever sugar coated anything, Jacob?” you taunt. 

He laughs as he playfully runs his hand through his damp hair, “Valid point.” he smirks, looking around briefly, “Stay right here for a sec. Don’t go, just need to go say hi to some people. Wait, you’re comin’ to the house right?”

“Is this you inviting me?” you tease, knowing you never need an invitation at the Kiszka household. 

He rolls his eyes, not playing into your little game one bit, “Yes, I’m inviting you smartass. Like you even need an invite.”

You nod your head and shoo him away to go talk to the people who came out to support him, but you can't help but feel special that you were the first person he wanted to see after such a big night. 

You watch as he moves from person to person, saying his hellos, shaking hands and talking about the show with each one. He was his normal, charismatic self, except for the small glances over to where you were waiting. It was as if he didn’t want you to go anywhere without checking on you every so often. You’re able to find a quiet corner of the studio to relax for a moment, and you find yourself watching him like he’s the only thing in the room.

He is still surrounded by everyone, laughing and talking. He is so in his element, being the center of attention. You're happy for him, he deserves it, but you find it a little annoying how every girl's eyes were glued to him. No matter how many times you push these thoughts away, they keep resurfacing. It's all in your head, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake the idea of being anything more than friends with him, yet you can't help the fluttering in your chest.

Twenty minutes later he is walking back over to you, the crowd of people slowly beginning to filter out as the rest of the guys begin to tear down their equipment. 

He comes to stand next to you, and his face is a bit more solemn now, the adrenaline from the show now long gone. “So I’ll see you at the house?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. “Just gotta pack up real quick, then make a quick beer stop then we will be home.”

“Beer stop? Did you forget we are 18?” you laugh. 

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Did you forget I have a fake ID?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Plus, I heard Sara Matthews is working tonight, and she won’t question it.”

“Getting started on the whole bad boy rock and roll thing early, huh…”

He lets out a laugh as he gathers his guitar cables from the floor and slings them over his shoulder, “I’ll have you know that I’ve been a bad boy for a long time now, baby doll.”

An hour and a half later you’re finally back in Frankenmuth and turning onto his street. You can see a few cars parked outside the house but you don’t see their van just yet. You laugh to yourself wondering if Jake was busted for his fake ID yet, or if Sara still had that crush on him from fourth grade. When you see the familiar set of headlights behind you, you know it's the latter. 

The van comes screeching around the corner, sliding into the driveway and nearly taking out the mailbox. You laugh, recognizing Josh’s driving anywhere. He cuts the engine and jumps from the driver's seat with a grin. Jake slips out of the back door, pulling his guitar case from the backseat, his other hand holding a twelve-pack. Wordlessly, he trots up to your car, nodding at you to join him as he makes his way across the lawn and into the house, leaving the door wide open behind him.

You slowly walk up the steps, a weird feeling starting to settle in your stomach as you enter through the front door. Music is already blaring from the basement, and the loud hum of multiple people chatting is growing louder the further you walk. You take in a deep breath as you turn the corner into the living room. A giant group is already gathered around, sipping drinks and mingling in the dimly lit room. Your eyes scan the sea of people and you recognize some of the faces from the studio, and the rest are most likely here just to party.

Your eyes scan the room for Jake, wondering where he took off to, but then you see him come bounding down the stairs in a clean blue t-shirt and a smile. He makes a beeline straight for you, his eyes locked on yours as he navigates the crowd. He finally reaches you, his hand landing on your shoulder and ushering you away from the crowd of people. “Come here,” he murmurs under his breath as he drags you down the hall towards the kitchen.

You follow behind him as he makes his way into the kitchen, and you know he is dead set on enjoying his well deserved twelve-pack. As predicted he takes out two cans, popping the tabs and handing one to you.  “Well, let's toast.”

You take the silver can from him, cold in your hand, “Okay, let’s…”

He lifts his beer up towards you with a smirk, his eyes locked on yours, “I guess I just want to say thank you for putting up with all of this the last few years, I know it hasn’t been easy,” he grins, his eyes raking over you, “You put up with a lot of bullshit from me, but even after all of that you’re still here.”

You tap your can to his, “Where else would I be?” you breathe. 

He takes a moment to study your face, his eyes tracing over your cheeks, your nose, your chin as they land on your own eyes. The two of you silently stand next to each other, the sounds of the rest of the party still loud and present from the other room, and you can nearly feel his heart beating against his chest from where you’re standing. The unspoken feelings rushing between the two of you are almost palpable. He doesn’t answer your question, instead choosing to remain quiet as he keeps his eyes trained on you.

You pull the can to your lips, sipping at the bubbly beverage, only slightly wincing at the taste. 

He laughs watching you try to drink the beer, trying to hide the grimace as the hops tickle your taste-buds, “It’s an acquired taste, Pops.” he grins, “And you’re going to have to get used to it before you get to college.”

You sigh, “It's not like college is some big party. I doubt it's like the movies.”

He laughs, resting his can on the counter next to him, “Sure it is. Beer flows like waterfalls, parties happening every day, you’ll even have a couple different flings I bet–” he pauses for a moment, his expression growing serious, “Just have fun, Pops. Get the full college experience.”

“I'll try, but I have to take this seriously. Definitely no flings or beer waterfalls or whatever.” you answer, skirting around that subject the best you can. 

“Well yeah, take things seriously, but don’t count yourself out of a little fun, too.” he says, resting his palm behind his head. He’s quiet for a moment before he continues, “Maybe you’ll meet some fancy law student…fall in love and get married and all that.”

“I don’t know, Jake…” You say nervously. “That’s not why I’m going to college.” Why in the world were you two talking about this? You could feel your cheeks growing warm. Doesn’t he know that the only future you’ve ever planned is the one with him in it? 

He raises an eyebrow at your flushed expression, “What’s wrong Pops, planning out your dream life  as we speak?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, “No,  Jake.” you grit out. “Can we like…go party or are we gonna stand here and play twenty questions about my love life all night?”

He raises his hands in surrender, “Fine, fine, we can go join those losers.” he murmurs, pushing himself off the counter. He lifts his hand in the air, motioning to the living room, “After you.”

A few hours later you find yourself laying on the basement floor in a pile of blankets, your mind hazy and free as you bask in the feeling of the alcohol swirling through your veins. Jake is laying next to you in a similar state, staring up at the warm string lights strung across the walls. Josh, Sam, and Danny are already passed out on the other side of the room, their snoring turning into a symphony as usual. Your body feels warm and weightless as you turn your head to the side to look at Jake.

He notices your movement, turning to face you, a small smile on his face as he watches you, a long empty can of beer clutched lazily in his hand. His cheeks are flushed and rosy, and you’re pretty sure he isn’t entirely with it considering you’ve lost count of how many beers he’s had since the party started. He lets out a small laugh, the kind he’s only capable of making when he’s like this, “You know what I just remembered?” he slurs, his words coming out slowly.

“What?” you answer, pursing your lips.

He grins, “Remember when we were kids, we’d sit on the edge of Cass River and throw rocks into the water for hours…‘til the sun would go down…” he mumbles, his gaze trained on the blue blanket beneath him. “We’d talk for hours, and it was just…So peaceful. We were best friends–” he trails off, running his tongue over his lower lip.

You nod, his words causing a slight tingle in your stomach as your own mind begins to wander. He is still watching you, his eyes traveling over your face, over your hair before he speaks again, “And we’re still best friends now…right?”

“Yeah of course we are, Jake. Me going to college isn’t going to change that.” you answer softly, seeing the worry painted across his face. 

He nods his head, a small smile creeping up on him, “I know. I know, I just…” he pauses, his thoughts coming a little slower now, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you here. I’m used to you bein’ around, it’s gonna feel weird…different.”

“It’s not like I’ll never come home, and you can call me and text me whenever you want. You know that. Where is all of this coming from, Jake?”

He sighs, his eyes dropping from your face and looking instead at the ceiling, “I dunno, I just…I guess I’m realizing it a bit more now that it’s actually about to happen. You’re going to school hundreds of miles away, with other people…other guys, and I won’t be there to keep those idiots in check.”

You giggle a little, the thought of him fending off guys a little humorous. “I already told you, I’m not going to college looking for guys. I’m going to become a lawyer, and I have to focus on the LSAT and getting into law school and everything else. Guys are going to be the last thing on my mind.”

He lets out an exasperated breath, “I know, Pops. That wasn’t my point.” he mutters before rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks at you, “I’m just worried about you, okay? I don’t want some douchey frat guy to come up and ruin everything…”

“Ruin what?” you ask, furrowing your brows. 

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he looks away for a brief moment, but his gaze immediately returns on yours. “This.” he mutters softly, motioning a hand between the two of you. “Us. Our friendship, our bond. You know what I mean so don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“Nothing is going to come between us, Jake. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

He nods, a small hint of a smile creeping across his face, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing, “I know you wouldn’t…it’s just me being a dumbass, as usual.”

“Jake, you're not a dumbass. I get it. I have the same worries you know. For all I know you’ll meet some super cool girl when you guys inevitably go on tour, and next thing you know you’ve forgotten my name.”

He laughs, moving his hand to playfully swat at you, “Come on now…there’s no way I’m going to forget your name, you’re the only girl I ever think about.”

You feel your heart lurch into your chest at his confession. He may not mean it the way you’re taking it, but part of you wonders if maybe he does. 

“So it’s agreed, no douchey frat guys for me, and no rockstar girlfriends for you,” you tease.

He laughs again, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of your arm, “If that makes you happy then yes…agreed.” he grins, watching as the motion of his hand leaves a trail of goosebumps down your arm. “Just promise me one thing…”

“What’s that…” you answer. 

“Just, tell me…if you do– if you start to fall in love. Just tell me first.” he breathes. 

You can see the sincerity in his face, and hear it in his words. He really thinks…

“Jake, guys don’t– they don’t see me like that,” you pause. “It’s never been like that for me.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, a frown on his lips growing by the second. “Bullshit.” he mutters, “Guys don’t see you like what?”

You muster up the courage thanks to the alcohol in your system, and tell him what you really think. “I’m not the kind of girl that guys fall in love with. I am plain– average old, Y/N. I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

He scoffs and turns onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, “Plain and average? Is that what you really think?” he asks with disbelief. “Y/N, you’re beautiful, and the guys around here are just too blind to see it. There are guys who would kill to be with you, for just one single chance.”

“I don’t know, Jake. Maybe. But like I said, I don’t care about that. Once I make it on at a firm, maybe I’ll consider it.” you say. 

He studies your face, the alcohol starting to dull his inhibitions, his thoughts coming out unfiltered at this point, “You’re thinking like, ten years in the future P! You’re about to go to college and you’re talking like you’re never gonna meet anyone or pay anyone any mind. For ten years!  You’ve got to live, Poppy! You’ve never even been kissed for Christ’s sake!”

“Wow,” you breathe, the hurt washing over you. 

​​He sighs, realizing that he might have gone too far, “I didn't-” he stops, looking away from you before he speaks up again, “I'm sorry, that was shitty. I didn't mean to say it like that.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, you’re right.” you reply. 

He looks back at you, his fingers running over your arm again, “No, it’s not…I shouldn’t have said it like that. It’s just, you think so little of yourself sometimes and it drives me insane. You are like…the most amazing person ever, and I don’t–” he stops himself, biting down on his bottom lip, “I just don’t understand how guys don’t see it.”

You’re a little taken aback, this is the first time that his true feelings about you have really come out. You’re unsure what to even say. 

“Thanks, Jake.” you smile, “I’ll let you know how my love life is going ten years from now.” you giggle. 

He looks at you for a long minute, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. 

“I have a better idea,” he says, taking a deep breath. “We’re 18 now, right?”

“Right…” you answer hesitantly.

“If you’re sure that you are dead set on waiting until you’re done with school to be with someone…” he pauses. 

“I am…” you confirm.

“Alright, when we are thirty, if neither of us are married…” he pauses, “Let’s marry each other.”

Shock fills your features, and you can tell that he notices by the smile pulling across his lips. He laughs lightly when you finally muster out a few syllables, “Come on P…it’s the perfect plan. If we’re both still single by thirty, we’ll get hitched.”

“Married?! Jake, you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want to marry me!?”

“Sure I do. You’ve always been my girl,” he murmurs, still smiling, “and we’ve already established that no other guy will ever know you better than me. We’ve been best friends since we were kids, been through every high and low, you’re the only one who’s stuck with me through it all…so,” his voice trails off, “if we’re both available at thirty, I see no reason why we shouldn’t marry each other. Plus, our parents would love it.”

“Jake, this is crazy,” you pause, “I can’t let you do this. You can’t make that kind of promise…”

He leans back against the pillow behind him, his expression growing serious as he turns and looks at you, “I think I can. And I wouldn’t be promising if I couldn’t keep it. You’re it for me, Poppy. You always have been...”

“I didn’t think– Do you– I didn’t think you felt that way about me…” 

He lets out a dry laugh, watching the realization starting to hit you, “How could you not know? We’ve spent our entire lives together…this is nothing new.” he sighs, pausing for a moment, “I should have probably said something before, but…I think a part of me was afraid that you didn’t feel the same way and I would end up ruining everything and lose you…” he pauses. “Why do you think I’m over here telling you not to fall in love with some stupid college guy? I want it to be me, P…I’m your guy. I always have been. The question is, do you feel the same?”

“Of course I do Jake. I– I just…” you stammer. “I’m sorry I don’t even know what to say, I–”

Your heart is racing and your eyes are glued to his every movement. You want to scream from the rooftops, but right here in the moment you can barely form a word. 

“Say you feel the same, that’s all you need to say.” He gently takes up your chin, his thumb running across your bottom lip, “Say you want it to be me.”

Your eyelids grow heavy as his warm thumb brushes your lip, “Yes,” you breathe, your eyes locked on his. “I feel the same.”

He lets out a low breath, the words that you’ve just spoken going straight to his gut, “You know I’ve wanted to kiss you for as long as I can remember.” he murmurs, his fingers still resting against your chin.

“Really…”

He nods his head, a small smile creeping up on the corner of his mouth, “Yeah. Since middle school, at the very least. Maybe even earlier…” he pauses, “It’s a shame you’re making me wait until we’re thirty.”

You smile at him playfully, “I mean...maybe we don't have to…”

A low grin slowly spreads across his face, “Don’t tease me, P.” he murmurs, his fingers still lingering on your chin and gently tugging at your bottom lip.

“Who says I am?” you whisper.

His breathing is becoming ragged as he gently runs his thumb over your bottom lip once more, “Poppy…say yes…” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

“To what?” you breathe. 

“To the pact. To kissing me. To all of it.” he mumbles, his thumb still stroking over your bottom lip, his free hand slowly traveling from your neck to the small of your back, gently pulling you towards him.

Your eyes flick to his, the string lights glowing in the reflection of his eyes. You can feel his body pressed against yours in the most delicious way, the closest you’ve ever been to  each other.  “Yes, Jake.”

And just like that, his lips are crashing into yours, his hand moving from your lower back to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, a low breathy moan leaving his lips as he pulls you into him even more. His kiss is slow and tender at first, the taste of beer still lingering on his lips as he moves them over yours in a languid back and forth, but it soon turns desperate and hungry as his tongue presses urgently against yours, a low growl leaving his chest, all of the feelings and emotions that he’s harbored for years releasing themselves in this one moment. But within seconds, it’s over. 

He rests his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in and out heavily. The kiss has both of you in a daze, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the fact that your best friend just kissed you. Your first kiss. A content smile stretches across your face before you let your head fall into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne as he wraps his arms around you. 

He holds you tightly against him, his chin resting at the top of your head as he runs his fingers across your bare arm. The feeling of your body pressed against his is one you’ve dreamed about for years and now experiencing it for the first time, you never want him to let you go.

“Thank you, Jake.” you say softly into his chest. 

He pulls you in even tighter, his heart rate finally starting to return to normal as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “For what?” he hums softly.

“For being my first kiss. I always wanted it to be you.” you answer. 

A smile spreads across his face and he squeezes you a little tighter again. “Me too, Pops.” He pauses, his hand finding a loose strand of your hair and twisting it around his finger, “and for the record, I hope I’m your last.”

You laugh, but then an idea strikes you. “Oh yeah, about that. Don't we need to like, sign our names on the line or something?” you say playfully. 

He pauses for a moment, looking down at you but quickly realizing what you mean. A small smirk spreads across his face and he lets out a small laugh, “I don’t know if we’ve got a pen and paper down here…”

You shrug as you look at him, but then he quickly reaches his hand into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled gas station receipt from his beer run earlier in the night. “Will this work?”

“I don’t see why not?” you grin. 

He reaches up behind the two of you, digging around in the pocket  of Josh’s backpack that was left on the couch, pulling his hand out with a smile. “A pen.”

The two of you spend the next few minutes ironing out the fine print of your arrangement, before Jake takes the liberty of writing out the words on the back of the receipt paper. 

‘At age 30, if both parties are single they will enter into marriage with each other.’

You both sign your names beneath the words, the act feeling strangely good and you can tell you both are feeling it. “So it’s official…” you say, letting your eyes meet his.

He stares down at the receipt, the ink of your signatures drying on the back. A weird feeling of finality washes over you as he slowly nods his head, “Yeah, I guess we’re really doing this.”

“The pact.” you grin, leaning into his shoulder. 

He lets out a soft laugh as he looks down at you, his arm wrapping tighter around your shoulders, “The pact,” he repeats softly, before pressing another kiss to the top of your head and sealing your fate as you know it. 

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

2015 

“Yeah, fuck–” he groans, “keep doing that, baby…”

Your eyes flick up to meet his icy blue eyes, his tip nudging the back of your throat as you take as much of him as you can. You know it won’t be long now, you can feel the tightening of his abs as he fights off his release. You release him from your lips with a pop, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock for dramatic effect. You can hear the bass line of ‘Starboy’ thundering through the walls of the fraternity house party still happening downstairs, momentarily pulling you from the moment you found yourself in. 

You feel Trevors hand as it lands on the back of your head, returning you to your task. Again you take him into your throat, never letting your eyes part from his as your hands cup his balls. 

“Fuck baby doll, you’re fuckin’ amazing,” he groans,  his cock starting to jerk with need. 

You wince as the pet name rolls off his tongue, taking you back to a place you’d rather not remember right now. Right back to Jake. 

Jake. Where was he right now? What was he doing? Surely he wasn’t at the back of some girl's throat. What were you doing?

Suddenly you feel him as his cum starts to paint the back of your throat, swallowing him down with every grunt that leaves his chest. You pull off of him quickly, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Your mind is suddenly a jumbled mess of thoughts, the single word sending you into a tailspin of guilt. 

“Felt good as fuck, baby,” Trevor says, pulling up his jeans. 

You give him a curt smile as you pull yourself up off of the dirty bathroom floor. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“What?” he questions, grabbing his red cup from the bathroom counter. “Baby?”

“No.” you answer quickly. “Baby doll. Don’t call me that. I don’t like it.”

“Sorry, babe. My bad.” he says nonchalantly. “You good?” he asks, turning to open the bathroom door.

You let out a sigh, “Yeah. I’m fine.” you answer, watching him spin the door knob to open the door. The music from the party hits you full force, and that combined with the alcohol in your system hits you hard. “Actually, I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Why, the party is just getting started, it's only two,” he says, ushering you down the stairs. “And I thought you were coming home with me tonight.”

“Eh, I need to be at the library tomorrow morning first thing. I have an exam tomorrow afternoon.” you say, “I’ll call you though, yeah?”

He shakes his head, “Whatever, babe. Later.”

Relief washes over you as you free yourself from Trevor, and make your way through the party and out into the fresh air of Fraternity row.

“Fuck. What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” you grit out, making the short walk back to your dorm. The air is starting to chill as fall begins to wash over Chicago. You kick yourself the entire way to your door, immediate regret setting in as you let your mind wander back to Jake. 

It had been a few weeks since the two of you spoke, and you definitely hadn’t let him know about your little ongoing situation with Trevor. You didn’t even truly know if you needed to. It wasn’t serious, and that was the deal, right?

As you lock the door behind you, you toss your bag onto your desk, hearing the loud thud as your phone hits the wooden table. It reminds you that you haven’t looked at it in hours. Pulling it from your purse you see a few Instagram notifications but more importantly you see that you missed call and a missed text from Jake. You wonder if you were on his mind, too. 

Jake 1:46 AM: Pops, call me when you can, I have big news.

Your eyes flash to your clock seeing it read out 2:32 AM, and you wonder if he is still up. If he would answer your call. You decide to try, knowing he keeps late hours. The line rings out four times before you hear his raspy voice answering the call. 

“Hey Pops,” he says, and you can tell you’ve woken him. 

“Shit, sorry, I woke you up didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Nice to hear your voice instead of reading it on a screen,” he laughs, clearing his throat. “It’s late Poppy, where have you been all night? Are you just getting home?”

You feel hesitant to answer but decide on the truth, “Yeah, I– I was out. I was at a party with some friends.”

You hear a deep hum as he takes in your words and you already know what he’s thinking. “Did you have fun?”

“Um, yeah I guess so…” you lie. “But that's not why I’m calling, I saw your text. What’s up, is everything okay?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his voice still thick with sleep, “Yeah everything is fine. Everything is great actually. Sorry to just text you out of the blue like that, but I wanted to– I just wanted to tell you over the phone instead of texting.” He pauses for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts, “It took a while but, the deal went through. We were signed for an album and we’re  gonna tour it.”

“Oh my god, Jake!”

“We are releasing a fucking album, Pops.” he repeats. 

“I don’t even know what to say, I am so– I am so proud of you Jake! I can’t believe it! I mean, I can but, you know what I mean!” you gush. 

You hear his soft laugh from the other end of the phone, “You don’t really have to say anything. Or you can scream or do whatever. I just needed to tell you. I wanted you to be the first person to know.”

The words then hit you, “Wait, I’m the first person you’ve told?”

“Yeah, you’re the first.” he laughs, “You’re the one I need to tell everything to, first. Just how it's always been. How I want it to always be.”

“I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

You can hear his smile on the other end of the phone, “I’m proud too. God, I wish you were here, Pops. Wish you were here celebrating with me.”

A sigh leaves your lips, “I wish I was there too.”

“Pops, listen, it– It might be a while before we can see each other again. We– we’re going to be touring all through the spring. All over the place…”

“Oh, I–”

“No, no, don’t worry or anything, I just mean I will miss you, that’s all. But you’re doing your thing in Chicago and I’m doing mine out here. Just kinda the paths we are on right now.” he pauses, “But I’ve still got a couple of weeks at the end of the year before we go. We can see each other then, right?”

You bite your lips together as you try to stay positive, “Yeah. Yeah of course.”

“Good.” he answers, “Just keep on going, Poppy. We’ve got this.”

“Yeah. Yeah we do.” you answer quietly. 

“Alright, well, we should probably get some sleep, it’s late. But one more thing before you go…” he trails off. 

“What’s that…”

“Just…” he pauses hesitantly, “We’re still, us, right?”

“Yeah, Jake. We’re still us. Nothing has changed.” you confirm. 

“Okay. Well, goodnight, Pops,” he says, his voice growing sleepy again. 

“Goodnight, Jake.” you whisper, hitting the red button to end the call. 

As you collapse down onto your lumpy dorm room bed you run your hand over your face. You try to shake the hollow feeling in your stomach at the thought of everything being okay, but you couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease washing over you as you pull the blankets over your head. 

December 8,  2015

Jake 4:27 PM: When do you come home for winter break?

You 5:09 PM: I’m not sure yet. Cramming for finals currently. 

Jake 5:20 PM: good luck pops

December 19, 2015

Jake 11:47AM: We are leaving for Detroit to get a van and trailer. I can’t believe we are really going on tour. Miss you. 

December 22, 2015

Jake 9:57 PM:  I saw your mom today and she said you won’t be home for Christmas. Would it be weird if I came to see you? Let me know. 

December 25, 2015

Jake 7:46 AM: Merry Christmas, Pops. 

You 9:04 AM: Merry Christmas, Jake. Miss you. I’ll call you soon. 

December 29, 2015

You 12:03 PM: sorry I haven’t called, I’ve been so busy. When do you leave for tour?

Jake 1:10 PM: January 8th. We’ll be in Chicago on the 24th, should I leave you a ticket?

You 1:27 PM: Can you leave two?

Jake 1:30 PM: Anything for you pops. Can’t wait to see you. 

January 23, 2016

Jake 8:46 PM: leaving the venue in Springfield heading towards Chicago. See you tomorrow?

You 9:23 PM: Yes ❤️

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

January 24, 2016

“So what’ve you got going today babe?” Trevor asks, rolling over to face you. 

“Honestly not a lot. I have a class at 1:00 then I guess I am just going to come back here and get ready to go to that show. You still want to come with me right?”

“Yeah for sure, sounds like a good time,” he says, kissing your  shoulder as you sit up on your elbows. The sheet now barely covers your naked bodies, the light sheen of sweat now dry.

A knock on your door startles both of you, your head snapping to the right to look at Trevor, “You think it’s the RA?” 

“Fucking hope not,” he whispers, quickly pulling himself up out of your bed. 

You jump up, grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over your head as you rush to the door. You push back your hair and take a deep breath as you open the door, but much to your surprise, it’s not the RA.

“Jake?!” 

“Hey, Pops,” he grins, his smile lighting you on fire. His hands are in his pockets, and he seems almost nervous.

“Jake what– what are you doing here?” you rush out, taking in the sight of him for the first time in a long time. His hair is longer now, and he seems as if he's added a little bit of muscle tone.

“We got into town early, thought I’d surprise you,” he answers, his eyes flicking up and down your body as he takes in your current state.

Before you even have time to explain, Trevor walks up behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder. 

“All good, babe?” he asks, his eyes locked on Jake. 

You see the exact moment that realization hits Jake and you swallow harshly, “Yeah, yeah, um everything is fine. This is my friend Jake. He’s in the band we’re seeing tonight.”

You watch as Jake lets out a small huff of air, anger washing over him. “Jake,” he nods, “Nice to meet you.” 

“You too.” Trevor answers. 

“I see you’re busy, Pops. I’ll uh– catch you later.” he says, looking at you before walking away. You don’t even have time to speak before you hear the elevator doors opening. You shut your dorm room door with tears welling in your eyes, doing your best to not let Trevor see, but a huge lump has formed in your throat, and you feel like you might be sick, so you quickly dart into the bathroom before Trevor can question you. 

Your blood is rushing around furiously as you pick up the two tickets at willcall under your name.  Trevor seems oblivious to your anxiety, though, you are doing your best to keep it under wraps. The energy in the small venue is buzzing around you and your excitement doubles once you step through the double doors and enter inside. There are a few people gathered at the front of the stage, and you and Trevor step up behind them. Your heart is pounding as your eyes catch on the drum kit, seeing the band's logo displayed proudly. It won't be too much longer until they go on stage, opening for the main act, and you know more people will begin to show up after they start. 

“So you’ve seen them before?” Trevor asks, turning to look at you. 

“Um, yeah kinda. But not like this. Not on a big stage with lights and real sound equipment,” you answer, doing your best to shut him up. 

Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage where you see a few familiar faces getting ready to go on stage. A smile stretches across your face and your heart starts to pound harder, knowing Jake will be in front of you in mere seconds. The house music starts to quiet down and you watch as Josh takes the stage. He is followed by Sam and Danny, and finally you see Jake step up with his red SG.

They immediately begin playing, and Josh starts talking to the crowd of people that have gathered around you. There are more people here than you would have thought, but you chalk it up to their successful shows in other surrounding states. But you’re more so shocked at the sheer presence of  them on the stage. In seconds Jake’s guitar is commanding the attention of the entire venue, all eyes on him. Part of you wants him to look at you, but the other part of you is still feeling guilty about this morning's earlier interaction. 

As your attention focuses on him, you notice that his attention seems to be focused on everything but the crowd of people in front of him, in fact he seems to be looking over the crowd as he strums out the chords to the first song. It’s then you realize that he seems to be intentionally not looking for you. You hate to admit that it  hurts. 

The performance begins, and Josh starts the opening lyrics to a song you've never heard before, but it's incredible. You can't help but notice that the lyrics seem almost as if they could be about you, and it sends chills up and down your spine. Surely not.

It's then that Jake's eyes meet yours, locking in on you as Josh continues to sing. Your breath is caught in your chest and as you struggle to blink you see Jake look over at Trevor. Your heart begins to race, your cheeks turning flushed. It seems as if time has stopped, like the two of you are the only people here, in the entire world. You hold his gaze again for a moment before he rips his eyes away, returning his focus back to the music. 

The show continues this way, the constant back and forth as the two of you look at each other, speaking silently as he plays guitar. It feels like an eternity before the show is finally over, their set is ending and the guys are walking offstage. The crowd erupts into applause and cheers, and you and Trevor begin to make your way towards the back of the venue, but not before Josh spots you and wraps his sweaty arms around you. 

He looks flushed and out of breath but still has a million dollar smile plastered across his face, “Y/N! I’m glad you made it out. Did you enjoy the show?” he says, but doesn’t let go of the hug despite him dripping sweat onto your shoulder.

“Of course I did! I always do, you guys were amazing!” you shout, hearing the headliner start their set. “It’s nice to see you on a real stage where you belong.”

He lets out a low laugh, finally letting go of you, “It’s still unreal. I can’t even pretend like I’m used to it. Thanks for being here.” he pauses. “I don’t know where Jake ran off to but I’ll find him and send him your way.”

“Thanks,” you smile, seeing him wave over his shoulder. 

You turn back around to see Trevor standing beside you, a small hint of confusion on his face. He looks like he has something he wants to say, and you know exactly what it is.

“Yes, I know the whole band, and yes Jake is a twin,” you smile. 

He shakes his head and looks down at the sticky bar floor before looking back at you. “No actually it's not that. I saw the way you look at him, Y/N, at Jake… Like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him for the entire show. And how he couldn’t take his eyes off you either. Not once.”

Panic begins to set in, your heart rate immediately spiking, “What? No. I– I watched everybody, Trev.”

He raises an eyebrow as he stares you down, “No, you didn’t. You watched him.” he replies, his face growing serious as he looks you over, “I’m not stupid, babe. You’ve been with me for a while now, and I have never once seen you look at me the way you were looking at him.”

“No, you’re imagining things,” you say dismissively, seeing Jake appear in the crowd, heading your direction at possibly the worst time. 

“No, I’m not imagining things,” he mutters, his words turning cold. “Just admit it. Say that you have feelings for him.”

Jake finally makes his way over to you, and by that point the tension between the three of you is as thick as molasses. Jake’s face changes the moment he sees the expression on your face.

“Hey Pops, what’s going on? Everything okay?” he asks, his eyes flickering between you and Trevor.

“Um–” you stammer, unsure what to say to diffuse the tension between you and Trevor.

Trevor looks at Jake, his eyes narrowing at your obvious discomfort, “Just settling an issue here, that’s all.”

Jake looks at him, obviously confused and concerned, “What issue is that?”

“Oh, so you’re going to play dumb, too?” Trevor quips, “Of course.”

Jake’s face turns serious as his eyes narrow, “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, man. You want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

“Not much to tell. I can just tell when a guy and a girl have feelings for each other. We’re working through the issue right now.” he answers nonchalantly, gesturing in your direction.

“Trevor!” you snap, your face burning with embarrassment. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “What? We are. Am I wrong? You’ve got feelings for this dude, right?”

Jake is standing stock still, his eyes wide and focused on you as Trevor mentions the feelings you’re not supposed to have.

The tension in the air is palpable, the realization of what he’s saying slowly settling in on him. “Right?” he asks again. You can’t bring yourself to look at either one of them, your gaze remaining locked on the ground.

“No. I don’t Trevor. You are my boyfriend. Jake is…just a friend…from back home. I'm here with you.” you answer, feeling your own heart break as the words pierce through Jake, too. 

He stands there, his face expressionless as your words sink in. He’s frozen, staring down at you, but your head is still glued to the ground and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Trevor lets out a breath, “We’ll just have to agree to disagree then. All I’m saying is the way you were looking at him just now, and the way he was looking at you…there’s something between you two that isn’t just a regular thing, and I see it.”

“No man, she's right. We are just friends. Nothing more. Never have been, never will be. Isn’t that right, Pops.” Jake says, and you can feel the venom in his words. 

You dare glance up at him, but the moment your eyes meet you regret it. His face looks like stone, the light in his eyes now replaced with a dark, dull anger. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Jake like this, his gaze locked on yours, staring you down.

“Right, Pops? We’re just friends,” he repeats, but his voice lacks the comfort of the countless times he’s said those words before to you. There’s no reassurance in there this time, no hint of a smile. This is not the Jake you know. The Jake that you love.

“Right,” you breathe, wishing more than anything you could just disappear into thin air. 

He holds your gaze for just a moment longer, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you, waiting for something more from you, but you just can’t say it, your voice having abandoned you.

“Okay, great, well uh– thanks for coming out. See ya ‘round, Pops.” You watch as he nods his head toward you dismissively, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

The feeling of him walking away from you, the anger in his face and in his words, it’s leaving you with an unbearable emptiness feeling in your chest. Your head is swimming with everything that has just transpired. You’re unable to move, but Trevor breaks you out of your trance with a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Part of you wants to stay, to leave Trevor and find Jake and make things right, but you know you can't. It's too late. The damage is done. You let him lead you out, your head down as you stumble out of the venue. The night sky is cold and black, the weight of the moment still fresh. You let Trevor lead you away from the venue. Away from Jake. 

You make the trip back to your dorm in silence, both of you just wanting to forget about the whole thing and curl up in bed and sleep. He doesn’t try to talk, but you can feel his tense energy radiating off of him next to you, and you aren’t totally sure if he’s angry with you or just the situation in general.

As you slide into your bed, your mind is still replaying the moments back in the venue. Jake’s face as you denied having any feelings for him. The way he used a nickname that once was special between you two and somehow made it sound so cold. The way he didn’t argue when you denied your feelings to Trevor. And the worst part of all, your inability to correct him.

The sheets feel heavy on top of your body, and you’ve never felt more lonely. The person who knows you best is a couple miles away from you, and at the same time he’s never felt more distant. You want to try and sleep, hoping the morning can bring you some reprieve but you instead end up staring at the ceiling and letting the tears quietly fall.

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

November 10, 2016

“Miss Y/N?” the dorm attendant calls out as you walk through the entry doors.

“Yes?” you answer, stopping at the desk with a smile. 

“You had a delivery come this morning,” she smiles, “a big beautiful one.”

“Me?” you ask, not expecting any deliveries. 

“Yes, stay right here and I will get it,” she says, scampering off to the back office to retrieve your package.

However, when she steps out your heart nearly drops. It’s not a package at all. It's a giant bouquet of flowers, but not just any flowers. Your eyes instantly begin to fill with tears, and a familiar ache in your heart flares up. Poppies, at least two dozen of them in a bright pink vase. They are all blooming and vibrant and you don’t even need to read the card to know who they are from. 

You accept them from her with thanks, and rush back to your dorm room as fast as you can. The tears are beginning to stream  from the corners of your eyes as you kick the door shut behind you. You place the flowers on your desk, and with shaky hands you pull the tiny red card from the holder. 

The outside of the envelope reads ‘Happy Birthday’ in bold handwriting. You look at the envelope one more time before ripping open the seal and pulling the card out. The front of the card has a handwritten message. ‘Have a great birthday, Pops.’

There’s no signature, but you know who it’s from. You open the card and find the inside blank, except for one simple phrase written in the middle.

‘Still us, right?’

You feel like your heart has exploded in your chest, the tears falling faster now. You feel a knot in the pit of your stomach as you read those words again and again, your brain unable to wrap your head fully around what they mean. You know what he’s really asking, and the feeling of shame and guilt over the way that you left things is even stronger now.

“What did I do?” you whisper to yourself. You never wanted to hurt him, that was never your intention. You let your head sink, your eyes landing on the beautiful multicolored flowers on the desk. You let the tears continue to fall, the guilt and helplessness washing over you in a fresh wave. You let your head fall into your hands, trying to will yourself to do something, anything, but the feeling of despair and the memory of how Jake’s face looked that night in the venue is like a heavy weight on top of you.

Should you call him? Text him?

You look around your dorm, as if a sign would pop up and tell you exactly what to do. You turn and look at your phone, your hands shaking as you reach out toward it. You think about calling him, you think about texting, but what would you say?

You want to say how sorry you are, how much you’ve missed him, and how much better everything would be if you could both go back and do that night over again...but what good is saying those things now? It’s too late for regret, no matter how badly you want to go back and change the last few months.

You pick up the phone, your fingers shaking slightly as you dial his number. The phone rings for a few seconds until you hear his voice on the other line. “Poppy?”

“Jake,” you reply. 

“Hey,” his voice responds, a little bit of surprise and relief in it. He hesitates before continuing, “Guessing you got the flowers?”

“I did. Jake, they are so beautiful. I love them.” you answer. There’s an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, the elephant in the room growing larger by the second.

“Yeah, I’m really glad you like them,” he replies, his voice sounding less surprised and a little bit of normalcy starting to return to the conversation. He lets another pause linger between the two of you, the silence feeling strange after all the time you’ve gone without speaking to each other. Then he speaks again. “I wasn’t sure you were going to call.”

“I wasn’t sure you would answer,” you say sheepishly.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, the sound of his laugh somehow still warming your heart. “Yeah, to be honest I was a little hesitant to answer. But I’m glad you called.” he says quietly.

“I um– I got your…note.” you breathe. 

A pause fills the line before he speaks again, this time quieter. “Yeah, it’s just been kind of heavy having the distance between us lately. I just… needed you to know that the way things ended last time we saw each other, I never meant to…” he trails off, suddenly unsure of the proper words to say.

“Jake, I-” you start, but he interrupts you.

“No, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Please don’t feel bad, okay? I just needed you to know that we’re still…” he fades off again, that familiar feeling of helplessness filling the air. He takes a moment before continuing, “You’re still my best friend and you always will be. I don’t want us to lose that. I don’t want to lose you any more. You’re my girl, Pops. Always will be.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Jake,” you confess, your voice cracking with pain. 

“I know.” he replies, letting out a sigh, “And I understand.” Another moment passes between the two of you before he speaks again. “Listen, I’ve got to go, we are going on soon and Josh is breathing down my neck, but I’m glad you called. It means a lot to hear your voice. Let’s try and…I don’t know, talk more?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry to keep you, I just…” you pause, “Have a good show, Jake... a-and thank you for the flowers.”

“Of course, anything for my girl,” he answers, “and Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you…” you trail off. 

“Call soon?” he asks, the volume in the background starting to grow louder.

“I’d like that,” you breathe, feeling the distance from him even more than before. 

“Good. Okay, well have a good night, P.” he says softly, and right before you think he’s hung up you hear him whisper, “It’s still us, Poppy.”

“Still us,” you confirm, the call ending as the words leave your lips. 

January 4, 2017

Jake 8:12 AM: Just signed the contract for a headlining world tour. I can’t believe it, Pops.

You 7:58 PM: I’m so proud of you Jake

March 28, 2017

Jake 11:04 PM: Just walked past a street vendor selling red poppies. Apparently they are a big thing here. Thought of you. Miss you. 

You 11:24 PM: I miss you too. Where are you at these days?

Jake 11:30 PM: In Paris right now, England tomorrow, then Scotland. It’s beautiful here. 

You 11:32 PM: I can only imagine.

Jake 11:33 PM: One day, Pops.

June 7, 2017

You 12:25 PM: Did I just see that you guys are playing Lollapalooza?! Jake!

Jake 1:49 PM: You did, can you believe it? 

You 1:50 PM: We used to daydream about that

Jake 1:56 PM: No more dreaming. Can I save you an Artist wristband?

You 1:58 PM: You’d do that for me?

Jake 2:00 PM: Of course poppy, you’re my girl. 

August 3, 2017

Jake 8:09 AM: P, it’s show day and I haven't heard from you. You still coming? Your wristband is at will call.

You 10:23 AM: Jake, I am so so so sorry. I can’t find anyone to cover my shift tonight at work. I’ve been trying for weeks. I hate to miss this. I am so sorry. :(

Jake 10:40 AM: Ahh, it’s alright P,  there will be more. I’ll catch you at the next one. 

You 10:45 AM: I won’t miss the next one. I swear. 

Jake 10:46 AM: I’m holding you to it. Call soon. 

November 10, 2017

You 2:21 PM: Thank you for the poppies Jake. They are even more beautiful than last years bouquet. Miss you so much. 

Jake 3:04 PM: Anything for you, Y/N. Happy Birthday. 

February 18, 2018

Jake 7:34 PM:  *Open in Spotify*  - Bad Company - Call On Me

You 7:45 PM: I remember listening to this album in your car non stop senior year lol

Jake 7:48 PM: Still one of the very best. I always think of you when I hear that one though. 

You 7:50 PM: Even if I called on you I don’t think you could get here very quickly. Last I saw on Instagram you guys were in Belgium. 

Jake 7:54 PM: We are, but all you need to do is say the word, Pops. 

You 8:00 PM: Miss you. 

Jake 8:01 PM: Miss you more. 

April 4, 2019

Jake 7:48 PM: My mom said she got your graduation invitation in the mail today. So proud of you Y/N. 

You 8:21 PM: It feels like it went by so fast. I can’t believe it’s over. I actually just received my acceptance letter from the University of Michigan today. I’m officially going to Law School. 

Jake 8:30 PM: You continue to amaze me Poppy. I’m glad we both get to live our dreams. 

You 8:32 PM: ❤️

University of Michigan Law School - Ann Arbor, Michigan

August 12, 2019

You 7:52 AM: I’m freaking out, what if I can’t do this Jake

Jake 8:00 AM: what?

You 8:01 AM: It’s my first day of classes at UofM

Jake 8:02 AM: Do you think I wasn’t petrified the first time I stepped onto a real stage? I know you can do this P. If I can do that, you can do this. You can do anything. 

You 8:03 AM: Thanks Jake

Jake 8:05 AM: Call me later and let me know how it went. We are on break for the next week so I’m free whenever. 

November 10, 2019

You 3:47 PM:  Jake! You’re so sweet. Gorgeous flowers, but I have to know how you got my new address?  

Jake 3:50 PM: Don’t worry about that, I have my ways. Happy Birthday my girl. I’ll call soon. 

University of Michigan Law School - Ann Arbor, Michigan

May 18, 2020

You can faintly hear a persistent buzzing, the sound pulling you from your sleep. You realize it’s your phone buzzing away on your nightstand with an incoming call. You roll over, reaching for it in the darkness of the room, noticing the time on your alarm clock says 2:47 AM. You wipe the sleep from your eyes as they adjust to the harsh light of your phone, but that's not what really wakes you. It’s the name on the screen that has you sitting up straight in your bed. 

“Jake?” you breathe, sliding your thumb against the glass. “Hello?” you answer groggily. 

“Poppy…” he replies, his voice deep and gravely. 

“Jake, what's wrong, is everything okay? It's like 2:30 in the morning?” you rush out, your heart starting to pound. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby doll,” he answers, “I just…I needed to hear your voice.”

You can hear the slurring in his words and you know he's had too much to drink. That, and he hasn’t called you that pet name in years, “What’s going on, Jake? You don’t sound okay.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly gathering the right words to say, “‘M fine, Pops. It’s just been a bad day. Hell, it’s been a bad week. A bad month. Everything is fucking exploding in our faces.”

“What do you mean?” you ask nervously, clutching your sheets in your fist.

He lets out a deep sigh, “God, everythings just falling apart. With the album, with tour–” he cuts himself off. There’s another pause before he speaks again. “It’s just all such a mess and I miss you, Pops. I miss you so damn much. I don’t know if I can do all of this.”

“What? What do you mean? Is it because of all this Covid stuff?” you ask.

“That, and so many other things. We had all these plans to release the new album and tour and then everything came to a screeching halt. We’re essentially in lockdown now, and I don't know when we will start up again. I can’t just sit, Pops, you know that. I just can’t,” he sighs heavily. “But it’s not just that,” he pauses for a moment, his words becoming a little more slurred, “There’s a million things, and I know I sound so whiny, but–”

“No, go ahead, get it all out. Tell me. I'm here. I'm listening.”

“I don't even know how to put it all into words. There’s just so much. The pressure, the uncertainty, the loneliness of it all, the shit with the label, my parents calling all the time asking what's going on, Josh bitching everytime something doesn’t go his way. Nothing is going right,” he pauses, “and you're not here.”

“I know. I know I'm not, but I think I understand a little bit at least. All my classes are virtual right now, finals and everything. It’s not how I ever imagined Law School going.  I don't think I have left my apartment in weeks. I haven’t talked to a real person in a while. It's scary and everything is uncertain right now. I get it Jake. I do, and I miss you. I miss you so much.” you answer.

“Yeah, exactly,” he sighs, “I just feel like– everything is going wrong and falling apart and I don’t know how to stop it. I just want…I want you,” he pauses, “I want you here. Things would be better if you were here. You would know what to do.”

“Well, where are you? Are you…at home or–”

“I’m locked in this fucking house in Nashville. Feel like a fuckin’ prisoner. All I can do is play guitar and write and drink,  and– I just need out.” he groans. 

“Nashville...You–You live in Nashville now? In a house? I had no idea you guys left Michigan.”  you say a little despondently.

“See, this is exactly what I mean. I want you to know these things. You deserve to know. I– I should’ve called. But, yeah, we got a place last year. Me and Josh. It made sense with us starting to record and touring, being centrally located and all that. But it’s not my permanent home. This is not what I want.” he adds hastily.

“Yeah, I understand, that makes sense, I just didn't know,” you pause, “I wish- I mean, how far are you from Ann Arbor? You know you can always come visit for a while. I’ll be busy with school work but at least we could…” you trail off. 

“I’d say maybe…six hours, give or take,” he answers, and his mind starts to wander a little. “I wish I could just hop in the car and come to you. I miss your face. Just you, in general,” he says, the drunken honesty coming through. “But the label has us on fucking lockdown. Can’t leave the city even if we wanted to.”

“Oh. Okay. I understand.” you answer, pain coloring your tone. 

He picks up on your change in tone, his voice growing a bit more sober, “Shit, no, P. I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t want you to feel like I wouldn’t just drop everything and come to you right now, you gotta believe me. I wish I could. I’d  leave now and be there by morning.”

“No, Jake it’s fine, I get it. I was just daydreaming.” you answer, swallowing thickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything. I feel like everything has just been too much and I just wanted to hear your voice. But I shouldn’t have called you like this, I know you’ve got a lot of stuff going on with school right now. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my bullshit.” he says, his voice sounding just as pained as yours. 

“Never apologize for that Jake. That’s what I’m here for. I want to know, and I know you would do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N. You know that I would,” he responds, his words almost a whisper now. You can still hear the buzz of alcohol in his voice, but now it’s only a slight slur instead of drunken rambling. “You were always my person. My safe place.”

“And you’re mine,” you whisper. 

You can hear him sigh heavily on the other line, and the two of you let a comfortable silence fall over the line. You’re both lost in your thoughts, just content to hear the other breathe. He finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet and hoarse, “When I get out of this hell hole, I’m coming to find you. I need to see you again. It can’t be another year without you.”

“You know where to find me,” you grin. 

“Yeah, I do,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, just listening to you breathe. “I should let you get some sleep. You got school and work and… life to deal with tomorrow, huh?”

“Sadly, yes. But, I– enjoyed this. I’ve missed your voice. It’s nice to lay here with my eyes closed and pretend like it's old times.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, “This was good. I feel better now, I really do. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. We’ve got a lot to catch up on…and I’m sorry I had to be drunk to find the balls to call you.” he giggles. “Can I call you again sometime soon? Preferably when I’m a little more sober?”

“Please do,” you answer with a laugh. 

He laughs softly along with you, the sound of his laugh is familiar yet different after all this time, “Okay, I’ll call you soon then. I promise. Goodnight, my  Pops.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

Detroit, Michigan

March 13, 2022

 

“And send,” you whisper to yourself, finally leaning back in your office chair as the email flies into the ether. You let out a deep exhale, checking the time. Only one more hour before you leave for the day. You take in your surroundings, seeing your colleagues still busy and working away on case files and reports. It wasn’t easy landing this job and it has been taxing to say the least, but in a few years you would be up for partner and you would do anything to make your dream a reality. Today though, you were leaving a little earlier than usual. You had plans tonight, plans you weren’t one hundred percent sure you should follow through with, but it had been years after all, and part of you is dying to see him. Jake. 

You’d been following along with the band's success for years now, watching them grow to crazy levels of fame in such a short amount of time. You think back to the night Jake called you, so worried about the new album, and now it was their most successful release to date. It truly was incredible and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see them play it live. And tonight, you would. 

When you saw that they had plans to play in Saginaw you knew you had to make the drive. You requested the time off and now today was the day. Your heart has been in your throat all day waiting for it to drop to your stomach the moment you see him on stage tonight. It only took a few messages with Karen to find out that you had standing tickets waiting for you. Stating that ‘Jake wouldn’t have it any other way’. You could tell she missed him, missed all her boys actually, and you knew the pain all too well.

You knew he would look different, from the pictures you’d seen you could tell his hair was longer, and his boyish figure was now that of a man. But he wasn't the only one, all of the guys' looks had changed dramatically, and part of you felt like you hardly knew them anymore. You had no plans of telling Jake that you would be there tonight, you wanted to see him play a good show without the burden of knowing you were out in the crowd watching. You have your outfit picked out and waiting for you on your bed, knowing you only had a few quick minutes to change and get on the road when you clocked out at the office for the day. Now, all there was left to do was wait. 

The traffic couldn’t have been worse. The freeway was congested with an accident and roadwork, and as your hands gripped the steering wheel  you began to feel nervous that you might not make it in time. You pushed away the nervous feeling, turning up the volume of the music playing through your car speakers. You’d done your research, listening to the new album a hundred times over, and tonight you’d put that knowledge to the test as you tried your best to sing along with every song they would play. As you sang along now, you let go of your stress and relaxed into the music, watching as miraculously the road cleared in front of you and you continued on your way to Saginaw. 

With your ticket in hand you searched for your seat in the crowd, finding yourself surrounded by familiar faces. Faces you hadn’t seen since you left home. It felt like a big reunion in section 102, and you couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off of your face if you tried. When you finally found your seat you looked up to see Karen sitting a seat away, turning to face you as you sat down next to her. 

“Oh honey, you made it,” she cooed, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Yeah, yeah I did! Got stuck in some terrible traffic leaving Detroit, I didn’t know if I was going to make it on time.” you answer, waving hello to a few other friendly faces around you. 

“I am so glad you’re here, I haven’t seen you in years! You really should come home and see everyone soon. We all miss you!” she says, with a soft smile, “I’m glad he sat you with us. Right where you should be.”

You give her a confused look and she laughs. 

“Look around, you’re in the family section,” she pauses, and suddenly you realize shes right. “I can’t wait to see them play tonight, it’s been a year or so.”

“Well I guess I should confess that I haven't seen them since their first little tour. I think they were openers. It was back in college.”

“Oh well, you’re in for a surprise then. They are just fantastic now, they’ve really stepped it up since then. Oh, Jake is going to be so happy to see you.” she gushes. 

“I actually didn’t tell him I was coming,” you pause, “we haven’t talked in a little while. He’s been busy touring and I’m working at a firm now. Life hasn’t been the best to our friendship.” you confess. 

“Oh honey I hate to hear that. You’ll have to come with me after the show to see everybody. I’m sure they would all love to say hello.” she offers. 

“Like backstage? I don’t know. Maybe. I–”

“No excuses, we’re going.” she smiles, just as the lights dim and music begins to play through the arena. 

Your heart is positively thumping in your chest as you hear what you believe to be Josh’s voice as he talks over a piece of music. You feel your insides grow warm as he talks, your eyes filling with tears as you listen to the beautiful words he's crafted. The crowd explodes in cheers full of anticipation as the arena goes black and the curtain covering the stage begins to flash with red lights. 

You’re scared of what you will see when the curtain drops. Scared of the changes you’ll see in their faces, the changes you’ll notice in their playing, but mostly you’re scared that he may not recognize you if he does see you, because that would crush you. 

Suddenly the curtain falls down to the ground as loud music begins to fill the arena. Your eyes are immediately on Jake, his long dark hair and his two piece suit. He looks so amazing you feel like you could fall to your knees right here in the stands. But then, he spots you, and for that few seconds it’s just the two of you there in that arena. 

 A wave of shock sets in as soon as his eyes land on you. For a brief moment you can hardly believe that it’s real, that you’re  seeing him  in person and not just in the memories that haunt you during the dark hours of night. But there he is, living his dream right in front of your very eyes. 

He stands in front of the crowd, guitar in hand. The bright spotlight is so white it almost hurts your eyes, but once your vision adjusts you’re struck by the sight of him. He’s slightly sweaty and disheveled, his jacket open  and hair already sweaty and messy. He’s never looked more handsome than he does standing on that stage. He stands still for a moment, the shock of seeing you here has shaken him to the core, that is obvious to you. But he quickly shakes it off, and continues with the show, playing for the crowd that is screaming his name.

By the third song you are having to pick your jaw up off the floor. The way he is working the crowd is a vast difference from the last time you watched him play, still shy and unsure of himself on stage. He’s got a presence to him now, a confidence that you don’t remember seeing when you first watched him play years before. It shows in the way he moves on the stage, in the way he plays to the crowd, and in the way he works the guitar like it’s an extension of himself. He plays his heart out for the next hour, his movements smooth and precise. Jake is in his element just like he always knew he would be. 

The encore is upon you, and you can’t wait for him to be back on stage. Finally, he bounds up to the stage again, his energy and excitement at an all time high. You can tell he’s having the time of his life, the lights and cheers making him feel like he could fly. Josh is right behind him, grabbing the microphone and beginning to speak. “Thank you all for an incredible night,” he yells to the crowd, “But we’re not done yet. How about another one?” The room fills with loud cheers again. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest as Jake turns his body to look at you, pointing his guitar in your direction as he acknowledges you. Your cheeks are on fire as he sends you a smile, Karen grabbing your arm as she watches the interaction. 

“Told you he’d be happy to see you,” she shouts over the music. 

You feel overwhelmed with emotion and excitement; not just by the fact that he spotted you in this giant crowd, but also by the fact that he is so clearly expressing a level of happiness because you’re here right now. The connection you feel to him is unlike anything you’ve felt in a long time.

He finishes the show with his heart on his sleeve. It ends on an incredibly high note, and he takes one last bow to the crowd as they start to leave. He starts walking off the stage, Josh in tow and you realize that now, you will go backstage with Karen and you’ll  have to face him. 

“Alright honey, you up for saying hello?” she asks, both of you making your way out of the aisle and towards the floor. 

Your body is shaking with nerves as you answer her, “Yeah, I should. It’s been too long.”

You and Karen make your way to the back where the band is waiting, still a little winded from the show. A few roadies are already packing up the stage equipment, and the crew is helping to dismantle the set. There is so much going on behind the scenes that you had no clue about. So many moving parts and pieces. 

Karen ushers you back towards the dressing rooms, each of the guys having their own space to dress and prepare. When did they get so fancy?

“Okay, Jake should be right through there, I’m going to go find Josh. Come find me if you need anything.” she says, leaving you at his dressing room door. 

Your hands are shaking, you’re unsure if you’ll even be able to raise your hand to knock. You smooth out your skirt and take a deep breath, fixing your hair a little as you try to calm your nerves. It’s Jake. It’s just Jake. 

Finally getting over the shock and nervousness, you knock softly on the door. You hear shuffling behind the door and your heart starts to pound in your ears. You hear him call out through the door, “Just a minute.”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you hear his voice through the door. It sounds like he’s just getting out of the shower, and with a towel wrapped around his waist he opens the door. The shock on his face is undeniable as he sees you standing there. He was expecting anything but you. “Pops,” he whispers, saying your name as if he were trying to convince himself that you were real.

“H-hi Jake,” you stammer, your nerves making themselves known. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you in disbelief. He’s still dripping wet from the shower, beads of water running down his bare chest. His face relaxes and a familiar softness sets in, a soft smile crossing his face. “You’re really here.” His gaze roams over your body, drinking in every inch.  

“Yeah, I'm here. You were–you were so amazing, I–”

It’s as if the sound of your voice brings a wave of peace over him, and before you know it he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his body still damp from the shower. He pulls you against him, your body pressed to his bare chest. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his breath on  your skin as he holds you. “I’m so fucking happy to see you,” he murmurs. 

You hug him back, feeling all the guilt and nerves melt away from you, in a way that only he can manage. You can feel the water starting to seep through your clothes, and you pull away, looking between you with a smile. “You're wet, and naked,” you laugh. 

He blushes at your words, suddenly remembering that he’s still just wrapped in a towel. “Shit,” he says, feeling an unusual shyness that he usually doesn’t feel around you. He steps back to the side of the door, holding it open for you to enter as he gives you a nervous smile. “Come in, just give me a sec and I'll change.”

“I can wait out here if you want, I know that we–”

“No, come in Pops. Please,” he says firmly, the towel still wrapped around him. It’s still hard to take your eyes off of his bare chest, but you walk into the room, trying to keep your focus on anything but him, not wanting to stare too long. 

You watch as he saunters across the room, his long brown hair down to the middle of his back now, and dripping with water. You swallow harshly as your eyes travel over the curve of his ass in the towel, but you pull your eyes away before he turns around. He grabs a bag and slips into the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind him. You can hear a nasty cough come from behind the door and you furrow your brows. Is he sick?

You stand there by the couch, suddenly noticing the small bottle of cough syrup sitting at the edge of the side table. A few moments later, he emerges from the bathroom, dressed in worn jeans and a clean white t-shirt. He sits down on the couch and he lets out another few coughs, trying to clear his throat as he looks up at you. “Sit down,” he says, gesturing towards the spot next to him on the couch. 

You take a seat next to him, and let out a soft breath. “Are you feeling okay?” you ask. 

The cough is still in his throat, but he nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have this damn cough that I can’t seem to shake.” He looks you up and down, finally being able to observe you as closely as he wants to since you showed up at the venue. “You look great,” he says, a warm smile on his lips. 

You blush at his words, your eyes meeting his. The one thing about him that’s stayed the same over the years. “Thank you,” you say shyly. 

His smile turns into a grin, the same boyish smile that you’ve always loved. “Of course.” He lets his gaze linger on your face, drinking you in as if he’s trying to memorize every little detail. He’s unable to keep his hands to himself, and before you know it he’s reached towards you. His fingers wrap around your wrist, and he gently pulls your arm towards him.

The feeling of his skin against yours causes the dam to break, “Jake, I–”

He doesn’t let go as he lets both of your hands rest in his lap. That same electricity that used to pass between you is there, and you can tell that the connection you’ve always had is as strong as ever despite the distance. He speaks softly, knowing how heavy the air between you two is. “I know.”

“No, please I–” you start, but you’re quickly cut off as the dressing room door flies open and a blonde woman, around the same age as you steps inside. 

The sudden intrusion is like a bucket of ice water, and you pull your hands away from him as if you’ve been caught doing something wrong. He looks back at you, his expression soft and apologetic before he looks up at the new presence in the room. You look over at Jake, expecting to see some kind of reaction from him, but he actually just looks mildly annoyed.

“Hey, Viv,” he answers, turning his body to face her. She looks between the two of you, an expression on her face you can’t quite decipher.

She gives him a small smile, and she doesn’t even glance in your direction as she walks into the room. You try to stay as small as possible, as if trying not to be seen. She crosses her arms as she stands on the other side of the room. “How did the show go?” she asks, her voice is casual and unbothered. You suddenly feel like you shouldn’t be here. 

“Was fine, got a little winded and lightheaded by encore,” he answers and she nods her head. 

“Well, the crowd was big tonight and it got hot, plus all the lights. That'd make anybody winded,” she says, still keeping her focus on him. You sit there, feeling slightly uncomfortable, wondering why she seems so comfortable in his space. She starts to dig around in the bag on her shoulder and you turn to look at Jake. 

The whole situation feels weird, and you don't understand why she is just standing there, going through her purse, while you and Jake sit there. His eyes flick over to you and you can see slight annoyance in them as he looks back at her.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks. She’s not just some stranger. She’s here with Jake. For Jake. Oh god how could you be so stupid. Of course he’s seeing someone. You quickly shoot up, grabbing your bag and tossing it over your shoulder as quickly as you can, feeling so stupid to think tonight would be the night you’d work things out. She’s waiting for you to leave. 

Jake’s eyes go wide as he sees what you’re doing, “Wait, no, Pops, where are you going?” He stands up from the couch, reaching his hand out to grab your arm but you pull away from him.

“I’m sorry– I didn’t know. I– You were amazing tonight, I’m sorry I–I didn’t know you— I’ll go–” you stammer, making your way to the door.  

Jake practically lunges across the room, reaching the door at the same time you do. He turns you around to face him, the panic in his eyes apparent. “No, don’t go, let me explain–”

“No, no, you don’t have to. I understand. I shouldn’t have come back here. I don’t belong back here. I’m sorry,” you mumble pushing your way through the heavy wooden door.

“Poppy!” you hear him shout, his voice echoing through the busy hallway as you search for the nearest exit. You don’t turn around. You refuse to look back and let him see you like this. Your heart is absolutely more crushed than it ever has been, but you should have expected it. He is a rockstar and you’re…just Y/N.

He moved on, he found someone else to confide in. Someone that matches him. Someone else to trust with his secrets. Someone else to think of day and night, and finally you understand how he felt that night so long ago. Replaced. 

You hear his voice fade as you walk out of the venue, leaving your heart behind you in a single, devastating moment. The warm night is replaced by a cold breeze as you step out, the tears falling down your face as you realize the past was just that. The past.

Frankenmuth, Michigan

December 31, 2022

The air is frigid outside, you’re sure this is the coldest winter you’ve ever experienced, even growing up here. There aren’t enough layers in the world, let alone in your suitcase. Thankfully in just two days you will be back home in Detroit where it's not too much warmer, but definitely not as cold as Frankenmuth. You’ve been home for the last two weeks visiting your parents, not seeing them nearly enough since you started at the law firm after graduation. It’s been nice to be home, but something about it feels different now. You are riddled with nostalgia and the memories seem to come back with a vengeance the longer you’re here. Memories you have all but pushed away lately, not letting them into your heart as you once did. Currently you and your parents are sitting in front of the fireplace sipping on wine as you watch the Rockin’ New Year’s Eve special on TV. The wine is warming you up a bit, but not nearly enough. 

You’ve now brushed off dozens of invites from co-workers and even some old friends who are out on the town tonight, celebrating ringing in the new year. You know you should go, but something is telling you not to. Even your parents asked why you’re spending the evening at home instead of seeing old friends. You wish you had a good answer for them, but you don't.

“You really should go, honey,” your mom continues, finishing off her glass of red. “You’re only young once.”

“I know, but I just…I feel so disconnected from this place. I haven’t talked to these people since highschool,” you pause, “I just feel like I’m better off here.”

“I agree with your mother, hon,” your dad adds, “It will be good for you to get out. All you do is work these days. You deserve a night off.”

You let their words sink in as you look at your phone, seeing the ignored text from your old friend Isabelle begging you to meet her at Tiffany’s for a drink. Honestly, the thought of stepping into that bar again rattles you. 

“Just one drink hon, ring in the new year,” your dad says, sending you an encouraging wink. 

You look at her text again and let out a sigh, “Alright, fine. Maybe you’re right. It would be okay to let loose just a little. Tonight of all nights.”

“Thatta girl,” he says, nodding his head. 

With the decision made you text Isabelle back, letting her know you will meet her there in thirty as you rush upstairs to change into something that isn't sweatpants and a hoodie.

 It’s an eerie feeling walking into this bar, a place you used to frequent so often, so long ago. It’s been years since you've been back but it's exactly the same as you left it. The dining patrons are long gone, making way for the locals that use the bartop as their own personal therapy space, but tonight it’s a little different. It’s New Year's Eve and the bar is filled with unfamiliar faces. Of course, there are a few you recognize from high school, that much you expected. The air in the bar is much warmer than the air outside, thanks to the large group of people filling the small space. The lights are dim and music is playing from the old jukebox in the corner. The floor is already sticky from spilled drinks, and the air smells faintly of cigarettes. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink, what do you want?” Isabelle asks, snaking her way through a group of people. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” you answer, knowing it doesn't really matter. 

She disappears into the crowd and you look around in search of a table you can ditch your jacket at. Most are taken, but you spot one in a corner with no occupants. You walk briskly towards it, throwing your jacket down onto the inevitably sticky table top as you sit and wait for Isabelle. You let your eyes wander through the bar picking out familiar faces, and even taking in some new ones, but you can’t seem to shake the feeling of uneasiness you’ve had since you walked through the door. Something is different, you just don’t know what. 

A few minutes later a drink is placed in front of you that looks to be a whiskey and coke, and you secretly cheer that it's not something overly sweet. 

“Made them a double cause the lines’ a bitch,” she says, taking her first gulp.

“Good call,” you smile, taking your own sip and letting the bubbles burn the back of your throat. Maybe your dad was right. You did need this. You and Isabelle sit and talk for a little while, letting the alcohol seep into your system and cast away your cares. But then you hear something. Something you haven’t heard in a long time. A song from long ago that has made a permanent home in your memories. 

Through the crappy speakers you hear the opening notes to “Good Lovin’ Gone Bad” by Bad Company. You smile to yourself, thinking back on just how many times Jake played that album that summer. You both had practically every single lyric memorized by the time you left for college. A pang shoots through your chest as you picture him in your mind, and your mood suddenly sours. 

“Hey, I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick,” you pause, “Save our table?”

“Duh, see you in a few,” she says, taking another gulp of her drink. 

You begin to make your way to the bathroom, needing a minute to yourself to freshen up and get Jake out of your head. You finally make your way to the opposite side of the bar, the bathrooms in your sight. But much to your surprise, something else oddly familiar catches your eye and your heart lurches up to your throat. No. It can’t be. 

His back is towards you, but you would recognize his shoulders and hair anywhere. You spot him with a group of guys, all drinking and having a good time. A wave of nostalgia hits hard, remembering how things were back in the day before you both went your separate ways and he shot to stardom. The way you could walk up to him without second guessing it. Now you’re not so sure you can. 

You try to turn around and walk away, knowing it's best to just go, but something has you frozen to the floor. You can see the way he holds the crowd at the bar, telling stories and cracking jokes in the same way he did at parties back in high school. He's a star in every sense of the word, but when the laughter fades for a second, you can almost see the sadness underneath it all. 

He doesn’t notice you, at least you think he doesn’t, as you push forward and rush into the bathroom. Your heart is pumping harder than it has in months and you feel like you might be sick. There is no way you are going to be able to get out of this bar without talking to him, so you decide you need to pull it together and pretend like he isn’t even here. 

You fix your make up, and smooth down your hair, taking a good long look in the mirror. You’ve got this. It’s just Jake. You take a few deep breaths and square your shoulders, preparing to face him and any uncomfortable conversation that may follow. You open the door and walk out into the bar, looking around as you do. You don't see him at the bar he was at before and for a split second your brain doesn't register that fact at all, but as you make your way out to the dance floor you look a few tables over and realize he is standing there, with his hands in his pockets watching you with the same intensity you’ve always seen from him.  

He looks so handsome and he doesn’t even know it. His long brown hair hanging over his shoulders, his corduroy shirt hanging open and messy over his t-shirt. He is exactly the Jake you’ve always known. The Jake you always wanted. There’s a mustache, too, you notice. The accent of hair, complimenting his upper lip in a way that has your entire chest heating. It’s the perfect touch to his pretty face, adding a masculine touch that you hadn’t known was necessary for his overall aura until this moment. 

Because god did he look impossibly more alluring with that addition. 

You know it’s only a matter of time before you two speak, and you have no idea what he is thinking. But for once, Jake doesn’t hide his feelings from you, his eyes are glued to you, refusing to look away. Willing you to come to him, and your body listens. 

You walk towards him, each step feeling heavier than the last, as if you're walking through quicksand. Your eyes stay locked on his face despite the nervousness running through your veins, and you can feel the electricity pouring off of him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just stares at you. You can feel the memories of you together crashing through your head like a wave. You get closer and closer, the world around you fading away, until you’re standing right in front of him.

“It was you, wasn’t it. The song,” you ask, putting the pieces together immediately. “You knew I was here. You knew I would recognize it.”

His jaw clenches in response, and he lets a sad smile touch his lips before he says anything. “Yeah, it was. I saw you walk in. I knew it’d work,” he replies, the familiar rasp in his voice is softer than you remember, but still as deep and soothing as ever.

“Guess you were right,”  you smirk, watching as his body language starts to soften.

He lets a soft chuckle escape, and he relaxes a little bit. You can see the tension melting away from his shoulders. “Some things never change, huh?” he says, his eyes roaming over your face and body briefly, taking in every detail he can. 

“I didn’t know you were home,” you confess.

“I didn’t know you were home.” he says gently, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He looks down for a moment, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I should’ve told you.”

You nod your head, “I could’ve called you too,” you pause, biting your lip, “It’s just ever since that night–”

“That night was not what you think. I wish you would’ve let me explain, Pops.” he urges, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm. 

“It's- It's the past now Jake, you don't owe me anything,” you answer, the nickname searing a sore spot in your heart. 

“Bullshit,” he snaps. “You know exactly what I owe you. But I’m not going to talk to you about this in a bar, surrounded by all these people,” he drops his hand from your arm, running it through his hair instead. “Come with me, please.”

You look around for Isabelle, but of course she is nowhere to be found, “Okay.”

He leads you out the back door of the bar, into the cool winter air. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and grabs one, placing it between his teeth before lighting it just as quickly. He looks over at you for a moment, watching as you rub your arms to keep warm. “You’re cold,” he observes, noticing the goosebumps on your exposed skin.

“My jacket is inside,” you answer.

He shrugs off his corduroy shirt, draping it over your shoulders, before pulling you in a bit closer to him. The smell of tobacco and his cologne overwhelm your senses as he presses against your side. The heat radiating off of him is warm, and you instinctively bring the shirt closer around you, breathing in the familiar smell of him.

“Listen, Pops,” he pauses, taking another drag of his cigarette, “I’ve wanted to call you a hundred times since that night, explain what you think you saw…” 

It hurts you to know he's thought about it too. “So why didn't you?”

“I was scared,” he admits bluntly, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips as he does. “You are the last person that I ever wanted to hurt, believe me. But you didn’t even let me get a word in. You left and just…” he sighs. “I didn’t know what the hell to do with myself. Still don’t. I think we are here right now in this shitty ass bar because the universe decided it was time for us to figure this shit out.”

“Maybe it is,” you agree. 

He lets out a long exhale of smoke, his breath visible in the cold air. “You’ve always been smarter than me,” he says, throwing his cigarette to the ground and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know where to start, but I need you to hear me out here.”

“I'm listening,” you answer. 

He paces to the edge of the sidewalk, running a nervous hand through his hair as he tries to compose himself. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “I know you think you know what you saw that night, but it wasn’t… That woman, Viv– Vivienne, she is our Tour Medic. Like our travel doctor. A few days before that show…I’d been sick. I didn’t want to admit it then, but I will now. I was sick, too sick. I shouldn’t have been performing. We needed to cancel those shows. I hid it the best I could, and I shouldn’t have and it made it all worse,” he pauses. “That night she came in to check on me after the show. I’d avoided her as long as I could and I think she just knew. She was coming to tell me that she was taking me to the hospital for my cough. She and I both knew it wasn’t normal and my time was up.”

“I– Yeah, I remember…I asked you…”

“I know. I know you did. Even you knew. I was going to tell you… But then, you– I don’t know you just freaked on me, and left. I wanted to explain but I wasn’t ready to admit what was going on.” he pauses, his lips trembling from the cold. “I went to the hospital that night and found out I had pneumonia. Bad. I– I was there for three days. I laid in that hospital bed and replayed you running out over and over again, Poppy. I wanted to call you and tell you but I just couldn’t. I was drained mentally and physically.”

“Jake, oh my god– I– I feel so stupid– I’m so sorry–”

“No, Pops, it’s not your fault. I know how it looked. I was just being too selfish to tell the truth.” he admits. “But now, you know.”

“You were in the hospital, Jake. I had no idea, I–We used to tell each other everything…What if something happened to you and I–” you trail off. 

His body tenses at your words, and his expression morphs into a mixture of guilt and regret. “No, you’re right,” he says, defeated. “I was just…ashamed, I guess, that my body was failing me. It was such a low point…But I shouldn’t have let you walk out like that. I should have chased after you.” He looks back over at you, your face illuminated by the glowing neon bar signs and slowly he brings his hand to cup your cheek. “I can’t believe I let you go.”

Suddenly you hear the inside of the bar erupt with cheering and the loud countdown starting. “It’s almost midnight,” you whisper. 

He looks back at the bar, then back at you, “I guess it is. I didn’t even realize it.” He says, his eyes glued to your face. The countdown gets closer and closer, and you can tell he is nervous. He looks almost afraid as he continues to talk. “I’ve really missed you, Y/N. I’ve thought about you so many times over these past few years, and it feels like no time has passed, but everything has changed,” he pauses, “I wish things could go back to the way it was.”

The world feels so still in this moment, even with all the ruckus inside the bar. “Ten seconds,” you note, eyes glued to his face as his warm hand rests on your cheek. He steps forward, his body so close to yours that you feel as though you’ll become one in this moment. The cold forgotten, his body almost feverish beside you. He runs his thumb across your cheek, his eyes glued to yours as the countdown gets lower and lower.

“Jake,” you whisper, your voice trembling with want. 

He takes another step closer, his body inches apart from yours, and his lips only a breath away from yours “Poppy,” he whispers, his hot, shaky breath caressing your skin as he does. “I need you.”

“Three, two, one…”

Everyone in the bar cheers all around you. He’s so close now, you can hear the sharp inhales that are escaping his lips, and in the moments after the chaos of the New Year erupts, he closes the distance between the two of you. His lips are on yours in seconds, his hand pulling you in, his touch soft and needy.

The kiss is slow, it’s as if time has frozen in this sweet, tender moment. His hands slide into your hair, bringing your face to his, wanting all of you. The kiss is quickly growing desperate and needy. He pushes you against the brick wall of the building, his body pressing into yours, your heart racing as his hand moves from your hair to your waist. He gently lifts your leg pulling it around his waist as this kiss of reunion deepens even more. It’s  filled with emotion and years of wanting, and your body is filled with an overwhelming sense of electricity.

He kisses you with everything he's got. His body craving your touch for so long. He pulls your body against his, wanting to feel every inch of you that he can. He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth effortlessly, as if he’s memorized every curve, every crevice. You feel your stomach churning with need for him. The need for more.

You bring your hands up to wrap around his shoulders, the kiss getting deeper and more desperate with each passing moment. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you tighter against his body, as if he can’t stand to have you away from him for even a second. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and he lets out a low moan, his need for you stronger than ever. It’s as if no time has passed at all. Suddenly you’re right back in his basement kissing him for the first time. 

You break the kiss, his name falling from your lips as your eyes open to meet his. “Jake...”

“P-Pops,” he stutters, struggling to find the words through his ragged breaths. “Fuck, I never should’ve let you go. It’s you, it’s always been you.” He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his grip on you just as tight, if not tighter. “You– You just light a fire in me that everyone else seems to put out.”

You let your lips press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw before moving to his ear, “I’ll always be the one with a match to bring you back.”

“Goddamnit, Poppy,” His eyes flutter shut, and you can see that the sensation of your lips on his skin has driven him towards a bliss he hadn't experienced in a long, long time. The way your body fits against his is as natural now as it's ever been. It's as if you were molded to fit in his arms– as if nothing else in the world could ever feel as perfect as this. “I never want to let you go. I'm so goddamn sick of letting you go,” he whispers.

The desire is growing between your legs, and you can feel the evidence of his pressed against your stomach. Instinctively you rub against him, causing a growl to leave his chest. You’re no longer eighteen in the basement. You’re adults who need more. 

He moves his body against yours, a low moan rising from his throat as he does. It’s as if he can feel the fire he’s lit up inside of you, and he’s desperate to fan the flames of the inferno that has always been there. “I’ve missed you so damn much,” he gasps, his hands starting to roam over your body. “Say you feel this. Say you feel it too.”

“I've always felt it Jake. Always.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, leaving small kisses, before sinking his teeth in gently. His hands are everywhere, as if he can't decide where he wants to touch first. He presses himself against you, his body flushed with need. “I want you,” he whispers, his words hot against your skin.

“I want you.” you pant, arching your neck to give him more. 

He takes full advantage, his lips and teeth working their way up and down your neck, leaving a trail of marks in their wake. He can feel your need growing, and he responds to it with his own. He presses his body against yours with a primal force, his hand moving  to cup your face, bringing your lips back to his. The kiss is hungry and needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth, searching for what he has been missing as his free hand  finds the waistband of your jeans. 

His hand begins to make a slow descent into your jeans, his rough fingertips sliding against your soft delicate skin. They brush the hem of your panties as his tongue continues to memorize yours. Your heart is pounding, your body aching for his touch where you need it most as the sound of “Auld Lang Syne” and distant fireworks boom around you. 

A soft sound of need escapes from the back of your throat, the anticipation of his touch building an excruciating ache between your thighs. He uses his thumb to brush against the front of your panties, teasing you, as he breaks the kiss to whisper against your skin. “Do you know how badly I want you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, before returning to your neck and biting down softly. 

You nod against him, still breathing harder than ever. He takes his time, his fingers running a lazy path against your skin, and you feel the heat growing between your legs as his touch gets closer.

He lets his fingers graze over the thin lace material of your underwear, gently tracing up and down in an agonizingly careful manner. His lips break away from your neck and move instead to your ear, his teeth taking the lobe gently. “I’ve dreamed about you like this, every night since the last time we touched,” he whispers, his voice raspy and low. “I’ve ached to feel your skin on mine, your body trembling under my touch.”

You feel his fingers move lower and lower until the heat of his touch is coated in your desire for him. “Jake,” you whine, totally lost in this moment with him. 

His breath catches in his throat when he feels just how much you want him, and he lets out a low moan that makes your whole body tremble. “Fuck,” he whispers, his fingers tracing slow circles over your warm sensitive flesh. His lips find their way back to your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin, making your spine tingle as you whine.

“Shhh,” he coo’s, silencing your whimpers with a soft kiss. He slips his fingers past the fabric, his touch growing more intense as he finally finds what he’s been craving this whole time. “So soft. So beautiful,” he gasps. He moves his hand in a gentle rhythm, his fingers slipping between your folds, finding your sweet spot effortlessly. You feel euphoric, and at complete mercy to his touch. “Can you feel me? Can you feel what you do to me?”

“Yes,” you whine, “I feel everything.”

His fingers move faster as they dip inside, trying to get as deep inside of you as he can, desperate to feel every inch of you. “I dreamed up a hundred different ways to make you fall apart in my arms,” he whispers, his eyes locking on yours, “and nothing comes close to reality. Come home with me, Pops. Stay with me.”

Just as you start to feel your release creeping closer, the bar door slams next to you, pulling you both from the moment. Your eyes snap to Jake’s and his to yours as he quickly realizes the compromising position you’re in, removing his hand from your jeans. 

He quickly steps back, straightening his shirt as you desperately try to regain your composure. You look around, hoping that whoever walked out of the bar doesn't look your way and catch you two in the state you were in. You're both panting, breaths ragged and desperate, and forced to ignore the needy ache that lingers between your legs.

It's as if a bucket of water has been dumped over your head, making you see clearly. Your eyes meet Jake's, his expression still waiting for you to answer his question. But as this rush of clarity takes hold of you, you realize exactly what you've done. 

Your eyes are glued to each other, but this now feels different. Everything feels different. It’s as if the air around you is suddenly thick with unspoken words, the gravity of the situation crashing down around you both. He’s just staring at you, his chest still heaving as he tries to slow his own breathing. He clears his throat, breaking the silence that hangs in the air. “Poppy…”

Your head begins shaking, “No, Jake, we– we can’t do this– we…”

You're at battle with your own mind, fighting for what you want versus what you know is right. 

His whole body goes rigid, the disappointment in your words written all over his face. He lets out a shaky breath, as if it physically pains him, “No– Don’t say that, we can, Poppy, please,” he begs softly.

“Jake we– we’re strangers. We know nothing about each other anymore. We– You’re a rockstar, you live in Nashville. I live in Detroit, I finally work for a firm. This is what we wanted. Isn’t it? This was our dream right? We can’t– You can’t…”

He swallows hard, trying to process what you’re telling him. You know you’re right, this is what you both wanted. He runs a nervous hand through his hair, his eyes looking for something to distract him from the crushing reality you just threw out in front of him.

“I know,” he whispers. He takes a deep breath, his mind and body still screaming to hold you. But the reality of it all is hitting you both like a train, and he’s trying desperately to keep his mind present in the moment. “I know all of that…I just–I don’t give a damn that I’m a rockstar, or that you live in Detroit,” he mutters, a defensive tone to his voice, “It’s you that’s missing, Pops. All day. All night. It’s you that’s in my head day in and day out. I want you. I always will. That is never going to change. We will never be strangers.”

Tears start to form in your eyes at his confession. You want to go with him. Run away and pretend nothing else matters. But it does, and you can’t. It can never be, no matter how badly you both want it.

His voice cracks, and he can feel the walls around his heart starting to crumble as he looks at you. He reaches out, taking your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek softly. “It’s always been you, Poppy. It will always be you,” he whispers, his hand continuing to graze over your skin as if he was trying to memorize every tiny detail. “So please, just– forget it all. Come home with me.”

Your lips begin to tremble, knowing that you’re about to break his heart. Again. “Jake… I can’t.” you say, letting a tear slip from your eye. 

You see the moment the weight of your words hits him, like a slow motion car crash that feels unavoidable. The look of complete defeat on his face makes you want to take it all back, tell him that you’re just as desperate as he is to throw everything aside. But you can’t. It’s just not possible. He lets his hands fall slowly from your face, and the space between your two bodies growing feels like your heart shattering all over again. “Okay.”

For some reason, that breaks you, your tears falling faster now as you see the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss him softly one last time. 

He returns your kiss with his own, gently taking your face in his palms. It’s as if he’s committing the feel of you to memory, the way he’s holding you, the way your lips fit so perfectly together. He doesn’t want to let go, and he holds the kiss as long as he can, until breathing becomes a desperate fight for air. When he finally does break the kiss, he whispers against your lips just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s still us, Pops.” and with that, he lets you go, leaving him there as small snow flurries begin to fall to the ground. 

With a heavy heart you finally make your way inside your childhood home, tossing your coat onto the couch. You collapse into your bed, letting the tears fall now that you’re alone in your solitude again. You can hear the snow falling harder now, tapping against your bedroom window.  You can still feel the faint remnants of his touch on your skin, his warmth lingering in your heart as you remember the taste of his lips. Jake. Your Jake. Yours for only minutes before you pushed him away. But you know it's for the best. 

You drag yourself up from the bed and change into your cozy pajamas, realizing you are still wearing Jake’s shirt. You bring it to your nose and breathe in his smell, sending you into a new round of tears. You put the shirt back on and crawl back into bed, needing to feel his presence close to you. You bring the neck of the shirt up, enveloping yourself in it like a blanket, your body still trembling with need.

It feels like it's been hours. You're exhausted, but your mind still won't put Jake to rest. There’s no escaping the fact that you're still just as hopelessly in love with him as you were the first time you met. As if he is thinking of you too, your phone buzzes next to your head, his name illuminating the screen with a text. 

Jake 1:42 AM: I keep thinking about what happened. I can still taste you on my lips. I know what you said, and I understand but I can’t let it be over, Pops. I just can’t.

Your heart shatters reading his message. You know how he feels because you feel the exact same way. You don’t even know what to say to him, so you just don’t. You lock your phone and put it back on your nightstand, turning off the lamp and attempting to sleep this terrible, beautiful night away. There is, however, an unbelievable thrum between your legs that you can’t seem to ignore. 

You toss and turn, trying so hard to sleep, but it’s pointless. The only thought going through your brain is of Jake. That deep need for him is building in intensity, your body wanting his touch desperately, your mind remembering every detail of the time you spent wrapped together against the building just an hour ago. You let your hand wander down beneath the sheets, your fingers pushing beneath the waistband of your pants.

He’s all you can think of. It’s as if the flood gates are now wide open, and you’re finally allowing yourself to let Jake occupy every space in your mind and body, and there is nothing else you need. You close your eyes, but all you can see is Jake’s face. His strong, handsome features, the way his lips form as he speaks…

With your eyes shut tight, you picture his body hovering over yours. The scent of him, his touch, the way his body felt against yours as he leaned into you. You let yourself fantasize about him being here with you, wanting you and only you. You imagine the way his lips felt all over your skin, the way he let his teeth graze over your neck and collarbone. The memory of it makes you shiver and your fingers work faster and faster, seeking the release you’ve craved for so long.

You feel like you’re right at the peak of surrendering to this imaginary version of him, when you hear your phone start to ring. Your eyes shoot open as you pull your hand from under your sheets. You reach for your phone but this time your brain is too hazy to think clearly. You see his name on the screen, along with a picture of him you set as his photo years ago. Against your better judgement you slide your thumb across the screen, needing to hear his voice. 

“Hello?” you breathe, your voice coming out as a breathy pant. 

His voice sounds soft and vulnerable, “Hey…” he breathes, sighing on the other end of the line, “I didn’t think you’d answer…I was just laying here, can’t sleep. I don’t know why I called, I just, I saw you read my text earlier and you didn’t answer– I don’t want this to be us. I never want that.”

“I know,” you pause, trying to even your breathing, “I'm sorry.”

“How can this be it?” his voice sounds strained now, the emotion in it pulling at your heart, “How is this the end? I can't make sense of it, all I can think about is you.”

Hearing his deep, gravely voice has your hand slipping back under the sheets, resuming its previous work. “I– I never said it was the end…”

“The way you walked away sure made it seem that way,” he says, and it breaks you in two. 

“It took everything I had Jake, you have to know that,” you say, your voice even more breathy than before and you know that you need to calm down before he takes notice, but the sound of his voice has your hand continuing to move. 

He notices the slight change in your tone, picking up on the way your breathing gets more shallow and more uneven, “Are…Are you okay? You sound…different. Where are you? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“I'm at home now. In my bed,” you pause, breathing into the phone, “Where are you?”

He lets out a shaky sigh into the phone. You know he’s figured it out, and if you know him like you think you do he isn’t going to change the subject. 

He wants nothing more than to be there, to hear every noise he could pull out of you, to feel every shiver and tremble as he worships every inch of your body. “I’m…I’m in my bed too. But I haven’t turned the light off yet.”

“Turn it off, Jake,” you breathe. 

Your self control is gone. You want this. No, you need this.

You can hear him inhale a sharp, stuttering breath, a quiet, breathy moan escaping him as he takes in your words. He knows what you’re asking for. He’s wanted it in some form for years. The phone jostles a few times before he says, “Done.”

You hum in response, continuing to run your fingers through your soaking wet folds. Something about the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne wrapped around you has you soaking in this moment and throwing your cares to the wind. 

“Let me send an Uber, Poppy, please,” he manages to breathe, the desperation in his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Come to my hotel. I fucking hate not finishing what I start.”

“So finish it,” you tease. 

“God damn. Get in the Uber, Y/N.”

“No, no Uber. Just this. Just...talk to me Jake,” you whine.

His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a groan, the sound going straight to your core. You can hear him moving around in his bed, shifting to a more comfortable position, the sheets rustling as he does. You know he wants to touch himself, but he’s trying to resist. “I don’t know if I can just talk. Not knowing you’re…like that.” 

“For what it’s worth, you felt better,” you confess in an airy breath. 

“Fuck, Pops,” he groans, “You don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about you like that. I’d die to have you on my fingers again.”

“I want you,” you breathe, “But I know this is the only way I can have you.”

He is quiet for a bit, the only sounds you can hear from him are the heavy breaths he’s trying so hard to control. You’re picturing it all, imagining exactly what he looks like on the other end of the line.“You can have me,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, “I’m all yours, baby.”

“You've never been mine, Jake…”

“I’ve always been yours,” his words are spoken quickly, his voice almost a pleading whine. “I’ve always been yours. You’ve always been mine. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

His words sear through you, your fingers circling your clit faster now, causing a whine of pleasure to leave your chest. 

“Fucking hell, Poppy.” His voice comes through the phone, raw and ragged. “Are you…Is there a way…Can I see you at least?”

You think about it for a second, and you know the sight of him will send you straight to that sweet release you've been chasing all night. “Only if you join me…” you counter. 

“Do you think my hand isn’t already wrapped around my cock, listening to you whimper like that? Thinking about you touching yourself in all the ways I’ve dreamed of?”

“Show me, Jake.” you breathe. 

You quickly switch your phone to Facetime, your thumb hesitating over the call button. You know that there’s no coming back from this, but you can’t help yourself. You need to see him, and you’re not going to let your fear stop either of you from taking what you both want. “Answer the call.”

You press the button and watch as his face fills your screen, his chest heaving with each ragged breath he takes, his silver necklace laying against his body. He’s propped up against the headboard, his skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat that makes your body heat up even more. “You…” he whispers, “God, look at you. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Jake…” you moan his name, your hand moving faster and faster.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty. I can’t….I need…” he stops, unable to find the right words.

You stop suddenly, realizing that he can’t see that much of you. “Hold on,” you say, dropping your phone to the bed as you peel your shirt over your head, leaving your chest exposed. This will be the first time he’s seen you like this, but you feel more confident than ever. You prop your phone up on a pillow, allowing him the full visual of you. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as your shirt comes off, his eyes going wide as he stares at your bare chest, completely mesmerized by you. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, his eyes glued to your body, “You are so perfect. It’s not even possible that someone is this perfect,” You watch his hand move, disappearing under the sheets and moving slowly down his body until he starts to move the sheets so you can watch. “I want you to see me, too.”

It’s dark but you watch as he props his phone up the same way, giving you the exact same view. His cock is hard and throbbing in his hand, bigger than you ever dreamed of, but exactly what you felt beneath his pants at the bar tonight. “Jake, I wish–”

“Say it,” he responds quickly, unable to wait another second to hear your words. He’s almost painfully hard right now, but he needs to hear it all. “Please say it, baby. Talk to me.”

The new pet name sends you spiraling, admitting things you would never admit in the light of day. “I want to feel you. I need to know how you would feel inside of me. I need you, Jake. All of you,” you whine, watching his hand stroke his cock a little faster. 

“Fuck, I’ve never wanted anything like I want that. I need you, too. I need to feel every single inch of your body. I need to do all the things I’ve dreamed about. You have no idea how many times I’ve laid here thinking of you. Wishing that I had you in my bed.” He stops his hand, trying to keep his mind together. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” you answer. 

He pauses for a moment, as if he’s afraid to give in to the moment completely. But his need for you is stronger than his common sense. “Take your panties off, but don't touch yourself again. Not until I tell you to. I want you to listen, I want you to feel this.”

You comply, sliding your panties over your legs and tossing them to the floor. He can see all of you now, your wetness glowing in the dim light of the phone. 

“You’re everything,” he moans softly, his hand moving again. “You are as perfect now as you’ve ever been. I can’t believe I’m seeing you like this.”

“Tell me what to do, Jake,” you plead.

The control he’s desperately trying to keep is starting to crack. Every part of him is wanting to rip that phone from his hand and be there with you. “Touch your inner thighs,” he requests, his voice sounding low and strained. “Just your thighs, don’t touch anywhere else.”

You comply, running your fingers over your thighs as the sound of his voice gives you goosebumps.

He watches you, his eyes glued to the way your fingers move over your skin. His hand slowly working over himself, his need to touch you growing. “Good girl…Does it feel good to touch your skin?” he asks, his hand moving faster. 

“Yes, but I wish it was you,” you admit, your legs starting to shake with anticipation. 

​​“I know,” he whispers, “I know, babydoll. You have no idea how desperately I need it to be my hands.” He bites the inside of his cheek, fighting back the words he wants to say.

“Jake,” you practically moan his name, your back arching as the need for him consumes you from the inside out. You let your eyes flutter closed as you let your hands roam over that most sensitive part of you. “It feels so good but it’s not enough. I need to…I need…” you plead, your whimpers filling the void between you.

He can’t take it anymore. Your desperate whimper has shattered the last bit of his resolve, leaving only pure desire in its place. As much as he wants to watch, to see every bit of you come unraveled, he can’t stand it anymore. He has to see you. “Look at me, baby.”

Your eyes flick to his, seeing them dark and blown out with lust. 

“Spread your legs, let me see you,” he growls, and slowly you do as he says, placing the phone back down against the pillow. 

Watching you spread your legs is the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. The way you’re trembling underneath your own touch makes him let out a soft moan, his hand starting to work faster. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, completely entranced by you. “Touch your clit for me, baby.”

Your hand moves without hesitation as his words ignite something inside of you. He gasps, completely hypnotized by everything he’s seeing. “Slowly, baby,” he whispers, drinking every moment in. “Don’t rush it.”

Your fingers move  in soft, slow circles over your clit as you do what he requests, desperate to obey him. You’re already so close to that edge, his voice is sending you flying. “That’s it, just like that,” he’s praising you, and the look in his eyes says he’s as close as you are. “Keep doing it, baby. Don’t stop.”

“Are you touching yourself, Jake? Are you hard for me?” you ask, knowing he needs this release as much as you do. 

He groans, his head dropping back as your voice fills his ears. “God, yes. You have no idea how hard I am right now. All I want….No, all I need is to bury myself inside of you. I need to feel you, all of you, every warm inch… I need it more than air. I need you, baby. I need you so badly.” he says, flipping his phone around to show you his beautiful cock as he works it with his hand. Precum has started to gather on the tip and you wonder how he tastes. 

“I want to taste you, Jake. I want to feel you in my throat. I want to swallow down every last inch of you. So fucking bad,” you whine. 

“Jesus…” his words come out as a strangled gasp. “I want that, too. I’ve dreamed of having your mouth wrapped around me, of seeing you on your knees, swallowing my cum. I want it so badly, baby. I’d give you everything.” he says. “Put two fingers in baby, move your thumb to your clit.”

You sink two fingers into yourself, the camera positioned perfectly for him to watch how your body takes the digits. “Oh god, Jake,” you cry, wishing more than anything it was him. 

“Oh fuck, look at you. I’m never going to forget this. I’m never going to be the same after seeing you like this.” He takes a moment to just watch your body, his hand still moving furiously on his length. “I need you to keep going, just like that, but start with a third one. I want to see how much you can take, because that’s how much I’m going to give you. As soon as I get my hands on you, I’m going to wreck you, Poppy.”

“Please Jake, I’m so close,” you whine, adding a third finger. 

His chest is heaving, his hand moving at a rapid pace. His eyes watch your every movement, drinking it all in. “I know, baby,” he responds, his voice ragged. “I can see you getting tight around those fingers. I need to hear you Poppy, I need to see your face as you come for me.”

“Come with me, Jake. Please,” you beg. 

“Together, then, ” he breathes. “I’m fucking close. Come for me, baby. Right now.” He’s on the edge, and watching you is going to take him over. “I’m right there, you have no idea. Just come, baby. Look at me, let me see my girl fall apart for me.”

Your eyes lock on his as you fall apart against your own fingers. Your mind tricks you into thinking it's him, letting loose the most powerful release you’ve felt in years as his name falls from your lips. 

He sees the wave hit you, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Hearing his name in that moment does it, it’s all he needs. He gasps as he watches you and lets go, “Fuuuuck,” he whimpers, shuddering as release begins to wash over him. “Y/N…Poppy...” he grunts, “I’m coming, I’m fucking coming,” he grunts, his body tensing as his cum lands on his bare chest in several hot spurts.  

It’s like a freight train, the way it builds and then comes crashing down. And then it’s over. All that’s left besides the ragged breathing is the blissful silence. And as it clears, you find him there staring at you like it’s the first time he’s seen you. He looks so vulnerable, so open. His body is still, but his chest is rising and falling as the last hints of what you did are still visible on his chest in the dim light. The words hang between you, heavy with the impact of everything you just did.

“Poppy,” he whispers, still catching his breath. 

That word breaks your heart, and you find yourself unable to speak for a minute. The weight of all of this is taking over your chest and you have to swallow to find your voice. “Jake,” is all you can manage to say.

He just stares at you. It’s like a dream. You’ve been here, in this moment a million times, but it’s never been real until tonight. All of this feels so impossible, and you’re still trying to make sense of it. 

“I…” he tries to speak, but his voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

Your guilt overtakes you, “I'm sorry...That I ran from you again. I didn’t want to. I just–”

He shakes his head, the pain of it all visible in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I get it. We both know why you did. I just wish…” he trails off, the words caught in his throat.

“I wish things were different,” you finish. 

“Yeah,” he sighs heavily, the weight of it all hitting him. “We’ve been wishing that since the day we met,” It hangs in the air for a bittersweet moment before he speaks again. “Maybe in another life.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” you whisper. “But Jake?”

“Yeah, P?” The way he says it, the way he says your name, it feels so intimate.

“We’re still us, right?” you ask, your eyes welling with tears. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He stares at you for a moment, taking everything in. “Yeah, we’re still us.” He responds quietly. There’s a long pause before he speaks again, but his face is filled with so many different emotions. “We’ll always be us.”

A single tear falls down your cheek, “You promise? Forever?”

His heart is breaking, watching that tear fall. He’s desperate to brush it away, but he can’t. He can’t touch you. He can’t hold you. He can’t tell you that it’ll be okay. He just has to watch from afar, wishing for more. “Yes, baby. Forever. I promise.”

You nod your head and swallow down the lump in your throat, finally meeting his eyes again, “Happy New Year, Jake.”

You can tell he is shattered just the same as you are, but he is doing everything he can to keep it together. “Happy New Year, Poppy,” he responds quietly, trying his absolute hardest to steady his voice. “I’m glad you were my midnight kiss.”

“Me too, Jake…” you trail off. 

He forces a soft smile, trying desperately to hold on. “I should let you get some rest,” he says quietly, the words making his chin tremble.

You nod, “Yeah, it’s late…”

“Okay,” he whispers, hating every second of this. “You get some sleep.”

“You too,” you murmur.

“I’ll try,” he says, his voice so weak. “Goodnight, my beautiful Poppy.”

 Your voice comes out cracked and thick with emotion, “Goodnight, Jake.”

You want so badly to say more. But the lump in your throat is too strong. You stare at him through the screen, trying to memorize every tiny detail in this moment, knowing that this is how things are going to be. 

“Bye, love,” he breathes, desperately hoping that you don’t hear the word that slipped out, but you do. The screen goes dark, the call ending as you drop your phone to the bed. 

For a minute, you just lie there, staring into the darkness. It just feels so empty without him. The loneliness is almost oppressive, and you need…something. You’re desperate for his touch, for his smell, for anything. You finally sit up, grabbing his shirt that you had pulled off earlier and putting it back on. You crawl under the covers, pulling the shirt over your head. 

You curl up to his shirt, pulling it up over your nose and closing your eyes. It feels like if you could just will it hard enough, maybe you’d feel him here, in your bed, holding you. But you can’t, and you know you have to live with the memories of how he felt pressed up against you at the bar, instead. He’s just a few miles away, on the other side of town, in his bed, probably thinking the same goddamn thoughts. And here you are, separated from him, but no less in love with him than you ever were. Your arm is draped over your pillow, your eyes fixed on the wall across from the bed. You’re trying desperately not to cry, but the tears start anyway. You pull his shirt over your eyes, trying to just disappear in it, hoping it will give you just a bit of comfort. But it doesn’t. 

You know you have to live with the decision you made, even though it's not what either of you wants. You let yourself cry until you can’t anymore and then you just lie there, in the darkness of your childhood bedroom, holding his shirt like a goddamn lifeline. You’re fighting the sobs that are trying to tear out of your chest. 

It just doesn’t make sense. You’ve always been so sure of yourself, and of your life. But right now, the only thing you can be sure of is that you love this man more than you ever thought possible, and you’re going to have to spend the rest of your life knowing that you will never be able to tell him how you really feel about him. How you’ve always felt about him, because though it may be true, it doesn’t change anything. You can’t be together, and that's what hurts the most. 

November 10, 2026

Detroit, Michigan

You drop your car keys into the ceramic dish by your front door, the metallic clang echoing through the house. Your coat is dripping with rain, the weather not giving you a single ray of sun the entire day, in fact the forecast even calls for snow. As you hang it on the coat rack you’re sure to fish your phone out of your pocket, still receiving a few sporadic birthday texts here and there. 

There’s a text from your parents congratulating you on your milestone birthday, a few messages from friends and of course the obligatory ones from random old classmates you haven’t seen since high school. You’re almost at the bottom of the messages when you’re suddenly hit with a wave of disappointment. You don’t know if you were expecting him to reach out today, but it doesn’t make you feel any less deflated that he hasn’t. Not a call, not a text, no flowers, nothing. Part of you wonders if he’s finally moved on from your friendship, or whatever it was. 

Today was a busy day like any other, maybe even busier than usual. You spent most of the day preparing your client in the office for trial next week. It’s everything you’ve ever worked for. You were finally living the life you always dreamed of, but for some reason, you knew something was missing. It felt incomplete.

You drop onto the couch, the heavy November rain against the windows is the only noise in the house. Now that you are finally home, your exhaustion is starting to hit you, and your thirty minute commute  in the rain and traffic didn’t help. You reach for the remote on the coffee table and flick the T.V. on. Nothing is really jumping out at you as you browse through the channels so you just leave it on the news, not really bothering to pay attention. 

You can’t help but dwell on the fact that you haven’t heard from Jake today. Today of all days is the one you count on each year. Big beautiful poppies always show up at your door when you least expect it, but now at 6:30 with no delivery trucks in sight, you let your heart fall. You lean your head back against your couch, letting your eyes close as you think of all the years you took it for granted. You can’t help but smile when you think about it. How thoughtful he was to send poppies specifically. They always were significant to you, a special moment between you and Jake all those years ago. 

You can remember it clear as day. Jake was the first to get his license having a birthday in April, his beat up old sedan now his pride and joy. He insisted he drive you everywhere, to school, to work, everywhere. He just loved the freedom. It was about a month after he got his license when you got a text from him, telling you he wanted to take you somewhere. This wasn’t strange because again, he insisted on driving you everywhere. But this was different, it was early in the morning, and he told you it was a bit of a drive. He gave you no other details, but told you to be ready for him to pick you up in an hour. It was a warm day, dressing yourself in a pair of cut off shorts and a tank top, fastening your hair into a braid as you waited to hear his car pull into your driveway. 

The engine of the car was loud, the windows rolled down. Music was blasting from the stereo as you opened the passenger door to the car. He was already turned to face you, a wide grin on his face, “You ready?” he asks, looking you up and down, with a nod you reach for the door handle as he speaks again.“Well, get in, we’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

You spent two whole hours on the road, him not giving you a single clue to where you were going the entire time. You’d never been with him in the car for this long, but there wasn’t a single nerve coursing through you. You were completely at ease, you remember that perfectly. He sang along to every song that came on and you couldn’t help but to stare at him, even then you were totally and utterly in love with him. 

When the car started to slow, you saw it. Right there through the passenger side window you saw the biggest field of flowers you’d ever seen. You didn’t even know the place existed. It was stunning, as far as the eye could see, flowers. Thousands of them. Red, yellow, orange, pink, every color you could imagine. Your eyes were filled with wonder, and you looked over at him, his eyes still on the road, but his smile was present. 

“I knew you would love this,” he said as he pulled off the main road. He brought the car to a stop and turned to look at you, studying the awestruck look on your face. “Come on,” he said simply, climbing out of the car and walking around to your side to open the door for you.

As you got out you walked along the overgrown pathway towards the field of flowers, the sun shining down harshly on your shoulders as bees buzzed around overhead. “Where are we?” you asked, letting him lead you. 

“Fennville,” he smirks, flipping his sunglasses down to his nose. 

“How did you know this was here, we are in the middle of nowhere?” you question. 

“Heard some people talking about it at Kroger, thought of you.” he answers, rubbing his hand over his mouth. 

“Do you know what kind of flowers these are? I’ve never seen them before.”

“Yeah, they’re poppies.” he smiles, snatching one up from the ground and tucking it behind your ear. Your heart swelled at the act and it was right then you had a new favorite flower. 

He led you deep into the field, the two of you spending hours exploring and picking the beautiful flowers. He eventually sat down in the middle of the field, lying down to watch the sky, patting the ground next to him for you to join him. You laid next to him, your heads turned to look at one another. You remember exactly how the sun cast his face in the most incredible glow, the flecks of gold in his eyes stood out more than ever, and the freckles that dotted his nose were almost shimmering. Your mind drifts back to how effortlessly you two could just be together. You couldn’t get enough of his attention, and he was never scared to give it to you. You just existed together, comfortably, calmly.

He twirled a beautiful red petaled stem between his fingers as he looked up to the sky, listening to the nature that surrounded the two of you. “You know, these kind of remind me of you.” he says, softly. 

“Really?” you breathe, feeling sleepiness take you over as you lounge in the warm sun. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, staring at the flower between his fingers. “They’re not afraid to stand out, to be bold. They grow wild and free and they are just so full of joy. You can’t help but smile when you see them. The rest of the field is so plain, but they fight to get their share of the sun. Just like you.” He looks over at you when you don’t respond. You’re almost asleep, the heat of the sun and the beautiful afternoon sending you into a blissful trance.

You turn to look over at him, he is staring up at the sky, his profile completely visible. You’d never been around anyone who paid such close attention to the little details about you, the thought alone made your heart skip a beat. 

“So soft and beautiful,” he continues, letting the stem fall from his fingers and reaching over to lightly lay the flower between the two of you, “and you’re just as unique as these are. They don’t grow everywhere, they’re rare.”

You let his words sink into you, and unbeknownst to him you felt exactly the same way about him. You looked to the field, the poppies dancing hypnotically in the breeze around you, and the colors on their petals almost sparkled in the sunlight. You were surrounded by hundreds of thousands of them, and every single one of them was beautiful.

That was the day your nickname was born, Jake refusing to call you anything else after that. You loved it, it was special, and no one else knew why. They didn’t need to. There was no hiding the flush from your cheeks that day, or the flutter in your heart each time he let it slip out. You couldn’t deny its significance, you were completely lost to the boy that was lying next to you in the field of poppies, and you didn’t know it then, but you always would be. 

As beautiful and special as the memory was to you, it also hurt, knowing that today was the first time since that day that he hasn’t sent them to you on your birthday. The memory now feels tainted and forgotten. You pull yourself up from the couch and make your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine to try and ease the pain that has suddenly crept up upon you. 

You feel the cold air from the open fridge as you pull out a bottle of Pinot Grigio, the neck of the bottle clinks against the edge of the glass as you fill it up more than you should. You move to the counter and lean against it, staring blankly out the kitchen window into your backyard. Darkness has settled in, and you're reminded once again that you are entirely alone with these thoughts. No one to pull you out of your head, no one to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

You even tried to make plans with friends tonight, hoping to share a few drinks and laughs to ring in your thirtieth, but each person you asked had plans, or perfectly valid reasons they couldn’t. Families to tend to, and partner work events. If you didn’t feel alone then, you certainly do now. It’s not like the weather was the best either, all around this day was a bust.

You stand in the empty kitchen, surrounded by all the silence and feeling so utterly alone. You lift the glass to your lips and take a heavy swig. You try to shake off the feeling that this might just be the most miserable birthday you've ever had. Unable to stand the silence a moment longer you wander over to your album collection, your fingers searching through the shelf for the one album you know will help soothe the ache inside you. You smile when you see the familiar cover, pulling the vinyl from the sleeve and placing it gently on the turntable. The unmistakable sound of Bad Company begins to play through the speakers as you sit on your couch and drink your wine, wondering where Jake is tonight and if he feels this too.

You stare out the window, watching the rain and now snow fall together, your head starting to feel fuzzy. You drink your wine as you listen to “Weep No More”, wishing that it would numb you in ways that would make the ache disappear, but it doesn’t. It just reminds you of how lonely you are, how lonely you have been for so long. As the guitar solo sounds through the speakers, you lean your head back against the couch and close your eyes.

Next thing you know you find yourself waking on your couch, the record begging to be flipped and your wine glass empty on your coffee table. The rain is still pouring and the clock now reads 8:43. You decide to call it a night, placing your glass in the sink and closing the turntable until next time. You drag yourself upstairs, changing into a pair of pajamas and pulling your hair into a knot at the top of your head. You crawl into your bed, ready for this day to be over and as you turn off the light, the last thought on your mind is Jake. Just like always. 

It's hard to fall asleep, your brain just won't shut off. Your mind is still working overtime, memories playing in double time. It's a vicious cycle, and a cycle that you get stuck in every year on your birthday. Each year, one year older but no less sad. You close your eyes tightly, doing the only thing you can do right now which is force yourself to fall asleep. Or try to, at least.

As you start to drift off thunder clatters in the distance and though it’s soothing, it wakes you, causing you to toss and turn. Just as your eyes begin to close, you hear it again, but it sounds strange. A few seconds later you hear it again, and your brain fully wakes as you sit up in your bed. You listen again for the sound, and as you hear it you realize it's not thunder at all, but the sound of someone knocking on your front door. 

A bolt of panic runs through you. Who the hell would be at your door at this time of night? You look at your phone, it's almost ten-thirty. No one you know would be stopping by unannounced, and at this hour? You get up, quietly walking from your room, down the stairs and toward the front door. As you get closer, the rain and the knocking both get louder, causing you to grow even more confused as nerves start to gather in your stomach.

You take a deep breath as you gather your courage, twisting the lock and opening the door. The second the door opens, a gust of cool, wet air blows through the house. The rain, now seemingly heavier than before pours onto your front porch step, the sound almost drowning out the sound of your thumping heart. You peer through the dark, rain drenched night and you swear your heart stops at the sight. Your mind can hardly comprehend what you’re seeing. 

In the dark, with rain pouring down around him, you see Jake. In jeans, a t-shirt and a very drenched leather jacket, holding the largest bouquet of multi-colored poppies you’ve ever seen, petals heavy with rain. 

“Poppy?” he says. He's breathing hard and he looks incredibly panicked. You again notice the bouquet in his trembling hand and your brain starts to piece the situation together.

“Jake? What’re you–”

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was supposed to be here hours ago, but there was a wreck once I hit 75, and then the traffic–” he says, water dripping from the end of his nose as he talks. 

A wave of shock washes over you at the fact he's really here. Right here at your doorstep no less. “Oh my god– Come inside!” you urge, seeing his cold, wet body start to shake. 

He nods his head and starts to shake the water off of himself like a dog as he steps into your house. His hair is sopping wet, and the way his shirt clings to his chest…well, you’re trying to push down that thought. He looks like he’s barely holding it together. As soon as you shut the door behind him he holds out the bouquet, wanting you to grab it.  “Happy Birthday, Pops, sorry they’re late.”

Your heart shatters. Of course he didn't forget. “Jake...Thank you...But– You're here, in Detroit, what are you–”

“It’s your birthday, Pops,” His voice is shaky and his body is shivering slightly. He's soaking wet and he's going to get sick if he stands here in those wet clothes any longer. So, you reach out and take his hand, tugging him with you as you walk toward your living room. He follows you in and stands awkwardly next to the couch as you turn to face him. You can’t take your eyes off of him, and you notice the look in his eyes is off, like your presence has him hypnotized. You notice his eyes move up and down your body, taking in your pajamas.

You quickly look down at yourself, feeling slightly self conscious and he instantly notices. He shakes his head as if reading your mind. “No, don’t. You look perfect to me.”

You feel bashful, and unsure of what to say, so instead you rush to the bathroom to grab a towel for him to start drying himself off.

“Thank you.” he mumbles and takes the towel from you, trying to dry his face and hair. You watch as he rubs the towel over his head, his shirt comes off his body and you're almost knocked backward. There were a few times throughout the years you'd see him shirtless but, my god, did he look good now. You're trying to take little glances, hoping he's too busy drying off to notice.

“Jake, don’t think that I don’t want you here, but…Normally you just…send the flowers. I can’t believe you drove eight hours to deliver them, in this weather no less…” you question, crossing your arms across your braless chest. 

He stops drying his hair and stares at you. You can see the look in his eyes. It’s  intense, and it’s not just because he’s freezing. He’s trying to read you, he’s searching for something. He stands there, in his wet jeans, with only a towel thrown over his shoulders. He is looking at you intensely, and your heart starts to pound in your chest.

He bites his lip, and his eyes dart down your body for a split second. He swallows and continues to dry his hair, the air around you suddenly feeling much heavier. He looks you in your eyes. “The flowers didn’t feel like enough this year.”

“Jake, they are always enough. They are more than enough,” you whine. 

He drops the towel to his side, the damp strands of hair clinging to his face. You see his chest rising and falling, trying to steady his breathing, but he seems to be failing. He walks towards you and you back up until you are pressed against the wall. He gets in so close you can feel his body heat, and he gently reaches up to take your chin into his hand. His fingers are still cold, and the feeling of them on your skin almost burns. His voice is rough as he looks at you deeply, he’s searching every inch of your face. “No. I couldn’t let you be alone, to sit there all night long with a glass of wine in your hand, just staring at the flowers. Not this year, Pops. This year is different.”

“Different?” you breathe.  

“It's your thirtieth birthday, Poppy.” he smirks.

“Yeah?” you answer, still not on the same train of thought he seems to be on. 

He takes a deep breath, and you can see the nervous look come over his face again. His eyes flick down to the floor, his cheeks start to get red. He can’t look at you. This entire thing is so incredibly intense, and you can feel the anticipation in the air. He takes a deep breath and then lets his eyes meet yours. 

“You know, I have traveled all over the world. I have seen people and places so beautiful your mind can hardly comprehend it. I’ve seen waterfalls and caverns, and cliffs and fields so big and vast you feel small compared to them. What I’m saying is that, I’ve been to so many places and seen so many beautiful things, but none of them, nothing, compares to you.” 

You blink at him, awestruck by his words. “Jake…”

He doesn’t give you a second to speak. He’s nervous and he’s scared, and all of this is coming out unfiltered. “I mean it, I’ve been to so many gorgeous places, I’ve met so many people and nothing has captivated me the way you do. I have searched the whole damn world, and everywhere I looked, I was looking for you. Always looking for you, thinking about you.”

You don’t even know what to say. Just two hours ago you were laying in your bed missing him, and now hes here, in front of you spilling his soul. 

“I could go to the edge of the ocean and see the beauty of the sunrise, but it’s nothing compared to the way your eyes light up when you laugh. No matter where I go, or how many new things I see, I can tell you that there isn’t another you. You’re rare. You’re my one in a million, wild and free Poppy. I’d give up every single thing I have to wake up next to you in that poppy field again, just to be next to my girl. Just me and you.”

Your lips part to speak but he’s not done.

“It's been twelve years since that night in my basement. Twelve years that I have thought of you day in and day out. I know that at the time you probably didn't mean it. Who really means anything they say when they're eighteen?” he laughs. “The thing is, I did. I did mean it Pops. You're all I’ve ever wanted, so much so that I signed the back of a gas station receipt to prove it.” he says, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He reaches inside and pulls out a well worn, tattered and wrinkled receipt, barely hanging on to life. Signed on the back with both of your names. Your heart lurches in your chest as your fingers grab the delicate paper from him. 

He rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to find the courage to keep going. “And I still mean it today, Poppy. Twelve years later, and I still feel it, I still feel everything…for you.” His eyes don’t break from yours, and you can feel all the walls he’s put up starting to come crumbling down. You can see that he’s terrified, but he’s fighting to keep those emotions tucked away. “I’m ready to make good on that pact, Y/N. I never forgot. Not for a second.”

You look at the receipt in your hands, seeing the words scribbled down so carelessly, promising yourselves to each other at age thirty. Your names are still there, though the pen is faded. You hadn’t thought about that night since it happened, and seeing this has flooded your mind with the memory. The night you kissed him for the first time. “I can’t believe you still have this.”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice shaking. “It’s the only thing that has kept me going. How do you think I got through all these years?” His eyes are still locked on yours, he is trying so goddamn hard to keep everything inside him. He’s fighting the tears that are attempting to come, “Every time I thought time was up, every time it looked like we wouldn’t make it, that this thing we have was hopeless…I’ve had that piece of paper. It was something to hold on to...” his voice drifts off, his eyes are watering now. “A piece of you when I couldn’t have the real thing.”

You see his eyes fill with tears, and you can’t take it anymore. You reach out to him, your hand touches his stubbly cheek. You wipe his tears away with your thumb. You’re not even sure what to say right now or what to do, just that you need to touch him. He reaches up and grabs your hand, holding it against his face, desperate for your touch. 

The walls are coming down, he can no longer hold back. “God…you have no idea, no idea at all the hold you’ve had on me, Poppy. You don’t understand how much I’ve loved you for so long. You know how much I still do. Even if I never said it, even if I didn’t fight for it…I still kept loving you, more and more with every single day. You were always there, in my heart, in my mind. For twelve years, shit, longer than that, you’ve been my everything.”

Love. He loves you. He’s always loved you. 

“Jake, I lo–”

He pulls your hand from his cheek, resting your fingers on his mouth as he slides them across his lips, taking in the feeling of you. Then, his eyes meet yours again. “And listen, I don’t even know if you have a boyfriend, or– or if you’re seeing anyone…I never let myself look, but I’m here, I have time, and I want this Poppy. I want you. I want to do this. It’s finally time for us.”

This feels like you’re in a dream. You’re watching some fantasy of yours unfold right in front of you. You would be convinced that this isn’t really happening, if it weren’t for your hand still against his lips. Your heart aches, and you feel like maybe it’s too good to be true. The man you’ve been in love with since you were young, the man who keeps you awake at night, is telling you what you’ve dreamed of. 

“Jake, you– you want to be… with me? Like…that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice cracking, “I’ve wanted it forever. I wish I could go back and change things all those years ago….I wish we could have just been together the whole time. But right now…I just need you to hear me when I say that I want you, I’ve always wanted you. I’ve only held on and I’ve only pushed through for you. Everything I’m doing is for you. For us. You’re my girl, Pops. I’m ready to make it official.”

You feel your own eyes starting to well with tears, the words coming from his lips are everything you’ve ever wanted. The part of your life that has felt so incomplete has suddenly vanished from the second you opened your front door. It’s him, it’s always been him, and now he’s here, asking you to be with him in the way you planned all those years ago. 

“I won’t promise you that it’ll be easy. This isn’t going to be pretty. We’re not kids anymore. We’re not those two dumb teenagers who made a promise on a piece of paper not knowing what life had in store for them. We’re in the real world now, and it’s messy. It's hard. We both have demanding jobs and work long, tiring hours, but I know we can do this. I want to do this. With you. No one else.” he whispers as he rubs your cheek with the back of his fingers, his knuckles dragging along your skin like he’s trying to absorb the feeling of you.

“But– Married? That seems like a big leap,” you breathe. 

His mind drifts for a moment as he tries to put together the words. “Is it a big leap? I don't think it is. If you think about how long I've loved you, the idea of us being together, it's not too soon. I've waited twelve years to be here with you. I've taken every single step just to get to this moment, and now I know, even through all the bullshit, there's no one else for me. I want to be married to you.”

“It just– it seems scary,” you whisper, feeling his hand wrap around your waist. 

He steps even closer, his hand wrapping around you and pulling you against him. His damp chest pressed to your thin tank top. You can hear the sound of his breathing, and feel his hands as they roam gently over your body. “It is scary, it’s terrifying. Being without you is scary, and the idea of me losing you completely scares me the most. But, what if we just try? What if we stop running and just try?”

Your eyes meet his as his thumb rubs small circles on your lower back. 

He leans forward ever so slightly, closing the distance even more between your bodies, like he’s pulled into your gravity. A faint noise escapes his lips as he breathes against your mouth. “Sometimes you just have to jump and trust that the net will appear.”

It’s as if your breath has been stolen from your lungs, “I–”

He’s so close, all you can see is the gold flecks in his eyes. His lips skim across your cheek, your skin is on fire. You can feel the air from his nose brush against your face, his hand around your waist is holding you so close. His touch is lighting you up inside like fire, you’re completely hypnotized by him. 

“I want to do this, Y/N. I have a long time off, and I want to spend it with you, making this work. I love you Poppy. I’ve loved you forever. We can do this. Say yes. Say yes to this, Poppy.”

“You’re sure about this?” you breathe, letting your lips brush his. 

“Every nerve in my body is telling me this is right. I know in my soul that this is it. It’s you, it’s only ever been you….” he whispers, his hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pulling your body into him as his mouth ghosts over yours. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me like I want you, P.”

“I want you, Jake. I always have.” you confess, cupping his cheek with your hand. His face falls into your touch as he groans with relief. 

“Do you love me?” he asks, his tone vulnerable and pleading. 

“Yes. I do. You know I do. I’ve loved you since the day I met you,” you answer, brushing your thumb under his eye.

He breathes against your palm, your name murmured out in a soft whimper. “Say yes, Poppy. Be mine. Marry me.”

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing. You know this isn’t some fairytale that you’re going to wake from. The only man you’ve ever loved, the one man you’ve dreamed of for years is standing in front of you asking you to marry him.

“Yes.” The word falls from your mouth so easily, it's as if you haven’t even thought it through. This could be the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done. 

Your heart is pounding, the word feeling so final on your tongue. 

And as you look at him, you have no idea what the future will hold, but what you do know is that he’ll be in it, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But… this was Jake. You needed to be fully honest with him. 

Your present, real life wasn’t going away. There was a crafted reality that didn’t involve him, in ways you didn’t care to address at this moment. 

Though, you couldn’t lie to him. You had to tell him. There was one issue. It wasn’t so drastic that it could get in the way of this for you two, per se. It just seemed wrong to go through with what you felt was about to happen, without informing him of your current situation. 

But, logic was escaping you quickly. 

As soon as he was leaning in to kiss you, his lips so full and soft, you lost the ability to rationally think. Any thought besides Jake Kiszka himself was far and fleeting from your mind. 

Tonight was meant for you two.

Right now, this could be it. All you had to worry about was right now. At this moment, you could venture into a universe where things seamlessly fall into place. Just like you always wanted.

A little secret kept from him in this moment was the least important thing to you as you felt his lips finally brush against yours, his mustache tickling your upper lip. 

The harsh beating of your heart calmed as soon as you felt his lips touch yours. 

Tonight was tonight. 

Tomorrow’s reality could set in just as soon as you felt him like this, the way you've always dreamed of— even if only this once. 

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[jakeyt]

Read. This. Now.

An initially incredible idea, executed so organically. Hauntingly beautiful. ✨

This story is so gut wrenching and heartbreaking — but fulfilling all the same. Jules has weaved a seriously exquisite tale (who’s surprised there lmao — not me) of a woman scorned. Right along with the woman illustrated in this story, you’ll feel as though life is a never ending cycle of failure until… it doesn’t have to be. 🥺

Go read this now if you need a story that will yank deliciously on your heart strings. (Aka: me, always)

Jake x female (AU)

17.4k words

"Criminal" by Fiona Apple spawned this entire idea, heavily inspired

+ Hey y'all... so I'm gonna be honest with you, I have no idea what this is, but Ms. Apple made my mind start wandering... This is not your typical fanfic story, so if you're looking for a quick fix, this probably ain't it LOL. Also, I realized that I was sick and tired of writing in the "fan fiction y/n pov", so this is written entirely in third person. Sorry, not sorry. But I think it works lol. This story contains heavy, adult themes, so proceed with caution

Thank you to @gretavangroupie & @jakeyt for reading <3

Warnings: 18+! Fluff, Crying, Cursing, Smoking, Mention of Drinking, Drug Use and Addiction, Heavy Self-Deprecation, Self-Hate, Mental Anguish, Mention of Sin, Death of a Child, Questionable Circumstances, Mention of Priests & God, Religion and Religious Practices, Living in Squalor, Mention of Police and Raids, Mention of Drowning, Heavy Feelings of Guilt & Grief, Overall Sadness, Self-Reflection, Self-Realization

Smut: Fluff, Kissing, Dirty Talk, Touching, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (F! Receiving)

† † †

‘Not you, you’re too obvious,’ she thought to herself, disapproving of the first holy and sacred building she came in contact with. ‘Or you… you look like you’re full of a bunch of liars who only pretend to love their Savior…’ she said to the next. 

Snow covered the soaking wet concrete like cinnamon sprinkled on ice cream, sticking and existing alone for only a millisecond before melding into its sisters and brothers, becoming one with the stark white sheet of frozen sidewalk. The wind howled as it rushed past the outside walls of the skyscrapers, screaming a song that, this time of year, fell on deaf ears. 

She pulled her coat more tightly around her as she navigated the streets in search of the perfect one, the one that seemed like it wouldn’t spontaneously incinerate her once she stepped through its sacred doors. Hell, it’d been nearly fifteen years since she’d stepped foot in a church, anyway. 

‘Look at me, being judgmental of churches. Seems to fit the bill.’

That’s what she expected when she finally were to find one- to burn. All the sin that surrounded her presented itself on a silver platter to anyone she met. She was a dark person, full of ill-will and wicked ways, but she was happy with herself. She indulged in her own horrid habits, letting them lead her life down roads that she enjoyed traversing. The more despicable, the better. She thrived on it. Ate bad decisions for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And if it weren’t for her ethereally gorgeous exterior, you’d think she was a demon reincarnated, destined to walk the earth and ruin more than just the lives of those she came in contact with. 

Each church she passed seemed more decadent than the last, the front steps all adorned with statues of saints and angels, and windows full of colorful glass that made her feel as though all the color had been drained from her world, only to fill them. None of them felt right, none of them felt… welcoming enough. She was taking a risk walking into a church at all, let alone one that she felt comfortable and invited into. It had to be the perfect one.

The blisteringly cold wind was whipping her hair in front of her face as she trudged down the snow-covered paths of the city, taking her breath away with each and every inhale. But she sucked it in, letting it freeze her lungs as extra punishment for her latest sin. She laughed at it, daring it to pierce her even harder as her lungs filled with it, feeling like heavy stones in her chest. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ she asked the wind, pulling a silver tin and lighter from the deep depths of her shoulder bag. 

She removed one cigarette and turned her back to the wind, cupping her hand over the end to light a cherry. She puffed and took an even deeper inhale, letting the sweet tobacco ignite her senses. She closed her eyes as she faced the harsh wind again, exhaling the smoke as she laughed through the uncomfortable pain she felt in her lungs. 

‘That’s what I thought…’ she cursed the wind again, and continued to strut down the streets, hoping that her search would soon be over.

Trouble seemed to follow her, or moreso, chase after her. Though she would run, it would always catch up with her, enveloping her in every sense of the word. Trouble found her so often that she began to turn around and chase it back, catching up with it and eagerly living in her own world of wrongdoing and chaos as if it were no sweat off her back. She let the bitterness be her guide, and guide her, it did.

It’d always been that way; she was destined to be the dark cloud that hung over even the most joyous of times. She’d learned that as a young child, finding herself alone and fending for herself at an age too young to even note. She grew up fast, learning that the wicked ways of the world were always going to be her solace, and searching for any kind of happiness would end up being her downfall. It always was, and always would be.

She defended herself, made her own money, lived alone and never let anyone take advantage of her and her decisions. She’d thumbed her way across state lines, shacked up with too many men to count, robbed them of every bill in their wallets, and made her way on to the next without even blinking an eye. It was her way of life, and she fed off of the negativity that people spat her way. It fueled her. It gave her a reason to bitch… to hate. To ward off any good soul that would ever make its way into her life. 

That was, until she met Jake. 

Jake, the warm hand that helped her to her feet when she’d fallen down drunk at a bar one night after too many tequila shots on a pool bet. The sweet gentleman who insisted that he drive her home that night, knowing that she shouldn’t take a cab. The genuine soul who helped her into her sorry excuse for an apartment and covered her with a blanket, making sure she had a trash can and water by her side. Jake, the man who made her feel like less of a woman that night as he forced her into basic human safety. 

The man who, since that next morning, has never left the confines of her bed. 

Like a leech that sucked at every last drop of blood in her body, he made his way into her life, intertwining himself with her body in ways that she had never experienced before. He fucked her like a man starved, like a ravenous body whose only source of sustenance was her… mind, body, and soul. 

And she let him. 

She let him sleep in her bed. She let his tongue reach into the furthest depths of her body, bringing her to the brinks of Nirvana again and again and again. She let him make her breakfast. She let him spill his coffee as she straddled him at the kitchen table, fucking him into an oblivion before the sun even bothered to rise. 

She let him talk to her nicely, let him buy things for her, let him soothe her to sleep… she let him stay with her more than he stayed at his own home. Let him make her laugh for the first time in years.

She didn’t know why he stuck around, she chalked it up to him falling in lust with her body… an addiction to her that he couldn’t stave off. She gave him next to nothing in return. Nothing of substance, at least. She brought nearly nothing to the table, and the frail sticks that built the foundation of what some would call a relationship were coated in kerosene, ready to be ignited and burned down at a second’s notice, had she felt it right. 

She didn’t care if he stayed or left. She didn’t care if one day he up and disappeared, it wouldn’t make a difference. Everyone else always left her, what would make him any different? Nothing about her screamed forever, except for the dirty and rotten lifestyle that she had become accustomed to. 

So she lied to him. She pushed him away every chance that she got. She let other men into her life, knowing that the one waiting for her at home would just disappear sooner or later, anyway. She sucked men in dirty bar bathrooms for a buck, thinking absolutely nothing about going back home to her sweet, precious, innocent Jake. She took advantage of him, and reeled in the fact that living it up while she could actually felt good. Because sooner or later, the goodness would fall away, and she’d be left with nothing but her dreadful life once again.

But what was worse than her letting him be the sole purpose of her sexual life source, was that she let him tell her he loved her.

It was a sin greater than anything he’d ever known, a mistake so grave that with those three words, he’d admitted himself into an impossibility he wasn’t even familiar with. That he should run away from, and fast.

‘Take that back,’ she said, her voice groggy and pained as his words hit her in the chest. ‘You take that back right now, Jacob…’

‘I can’t, it’s the truth… I–I don’t want to ever know a life without you in it, baby. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted–’

‘You know that’s not the truth, you’re not blind. You aren’t a dumb man. You know I’m nothing. Take it back right now, or I’ll–

She dropped the dying plant that she held in her hands, satisfied with her inability to keep anything alive in her own home. Fucking figures, nothing ever thrived here, anyway. One less thing to take care of. 

‘No, see… that’s where you’re wrong. You’re everything…’

‘I’m not. I’m worth nothing… my soul is sold, my life is decided…’ she explained, panicked with the way he was showing her such softness. Always, so understanding. ‘I give nothing to you, and I never will. I’m worthless, you’ve got to understand that.’

‘You’re worth everything, baby… just be with me, stay with me, please… Tell me you love me back…’

She walked to him, placing her cold hand on the center of his chest as she glared up at him with blazing eyes. Her lips were coated with a thick red lipstick, matching exactly to the icy blood racing through her veins.

‘I don’t know how to love, Jacob. I never learned, I’ve never been shown… I don’t—I don’t know how.’

‘Don’t you feel it, though?’ he cried, pleading. He fell straight to his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around her legs. ‘You’ve got to feel it, too. God, you make love to me every night…you–’

‘I fuck you, Jacob. There’s a difference.’

He swallowed down his tears as he peered up at her, his knees caked with the dirt from the dead plant. He slowly stood back up, hot tears stinging his eyes. 

‘So none of it is real, then? Everything I feel when I’m with you, after all this time together… you feel nothing for me?’

He really did look pitiful, standing there with pointless tears in his eyes. If she thought about it really hard, really really hard, she might could have dug down deep into the trenches of her psyche to pinch at the trimmings of a tiny emotion that may seem like love… fuck, she had become a little dependent on him for some things in her life. 

But was it love? No. No, love is supposed to make you want to scream from the rooftops, make you want to settle down, start a family, the whole nine. But she felt none of that. All she felt was the satisfaction that she had constant rather fucking good dick in her life and someone to share a lighter with.

Love. The word was repulsive. Making people become their most vulnerable, most distracted versions of themselves. She didn’t have time for that. She had to focus in on herself, and keep it that way. If she didn’t, she feared that she’d lose herself forever. She’d never given another human so much as a second glance in the way of heartfelt emotions, let alone told a man that she loved him. 

‘Jake, do you not understand that the sooner you distance yourself from me, the sooner you’ll be on your way to finding someone who can reciprocate this…love?’ she asked him, her teeth gritted and her arms crossed in disgust. Though her sexual passion for him had been at an all-time high as of late, and she had been planning on asking him to fuck her over the arm of the couch tonight, now, she found his display of vulnerability a bit off-putting. 

‘You’re fucking impossible, babe. I swear to god…’ Jake’s expression turned from pleading to pissed off in a hurry, as he rushed around the room picking up his dirty laundry from random places across the floor. She watched as he angrily ripped a backpack from the closet and began stuffing his belongings into it, sniffing away his agitated tears and rubbing at his dripping nose. 

‘Impossible. I gave myself to you, gave everything to you… I try my best to make you happy, care for you, everything a man would do for the woman he loves. It’s been six fucking months… all this time and you tell me you feel nothing for me…? All this time, I’ve just been a roommate who you fuck…’

She could feel the negative energy flowing off of him, brushing past her and latching onto her skin in a way that felt unfamiliar. It danced around her like a cold breeze in the dead of winter, making her sorry excuse for a heart feel like it had lost its heading. Normally, she’d ravish in his cross attitude and use it to her advantage, but… something about this felt off. It felt serious. 

She watched his figure glide toward her as he threw the backpack over his shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on hers as he approached her. He took her chin between his fingers, lifting her head back so she was forced to stare back at him. The fire in his touch nearly burned her skin to the bone while the blacks of his eyes stared into her more deeply than they ever had before.

‘You may think I’m crazy for loving you, and fuck, maybe I am. But no one has ever promised that life happens just the way we want. I’ve sacrificed a lot for you, changed my whole world around to fit into yours. Now it’s time for you to grow up, get that fucking cursed head of yours on straight, and realize that no one is ever going to care for you the way I do. No one will, ever. I just need you stop being so fucking hard headed, and realize what’s in front of you before you let this hell you live in consume you.’ 

She was left stunned. Speechless, but not caught off guard. She knew this day would come. She knew his emotions would boil down to this. And though the wall she surrounded herself with was ten feet high and built of concrete, the look in Jake’s eyes and the determination in his voice created a crack. Nothing more than a fissure that had the potential to grow, but she’d be damned if she let it crumble. 

She replied with a few blinks and a deep breath, staving off the faintest feeling of tears fighting their way to the forefront. He was breaking her down, but she couldn’t let him know that. 

His top lip snarled. ‘I knew you’d have nothing to say.’

And he wasn’t lying. He knew his confessions would be met with resilience as her inability to let him in stood unmoving. The fortress she’d built up around herself was stronger than he’d realized. He just thought… maybe… if he let his truth show in its entirety, if he laid himself at her feet and let the words of adoration fly freely that she’d show some type of reciprocation.

But she didn’t. She never has. And, maybe she never will. 

She felt his shoulder bump into hers as he brushed past her, huffing through an unbelieving laugh as he made his way to the door. 

‘I’m leaving. Giving you a few days to come to your senses, or maybe not. I’ll be back to say goodbye. Get my shit. And when I do you can tell me to go, or you can ask me to stay. Whatever you decide, I’ll do.’

His hand rested on the doorknob as he looked back at her, taking her in one final time before she heard the mechanism turn. She held true, not willing to allow him to see her expression show even the least amount of emotion. He didn’t speak another word as she watched his back step through the door, slamming it hard behind him as silence began to take up shelter in her home.  

And then, like a gunshot to the chest, she felt her ribs begin to shudder, and her limbs begin to lose their function. Her head spun, her stomach churned. Dizziness filled her head and she lost all ability to form a thought. What had she done?

She felt the tears spring to her eyes finally, warm and stinging as she couldn’t even believe they were there. A man, making her…cry? It couldn’t be… this doesn’t happen. Ever. 

But fight as she may, she couldn’t stop them. In fact, the more she tried to suppress them, the more heavily they fell. And not only was it tears, the grief that suddenly struck her was felt through the entirety of her body, shaking and crashing through her so fiercely that she fell to her knees, realizing that she was now kneeling in the dirt that Jake had just been in. The mess that she created. 

She gripped herself in grief, curling into a ball on the floor, uncaring that the soil was now covering her stark white blouse. The blouse that Jake had bought her on his birthday this year, insisting that his best gift would be to see her in it, with no other shred of clothing on underneath. 

She lied there confused and uncertain why it felt like the world had just ended, when all that had happened was another man had decided to exit her life, just like always. It felt like a shot through her heart, a physical pain she’d never endured before, at the loss of him. 

Hours, she layed on the cold hardwood, letting the grief consume her while trying her damndest to stifle it off. It wracked through her in heavy sobs, moments of clarity completely overtaken by bouts of harsh, mind-numbing pain. She should have chased after him, she should have yelled and screamed his name…

She argued with the fact that what she was feeling was real, but still so distant from her normal emotions when she’d be deserted. She was used to this. It’s part of her norm, but why does this time feel so different?

He said he’d be back…there’s still time to…

Jake had shown her more mercy than any man– any human– had shown her in her entire life. He’d loved her through all her faults, cared for her when she had no idea how to care for herself. But she’s nothing more than the mirror image of this dirt on the floor– why did he care?

She rolled over to her back, staring at the last bit of sunlight shining a stream of light across the ceiling. She watched as the dust floated through it, illuminating the streaks of dirt that sullied the corners of her home. Tobacco stained the walls that were once white, making them appear more brown and blotchy than bright and clean. Her furniture was broken and stained, and her old records lay in disarray across her tabletops. 

She took a breath as she finally felt the tears start to dry, turning on her side to take a closer look at her floors. Dusty and unclean, just like her walls. Her rugs were caked with dirt from shoes that were never kicked off at the door. Scuffs painted the once beautifully shined hardwood, and she noticed that the place reeked of uncleanliness. 

She rolled over and got up on all fours, feeling as though her body had been hit by a freight train. Her chest shuddered again as she fought off another sob, brought on by catching sight of Jake’s still half-full coffee cup resting on the table. “Half a teaspoon of sugar, nothing else. I don’t like anything in my life being too sweet,” she whispered out loud, reciting his daily mantra as she would pour their cups from the carafe. 

Just then, her eyes shot open, a realization hitting her almost as hard as the sound of Jake slamming the door earlier. 

Never once did Jake try to clean the floors. Never once did he try and dust the corners, or fix the furniture. He was happy just existing in her home, just the way that it was. “Too sweet”, she repeated as she sat back on her heels, wiping the cold tears from her cheeks. Of course… 

Just like her. 

He liked bitterness. He liked sharpness, and rigidity. He enjoyed the grittiness and sometimes even sourness of her world. Why else would he have stayed? He didn’t prefer the cream and the sugar and flavors, just black. With one-half teaspoon of sugar. Just like his coffee in the morning, he loved her just the way she was, took her in without really trying to change her. 

He lived in her unclean house, resided in her hollow excuse for a home. Slept in her sheets that could have used some bleach, all the while knowing that if he tried to fix it, if he tried to change anything about her home, it wouldn’t be hers anymore. It wasn’t his place, it wasn’t his to fix. Sure, he would have done so if she’d asked. But he knew damn good and well to not overstep when it came to any kind of argument with her. He’d always lose. 

Realization hit her like a ton of bricks, the same bricks and heavy stone that built up the walls she’d enclosed herself in. All of them, tumbling down and crashing around her as she finally realized that she’d chased away the only good thing that had ever happened to her, watching him turn his back on their life together with a scowl on his face and distaste on his tongue.

But he’s coming back… 

But coming back to what? The same old shit? The same old miserable person who shamed him for showing her his deepest form of intimacy? Or on an even more basic scale, showed her compassion?

She rolled to sit on her ass, hugging her knees in around herself as she tried to catch her breath. The sun was setting now as a darkness began to fill the room, the absence of sunlight breaking her heart even further. Normally she thrived in the darkness, but right then, it felt like it was going to consume her. 

Dirty dishes sat in the sink. Mail sat piled up on the counter, unread and forgotten. Piles of laundry took up every corner, and her pantry shelves sat empty. “What the fuck is wrong with me…” she whispered again to no one in particular. She turned and crawled over to her couch, leaning her back against it as she reached for her pack of cigarettes. She lit one up, letting her head rest back onto the cushions as the smoke drifted up from her lips. The first few stars were beginning to poke their way into the night sky, but the light pollution from the city only let six or eight make their debut. 

So she focused in on one, staring at it until her eyes went dry and the ash of her cigarette fell onto the couch, burning yet another hole in the soft, brown leather. She destroyed everything she touched. Jake would be smart to stay far away from her, never looking back as he went on with his life in the way that he wanted to live it. 

But she knew that he would come back. And he would come back expecting change. Making decisions for other people wasn’t something she was ever a fan of, but the hole in her heart felt as though it was only growing bigger and bigger with every breath she took without Jake by her side. 

And for the first time in her life, she tamped out her cigarette, and stood up to clean her home.

—--

Finally, she stumbled upon it. It wasn’t oversized or grandiose… There weren’t fifty steps that led up to its giant iron front doors, and the stained glass that made up the windows looked as though they were built for function, not vanity. No statues lined the front walls, and the bells that tolled from its steeple sounded cheerful and gracious, instead of ominous and foreboding. 

The perfect church.

Her feet didn’t stumble as she climbed the steps, and her hand didn’t burn as she pushed the heavy door open, like she thought it would. The temperature inside was a stark difference from the icy wind that cut through her outdoors, and the sweet smell of incense and burning wick caught her senses right off the bat. She slowly stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust to the new light. 

It was radiant, glowing and warm as her feet carried her further inside, completely enveloping her in an otherwise peaceful embrace. Though she still felt as though she could run away if she needed to, something held her there, caught in the trance of the sun casting rainbow rays across the old wooden pews. A few bodies scattered here and there littered them, every one of them knelt and unmoving as they likely had come here for the same reason she had. Repentance. 

Her line of sight finally caught the very front of the church and fixed in on the Crucifix hanging above a large, wooden table. ‘Strange…’ she thought to herself, still not calling herself educated or open-minded enough to want to understand the symbology of everything that had to do with a church. 

Flickering candles lined the walls, and she finally caught sight of more statues, giant bouquets of flowers, and even lavish chandeliers hanging from the tall and towering ceilings, all of it making her feel like she was two feet tall. 

‘Maybe this was a bad idea…’ her conscience tried to tell her. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be in a place like this, after all…’

Her heart started beating heavily in her chest as the dominating ceilings began to feel like they were swallowing her up, and the candles felt as though they were going to ignite, setting the entire place on fire had she let out the breath she’d been holding. She turned on her heels and began making a mad dash for the doors, instantly regretting even walking through them, at all. 

“Miss?” she heard a man’s voice. “Can I help you?”

She turned to find an older man dressed in all black, walking toward her just as she reached for the door handle. “Are you lost, my child?”

Her hand gently gripped the handle as she stopped, finally letting out the choppy breath she’d been harboring until she could let the bitter cold rip her lungs to shreds again. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she looked at him, knowing that he was just the person she had come here to find. 

“I–uh, I was just wondering if…” She stumbled over her words, because in all reality, she hadn’t even rehearsed them. Something in her didn’t even think she’d make it this far into the outskirts of the city, let alone come face to face with a Priest. 

He lowered his head and looked above his glasses as if it would help him understand her better, his expression full of anticipation. Soft anticipation. 

She cleared her throat, finding herself. “I was just wondering if you would allow me to… to take part in uhm, confession…?”

“Confession? Are you saved, child?” he asked, his voice simply curious. 

“No, sir. I just would like to… I’m seeking a bit of forgiveness, and this is the first place I thought of to… to find it?” she asked again, wringing her hands together. 

He studied her for a few beats, a slight smirk finding his lips as he held his hand out. “Of course, Miss. I’d be happy to assist you, in the confessional, just over here…” he motioned to the side of the grand room toward an old wooden structure that seemed to jut out from the wall it was against. It had two doors, both standing wide open as if they were inviting her inside. 

“Just there?” she reiterated, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. 

“Mm,” he responded with a smile. “You go on inside, I’ll be right in behind you,” he said, taking a few steps in the opposite direction. “Oh, would you prefer face to face, or with the barrier?”

“Uh, I’m not sure—” she remarked, unsure of if she had even seen a confessional besides in the old movies. “Barrier, I suppose.”

“No problem,” he replied, turning once again to rush out of her sight. 

She took a deep breath as she slowly moved toward the small structure, her heart pounding in her ears even more loudly now as she approached it. She didn’t feel threatened by it, per se, but she rather felt that the vulnerability she was about to propose to a perfect stranger would backfire, making her finally come face to face with all the demons that have inhabited her all her life. She was on the brink of letting them consume her, but everytime her mind would teeter on the edge, all she could see was Jake’s face as he left her apartment that day, wrecked and disappointed.

She stepped into the tiny dark space, finding there to be a wooden chair inside, covered in an old rust-colored cushion. A few candles hung on the walls, along with books, pamphlets and bibles tucked away underneath the chair. The barrier that was between the Priest and where she was to sit was like a thin wire lattice, adorned with symmetric designs that reminded her of something she’d seen in a movie once. She slowly took a seat, closing the small door behind her. 

Her eyes watered as she became anxious again, waiting for the Priest to enter on the other side. Her leg bounced up and down as her body heat adjusted from the cold. ‘This is a good idea… this is going to be just fine…’ she thought to herself as she took deep and heavy breaths in and out through her nose. Nothing about this was going to be easy.

Just then, she heard the squeak of the opposite door swinging open, followed by the sound of the Priest entering, clearing his throat. 

“Welcome,” he said, rather cheerfully. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I’ve not seen your face before, and if I have, please forgive me,” he went on. “When was your last confession?”

All she could see was the silhouette of his face, and the outline of the glasses still sitting low on his nose. She could hear the pages of a book rustling in his lap. 

“Um, this–this is the first time,” she admitted, pleased that she was able to be honest. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Well, in that case, the Lord is pleased that you’ve found us here, today. Please, underneath your chair is a guidebook. It will help walk us through the steps.”

She wearily reached below her and pulled out the stack of pamphlets and books, fiddling through them as she looked for what he asked. She dropped a few as they skittered from her hands, all of the wording on the front of them suddenly turning into another language entirely. Her vision started to blur as she felt restless, suddenly anxious as she flipped through the unfamiliar pages. 

“Did you find it?” she hears him ask. 

“No, there are a lot of them…” she responded, still searching. 

“It’s there, a small yellow one…” he said as she continued to juggle the papers.

“Ugh,” she grunted, obviously becoming aggravated.

“You know what? Don’t bother. I’ll walk you through it, sound good?” the Priest said.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied with a little bit of annoyance in her voice, tossing the papers back up underneath the seat. 

“OK, so you say, ‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession.’”

She stayed silent as she recited the words in her head, feeling as though the entire experience was beginning to shoot straight downhill. This isn’t anything like she imagined. 

Nevertheless, she recited the words back, earning a quick clap from the Priest. “Great,” he said, cheerfully again. “Now, tell me, have you examined your conscience in preparation for your confession?”

A million scenarios began to float through her mind, all of them running into one another as she basically lived the same horrible life, every single day. The only thing that breaks them up is Jake; her memories with him are more extravagant now, since she has learned what life feels like without him. 

“Uh, no? Not really?” she replied, crossing her legs as she tried to get comfortable in the old chair. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Have you stopped to think about what has brought you here today… there has to be a reason that you were feeling as though you needed to get something off your chest, hm?” the Priest replied.

“I mean I didn’t kill anybody in cold blood, if that’s what you’re wanting to know,” she replied sharply.

The Priest let out a bellowed laugh, surely surprised by her words. “Well, I would hope not. This is the time when you confess your sins to the Lord, honestly, and truthfully. Remember, I’m only a vessel to God. Confessing to me and confessing to Him are two very different things.”

“Then why do people come to you?” she asked. “What’s the point if they can just talk to God?”

“That’s an excellent question, child. And, you have a very valid point. I could go on and on about this history of why it is done this way, but that’s not why we’re here today,” he went on. “You can talk to the Lord anytime you please. But it is through my priesthood that I am able to act in persona Christi, or “in place of Christ”, and give you a real experience of confessing your sins to the most high. It’s really just… accountability.”

“Sounds more like you learning all about my business then judging me for it,” she spat back, crossing her arms. “If I went home, and said my confessions out loud, it’d still be an experience, wouldn’t it?” She noted his silence. “But… I’d just have one less person judging me for it.”

There’s a long pause as she awaits an answer from him, but instead she’s met with the sound of a long sigh. 

“What drove you through those doors, child?” He finally asks, a bit of grit to his voice.

She huffed a breath, leaning forward onto her elbows. “I told you, I’m seeking forgiveness. And I’m going to be up front with you, Father, I don’t believe in God.”

She half expected him to tell her to leave, for him to stand up and place blasphemy to her name, banishing her through the doors, and telling her never to return. But he didn’t. 

“All of God’s children are on their own journeys to putting their lives in His hands… and you coming in here today shows that though you might not have fulfilled your journey to acceptance, you’ve at least made the first step.”

“No no, see, I’m not sure you understand me, Father,” she interrupted, her voice growing hasty. “I don’t believe, I have never believed, and I don’t plan on ever being faithful to your God. I would like to make that clear…”

“I see…” he growled, obviously still puzzled why she is there, at all.

“But… the wrong I’ve done in my life… I need to confess it, own up to it. I have no one else to go to. I—I don’t have any family, or any friends who I can get this all out to. And fuck, Lord knows I don’t have enough money to go see a shrink,” she stopped herself. “Shit, sorry, for…sorry.”

“Go on,” she saw the shadow of his hand waving through the metal barrier. 

She sighed. “I guess I just… need to relinquish myself from all the choices I’ve made to become the person that I am. I need to change, I have to change, or else I might lose everything…” she stumbled over the last word, still feeling very conflicted about this whole situation. But she had to do it. Had to do it for him.

“Everything?” the Priest presses after he notices her silence. 

She licked her lips, the faint taste of tobacco still stuck to them. The flavor made her fiend for another. 

“Him,” she replied uneasily. “I could lose him.”

“Your… friend? A significant other?”

“The latter, I guess.” She wanted to stand up and pace the small space, but there was hardly enough room for her to stand up all the way. The walls felt as though they were closing in again, but on the other hand, this Priest was surprisingly easy to talk to. 

“Ah,” he replied, and she saw him adjust his glasses and the book on his lap. “You feel as though you need to make some changes in your life to… meet up to the standards of being with this man? Is that what I’m reading?”

Wow. Well…

“Yes, yeah that’s about the sum of it.” She grit her teeth as the image of Jake’s face thrummed through her mind again. Fuck, she could use a cigarette. 

“Tell me child, what kind of person do you see yourself as?” he asked. 

Her lips pursed hard, and she nearly bit a hole through them. This man had no idea how hard this was. “A bad one. Shitty. Fucked up beyond all repair…”

Her throat felt hollow as the words spilled off her tongue, brash and self-deprecating, just like she always was to herself. But for some reason, admitting it to someone else made it feel all the more harsh. 

“Not one of God’s children is beyond repair, Miss…” he said quietly, letting the words sink through the heavy air. 

“Well, God might have met his match,” she said, kicking back and crossing her legs again. Every bone in her body was begging her to disagree with her conscience, but some force deep inside her decided to stay, though her hands were burning to rush for the doorknob. 

“There is always time…”

“Yeah but what if there’s not, huh? What if he never comes back… and I just stay the way that I am, or I go back to my old ways, and chase him off again? Huh?” Her words travel a mile a minute. “What if I can’t live up to what he wants me to be?”

There was another pause as a short sob found her chest, catching in the back of her throat. Admitting everything out loud had started to weigh on her. She was going to have to dig deep to find the rest. 

“Ma’am, may I call you Ma’am…?” the Priest asked, and she noticed his body language change. 

“Sure. S’fine,” she replied, not really caring to share her name. 

“I know that you said that you don’t have any faith in the Lord, and that you have no interest in getting to know Him. But tell me this, even though you seem to have struggled through your time here on earth, do you still have faith in yourself?”

She paused, feeling his words hit her in the chest. She hadn’t ever thought of that, really. Always avoiding self-reflection for the simple sake of not wanting to hold herself accountable for anything. Or rather, not wanting to face it.

“I suppose, a little. Guess I have to have some, or else I wouldn’t have made it this far in my life. I should’ve been dead a long time ago, Father,” she said quietly, sucking her tongue into the side of her mouth. 

“Is that so?”

“It’s very much so.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, by which way?” he pressed.

She took a sharp breath. “Drugs. Alcohol, bad decisions… the whole nine. Hell, half my life I don’t remember on account of being too fucked up to remember my own name. I’ve kinda moved past that time in my life as of late, though. Cleaned up enough to hold my own, be my own provider,” she said honestly and truthfully, feeling a twinge of pride for herself. “Childhood was ruined from the time I was old enough to walk, I never stood a chance. Let black clouds follow me around. Hell, I invited them along, most of the time. Hardly remember my parents ever being around. Had to succumb to survival at a real, real early age, if you catch my drift,” she went on, her hand habitually reaching into her over-stuffed bag to grip her pack of cigarettes. 

“I see,” he replied. “It seems as though you were dealt an unfair hand from the get go.” 

“Mhmm,” she hummed, pulling a smoke from the pack and placing it between her lips. “I–I stole a lot, took more from people than I care to admit. That’s something that weighs pretty heavy on me,” she admitted with her glare hitting the floor. 

“We ask your forgiveness, Lord,” the Priest muttered, taking in a shaky breath. “God… is all-forgiving, child. Don’t forget that. But to clear one’s conscience, you must first and foremost have the intention of never going back on the promise you make to God, and, to yourself, to never repeat these sins. Do you understand that?”

“I do,” she said. “I–I’m ready for my slate to be clean.”

“And clean it shall be,” he agrees. “If I may, Ma’am, I feel as though you’re withholding something, is there a certain subject you’re avoiding? Something else you’d like to disclose?”

The way that the Priest read her like a book had her dumbfounded. She even wondered, for a split second, if he had once studied psychology. Or hell, maybe it was a class he had to take to become a Priest. Shit, she didn’t know. 

But he had broken her, unwilling to let her deceive him much further. Obviously she had felt comfortable enough to let her heart travel from inside her chest to making its debut on her sleeve, as she sat in disbelief that the Priest had noticed that she was, indeed, holding her gravest secret hostage. 

A secret that, until this moment, she had never even fathomed speaking aloud. A memory that kept her up at night, haunted her daydreams, poisoned her nightmares and hurt her soul to its absolute core. It was a decision that she made that altered the course of her life, set her sails to a heading that she never saw herself sailing to. It possessed the back corners of her mind, cursed every word that fell from her lips, and enveloped her body with so much guilt, some days she wasn’t sure she deserved to be on this earth. 

The sole reason she never let anyone get close to her, for fear of putting her ill-will directly onto them, solely by way of association. 

“Might be,” she clipped, tossing the tiny red lighter over and over in her hand as the devil on her shoulder begged her to light it. Her hands began to shake and tremble with nerves, the need for nicotine overtaking her entire being as she felt her lungs begin to burn. Finally she succumbed, igniting the lighter to life as she brought it to the end of her cigarette. “Mind if I smoke in here?” she muttered before letting it light all the way. 

She heard the Priest snicker to himself. “We don’t have smoke alarms… I’ll light some incense later,” he replied. 

She laughed through her nose. “Really?”

“If it will help you through this, then I won’t tell anyone. There are some things in life that just… are.”

She hastily smiled as she took her first long, drawn out puff. “You smoke sometimes too, don’t you Father?” she asked, watching as the small room filled with the effects of her cheap smokes. 

“I haven’t been a shepherd of the Lord my whole life,” he admitted with a little lilt to his voice. “I was a teenager in the 1960’s.”

“Ahh,” she replied, “so you’ve lived a little?” Suddenly she felt as though she wasn’t sitting here in a holy and blessed building where people come to take in the body and blood of Christ, but instead, she’s sitting at a barstool, having a drink and a smoke and sharing wisdom with an old-timer. 

“I have,” he says confidently. “Sinned through my fair share of years. Was married, and divorced. Wasn’t even called to Priesthood until I turned 40. Tell me, have you ever heard the term Come to Jesus moment?”

“Yeah, I have. That what happened to you?”

“Sure was. Nearly died in a diving accident. I was drowning. Water was filling my lungs. Until I looked up to the surface, saw a light more pristine and more beautiful than I had ever experienced, and God spoke to me.”

“He spoke to you…”

“He did. As clear as day, I heard His voice in my mind. Told me to swim up. That I wasn’t finished, yet. I had a mission on earth that I had to fulfill. I was always a spiritual person, but it was that day that I became a devout, religious man of God. A shepherd of His Word amongst men. And I have never looked back,” he explained with energy in his tone. 

“Wow…” she said, so taken by his story that she forgot about the cigarette burning in her hand. She tapped the ashes into a small metal box she kept in the front zipper of her bag. “So, just like that, you decided you’d never be the same again?”

“Just like that.”

“That must have been powerful,” she agreed, running her hand along her thigh. 

“More powerful than you could ever imagine, Ma’am,” he said with a quiet whisper. “Think about it, a man who’s life was consumed with normalcy, and driven into heartache from a divorce. I thrived on sex, and partook in activities every man of my age did. I got to experience it– I got to live. Not many men of my profession get to say that. And trust me, it took some convincing of those above me. But, I think that is why I am able to do what I do so well, I’m able to connect with God’s children, because I too, have lived a lot of the same life.”

She sat stunned, suddenly wishing that she could look him in the eye as he admitted such sensitive information to her. Was this the normal exchange of a Confession? She wasn’t sure, but, as the minutes ticked, her chest began to feel lighter and lighter. 

“I think that is a very valid conclusion to make, Father,” she said honestly. “You’ve never been tempted to go back? Realized you made a mistake?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t overstepping. 

“Temptation is the work of the Devil. And I am only human. Being tempted with lust for anything in life is part of the human experience, and God wrote that into our souls when he created us. But the other gift He gave us was free will, and the ability to overcome such temptation, should we so choose it. God wants us to live, of course, but only if it is through a life that mirrors Him, and the life of His son, Jesus.”

She smirked through an exhale. “Sounds like you needed to hit this cigarette just as badly as I did.” 

He laughed. “I appreciate the offer, child, but I believe that would go against too many rules.”

She genuinely smiled to herself, realizing that talking to him might have been one of the better decisions she’s made, as of late. The weights were being lifted off her shoulders, the heaviness was dissolving in her chest. Her place sitting in this Holy Barstool was becoming quite comfortable. 

She felt all the air leave her lungs as she let herself decide. Finally, she felt ready to disclose her deepest, darkest secret. 

“So you are right, Father, I am holding something else back,” she said, tamping the cigarette out. She wouldn’t realize it until later, but the Priest knew that if he opened up just a bit more than normal about his own life, then it might help her to feel more comfortable disclosing hers. And he was right. 

“Please, child, let your burden be free…”

She swallowed, feeling the taste of bile rising in her throat as she tried her best to swallow down her nerves again. 

“I was twenty-one, somewhere on the road between here and Texas. I was… caught up with some guy I had no business bein’ with, sharing his bed and his lifestyle. Half-alive, if you know what I mean. I don’t– my memory is fuzzy, of everything that led up to then. I was constantly high, living off of scraps and booze.” She shuddered at the memory, feeling the cold of the air outside beginning to creep in again. 

“Well, turned out that man had a wife. And that wife was caught up in the same shit that we were. It was… it was a fucked up situation. She came back one day, didn’t give half a damn that I was even there. Never even threw a fit, never yelled, never argued about it. There were people in and out of that house all the time. But, she didn’t come back alone. She came back with… with a ten month old baby. Baby boy…” She suddenly felt a cold rush of tears puddling in the corners of her eyes. Her jaw clenched, and her fingers went numb.

“It was their son. And the Mom, she… she was just as hooked on the shit as the rest of us were,” she said. She began to cry, letting the frozen tears coat her cheeks, allowing them to fall freely. Her voice shook, and her chest heaved as she not only recounted the memory, but she admitted it. 

“That baby was barely surviving. I remember trying to console him… it was none of my business but… you know. Sometimes his parents were too far gone to even–” she could hardly finish. “I can still hear his cries. I can still remember how it felt to hold him, trying to find whatever I could to feed him. Fuck…”

“Let it go, child. Keep letting it out…” the Priest encouraged with a softness. 

She took a deep breath, her eyes blurry with tears and regret. Her chest felt so heavy she could hardly breathe. 

“That baby was–was me, Father. Just born twenty-one years later. Born into the same hellhole that I had been, and already fighting for his life. I knew how that baby felt, I knew exactly how he–” Her sentence clipped again as she wiped her tears, getting herself together, somewhat. 

“I remember that day, it was hot as Hell outside. There were people in that house, just–people, strangers, everywhere. All there for the same fucked-up reasons. And that baby, he was hungry, cryin’. We’d uh… we’d caught word that there were eyes on the house, and that there could be a raid soon, so everyone was scrambling. I had become that baby’s caretaker, I was the only one with enough sense to take care of him, using my pennies to buy him diapers, whatever I could. And believe me, I was in no shape to be doing even that. But… I knew I was going to have to run soon. If there was going to be a raid, I knew I had to get gone. It was that, or go to prison. I– I had to make a decision that night, to leave. Leave that baby there, with them…” 

Her throat was tight, and her limbs had gone numb. The headache that had begun to consume her was blinding, but she accepted the pain as punishment, just like always. 

“I uhm, I made it out. The raid actually did go down. But I heard… But I heard that baby didn’t make it. He didn’t– he didn’t survive, and I did. I did! I should have taken him with me… I should have gone to the police, told someone about him, but… I was too selfish. I was too sick in my own head…” 

The tears were pouring from her nose and eyes, and though she was doing all she could to keep them at bay, she welcomed them, feeling some sort of strange semblance of… peace? No, peace was not the word. There was no word to describe this type of emotion. 

“The decisions we make can alter the course of our lives, no matter how positive or negative they may be…” the Priest lamented, his voice heavy with empathy. 

“Yeah,” she agreed sarcastically. “And my conscience has been nothing but a weapon to myself, ever since. I–I have never forgiven myself for that. I’m not sure that I ever will.”

“And you may not,” the Priest agreed. “Sins like that are ones that are particularly grueling to overcome.”

“I’ll say,” she gritted, wiping her nose with her sleeve. 

“You’ve taken the first step though, haven’t you?”

“What, telling you?”

“Yes, admitting to yourself that you made a grave mistake, even though the fate of that child was out of your hands, essentially,” he replied. 

“Yeah, but– I could have done more, I could have helped him–”

“And how do you know what you would have done would have helped?”

“Anything would have been better than what he got,” she cried, her voice hollow. “Anything.”

“I don’t disagree with you, child. Carrying this burden on your shoulders has probably been the hardest thing in your life.” 

“It was, it is. But–after that, I got clean. I checked myself into rehab. Never touched the shit again. Though I still have my vices, and I still make decisions that aren’t much better… that part of my life is over.”

“That was step two,” he said. 

“I guess so,” she agreed. “Still doesn’t help the hole in my heart. The guilt.”

“My child, you may carry this guilt with you for the rest of your life. I’m sure there is not much anyone can say to take that away. Your life is your own, and though you made a decision all those years ago, that fate does not lie in your hands. That child had parents with a responsibility. They failed him. They failed him so much more seriously than you did,” he went on. “The fact that you had a conscience, have a conscience about it tells me that you are much bigger of a person than you give yourself credit for.”

“But I’ve let that decision guide my life, I’ve let it consume my every move…”

“And where has it gotten you? You’re still blessed with the gift of life, yes?”

“Yes, but–”

“Then now, starting to-day, turn it around. Start living your life for you, instead of against you. Let yourself lean away from the guilt instead of into it. Let yourself feel happiness, let yourself be loved, even if it is in a different image of God than what the true believers do. Live your life in honor of that sweet baby boy, and not in vain of him.”

His words struck her silent again as she felt the fingers of grief tapping on her ribcage, tickling at the deepest depths of her mind and soul, letting her know that yes, maybe peace is possible. Maybe forgiveness is attainable. Maybe absolution is within reach. 

“Sometimes life is dark. Sometimes life is bright. Sometimes it’s cloudy and muffled and confusing, and other times it’s so desolate that we don’t know where to go. What to do with it.” His words still felt weighted as he spoke without expecting much of an answer… almost like he was reveling in her heartache, too. “But it is up to us as humans to live and serve to the utmost degree. Life is a gift.”

“That it is,” she said solemnly. 

“The Lord pulled me from that dark place, Ma’am, that much I can tell you to be truth. Whether or not you accept Him into your life is your prerogative. But there are other passageways, other paths you can follow to find yourself again. Your true self, the one that apparently someone has fallen in love with.”

Her eyes cast downward onto the worn wood of the floor, scuffed and beaten from years of tired souls visiting this same seat, laying everything out on the line for this stranger. 

“I don’t know why he loves me,” she whispered. 

Her heart felt like a fluttering mess, dancing in her chest at the just thought of Jake. But it was quickly extinguished as she remembered how she treated him, how her heart didn’t know how to reciprocate. Shattering itself into a thousand pieces, beating only to keep her alive. It knew how to do that much, at least. But anything more, anything greater than herself was out of the question. 

“Does anyone really know why they love something? Truly?” he pressed. 

“Not sure what you mean…”

“We can come up with a thousand reasons that may aid in the description of how we love things and people, measurable to certain degrees. But there is no one true word to describe why we love these things. It’s one of life’s greatest mysteries, an emotion that God gifted us that is so strong, it can overcome anything that stands in its way. Might you agree?”

She nodded, letting his words sink in again. “I could agree with that, though I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it.”

“You loved that baby boy, that much, I am sure of,” the Priest went on. “You exemplified more compassion for that child that you didn’t even know than his own parents did. And you still blame yourself for everything that happened to him. That, my dear, is love.”

She blinked a few times, glancing at his silhouette on the other side of the screen. It could be true, she supposed, that that deep and grating feeling she felt each and every time she thought of that baby could be… love, though in her mind, it was always masked by feelings of grief. 

“And this man in your life that you say you don’t understand his compassion toward you… Could you place him in the same category as you are, with that child?” he pressed. “Though you never knew that child aside from those few short days with him, could this man not share those same binding emotions?”

She sat silent. 

“Love doesn’t disguise itself, Ma’am. It is, and has always been, one of the most pertinent and obvious phenomena since the dawn of time. We can’t explain it, we can’t harness it… sometimes it slips through our fingers before we even have a chance to recognize it. But you my dear, seem to have recognized it. Or else, you wouldn’t be here, hmm?”

“He deserves someone so much better than me… he deserves the entire world…” 

“Then give it to him! Give him your world! Pick yourself up, dust off everything that keeps you from feeling happiness, and throw it to the wayside. Give him you, dear. Truly, that’s all a good man wants… is to be loved in return. Respected. Respected by a good woman who respects herself.”

She bites her lips together again, reciting his words over and over in her head. Give him your world…

“We could all go to be with God tomorrow, child. Waste your time no longer, allow yourself to surrender to a life you deserve… Do you believe you deserve him, and his love for you?”

She swallowed down another sob, suddenly feeling as though she could relinquish herself, and give everything to Jake, if it meant that the next time he stepped into her home, he promised to never leave. “I think I could get to that point, yes. I–He is the best thing that’s ever happened to me… He’s brilliant, caring, a provider… He’s strong and his compass never strays. He makes me laugh, god, he makes me laugh. The good kind where you have tears running down your face and you’re gasping for air. He… challenges me. He shows me empathy when I don’t deserve it. Hell, I never deserve it,” she pauses. “I can’t imagine my life without him beside me, and I don’t ever want to have a dream that he isn’t in. He’s shown me more passion than any man I’ve ever known… selfless, in every sense of the word. He’s all I’ve ever known of…love.”

Ah, there it was. 

Finally, the word graced her lips like a welcome taste of sweet sugar, biting only a little bit, but that was solely out of shock. Love… love… suddenly it didn’t seem like such a burden. It didn’t feel like poison in her mouth or fire burning her tongue. It felt like a thousand soft hands and the warmth of a coffee on a cold morning. It felt like a comforting embrace, a reassuring hand holding hers. Finally, her walls of stone had begun to crumble, all at the hands of imagining a life without her lover. 

“Then go to him, tell him.”

“How–how can I explain myself? How can I make sure I’ve covered all my ground and that I don’t miss a thing?” she asked, a little bit panicked. 

“Write him a letter. Go home, sit down, and write it all out. That way you can cover all your bases, without the urgency of telling him face to face. And be there… when he is ready to discuss it all. If this man is able to pull you from your own depths of despair, then he deserves an explanation from your heart. A true one.”

She nodded again, actually considering that writing Jake a letter could be manageable. She knew he would be back soon, and she knew that as soon as he stepped through the door, he would be expecting something.

Suddenly she wanted to run. And this time, not away, but to. 

“Am I redeemed, Father?” she asked with a bit of urgency in her tone. 

“Are you leaving God’s house with self-absolution, child? Are you truly sorry for your sins?”

“Yes. Yes, I am truly sorry. I will change, I will. I have to…” she barked genuinely, standing to collect her things. 

“Then through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Go in peace, child. Love, and serve.”

“Thank you, thank you, Father…” she plead with sincerity, feeling a fierceness in her chest that she’d never felt before. 

“Go home, and pick up a pencil! Don’t stray away from it, embrace it!” she heard his voice as she stood to exit the confessional. She stepped out and let her eyes adjust back to the vibrant rainbow light that was reflecting off the white walls, and took a second to catch her breath. She heard and felt the Priest emerge behind her, and she turned to face him again. 

“I feel like I could hug you, but, that might be a little…” she laughed awkwardly. 

Instead, he held out his hand, wrinkly yet firm for her to shake. “Time is of the essence, child,” he directed, looking down his nose again through his thin wire glasses. “Go, seek your peace.”

She gave him a genuine smile and released his handshake, rushing toward the doors with one thing in mind- absolution, and the feeling of Jake’s lips finally returning to hers. 

—--

“What’s this?” Jake asked as he let her heavy front door fall closed gently behind him. They were the first words that escaped his lips when he finally pushed his way through her front door that next morning, his hair still damp from the icy rain outside.

His eyes trained and his finger pointed to the envelope and letter placed meticulously on the floor in front of him, before he glanced back up to her, sitting sweetly on her newly-vacuumed couch. 

“It’s for you,” she muttered, clearing her throat of its nerves. “It’s… everything…” 

Jake’s brow furrowed as he hung his soaking wet coat on the back of a chair and bent down, taking the stark white paper in his hands.

“To: The one I’ve sinned against…” he read quietly. “Is this from you?” 

“It is,” she shuddered through a breath, standing up to meet him. “It’s everything I needed to say, everything that I needed to admit to… everything is, there…” 

His hollow eyes fluttered up to meet hers, now full of a little more life than they had just a few days ago. She looked rested, she looked alert. Even more so, she looked peaceful. 

“Just read it, Jake, and… then you can decide. If you want to put your coat back on, or leave it hanging there,” she said, resting her hand on the center of his chest again, gently scratching her fingernails into the fabric of his shirt. “Either way, whatever you decide, I will be okay with. But, please, just don’t let my demons scare you away. I learned a lot since you’ve been gone… and I think… I think I’m ready to change. Hang it all up, y’know.”

She heard a forced breath flow through Jake’s nose as she watched his nostrils flare, and he gripped the note in his hand even more tightly. 

She sauntered off to another part of the house to give him privacy to read, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t hear the sound of his arms slipping back through his coat, and the door slamming behind him, yet again. 

—--

It’s twenty minutes or more before she hears him shuffling into the bedroom, his fingertips knocking lightly on the doorframe. Her chest bursts with emotion as she raises her head from it’s place in her hands, downtrodden and sick with worry that he was going to see himself out in her absence. 

But to her surprise, his presence is suddenly breaking its way into her room, bright yet brooding as she feels his energy close to her again. 

“Can I come in?” he asks through a whisper. 

“Sure, yeah,” she replies, moving a pillow from beside her so that he can sit. 

He inhales a deep breath as he looks around her room, a room that is covered so heavily in everything her… her posters, her music, her photos… the burnt-orange scarf that lived over the lamp in the corner, dulling the bright light she just couldn’t handle. Her multitude of candles burned, along with the scent of dragon’s blood incense that she kept at an almost constant. He breathed it in, taking note of the flashbacks that littered his mind of all the fornication that has happened on this bed, all the love that he thought they were making. Enveloped by it all, all so effortlessly and authentically her. 

He sat down beside her, feeling the tensity of the air between them. 

“I read it all,” he breathed. “Every sentence. Twice.” 

“You read it twice? Jake, that had to of been fifteen pages of me just–”

“I don’t care. I wanted to absorb it all. I wanted to remember each sentence,” he cut her off. 

The two of them sat in silence for a minute or two before Jake found the courage to speak. 

“You’ve really been through it, haven’t you?” he asked, wringing his hands together between his knees. 

Her eyes cast down to the floor as she blinked. “Yeah, you could say that.” At the last second, she decided to add into the letter every instance in her life that she didn’t disclose with the Priest… instances in which she thought she could use some type of punishment. She gave details, she admitted everything. She left nothing to question, and wrote her letter in such a way that Jake could find no excuses for her. 

“Everything in there was true, everything was honest?” he asked, turning to her again. 

She exhaled, terrified of what was to come next, shaking with fear that he may see her as even less than he did before. “Yes. All of it. Cross my heart…” 

It was quiet again for a beat before she turned, taking his hands in hers. “Jake, I know that I am no cup of tea. I’m not a ray of sunshine, and I’m damn sure not wife material. I don’t know how to be an adult, and I bring more sadness to any situation than I can ever bring happiness. I’m messy, I’m stoic, and I can’t cook for shit… But, you– you have uncovered a side of me that I had no idea existed. You took me and shook me out, caring for the parts of me that needed to die a long, long time ago. I still don’t know why, and for the life of me, I don’t know how, but you found the good in me… You found it before anybody else on this earth did. Before even I did, and for me to treat you the way that I did, the way that I have… you don’t deserve that. I should be thanking you, I should be bowing at your feet for even having considered that I could be someone that you share yourself with…” Her words were traveling faster than she could think them, and now, as she stared into his deep honey brown eyes, she almost regretted writing the letter. She could have just said it all herself. 

“You’ve instilled something in me, recharged a battery that I didn’t know was dead. I still don’t know why but you raised me from whatever ashes I was in, and you knocked enough sense into me to make me stand up for myself, for us…”

She watched as his hands began to hold hers back, his hardened expression slowly softening.

“Us…” he muttered questioningly, his voice sounding like it was a hundred miles away. 

She was surprised. “If… if you still wanna consider me…as such…” she complied, hoping that she wasn’t chasing him away again. 

He let go of her hands as he stood from the bed, running his fingers through his long, tangled hair. She watched as he paced, his sock-covered feet slowly stepping across her wood floors. 

“You know I should just turn around and walk right out of here…” he finally said, his voice raised. “I should just say fuck it, after the way you treated me…”

“You should…and, if you do, I don’t blame you, Jake—“

“I didn’t deserve that shit, I deserved better than that…” His eyes pierced at her from their corners, sending a cold chill down her spine. He was growling, his chest heaving as his demeanor turned darker than she’d ever seen it before. “I deserve someone who is going to make me whole…”

She nodded, those same tears she let fall in the confessional yesterday finding her eyes again. “You do, you do…”

His jaw clenched as she saw his fists ball up at his sides, and she knew that whatever emotion he was feeling was either going to overtake him, or he would push it away. There was going to be no in between. Her chest tightened with anxiousness. 

Suddenly his body was slowly lurching over hers, his wide shoulders closing in around her. His face became impossibly close, his breathing heavy and slow. His entire aura felt wicked, so unlike his normal sticky-sweet self. His eyes were hooded…dark and heavy as he forced her body backward without even touching her. A polar-opposite magnet, invisibly charged and making every muscle in her body succumb to the way his energy was bending her. 

“Tell me you will never hurt me again… tell me you want me for everything I have to give you…” he muttered, trying his best to convince her. 

“I—I’m ready to change, Jake… I know I have to if I want to keep you..”

“Keep me,” he repeated through a whisper, his mouth so close to hers now. She felt his fists rest on either side of her on the mattress, his body weight still towering over her. 

“Yes,” she nodded, her neck lurching up to meet his gaze. “I want you, I’ve always wanted you… I was just—“

“Foolish. Selfish, afraid to love me back,” he tested, his tone dropping down a notch into the voice he used when she’d tempt him in nothing but her nightgown. 

“All those things, yes…” she agreed, feeling herself becoming breathless. “But I’m turning over a new leaf, I don’t want you… to leave me again.”

It wasn’t often that he was the one to get her flustered; normally she held the reigns in every aspect of their sex life. But on occasion, and very rarely, she would allow him to show a little dominance. It was just her expertise, being in charge and making sure she got what she wanted, every single time. Did he love every second of it? Fuck yeah, but sometimes, he prayed for the day when she would allow him to turn her into a panting mess, speechless and tangled in the sheets. 

She felt him lurch toward her again, just the sound of her words making him soften, wanting her even more. 

His jaw stiffened. “You really hurt me, baby. Tellin’ me you never loved me, never cared for me the way I do for you…” Jake went on, finally letting his nose drift across her cheek. Just the simple touch had her muscles tensing and her breathing hitched… even through the somewhat heavy conversation, she still felt the draw to him. “Shot through my heart…”

Her hand finally reached up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him just a little closer. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she huffed. She could go another million years without hearing him say that she was the reason he was feeling pain. Three days ago, she wouldn’t have cared. 

But now…

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you,” she admitted. “Ever again, I swear it.”

“Mmm…” Jake growled, bringing his knee up to rest on the mattress between her legs. “I like hearing you talk to me like this…makes me feel like you might actually like me after all.” His knee pressed further as he lurched again, landing directly on her core. 

‘God,’ she thought to herself, ‘if he only knew…’

His hands finally raised up and landed on her thighs, his palms working with his fingertips to massage her muscle. She could smell his cologne as his proximity grew closer, the scent of it making her head spin with familiarity. Fuck, he is hers. No one else’s… She could barely fathom the thought of another woman breathing him in, touching him, feeling his mouth traveling all over her body…

“I do actually like you, asshole. I like you a lot, don’t make me—“

“Ohhhhh I’m gonna make you say it, baby. You can count on that,” Jake jested, his lips finally landing on her ear. 

She couldn’t even stop it, the tiniest whimper left her lips as she finally felt him make contact. Barely even touched, and she felt as though she could already fall apart at the seams. Her belly was already a fiery mess of intense yearning for him, wanting him more now than ever. She’d never admit it to him, but he was the best fuck she had ever had. Ever. Her stone walls kept her from showing him that, though, never once letting him think he had her wrapped. 

But fuck, his hands… his mouth…

Suddenly her back was on the bed, rushed and forced as Jake’s haughty exterior began to shine through. 

“Make that noise for me again,” he ordered, his hand finally trailing up underneath her shirt, tickling away at her skin. 

Her eyes rolled just a tad as she was not used to being on this side of things, but… give and take; she had to relearn it all. A new mindset was necessary, if it meant keeping Jake all to herself, and never letting him slip through her fingers again. 

“Ahhh, ssss,” she gasped as Jake maneuvered himself to lap away at her stomach and sides. His tongue was as hot as flames, licking her skin and turning her on even more. 

His teeth raked along the hem of her sweatpants as her hands wrapped up in his hair, more or less guiding his movements. 

“Fuckin’ control freak,” he said. “Are you ever just gonna let me take care of you?” 

She pulled on his strands extra hard, reminding him that she is still in there somewhere, deep down. “Don’t make me regret my decision to let my guard down, now, Jacob,” she warned, earning a chuckle from him. 

He stepped back from the bed and slipped his fingertips in her waistline, arching an eyebrow as he bit his lips between his teeth. 

She nodded, giving him the go ahead. He removed her sweats and her underwear slowly, taking in the sight of her naked lower half. For some reason she felt exposed, but in a good way, almost as if she was finally finding the courage to not only bear her body to him, but her soul, too. 

Already mourning the loss of his mouth on her, her body began writhing for his touch again all on its own. Truly, she’d never felt at ease enough to let herself react this way, completely and totally on instinct. 

“You really are fuckin’ beautiful, baby…” he said matter-of-factly. She was used to his praises, but she never took them to heart. She always just thought he was rambling, filling the empty spaces between her moans with any words he could find. “So pretty…”

“Thank you, Jake,” she whispered as his hands found her hips, slowly pulling her down to the edge of the bed. For some reason, she finally heard- and took notice of- the sincerity in his voice. Finally, she believed his compliments to be true. 

He knelt down, and pulled his brown locks into a messy knot at the base of his neck, the visual already making her want to scream. Her legs parted on their own, her body already relishing in the fact that he is still here, he’s here for her. 

“Never get tired of this sight,” he grumbled as he licked his thumb, instantly connecting it to her heat. He began immediate circles, slow and calculated, directly onto her clit. 

Her head flew back into the mess of comforter, her body already stiffening as she felt a singular intense ripple of pleasure roll through her. 

“…Or that sight…” he went on, removing his thumb to be replaced with his tongue. 

“Goddamnit, Ja—“ she breathed, her hands finding his hair, pulling his mouth even further onto her. 

“Taste so damn good baby… so sweet…” he cooed as his tongue gently drifted over her most sensitive spots, each one more euphoric than the last. “Don’t know why, though… as bitter as you always fuckin’ are…”

His words shocked her; he’s never been this vocal during anything intimate, let alone this snarky. 

Her head raised to meet his eyes. “It’s just the way that I am, Jake. Sweetness has never been my forte,” she breathed. He reached up and grabbed her hands, interlocking his fingers with hers. 

“I like you bad, I like you bitter…” he agreed, pressing his face into her, sucking harshly at her as he meticulously rolled and flicked his tongue. 

She was right. Just like his coffee. 

“You’re fuckin’ devious, baby. You terrify me,” he went on, stopping for a breath as her stomach began caving in on itself, the pleasure nearly blinding her. She let go of his hair and covered her mouth, stopping the cries that were daring to fall from her lips as she held on for dear life, ravishing in every single second of this. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way… love you just like this…”

“I could afford to treat you a little better though, don’t you think?” she managed. 

She felt his lips purse up into a half-grin as he paused his movements for a split second before nodding. “Mhm, maybe a little…”

“You deserve…fuck…you deserve to be treated right. And I was always too swept up in my own battle with life to live with you in yours…”

“That’s all I ever wanted, babe…” he hummed as he continued on, his hands now massaging at her ass and hips, guiding her in the right directions as she gasped for every breath she took. “Let go for me…?”

As much as she wanted to let herself fall apart at his mercy, as close as she was to leaping off the edge, she stopped herself, pushing away her ravenous thoughts and reshifting them to focus on him. After all she had put him through, after all this time of not showing him the affection that he deserved, now is the time. She owes him the world. 

She pushed his face away, sitting herself up and stripping her t-shirt over her head. He stood back with a questioning look, the shine of her wetness still coating his face in the dim red-orange light. She gripped his belt buckle, undoing it harshly as he stood there landlocked between the bed and the dresser. “Wha—what are you doing, baby?” he asked, his hands flying up to his sides as he let her work his belt. 

“This is about you…it’s my turn to take care of you…in all the ways you always wanted me to…” she replied, pulling the denim of his pants down over his hips. 

“But I told you I wanted to take care of y—“

“You do. You always do,” she replied, next ripping his still-damp t-shirt over his head. She gripped onto his waist, pulling him down onto the mattress beside her. She took note of the grin that was fighting its way to his lips. “But right now, I want you to tell me what you’ve always wanted from me…tell me what you want me to do, what you want to feel…”

She watched as his facial expression switched from confusion to pure awe as she straddled his waist, both of them fully unclothed, now as she balanced her hands on his chest. ‘God, he is so fucking beautiful…’ she thought to herself. How she could ever deny him total happiness is a sin in itself, a sin that now, she is ready to repent for.

“Go ahead, don’t be shy,” she said, starting to roll her hips a little over his growing length. 

“Uh, well um…” he licked his lips and opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. 

She leaned down and placed her lips to his neck, working her tongue up to his ear. She felt his hips buck up into her at the contact. “Tell me, baby. I wanna love you right…”

His hands gripped her hips again as she could tell he was becoming hungry for her. 

She felt his right hand come up and grip into her hair, pulling her face to the side to whisper into her ear. “I want you to get yourself wet on me,” he growled. 

Fuck. Exactly what she wanted to hear. 

“I can do that,” she agreed, maneuvering herself to sit on top of him, grinding him against her folds. She felt his tip brush over her, her clit already overstimulated from his mouth on her, earlier. She swayed her hips, letting him travel through her without entering her at all. 

“Like that?” she asked, feeling herself dripping all over him. 

His eyes squeezed shut as he bit his bottom lip in. “Mmmh, yeah, just like that,” he said, his jaw clenching over and over. 

She remained this way for another minute or so, listening to the sounds of their bodies meshing together through short breaths and hollow groans. 

“What next, baby… what else?” she pressed. She glanced down at him noticing his brow furrowed in, scowling hard as he watched where their bodies made contact. So incredibly feral for her, and her for him… she wondered why she had wasted so much time relishing in herself, rather than him. 

He shook his head, finally making eye contact. “Nothing… nothing else… just want you to be here with me. No bells and whistles,” he panted, his hips still jutting as she continued to grind. “Just you…”

“I’m here, baby…” she agreed, letting her forehead fall onto his. His hand came up to brush the hair sticking to her forehead back so he could see her eyes. Her body felt like it was floating ten feet above the bed, so high on everything that was him, intoxicated by his presence alone. 

She reached down between them and gripped him in her hand, giving him a few slow and languid strokes. His body reacted in the best way, jerking and thrusting into her hand as he let the most beautiful and pitiful cries fall from his lips. It spurred her on, watching him already falling apart for her. 

“Please, baby…” he begged, his voice full of a lustful tenor that she memorized and shelved as quickly as she could. “Fuck, please…” 

Without a second thought, she lined herself up, letting her wetness cover his tip. She couldn’t lie, her body was vibrating with anticipation; something about this whole exchange already felt different. Lighter and heavier at the same time, feathers mixed with cannonballs. As she sank down on him all the way to the hilt, a switch flipped inside her brain, making her feel as though her body would not survive another second without him, her soul incomplete without him being the other half of her. 

“Motherfucker, baby….shhhhhhit…” Jake growled, steadying himself deep inside her for a few seconds as he took in the sensation. His chopped exhale ended with a harsh blow of his breath, his movements and his sounds muffled in her mind as she became dizzier and dizzier from the pure pleasure. It took her all of ten seconds to gather herself, remembering that sex requires movement, though she would be perfectly content just letting him rest inside her for the rest of eternity. 

She finally lifted up on her hands and began rocking back and forth on him, taking in every sight and sound that came along with it all. Her fingernails dug into his chest as she swirled her hips, alternating between slow grinds and harsh thrusts, all of it sending Jake into another world entirely. 

She’d never felt a pleasure this intense before, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that each and every time with Jake was different. Never once did they fuck in the same way. He kept her guessing, always on her toes in his choices, even though she was the one who normally ran the show. Now, thinking back, it was endearing. Whether or not she knew that he was trying to be suspenseful, or that he really was just a natural in bed didn’t matter— she knew now that all the times she left another man’s bedroom while Jake was waiting for her at home was all for nothing. 

No one would ever compare to him. No one had ever even come close. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” he asked, licking his lips as his hands began to control her rolling hips. 

“Nothing,” she breathed. “Just… I don’t think you understand how sorry I am, for everything. All the times I stepped out on you…and…you’re still here, you’re—“ She could hardly finish her sentence. “I wanna cry just thinking about it. I was awful to you, and you’re perfect. You’re—“

Like he could hear her thoughts, and just as she was about to let another wave of satisfaction roll through her, he brought his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her gently to meet his lips. He kissed her hard, rolling his tongue against hers as his fingers wrapped themselves in her hair. Sometimes, when he kissed her, she would feel a pang of something deep in her gut, a feeling that was fleeting before it left her altogether. She could never harness it, and had no idea what it was… but she chased it, becoming addicted to the hunt of finding it again. 

But this time, it came, and it stayed. That wrenching feeling that she felt so often with him, taking up shop in her subconscious for more than those normal three seconds. 

It felt like a surge of electricity, a sensation that she’d never be able to duplicate with any substance on earth. His lips glided and his hands squeezed, making her feel safer than she ever had. Her brain became fuzzy with want… something stronger than want… stronger than need. 

Suddenly, the frayed string that held her to Jake felt like coiled wire, strong enough to span mountains, and tough enough to withstand any weather it may encounter. No longer did her mind feel the need to stray as he fucked back into her, no longer did she feel the need to push him away when he’d express himself to her. She wanted to feel it… know it, lock it up inside herself and throw away the key. 

She wanted all of him, every last atom and cell. She wanted to belong to him. She wanted to reciprocate. 

“I almost left you, so many times…” he breathed, pulling back and landing his head down on the pillow. “Almost said fuck it, she doesn’t need me, she doesn’t want me… something inside me told me to stay. As idiotic as that sounds.”

“You were idiotic. Completely stupid for staying with me,” she said through a grin. 

“I never asked you to be mine, though. I had no way of justifying the fact that I couldn’t blame you for stepping out. You weren’t really mine, anyway,” he argued, and he was right. Though they spent nearly every waking moment together for those six months, they never made anything official. They never made any promises. 

“I was always fucking yours, Jake,” she gritted, pulling off of him to lie down on her back. Her hands dug into his sides and pulled him to lie on top of her. 

His knee kicked her legs apart and he wasted no time in entering her again, unwilling to separate for more than a second. He pressed particularly harshly into her, jutting himself so far in that she felt a slight pain. “How can I believe you, now? How can I know this is for real?” 

She cried out at the mix of pain and pleasure, her mind blurred at the feeling of him so deep inside her. She needed more. “Agh, fuck, please keep going,” she begged, her eyes knit shut. “You’ve just gotta trust me, baby. Trust me…” she breathed, letting her eyes clear and stare deeply back into his, letting him know she was serious. “Everything is gonna change, now. M’not fucking this up…”

“Tell me you swear,” he begged as his thrusts became more pointed, eliciting repetitive high-pitched squeals from her. He stretched her as far as she could go, the sounds of their bodies slapping together reverberating off the walls and shaking the bedframe. “I’m not gonna waste any more of my time if you truly don’t want me here…”

Her hands reached behind her and gripped the sheets as she held on for dear life, letting Jake take her, have her, wholly and completely. 

“I fucking swear,” she promised, grabbing his jaw and lips in her hand, squeezing. “Just you… me and you…” She pulled him down to kiss her again, still craving that guttural feeling. And thankfully, it found her again. 

She basked in it as her release came full force at her- bright white and vibrating every inch of her body. She cried out as she let it overcome her, letting herself feel everything for the very first time. 

Jake wasn’t far behind her. “Fuck, god, fuck…” he groaned, gasping and clenching through his own climax as the ripples flowed through both of them like harsh storm winds. His arms had enveloped her, his head rested on her shoulder and buried into her neck as they both tried catching their breath, a warmth already shrouding them in the sweetest protection they could ever imagine. 

They both laid just like that for as long as the day let them, exhausted and content with the fact that they had found their way around their biggest roadblock, yet. 

Courage found her like a magnet to metal as she felt a surge of confidence overtake her. “Jake, baby, did we just make love?” 

He lifted his head from her shoulder, letting the prettiest laugh escape from his chest. “Uh, you tell me…”

She took a breath. “I don’t know… I’ve never— But that felt…”

“Fucking perfect?”

“Yeah… more than perfect…” she admitted honestly, unable to find the words to describe what she was feeling. 

The chemicals in her brain had finally mixed in a way that didn’t feel like poison. The switch that flipped had decided to stay on, not even giving her a choice in the matter to decide to turn it back off. The emotion that was taking up space within her felt more addictive than any substance she’d ever done— love, finally, her new drug of choice. 

It just took an admission for the ages to a stranger of a Priest for her to feel it. 

“Then maybe we did…” Jake agreed, rolling off of her. “Time will tell.”

She propped up on her elbow to look at him as he lied there beside her, hot and exhausted as he finally found his breath. 

“Can you teach me how to love, Jake?” she asked, feeling small. 

He gave her a look that melted her all over again as he picked up her hand, bringing each of her fingers to his lips and kissing them one by one. 

“That’s not something that’s taught, baby. But I think you’re selling yourself short…”

“Really?”

“Mhm. You’re the most intensely vivacious and unapologetic woman I have ever met in my life. You take no shit, and you’re smarter than you think. Your perception of the world is unlike anybody else’s, like I’d kill to see the world through your eyes, sometimes. You’re passionate as fuck, just not in the ways that most people think is conventional. You always stick up for the little guy, defend people who can’t defend themselves. You’re hot-blooded and confident, sexy as fuck… you could be a millionaire on OnlyFans in like a week, tops…”

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed, brushing her hand across his chest. 

“M’serious,” he went on. “You think you’re this downtrodden and forlorn soul destined for the pits of hell, putting up walls and shutting people out, but. I think you just do that because you know your worth, even if you think that worth is less than dirt. You know that your spirit isn’t just for everybody… but damned if I’m not glad you’ve agreed to share it with me.”

Her eyes glared back into his as she fought to understand how, and why Jake is still here, still hanging on, still being the best. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” she questioned with a whisper. 

“I dunno, baby. Guess we gotta keep proving we deserve each other. You’ve toughened me up more than you realize. Made me want to cut my own bullshit and get real,” Jake said. “Taught me that I have to stand up for what I want.”

“I taught you that?”

“In a roundabout way, yeah,” he said, rubbing his fingers over his mustache. “I wanted you, I wanted you so badly that I stuck around until you decided you wanted me back, yeah?” he smiled. 

“Yeah… I suppose you did.”

“I have a question, though… you said that what made all this happen is that you went to… a Church? What in god’s name made you do that?”

She laughed at the irony of his sentence. “I guess exactly that.” She got up and sat cross-legged on the bed, hugging a pillow into her chest. “I think… I think humans can only survive so long without feeling a way they know they should feel. I knew deep down that I had sins to own up to, and one capital sin, at that. I couldn’t talk to just anyone about that, ya know? Didn’t want to admit all that to you, just yet. So I thought, hey, maybe God would like to hear from me? It couldn’t hurt my case, only help it, I guess. Who better to confess everything I had bottled up inside me, than to “the only one who can truly forgive me”?” She placed air quotes around the words, repeating back what society had taught her. She bit her lip in, thinking back on the whole experience. “I guess in the end just saying all those things out loud to someone who wouldn’t pass judgment onto me was exactly what I needed. Just to admit them to myself. I was about to crack…”

He nodded, placing his arm behind his head. “I can definitely understand that.”

“I hope it worked… I swear on my life I already feel a little more whole, a little less worthless,” she admitted. 

Jake’s thumb reached to brush across her lips. “You were never fucking worthless, baby. Never. You were worth everything in the world, are worth it.”

She shook her head as she looked away, the image of that baby’s face still so prevalent in her mind. He haunted her every second, and though she was coming to realize that that whole ordeal all those years ago may not have been entirely her fault, it was still going to resonate with her for the rest of her life. No amount of admittance or repenting was ever going to take that away. 

“You know, that baby that I mentioned in the letter… the one that I took care of before everything went to hell…?” she asked, her voice quiet. 

“Yeah, your capital sin…”

She took a breath. “You know his name was Jacob…”

Jake’s eyes grew ten times in size, his jaw falling slack in disbelief. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding you. Hell of a coincidence, huh?”

“Wow, I’ll fuckin’ say… I–I am so sorry that happened, baby,” Jake relented as he cupped her cheek in his hand. “Truly, I know you wish that things would have gone differently. I’m sure you think about him every day.” 

“Every second.”

Jake took in a breath. “Is there anywhere we can… go visit him? So you can talk to him?”

She softened at his sweet suggestion, gently shaking her head side to side. “No. I wouldn’t even know where to look… where they even buried him. I was hundreds of miles away from here…”

“Well maybe we can look him up. That should be public record, yeah?”

She considered it, while also considering Jake’s selfless proposal. “Maybe so… yeah, that might actually be nice.”

Jake leaned forward and placed a kiss to her knee. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

“You can forgive me, Jake?”

“As long as you stop condemning yourself. Right this minute. We’re gonna work on this together, you have got to realize your self-worth, baby.”

“You’ll be here to help me realize it?”

“Every second of the way,” he promised. 

She rolled to sit on top of him again, his hands landing on her thighs. She admired the way his hair flowed in messy strands over her pillow, the way his skin still glistened with sweat. In that second, she knew she had never seen anything more beautiful. More striking, and more positively hers. 

“I’m ready to love you, Jake. I swear to god I’m going to spend every second making you the happiest man on earth, making up for lost time. Proving to you I’m sorry, that you’re worth it all…” she promised, tears threatening her again with the overload of new emotions. But she welcomed them. 

“Don’t cry, gorgeous. S’all gonna be okay…”

——

“Are you sure you want me to come with you? I mean… this feels a little bit strange,” Jake perked as he tossed his cigarette butt into the sand-filled ashtray on the street. 

She took Jake’s hand as she pulled him up the steps of the Church, the sun already brightly shining as it hit high-noon. The church bells of the city all tolled, signaling the new hour, and letting her know that Father James would be pacing around the pews, refilling bulletins and straightening hymnals. 

“Yes, come on… I really want you to meet him,” she urged, pulling his hand even harder. 

“Baby, I don’t go to Church anymore, I don’t believe in this kind of stuff…” he argued. 

“Neither do I. But that’s not to say that it doesn’t exist, hm?” she pressed, arching her eyebrows as they landed on the top step. “Just because we don’t choose to believe and be faithful doesn’t mean we can’t find comfort in some of the things it has to offer…I wouldn’t be where I am if I hadn’t come in here that day and talked to Father James… confessed everything to him… Took all his advice…”

“I know, I know, but… what if he tries to— I dunno. Convert us, or whatever?” 

She laughed out loud. “He’s not gonna do that, Jake. I promise. We just enjoy talking with one another. He’s a wise man, normal. Just like you and me. He’s been at the bottom, too. I promise, you won’t regret walking in here…”

“Fuck, okay. Just for you.”

She blossomed as she realized she’d talked him into it, her face blushing with satisfaction. “I love you, Jake… you know that, right?”

His long exhale drifted away with the Spring breeze as he realized he’d literally do anything for her. Anything in the world. “Yeah, baby. I know that.”

“Good.” 

She pushed open the heavy double doors and made her way inside, her hand acknowledging the holy water that sat beside the entrance, but knowing her place enough to not touch it. The devil still sat on her shoulder, though these days, she’d learned to keep that son of a bitch in check. 

Jake watched as she glided inside, her fingers still wrapped with his. As his eyes adjusted from the sunlight, he took notice of the bright hues of light washed across the room, the sun casting vibrant beams and dim shadows on everything that it touched. 

“Father James! Hello!” Jake heard her voice as they approached an elderly man clothed in all black. 

“Welcome, welcome!” he heard him say. 

“Father, I want you to meet someone… this is—“

“Jacob.” 

The Priest extended his hand to Jake, giving him a smile that felt more genuine than he ever could have imagined. He took his hand in his grasp, knowing that he owed this man the grandest of thank you’s, for helping his love to find her way. 

“Of course, son. I’ve heard so much about you…”

“All good things, I hope?” Jake laughed awkwardly. 

The Priest looked directly at her with endearment painted on his features, his eyes thinning to slits as he smiled from ear to hear. 

“Wonderful things.”

Taglist: @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj @dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @gretavangroupie @moonlightisdancing @jakeyt @joshym

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 14 (Sneak Peek)

a/n:

hiiii, friends! <3

for the third time, I deliver a 4,000+ word 'sneak peek.' l m f a o. this snippet picks up in the middle of the chapter and in the middle of one of the jake pov's in ch 14 (!! i love his pov's), so if he references things that don't make sense... that's why.

Chapter 14 will be yours in the next couple of days... bc i'm on s p r i n g b r e a k !! it is ALMOST finished. planned on finishing it sooner, but got a mad bug on friday and was down for the count until saturday evening. god bless it all.

wooo hooo :p lemme know what you think ;) + what you're expecting

xo

🌼 playlist 🌼 masterlist 🌼

Warnings: (as always: MDNI 18+ !!!); very graphic descriptions of sexual relations/body parts; sadness; anger; pregnancy; mentions of infidelity (f*ck off, maya); as always, if i missed anything that is triggering to you, PLEASE lmk!

Jake's POV

Y/n had been the first to fall asleep, but she’d made no move to leave the room like the others. 

I knew her well enough to know her desire to be present with the ones she loved. Quality time was a love language of hers. And tiredness was not going to get in the way of that – time with the ones she cared for most came before any heavy eyelids.

I had noticed in recent times that she got tired much easier than before, the task of making a human life, physically taxing in a way I’d never understand. In a way that made me want to wrap her up and possibly feel any of it with her to take some of the weight off. 

I’d gotten to help take some of the load off – the tiniest bit when she’d let sleep take her a couple of hours ago. Her body had already been leaning into mine before she’d gotten sleepy. But when she dozed, the first place her head landed was on my shoulder. That was when the smell of her hair had infiltrated my senses, captivating me. Wrapping around me like a warm hug – familiarity in the most genuine, beautiful sense. 

At her bowed head on my shoulder, I’d moved my arm, up and behind her to accommodate her soft, sleeping form. She hadn’t moved an inch away after the sound of her light snores, that met my ear. If anything, she’d only nestled her head deeper – a little more into my neck, her head more on the curve of my collarbone.

Her grandparents had been the first to bid us all goodnight. At the end of the first movie, claiming their age as the reason. They had kissed her so delicately on her forehead. Her lips had even perked in her sleep at the gesture – her response to the love they showed her. She was deserving of the world and every act of love that was given to her.

Elsie and Josh had asked if I wanted to watch the next movie in the series with them, giving me a look as they surveyed how y/n was snuggled against me. I’d simply ignored their ridiculous behavior and happily agreed, not wanting to move or react for fear of losing the moment with her. The rise and fall of her sleeping body, too calming to rid myself of. . . her soft breaths steadied me in a way little else could. 

Though, again, after her Grandma and Grandpa had clicked their door shut, Elsie and Josh had turned to me and y/n. Y/n, completely oblivious to their bullshit and still sleeping soundly. And, after giving her sweet form a simultaneous, tender smile, they’d smirked at me and fucking eyed me — again.

Weasels. 

Then, both of them had shared a secret smirk with each other before giving me the same pondering stare – like they were curious about something. Then, almost in sync with the other, they’d raised their brows at me. But before I could tell them to fuck off, or, before they could make it any more than whatever that had been, they were turning back to their initial place on the loveseat, her leaning back against him, snuggled between his legs. 

Like I selfishly wanted y/n to do. . .  dammit.

With that thought, though, I’d bravely decided to move her.

Just a bit.

I shifted just enough to maneuver her body, keeping her comfortable while also laying her down further on my lap. Truly, it was to avoid a crook in her neck – mostly. But the position was an added bonus for me, too. It felt so much better – closer. More like us. I made it so she could lay her head on a swiftly placed throw pillow, situated just so on my lap.

To my complete and utter relief, she’d seemed to subconsciously welcome the change. Her body even moved a bit on her own to adjust. She’d curled up against me, on her side, pressing into the bottom of my stomach. She'd done so just enough for her hair to touch a sliver of skin on my stomach, just a tad exposed at the hem of my sweater. To my surprise, she’d even reached a hand up to clutch my thigh, right next to her head and the pillow.

She’d sighed, too. Content. At peace. 

But the way she’d gone to hold my thigh with the sigh. . .? It'd made me very grateful for the throw pillow. 

It had been that way for the entire movie. A fucking dream. 

Once that film had concluded, it had taken almost no time for Elsie and Josh to jump up from their spots. They were all quiet and giggly and weird and touchy, barely paying me any mind before they were on their way to Elsie’s room. Josh’s hands had not been to himself one bit as they stumbled over each other, but he’d managed one lone, sly-ass wink in my direction before rounding the corner of the hallway. 

In all honesty, of course I knew what the fuck he was implying. He’d been very clear on his opinions concerning y/n and myself. But, all that mattered was how she laid, peacefully in my lap, at the present moment. 

Now. Heaven. 

Me, y/n, and our baby girl – warm and safe inside of y/n’s belly.

Lavender.

It still astonished me that we’d wanted the same damn name. What in the fuck were the chances? 

I hoped to god y/n didn’t want to give up on us yet. The past couple days had been fucked. But. . .  I needed her. . . And I especially felt this way as she moved in a certain way on top of me — only slightly, but enough that she made a little whimper in her sleep. Had my head spinning and my dick throbbing. 

I needed to taste her again. Her release, emulated melted sugar against my tongue three nights ago: in the shower, and then again in her bedroom. At the moment, I just wanted to say fuck all of the obstacles that kept her from me. And, even more so, the ones that have kept me from her. 

The way we’d connected earlier had made me feel nearly sick with love for her; just our eyes doing the talking while her Grandpa played the Stevie Wonder record she’d bought him.

(Which, as fate would have it, was the same one I’d bought her. Songs In The Key Of Life. . . a cult classic amongst all classic music connoisseurs.  I’d tried hard to find a special pressing of it – knowing how much she loved Stevie Wonder. Though, she still had no idea, of course – wanted to give it to her at an intimate time, where it could just be us.) 

The lyrics to every one of those three songs I’d heard.

“Knocks Me Off My Feet” had resonated with my pure and unadulterated lovesickness for her, of course. I wished I could repeat the words “I love you” to her over and over again – just like he had in that song. . . . And then, as we’d left the kitchen, “Ordinary Pain” had punched me in the gut as, ironically, I’d been causing myself and her pain by walking away from her. For Maya. . . .again.

But, the one that had played while we were in the kitchen. . . “Summer Soft” – fuck.  That shit had cut me deep. That song sang our entire summer love story, in such a melancholic, depressingly nostalgic way. I wanted that again — more than anything. I’d even searched the lyrics afterwards, while on the phone with Maya as she’d had some sort of anxiety attack (which had caught me off guard, as she’d never had one before).

And, as Maya had cried to me over extremely tiny shit (in comparison to what I knew y/n’s mind to reel with), I’d read through them. . .

Morning rain

Gently plays her rhythms on your window pane

Giving you no clue of when she plans to change

To bring rain or sunshine

And so you wait to see what she'll do

Is it sun or rain for you

But it breaks your heart in two

When you find it's October

I wanted the sun and the rain. . . I wanted it with her. Didn’t want her to push me away. . . wanted to be tender with her – care for her. Hold her. Touch her. Feel her. Simply be with her. Just like summer – wanted another try at August, September, October. . . Just as he proclaimed in the song. I wanted her always. Still hated that we parted in the first place.

I’d always hate that.

When she shifted the slightest bit once more, her eyebrows crinkled and her fingers fanned over her belly before holding the bottom of it. Safely. Securely. She was taking care of our baby. Every time I thought about it, my heart would beat just a little steadier after halting for a moment. 

The sexy lounge set she’d chosen to wear today hugged her curves so damn well, I couldn’t help but admire every soft curve of her body visible to me. . . And the bracelet that she held on her wrist, compliments of her sister. I carefully messed with the lavender charm, not wanting to wake her. The way she’d wiped delicately at her eye before Elsie had been there in an instant to help her put it on. Every detail of her in that moment, I’d watched in wonder. So beautiful. So angelic. So pure— contrary to her belief. She was so flawlessly elegant to me. Just as refined as the untouched, cream-colored lounge set she wore.

I watched her, in the sharpest quality, as she laid so gracefully on my lap. Everything about her, in 4-fucking-K. . . And, it made my heart come alive more than ever before when I glanced at the charm once more, thinking about how she quantified the importance of lavender as I did. Lavender, so consecrated between us. . . Enough to make it our daughter’s name.

She burrowed deeper against the pillow, turning more to her belly. Not laying on her tummy. I knew her well enough that she did her best to stay aware of that, even whilst sleeping. It was y/n. Of course she thought about shit like that even when asleep. 

Once situated, she’d sighed with a teeny tiny whimper, again, as her hand slipped over her tummy, lifting the bottom hem of the sweater a little. . . Before she was moving to grip firmer onto my thigh. She held me gently, still, but surely. And, her fingers moved higher. . . . her hand fanning out a bit on me as it just had on her belly – just enough to graze awfully close to the zipper of my jeans. . . 

Fuck.

With that action, I decided I needed to touch her, too. Something to distract myself from the growing problem in my pants because of her innocent touch. The hand that had been balanced on the back of the couch came down to rest gently at her side, framing her waist. Then her hip, where I then grazed the underside of her swollen belly. I started by barely grazing my fingers over the soft, cream colored sweater. 

It wasn’t long that I held my hand there. . . before I felt her stir. Her free hand, slowly reaching to smooth over mine, so delicately to hold mine on her tummy. Fuck. Felt so nice. Like home.

She cleared her throat. And before I knew it, she was speaking, so softly. It was a serene moment and her tone said as much. Such a pretty, pretty voice.

“I felt her quite a bit during the first movie,” she sniffed sleepily with a sigh and a yawn, breathing deeply with the hushed words. The side of her breast grazed my arm that laid against her body. I pressed the pillow on my crotch down just a bit more. Now was not the time. “But I think she’s resting right now. No kicks for the time being.”

Wait. . . moving? Kicks? What?! 

“Kicks?”

My eyes were glued to the parts of her face I could see past her loose curls, now more like gentle waves after a full day.  So beautiful. But. . . Rather than getting distracted by her features, I watched her. Waited for a sign that she meant what I thought she meant. I mean, what else could she have meant? 

“Oh. . . Yeah,” she said, slowly, measured in her response. Her hand gently flexed over mine on her swollen belly. “She—um, she actually kicked for the first time last night. Right before you got home, actually,” she sighed, the thigh hand coming up to her face to cover a little yawn. “Minutes before you walked through the front door last night. . .,” she breathed a laugh, resting the hand over my thigh once more. 

No. . . Lav had kicked?

Not while I was. . . Fuck!

Fuck it all.

My life was a goddamn joke. Trapped in that motherfucking car — right outside in the parking lot. All the while, arguing with Maya over trivial shit and revealing the gender without y/n’s permission. . . as she was upstairs feeling our little girl. For the first time. 

I’d fucking missed it. For nothing. 

I didn’t want to act too disappointed, but I couldn’t help the way it leaked into my tone and words when I spoke next. I was heartbroken, understandably. Foolishly. “I’m so upset I missed it. Goddamn. Just fuckin’ missed it, too, huh?”

She was silent for a few lengthy seconds. Her eyes were trained ahead and nowhere near me. She was watching the dancing title menu for the movie we’d been watching. I wished she’d look at me. . . But it was okay. I didn’t want to make her feel as if she owed me anything. Not right now. 

I was the stupid fuckin’ asshole in this entire situation. 

“Well. . . Not technically. She was still doing it when you walked in — went crazy when she heard your voice. . .,” she commented with a melancholy huff of a laugh, then a sniffle. “I— I actually tried to tell you. When you walked in. Remember?”

Yes. Obviously I remembered. It had been lingering in my mind since I’d passed her up. 

Fuck. Gotta be fucking kidding. I was a selfish fucking moron. A prick move to not take the time to hear her out when she was so excited — after everything that had transpired. After ignoring her for an entire day after the phone sex. I’d already felt like shit for that. But now that I was finding out that I’d missed it? Willingly? Passing up the opportunity to feel my baby girl move because I was tired. . . A massive, debilitating punch to the gut.

I mentally vowed to myself that that would be the last time I missed a damn thing that happened. It was ridiculous to even act like y/n wasn’t important in the first place. And I’d done so enough on that godforsaken trip. It was all because of that fruitless trip. I’d been mentally drained from the stupid ass conversations with my suddenly nosy-ass girlfriend. And her dickhead of a dad. 

Completely rejected my family for these people who didn’t matter nearly as much as my baby girl or the woman who carried her. . . 

So many monstrous ideas swirled in my head as I watched her hand float from my hand on her tummy to her hair, turning up towards me just a bit, tucking some behind her ear. More of her face was visible for me to admire. And there was no missing the wetness in the corner of her eye. Dampening her eyelashes. She’d kept it hidden. She was blinking like crazy. I knew she was trying to hide how much it had affected her. Another punch to the gut.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you out, baby. I’ll regret that shit forever. God. . . I’m so damn sorry.”

“You had other important things on your mind, I’m sure,” she sniffed, a gentle hand, going to subtly dab under her eye. “I’m sure it was an exciting weekend — getting to be with Maya’s family, and all?”

“No,” I said it without a second fucking thought. And I meant that shit. I was tired of lying. 

“No?” Her brows crinkled with her question. I had to resist the urge to run my finger over the perfectly waxed edge of it that faced me.

“Not at all. I missed you more than life itself the entire time. And if I would’ve stayed home with you— we would’ve gotten everything we’ve been wanting. . . And—,” I sniffed, the emotions taking over and annihilating my heart. The conflict was crippling my heart. “I wouldn’t have missed my little girl kicking for the first time.”

“You had no choice.”

“And I wish I would have had one. I should’ve made up an excuse to get out of going.”

“No, Jake. . . Don’t— you have to keep true to your word, honey.”

She was the most selfless woman. . . And the fact that she wouldn’t let herself feel that part of her heart broke me. Instead of giving into those emotions and understanding herself, she rejected them for the sake of past hurts. It broke my heart for her. I didn’t want her to carry that shit and I, personally, was still learning how the hell to respond to it.

“But—," I began, but she was quick to correct me.

“But nothing.” She still wasn’t looking at me, just staring straight ahead, before shifting down again, blinking and letting her eyes go to look down at her bump.

I moved my hand from her belly, feeling momentarily undeserving of it. . . Y/n, being so excited to see me, waiting for me. . . Our daughter, waiting for me. . . At the same moment I'd been giving Maya access to very sensitive information pertaining to the other two. God damn.

A couple of silent minutes passed before she was slowly reaching up, delicately grabbing my hand from her side. Gently, she placed it on the curve of her belly once more. She kept her soft palm over the back of my hand. She held me there. Right in the center of her swollen abdomen. Not a word was spoken between us. Both of us, just letting the moment sink in. Waited for Lavender to pick up on the cue. . . 

But she didn’t. 

“What do you think she’s doing?” I asked, finally finding my voice again. I had to get over myself. I wasn't going to let my personal upset bleed over onto y/n tonight. I couldn't. Just as soft as my tone, my fingers danced the slightest bit to make delicate letters against her sweater-clad tummy. 

“What do you mean?” She giggled a bit with the words, taking her hand away from mine to gently lay on my wrist, instead. Oh, the feeling of her holding onto me – purely for the feeling of being close. Her own finger skated on the back of my arm, just as I did the same to her belly. . . It made my chest feel so damn warm. 

The warm glow from the living room lamps and the tree, sensually highlighting her beautiful, smooth complexion. Her features, lighting up — she was enchanting me in the golden glow. Ethereal, mesmerizing goddess of a woman.

My lips lifted at the feeling of it all. Her laugh, her body under my hand. . . how she held onto my arm just because. . . It helped my soul tremendously to just be in the moment with her. Our breaths, our voices – the only sounds circling the silent air of the living room. Thankfully, the menu screen for the movie was silent. I only wanted to hear her.

“Is she dancing, you think? Jumping? Kicking? Rolling around?” I pondered aloud, continuing to move my fingers over her belly, drawing our baby girl’s name against her sweater.

L-A-V-E-N-D-E-R. . . . . I wondered briefly what her middle name would be. . . Would we somehow come up with the same idea for that name as well? Would it be easy to agree upon? 

“Hmmm,” y/n interrupted my thoughts with the low hum of her response. 

I flattened my hand on her belly, focusing in on y/n. And, without even thinking, I used my spare hand to brush back some hair from her face so I could see her better. The action made her turn a smidge, gently, slowly flipping around to be on her back fully – the best she could, at least. Those eyes. . . looking up at me, for a second, from my lap. My favorite sight — the deep tresses of her eyes. They were glowing in the dark room – shining with every single color on the Christmas tree. They seemed to wrap around mine and pull me in even further. 

“I’d say she’s playing the air guitar. Wants to be just like her daddy,” she said, looking down briefly as her hand smoothed over her belly once. Her touch caused her sweater to hike up — just a little more than before. . . But enough. 

Enough so that I was fucking done for with the combination of her sweet words and the glimpse of her soft tummy. . . Goddammit. 

“Yeah?”

“Well. . .,” her big, beautiful eyes found mine. Mother of fuck. “I want her to be just like her daddy, so. . . I can only hope she wants the same.”

The way she stared into my eyes, letting her irises mold to mine, I felt every word she said. I sensed her heart in every syllable of every word. This woman. . . .

So, before I could process another goddamned thought, I was sliding my hand up her sweater. Had to feel her skin. More of her, had to touch her body. . . I let my hand rest firmly on her belly, before my eyes were searching hers for permission as I let my hand glide further up.

Without even meaning to, my fingers merely grazed the underside of her breast; I wouldn’t go further until I knew she wanted that right now. 

Though, rather than giving me a verbal response, her eyes only seemed to sparkle more. Looking up at me, piercing my soul. . . Her lips, lifting into a secretive grin. Her nose, twitching just a bit, cutely.

And before I could make another move, she began to rise from her position. Though, she didn’t even give me time to worry that her next move could mean her possibly leaving me. I didn’t have time for that thought when she was smoothly adjusting her voluptuous, goddess-like body on my lap. 

She rested on her knees, on either side of my hips, straddling me the best she could in this spot on the couch. Her chest took no time to meet mine, her belly pressing, snugly, against my abdomen. . . She was surrounding me. I was completely immersed in her — just as the universe fucking intended. 

I felt her full, swollen breasts against my heaving chest. And, thanks to the thin material of her cashmere pants and whatever panties she’d decided on today, it wasn’t long before I felt all of her. And, maybe it was just my overactive, wishful imagination, but I swore I felt how warm she was underneath those pants. Felt her connect with my pulsing dick. I swore to fuck.

I knew how warm and wet she could feel. . . All I wanted was to make her get there. Wanted to get her there, through her pants, her underwear, and mine. . . It felt like her body was burning mine, begging me, with fervor, for more.

And who was I to resist such a damn incredible temptation? 

Not taking a second longer to contemplate it, I thrusted up into her. I needed her - and it was almost like her body was inviting mine in. . . Felt how her body enveloped my straining cock, even through our clothes, as she pushed down against me. She began rocking her hips, in time to some beautiful, unspoken rhythm. I fit, so tight, so right, in the heavenly crease of her clothed pussy.  

Pretty, desperate moans escaped her lips, but she didn’t let them for long before she was covering her mouth with a quick hand. My face didn’t hide anything, as I let my disappointment show in not being able to hear her. I wanted to hear her. But with a subtle turn of her head, in the direction of where her grandparents had gone earlier, my mind became clearer. She didn’t want to wake her grandparents. And neither did I. . . But.

There was a solution for this. 

Stilling my hips, granting both of us some reprieve, I removed her hand from her mouth. With a gentle hand pulling her towards me and her eagerness to follow my lead, the shell of her ear was touching my mouth. Right where I wanted her. “I need to hear you, y/n. . . .,” I urged, lowly, wrapping my fingers, gingerly, into her locks. “Make those pretty noises against my ear, hm?” 

“Yes sir,” I heard her sigh into thin air, her head falling back to rest further into my hand. 

Fuck yes. With the same hold on her, I nestled her head right against my neck. My other hand, keeping a sure hold of her left hip as I pushed my hips to meet hers once again with a languid, lazy movement. And, just as I desired, she was now making those perfect sounds against the crest of my ear. Even better, I got to feel her gentle, rasping breaths against my neck as I continued to move our bodies, grinding my dick against her in a pattern we both knew – very well.

I felt like I could damn well explode at any moment. The sighs fell softly and directly into my ear. She wrapped her arms around my neck in no time, showing she wanted to be right there, pressed against me in every way, and I was so damn relieved. Because god knew I needed it.

I tucked my nose into her neck to muffle any sounds I’d make, too. And when I did, I felt my eyes become wet at the way she smelled so much like home and safety. She’d created my safest haven, all of those months ago. I hadn’t thought it possible to feel so safe — especially after I’d left a place that had felt like the exact opposite.

But she’d shown me. . . Y/n had shown me that there was safety, beyond the limits of my mind’s imagination. . . She had offered a complete stranger a home, and had been bound and determined to make me feel at peace, as soon as I’d moved in. All the while, I’d decided to fuck all because I’d been so damn afraid of how much I’d felt for her. . . Instantly. 

a/n:

yeahhhh...... i love them.

also, we are not going to talk about how i forgot to insert the lavender page breaks in ch 13..... i will go back and fix it when i have the mental energy for that.... but my brain is currently sprawled tf out ...(working on a shit ton of wips/one shots rn + life is stressful, per usual lol)

taglist:

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @gretavangroupie, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow , @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmarge , @creadliz98, @mackalah , @lek-gvf , @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini , @welllauragvf , @highway-tuna , @dont-go-home-without-me , @sarah-gvf01 , @polemicandcontent , @ageofbajabule , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jennyraye20 , @builtbybrokenbells , @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo , @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas , @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave @chichi610, @freyjalw , @scoreofinfantryvines , @stonecoldmo , @divapadam @hailthegodsong @fleetingjake @demolitiondanchipsversion @stardustsamm @blankvz @mikiepeach

[jakeyt]

We aren't losing your sister right? ):

@joshym is sticking around. 🤍 I can promise you that.

…We are actually working on a mini Jake series right now. 🫣🤭

[jakeyt]

Writers be like... This character is literally my child. 

Also writers...  Anyway, here’s their trauma. Hope it wrecks them properly this time.

[jakeyt]

We’ve got some new stuff coming your way so soon! ❤️

[jakeyt]

Finally finishing my tags in a reblog! 😶‍🌫️🧍‍♀️

@torniturntomyarrow , @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmarge , @creadliz98, @mackalah , @lek-gvf , @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini , @welllauragvf , @highway-tuna , @dont-go-home-without-me , @sarah-gvf01 , @polemicandcontent , @ageofbajabule , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jennyraye20 , @builtbybrokenbells , @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo , @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas , @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave @chichi610, @freyjalw , @scoreofinfantryvines , @stonecoldmo , @divapadam @hailthegodsong @fleetingjake @demolitiondanchipsversion @stardustsamm @blankvz @mikiepeach

(Very sorry this is late! Life shit got in the way, ofc)

Covet: Chapter 13

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary: Life was good. No, life was great. Was. Until. Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture. You welcomed him into your life—your home. Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; sexual tension + tense themes; self deprecation; mentions of toxic + absent parents; vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; jealous!reader; angry!jake; pregnancy hormones of multiple variety; INFIDELITY; manipulation; Y E A R N I N G !!!; elsie + josh being wonderful + helpful; mentions/talk of being unable to have children; BABY KICKS <3333; very sad Jake + reader who want each other so badly, but won’t let it happen; stubbornness out the wazoo; PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 13 Word Count: 22.1k+

a/n: ok. shit's getting real... and i'm not bullshitting you when i say the next chapter is right around the corner. I FUCKING SWEAR THAT SHIT.

as always, massive thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits + listening to every time i have anxiety over my writings <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person - forever + ever. <3 additionally, a BIG OL thank u to @builtbybrokenbells. you are a queen whose throne is one to be bowed at. always. you'll never understand just how much your help + friendship means to me... in this silly story, other stories, and in LIFE. ily more, canadian me <3 an ode to my wonderful pal @gretavangroupie for being my push to keep writing always, helping me in the final revisions and edits when i release my cry for help. you are a true friend + i hope you know how much i appreciate u <3 a shout out to my homie @gretavanmoon for being my daily partner in flipping shit over anything + everything jake kiszka. you're a fuckin' real one, babe. <3 and, finally, an ever-present thanks to my girl @alwaysonthemend. Thank you, my love, for always being just around the corner when i need you. you're a personal favorite of mine + you know this <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

"The covetous person lives as if the world were made altogether for him, and not he for the world." Robert South

When I opened my eyes, I turned to look at her again. 

And I found a woman who was far from who I’d left when I’d closed my eyes. No more tears. Nothing even close, actually. No, her eyes were completely dry and she didn’t look anywhere near sad. 

Thank fuck. That was all she’d wanted. . . Just the gender. That was all it had been. 

Y/n wouldn’t mind. Surely. Right? 

Fuck. I didn’t know. But it was too late now. 

“Now. . . That wasn’t too hard, was it?” Maya said, breaking into the silence that accompanied my still-harsh breathing. 

I simply blinked at her. The fuck it wasn’t. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. “No, not too bad,” I replied, a tight smile stretched across my closed lips. 

After a few moments of rather uncomfortable silence, she was speaking again. “Would it be okay if I stayed the night tonight?”

God. Why did her question make me want to scream? Shouldn’t one want their super hot girlfriend to stay the night? 

What in the fuck was wrong with me? 

I was a seriously terrible boyfriend. . . No two ways about it. 

How in the fuck was I supposed to let her down gently? I really didn’t want her around when I finally got to see y/n again. . . 

Not that anything would happen between us — considering the guilt over Maya that was eating me alive. . . But the idea of having Maya right there when I laid eyes on y/n again. . . Made me want to fuckin’ hurl.

Think, Jake. . . Think. . . I looked away from her (like the fucking coward I was) to process my thoughts.

After a minute, I had an idea that wouldn’t be too harsh, so I decided to just fucking run with it. “I really think it would be best for us to have a couple of nights apart,” I tried, trailing off and finally looking up at her. 

The way her face immediately drooped — from hopeful to heartbroken — it cut me. Fuck. 

Was I being selfish? I damn well felt like it. But I couldn’t help what I wanted. 

Luckily, the words that came out of her mouth next pissed me off bad enough that I was able to stand my ground. Firmly. 

Her dark eyes dug deep into my bones before she began. “Why is that, Jake? Is this about y/n and the mess–?”

“No!” I started, rather loudly, at that. Dammit! Too quick. Too sharp. Pick up the pieces, Jake. . . “Fuck, no. Sorry. I’m—I’m just tired as hell from the flights and I just need some time in my own bed. My body hurts from the hours of travel and shit. I don’t know,” I shook my head, at a loss for what else to say. None of it was a lie, really. . . Just wasn’t the full truth. 

Her features were still crestfallen, but she nodded in what seemed to be genuine understanding. How she’d switched gears so damn fast, I didn’t know. But I didn’t question it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. . ,” she said with one final nod of her head. Her eyes connected with mine over the armrest of her car, made of pristine tanned leather, between our seats. “I’m sorry. . .”

And the crushing guilt again. Why was she apologizing for simply wanting to be with me? And why in the goddamned world had I let myself get so annoyed with her wanting to simply be a part of my life? 

“Don’t be sorry,” I rushed out, questioning my idea to be away from her as soon as the words ‘I’m sorry’  had left her mouth. I needed to handle her with care and I wasn’t. What the fuck was wrong with me? The next words slipped out of my mouth, encouraging the idea I’d come up with, without a single thought for my supportive and loving girlfriend. “I can’t miss you if I’m with you, you know?”

Selfish. I was selfish. 

“Why do you need to miss me?” The frown on her face tore my heart the fuck up. Why I couldn’t just say the right thing, I didn’t know. It felt like everything that came out of my mouth was misconstrued and twisted. I wasn’t trying to make her feel this way, but I couldn’t help it. Being this tired, I didn’t think I could communicate anything effectively. “Wouldn’t it be better to just be with me instead?”

“It’s always better to be with you. . .But I also just want you to have some time to yourself, too, My,” I continued. “It’ll be nice to have a night to yourself before you have to deal with your mom and sister all day tomorrow.”

“Half sister, Jake. . . Only half,” she playfully smacked my arm, making me look at her with a raised brow. She was suddenly ‘okay’ enough to play around? “And praise god for that. . .”

“Yes. . .,” I chuckled at her antics, raising my brows. “Only half. She’s a lot for you to deal with, huh?”

“Yeah. And that’s putting it lightly,” she said, exasperated just at the thought of it. “You’re still thinking you can’t come to my mom’s with me?”

“I really need to be with Josh on Christmas day. Sam is going home with Danny,” I said, even though I’d explained this to her plenty of times before – when she’d asked me the same thing about going to her mom’s. “ Josh won’t have anyone and. . . I just. . . miss my brother. Twins can’t be apart for too long. . . I’ve tested it and it sucks if I don’t get to see him when my brain and heart are telling me I need to.”

“I get it. . .,” She conceded, giving a solemn nod. I knew she didn’t ‘get it’. But, I appreciated the way she was trying to understand. Hoping that was the end of this torturous conversation, I almost cringed when she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m sorry for everything that got dumped on you. . . . all of the shit from last night. . . I should’ve told you sooner and I’m sorry my dad had to be the one to do it.”

Yeah, I agree, I couldn’t help but internally respond. I’m sorry you handled it that way, too.

On the outside, though, I simply shook my head with knitted brows. “It’s okay, My, reall–.”

“No, Jake,” she shook her head to disagree, speaking to me as if she were a mother correcting her child. Real damn similar to how her father had spoken to me. “It’s not. I should have told you and I’m sorry I wasn’t better about that. Just hard to talk about, I guess. . .”

“Maya,” I started, gathering my thoughts so I could respond properly instead of with frustration. She had gotten enough of that tonight, and I didn’t want to keep giving her shit that she didn’t deserve. “It’s okay, babe. I’m sorry for my short response. Just a lot going on at once when I found out. I’m sorry I got quiet for the rest of the night,” I said, taking the opportunity to apologize for any behavior of mine last night. Just wanted to say sorry however I could – without telling her anything. “Just going through a lot of emotions lately and that’s not your fault. That’s on me.”

“It’s okay, Jakey,” Maya pushed a smile onto her face, but the tiredness from the past couple of days was starting to weigh very heavily on me. So much so that I had a seriously hard time telling if the smile was genuine or not. To make matters worse, I couldn’t even find the energy to care, let alone get to the bottom of it. 

All I knew was she had been acting strange. And, I couldn’t figure out if it was because I was tired or if she was in a tough place mentally. . . To be fair, the past several hours had definitely been emotionally taxing for her. Any woman with a heart like Maya’s would be struggling after all of that came to light.

Fuck, Jake. Just get inside, I counseled myself, watching Maya’s lips move as she continued on about something I couldn’t find the energy to listen to. Whatever this is with her, surely it can wait until the morning. 

Yes. Seriously. Waiting until morning sounded best. Ideal. I was too irritable at the moment, and her eyes were still so sad. . . It was hard to watch her like this. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen her express so much emotion. And normally, I would be eager to ease her mind, but right now I just wanted—no, needed–to see y/n. 

After all of the shit I’d done to her – fuck. Leaving her here, the texts, the pictures, leaving the phone call like an asshole, not speaking to her all day because I was in my damn head. . . Fucking selfish. I was such an asshole. And to do that to the woman carrying my child? Made me feel pretty goddamn worthless.

Then, there was my girlfriend. My perfect, stunning, beautiful girlfriend who was going through something. And, I couldn’t even find it in me to care. After everything, all of the shit she’d helped me with during and after the summer. . . Selfish, Jake. 

The guilt was eating me alive, but I still couldn’t seem to give her any more than I already was. Not at the moment, at least. With a quick eye at the stereo screen, I noticed the time. Past midnight. It was past fuckin’ midnight after a day of travel. And we were still sitting here. Outside of the complex. In her car. 

What more did she want? She’d spent the entire past two days with me, save for an hour and a half of me giving into overwhelming desires. Then, she’d forced me to tell her things about Lav, about our baby—not hers. I was just tired from all of it. 

More than anything, though, I was not sure if it would ever be enough for her. . . Not after witnessing the way her dad treated her. Like a goddamn princess. I couldn’t do that shit for Maya. Couldn’t treat her like a princess. In a few short months, I was going to have my own girl to treat that way. My baby girl. And I’d be damned if I gave that type of energy to my girlfriend before my daughter. 

Still, I sat in the car, not daring to move as her eyes threatened more tears. God, I just couldn’t take it. 

“You know, it’s just. . .,” she trailed off, another sniffle, another stab straight to my chest. “I gave up on the idea of ever having kids, even though I wanted them so badly. A shame, I think, that so many people can have as many as they want and treat them terribly, when I. . .,” she let out a shrouded sigh, likely trying to hide the quiver in her tone. “I would give anything to just have–.”

“My,” I tried, knowing I should reach over and touch her, even if it were just a reassuring hand on her knee, but I couldn’t. Didn’t want to touch her. So. Damn. Tired. My brain hurt, struggling to keep up with everything that had been thrown my damn way. 

“I’m happy for you, Jake. Really. So happy.” And there it was again, her voice had cleared and confidence had come back like she’d never cried at all. Another wave of guilt took over, making me realize just how hard she was trying to keep it together, so I wouldn’t feel bad. She was too good for me—especially this version of me. “I guess I never pictured it like this. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard for me lately.” 

“Why ‘lately’?” I bit the tip of my tongue, holding back the sigh that was begging to escape. God, Jake, just listen to her. Let her talk. 

“Being so. . . Uninvolved. It’s difficult. Knowing that I’m going to be a mom–finally–but not actually getting to be a part of it. . .,” Another sniffle shuttered between us to show just how cut up she was about it, effectively tearing my heart straight from my chest. “And y/n is great. Seriously. Love her. . . but, I don’t feel like she wants me involved. I know it’s not you keeping this all from me, Jakey.” 

There was a fire lighting up in my chest for the briefest of moments at the idea that she was somehow insulting y/n. . . Why would she be insulting y/n? I knew way fuckin’ better than to think y/n would ever treat anyone badly.

Fuck, I felt defensive and I was not liking the way her name was about to fall off of Maya’s lips again – I saw it forming. So, I interrupted it. “She wouldn’t ever—.”

“It’s okay, Jake.” She cut me off again, wanting to make sure I knew she wasn’t attacking anyone, probably. But if she wasn’t, why had it felt that way? I knew she wasn’t, and she would never, but everything felt so different right now, so wrong. I was wrong for throwing her in the middle of this, and perhaps I was even more of an asshole for keeping her out of it. 

And I knew her dad would have said the same damn thing to me that I was telling myself. He’d put me down if he got the chance. Like he already fucking had. . . The man had known me for less than a day before he was tearing into my ass. All that had told me was how I’d apparently made a very bad first impression. Made me feel like utter shit that I hadn’t done better for Maya and her family. . . Too absorbed in my own musings. . .

It was really starting to feel like nothing I did was right, for anyone. Every time I turned my head, y/n was upset about something. And when she wasn’t, Maya was, now. I couldn’t fucking win. At least I’d learned y/n’s ups and downs. . . Maya had hardly shown me anything but ‘ups’, so I was still learning her ‘downs’. . . 

But. . . Was it even worth it? Was it worth learning another woman like that with the immaculate woman upstairs waiting on me. . .?

Fucking shit. I was not doing well. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep. 

“I’ve always wanted kids, and I know I’d be–I will be a great mom. It’s only. . .having no say in this situation has definitely made it more difficult, but I am excited too, Jake,” she leaned over to hold my limp hand in hers. “This is my only chance, so I’m sorry if I’ve been too. . . Pushy. I just—I don’t want to miss out on this experience, even if it’s not how I thought it would go or how I want it to go.” 

I had to close my eyes for a moment, taking in a long breath through my nose to calm my nerves. It wasn’t like that, and she knew that. I wasn’t trying to make her feel bad, or unimportant, or anything like that. And neither was y/n. Not in the slightest, actually. I wanted Maya around – wanted her involved. But, all of this stuff, everything about Lavender was just so. . .  Sacred. To me, to y/n, to us. 

Sometimes, it felt like that was the only part of us that was still right – that was never wrong. Lavender was like this safe, hallowed ground. . .

But I didn’t want to make Maya feel like shit in a situation she didn’t ask for. . . didn’t want to leave her out of things. It was just so damn difficult, all of the time. 

I felt so frustrated and guilty over so much shit. And now – it was a hundred times worse. Every time I looked at her after last night, guilt was the resounding emotion. And remembering what her dad had said. . . 

The insane reality was none of it mattered to me at the moment when I knew I was so close to. . . God. Fuck. 

And that made it a fucked up mess. I didn’t know what to do at the moment, and I didn’t want to try to know. Not right now, anyway. 

Just needed to get inside.

But, with a twist in my gut, I realized that even the thought of seeing y/n wasn’t even comforting me anymore. The thought was only adding more complicated feelings to the stack of guilt. And that made me want to crawl in a fuckin’ hole. 

I just wanted to go to bed, to forget about every part of this damned trip and especially this conversation. 

It wasn’t y/n’s fault. Not at all. It was all on me. I didn’t like the idea of going in there to face y/n, knowing I let the gender slip, knowing she would know something was wrong. It just wasn’t something I wanted to face right now. 

None of this fell into place with how I’d originally wanted to greet her after this trip. And I really hoped y/n wouldn’t be mad if she found out how I’d told Maya the gender. Things had just started to feel okay again. And I’d be damned before I let it go back to whatever the fuck it had been before November.

“I love you, My. Seriously. I hope you know this,” I said, forcing another smile. I just couldn’t talk about this anymore. I needed this night to be over. I felt sick with stress, and I just wanted to be alone. “I want you to be a part of this. I will make sure you’re a part of this. Okay?” 

“I love you, Jake.” And finally, I took some goddamn initiative and leaned across the console, giving her a quick peck on the lips to cheer her up. . . . also wanted to get her to stop talking. “Thank you for understanding my crazy head. I don’t want you to think that I’m upset or angry. . . Just a bit sad. I feel better, now, though . . . Thank you for letting me be a part of this at all. It just means so much to me.” 

This was becoming too much. . . Just needed to get out, to go upstairs and go to bed before I let her keep me in this car any longer. Her words were all twisting around each other in my head. Her eyes, so sad, I just felt so horrible. But her back and forth was confusing as shit. 

I just needed to be alone, and the longer I sat with her, the worse I felt. I needed to leave before I gave in and told her to come upstairs with me. I really didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to tell her to come upstairs. 

I just couldn’t take it anymore. 

I couldn’t spend another night with her. Not yet. Figuring out whatever the hell was going on in my head was priority number one. And right now, everything I felt would likely be fixed with a good sleep. In the morning, I would feel better. I wouldn’t be so. . . Apathetic, to whatever she was feeling. We could talk it out after the holidays, and we would be fine. At least I hoped so. 

I really needed us to be fine. At the end of it all, I couldn’t lose Maya. And I wouldn’t let whatever this was, whatever I was feeling, get in the way of being with her. I felt like shit that I’d spent my entire weekend away with her thinking of y/n. I used a lot of time that should’ve been dedicated to Maya, with y/n — whether it be on the phone or in my head. 

I’d ignored Maya — my girlfriend — and turned her into an idea more than an actual person I was supposed to be paying attention to. 

A girlfriend, who only deserved the best of me. . . Not leftovers from what I was giving to someone who’d torn me up so badly. Hell, y/n had hurt me so badly that I’d led myself back to Maya. Maya had picked up every piece. 

What. A. Mess.

My eyes were heavy as I stepped out of the car, and even if I was completely wiped, I spent an ample amount of time holding and hugging this dream of a woman who I got the privilege to call my girlfriend. 

After a while of standing beside her car, I felt as though I might’ve fallen asleep standing up. So, with a bit of hesitance due to the guilt still swimming in waves through my chest, I pulled away before holding her lovely face in my hands. Those deep pools of dark chocolate. Irises so dark, I could hardly ever see her pupils. . . Beautiful eyes. . . But, as I looked into them, I couldn’t help but wish they were someone else’s. . . The fuck was wrong with me?! I gave her a kiss, intent on feeling that spark with her. . . 

And, thankfully, it came when my lips touched hers. I sucked her bottom lip between both of mine, savored the taste of her. . . She always tasted like a mix of Wintergreen gum and cherries – a staple taste in her favorite brand of lipstick. . . Didn’t know lipsticks could taste good until Maya. Knew about chapstick and shit. . . but not lipstick. 

Maya was funny like that, though. Teaching me all about shit I’d never known before her. I really loved all of the things she taught me. . . She forced me into a version of myself I’d yet to explore before her. A man who was confident, but curious. All of the time. . .

As she drove away, I waved goodbye slowly and sleepily. The best smile I could muster was a tight one, close-lipped and slightly forced. I stood there a few moments after, watching to make sure she was safe while pulling out of the parking lot. 

But, while I did this, my duffel slung over my shoulder, I momentarily felt myself falling asleep. I had never felt so exhausted in my entire life. My mind and heart, tired. Conflicted in ways I fucking hated. Shouldn’t have even been conflicted. 

By the time I reached the front door, I couldn’t even think anymore. I couldn’t give either woman any more of me tonight – because I didn’t have any more to give. 

In the morning, it would all be okay. I knew it would be. It had to be.

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

The keys jingling in the door wouldn’t be heard by a normal person. 

But you were nowhere near normal at the moment. Lav’s kicks were still lighting up your palm and you knew Jake was supposed to be home soon. It had to be him at the front door. And while you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by being too excited after he’d openly ignored you for a day, you couldn’t help but get excited over him finally being home. 

The fact that it coincided with Lavender’s first movements you were able to feel – it made the largest smile you’d emitted in a long time brighten your features. It was simply too perfectly timed for you to slow down from opening your bedroom door as eagerly as you did. 

And when you saw him. God. 

He looked so damn good. 

You’d missed the fuck out of him, and to have him back home had you feeling whole. Like everything was clicking back into place after two days where things had felt slightly off while he’d been away. 

Granted, for the first few seconds of admiring him, it was his back facing you. 

But, still, you had to admire the way his long brunette waves fell over his shoulders and graced his upper back. His peacoat, hanging just right at his hips. . . And, while the back of him was incredible, yes, when he turned around. . . your mind blanked. 

So handsome. The most handsome. . . He was everything to you in that moment. Having him standing there in front of you felt like a pipe dream, but it was actually happening and you couldn’t believe he was back. . . The love you felt for him was inexplicably strong and you were coming to realize this more and more by the damned day. 

The emotion you felt at simply having him home again was unlike any you’d ever felt before Jake Kiszka. 

He just brought this fire out in you. Your heart, only ever beating this feverishly for him. His cheeks, red from the bitter cold outside. A whopping sixteen degrees and lower, all day long. Freezing temperatures to welcome him back to Brooklyn. 

The smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. . . And you noticed his eyebrows were scrunched, like he was deliberating something. . . Whatever it was, you were sure you could brighten his night with your news. This was the most idyllic way to welcome him back. . . His mood was bound to improve once you told him.

“Jake,” you breathed, the air around you buzzing with the cloud you were floating on. The elation over feeling her, rushing through your veins. “I have the best news. . . I just felt–.”

But, before you could finish, he was holding up a hand with a shake of his head. With this action, you were taken aback. Your face fell slowly, your own brows furrowing to sort of mirror this odd expression he was giving you. He wasn’t really frowning, but he definitely wasn’t smiling. His mouth was set in this straight line, unamused. . . 

Had you made him angry? Was there a reason he’d been ignoring you? One that you hadn’t caught on to?

This expression he was donning was one you’d seen before – when he’d be deep in thought after a serious conversation. 

Maybe he and Maya just talked about something serious. . . But. . . what about? Her? Him? Them? You? He had cut you off rather abruptly the night before. . . Had he realized it was a mistake he’d made? The shit in the shower, your bedroom, over the phone. . .? Had he told her about what had happened between you two? Or worse, had she found what was on his phone? 

You really honed in on the sight of his eyes. They were sunken and dull; held this incredibly vast emotion that you were struggling to pick up on in your state of delirium. The dark bags under his eyes told you that, at the very least, he was tired. 

But still, there was more. . . 

More that you were not too sure you wanted to try to figure out with the way he looked sort of corrective and dismissive of you. 

It all left a sour taste in your mouth. You’d put yourself out there for him: sent your first titty pic ever, called him to talk him through an orgasm, worked yourself up to an orgasm (with his help) in a public restroom (granted, it had been a single stall – but still). . . . The whole nine yards, only to be ghosted over the phone and now fully rejected in person. 

“I’m just not feeling the best and I need to go to sleep,” he said, voice raspy as ever. But his tone – it was off. He was off. What in the fuck had happened over the past twenty four hours? It was like the bathroom incident had never occurred. . . 

Understandably, you were very hurt. Your ego and heart, holding hands and equally bruised. But you did the best you could to play it off. Didn’t want to put any more on his shoulders. So, you didn’t bother him with it. Didn’t tell him. Even as you stood there, right across from him. Your hand, still on your tummy as Lavender was kicking away in your womb, waiting for her daddy to notice her. 

But her daddy couldn’t handle it tonight. And you weren’t about to push him any further over the brink of his very apparent weariness over whatever the hell it was. At this point, any person worth their salt would have been able to put two and two together. . . It was obvious to any one that it was you he was exasperated with. . . All of the signs pointed to it. 

So, you nodded your head with finality and did your best to smile as genuinely as you could. . . Worked to make the happy emotion seem real. . . Who knew how well it was turning out. All you knew was you didn’t want him tainting any more of this precious moment. You didn’t want this magical moment to be forever marred by the emotion he was carrying home with him from South Carolina. 

If only he’d stayed home. God. Fuck it all. Truly. 

“No worries,” you squeaked, clearing your throat to deepen your voice to sound more normal. “I know you’re definitely tired. Obviously. I’ll let you go to bed.” 

If you kept going, you would continue to ramble. So instead, you clamped your mouth shut and didn’t say a word as a grin stretched tight across your lips. Had to let him go to sleep. . . You could’ve screamed, though. You’d really fucking missed him. Didn’t want him to leave to go to bed when he’d just gotten home. . . But he wanted space from you. 

Since you were already up, you went ahead and moved to escape to the kitchen. You were thirsty and needed to fill one of your Stanleys – just not the one he’d purchased for you. 

The next words that left his lips shocked you, realizing he wasn’t ignoring you completely. It stopped you — right before you made it to the doorway of the kitchen. Hand still on your tummy to feel the flutters, but your ears, irresistibly in tune with Jake. 

“Hey,” he called after you, making you turn to face him with unmasked hope. Yet, he was already at his door, with it half opened behind him. That duffel bag strap, showcasing the strong shoulders you longed to wrap your arms around. “Merry Christmas.”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’d closed the damned door, locking him and his shitty mood away in his bedroom. 

Really, you tried to be understanding. But you couldn’t help the wave of rejection that washed over you, making you want to hide away in your own room. At such a happy moment, too. 

Blinking away the tears brimming your eyelids (damn baby hormones), you tried your very best to just enjoy the moment, the milestone, the very thing you’d been waiting to feel for so long. You stood in place, hand on your tummy in the same spot Lav’s little feet were thrumming against you, even more so now. You wondered why she was so enthusiastic, what had woken her up and why she was so intent on letting you know she was there, too. Letting your palm rub slow, tedious circles on the bump that held your energetic, enthusiastic baby, your eyes stayed trained on Jake’s closed door. 

Could she have been kicking because of him? Did the sound of his voice cheer her up the same way it did for you? Could she recognize her daddy, even through your tummy? 

Feeling a tear escape your eye, you began filling your Stanley cup with ice, and most definitely not the one Jake had so graciously bought for you. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling, the fact that Lavender was healthy and happy, but it just felt like something was missing. The apartment felt emptier, lonelier now that Jake had come inside and closed the door on you. On you both. 

He was missing the biggest milestone yet. Willingly ignoring you, not giving you a chance to include him. 

You couldn’t help but feel slightly upset that he was so quick to walk away. . . Yes, walk away on you, sure. . . He had no reason to sit in the kitchen and talk to you, especially not after spending time with Maya and her dad. (You felt stupid, thinking he would be excited to see you after just leaving his perfect girlfriend. That was understandable, even if it hurt.)

But it wasn’t just you. Not anymore, anyway. 

You were hurt on behalf of the tiny one in your tummy.

The ice cold sip you took from your now-filled cup distracted you from the hurt for a moment, just because it was so damn refreshing. Pregnancy really took it out of a person. You wanted more of everything. . . Food, water, Jake. . . 

You wanted to knock on his door, to tell him to fuck off for missing this, but you didn’t. It wasn’t his fault, even if you were pissed at him. For the texts, for the phone call, for the ignoring, for the rejecting, and now for this. . .

Even if you were sad he was missing it, you should have just said something sooner, before he went to his room. Maybe if you had just gone for it, he would have stayed. You wanted that for her—not for you. Always for her, because she was most important. 

Yet, selfish as it sounded, you did want him to stay for you. And maybe that was why it hurt so damn bad. . . You were doing this to yourself, in the end.

Merry fucking Christmas to you. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 25, 2022  

The sun shone in beautifully to escort the bright, cheerful winter day into its rightful place. 

Christmas. You were so damn ready for the joy the day never failed to bring with it. Last night had been a fucking drag and you didn’t want to spend an unnecessary amount of lamenting over it. It sounded most attractive to simply avoid the apartment at all costs. . . So, you knew getting ready for your grandparents’ Christmas was bound to take no time. 

You were past ready to get to their house and sink into their unwavering love. And, if you were being completely honest, you were also past ready to involve someone else in the unexplainable joy of Lavender’s kicks. She wasn’t doing it again (yet) this  morning, but you were seriously hoping that she’d do it again. . . Surely she would. But. . . you were trying not to overthink it. 

Before leaving your room to feed Stevie, you’d tentatively glanced in the direction of Jake’s room. You didn’t want to accidentally bump into him. Because, try as you might, your mind was stuck on a loop of the look he’d given you last night. How he’d dismissed you so easily. You saw it over and over. It was embarrassing as hell and you weren’t anxious to see him again after that. 

You were beginning to lose hope that he’d actually meant the shit he’d said before leaving for his little trip and on his trip. . . It was very possible he’d lost interest. And that broke your heart more than you cared to admit. You’d ghosted people before — acted short towards them to try and get rid of them. That was what it seemed like he was doing with you. Or, at least something similar. 

It was safe to assume he was appreciative of your body and what you were doing for his child. But, what you feared was that he didn’t think you were worth risking anything with Maya. . . 

So, it had been your lucky day when you peered curiously to his door and found it to be closed. And no other room was in use by him, from what you could tell. 

It was stupid that your heart fell at his lack of presence. 

Fuck your foolish heart. 

Majority of the time, it couldn’t be trusted when it came to him. But, you were coming not to care. You felt how you felt and there was nothing you could do about it. And you had more important things — like a literal baby — to worry about than controlling the natural way you felt for him. It was what it was.  

You just couldn’t have him. And that was that.

So, you went about your morning like normal. But, you did so quickly. You wanted to take advantage of the time he was still sleeping with his door shut. 

After feeding Stevie, a quick shower was necessary to wash your hair and do a quick shave. You hadn’t done either in the bath last night and you were enjoying still being able to shave. The inevitable was coming in a few months where it would be impossible to do so. No more reaching your legs or anything else below the waist once the belly got to a certain size. 

Thankfully, the no-no area wax was still holding up from the other night, so the shaving went fairly quickly after the hair rinse. You’d done the blow drying of your hair in the bathroom, not wanting to wake Jake from his sleep. 

As you’d dried your hair, you’d had time for your irritation to rev up at the idea of walking out and perhaps seeing Jake. Thinking about the idea that he could be ignoring you — or trying to avoid you — made you want to throw your blow dryer into the mirror. After what he’d done to lead you on in the days prior. God. If he was trying to get rid of you after pulling all of that shit, it really did make you want to scream. But you wouldn’t. 

He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Whatever floated his fucking boat.

 In fact, by the time you were wrapping the cord around the dryer, you’d decided you were glad he was ignoring you. Seriously. You didn’t need to see him and get all sad on Christmas Day. 

Once you were safely back in your room, with your still-sleeping roommate in his room, you put him out of mind. 

You focused on getting dressed and to your grandparents’. And once you were all dressed,  you took a minute to admire your outfit. It was really cute. Comfy. 

The mirror saw you looking at  your brand new lounge set from the TikTok shop. The prettiest cream color. Not see-through in the slightest (you’d been worried it would be flimsy material —TikTok shop and all that). You had to admit, TikTok shop wasn’t totally unreliable. . . At least when it came to winter lounge sets. 

Your bump looked adorable in the smooth, cashmere outfit and your ass looked incredible. In fact, you looked so damn cute — so good — that you weren’t even thinking about Jake. Or his attitude towards you only hours ago. 

With the lightest and easiest makeup on, you loaded up your oversized tote bag with your family’s presents. And once they were all packed up, you were ready to go. Had to get there to help Elsie get the food ready.

But, with a forlorn gaze, you eyed the two smaller flat presents, still sitting in the corner of your room. Wrapped in the same shiny red paper as the rest. You couldn’t help but feel slightly saddened at the fact that you weren’t sure you’d ever find the time to give them to him. . . Couldn’t be sure of jackshit when it came to him. 

At least not this morning. 

Nope. Didn’t matter.

You gave one final and reassuring swoop along Stevie’s back and promised her you’d be back that evening to feed her. Then, after swiftly grabbing your overnight bag, you were slipping on your long, black peacoat and aviators. You were ready to escape the suffocating feeling that encompassed your entire apartment. 

Making it down the exterior stairs of the building proved to be more of a feat with the additional bag, full of presents, on your shoulder and the overnight bag in your opposite hand. Gravity was something to become acquainted with again, the bigger you got. And additional baggage obviously didn’t help that. But, by the grace of god, you made it to the bottom step and were well on your way to your car within a few minutes. 

But, just as you were closing the back door, bags safely secured in the backseat, you heard a very familiar voice call out your name. 

The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy upon hearing him. 

And try as you might have wanted, you couldn’t resist looking up towards him. He was running down the stairs, his torn-up white vans hanging on by their singular thread as he was jogging towards you. He was wearing sweatpants that were haphazardly pulled on and the t-shirt he was wearing, the same heathered one, burnt-red in color, that he’d been wearing the night you first. . . . Damn.

But no coat. And it was frigid out.

“Jacob, where is your damn coat?!” You worried at him, not giving him a chance to say a word as he finally settled in front of you, breathless. 

“It’s not necessary,” he replied, the three words sounding more like harsh breaths than anything. “Goddamn, I am out of shape, huh?” He laughed, his hands settling on his hips as he briefly looked down, chest expanding to allow him a minute to catch his breath. 

Then, he was looking at you again. Whatever you wanted to say was trapped at the back of your throat. He was so handsome. His skin, ever-tan, glowing in the winter morning light. And the day’s new sunshine was doing the amber in the center of his eyes wonders. . . 

You almost forgot you were more than borderline mad at him. Almost. 

“What do you want, Jake?” You spit, blinking once with a roll of your eyes. The sunglasses that sat on your face were translucent enough that you knew he could see the motions of your irises. 

And, you were damn near elated at the thought that he could see your annoyance as you’d so blatantly seen his the night prior. 

He looked taken aback at your tone – yet, not surprised in the slightest, at the same time. 

“I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas,” he started, looking desperate for you to understand where he was coming from. . . That this was somehow more than a simple ‘Merry Christmas’. 

The sincerity in his eyes, with the traditional saying, was enough to make your knees weak. . . Though, it didn’t matter how sincere he was – or if he was trying to translate more than a holiday greeting. . . all that mattered was how your mind was still reeling from last night. 

So, you didn’t want to give in to any of the butterflies fluttering around in your belly. This time, you didn’t want their jittery, rousing influence. So, you stood your ground. Stayed mad at him. He’d rejected you last night. 

Rejected you — even after the (very) intense phone sex. . . After what had happened in the shower and your bedroom. . . After all of the shit he’d promised he’d do upon returning home. . . 

He hadn’t even stopped and taken a few minutes of time to hear you out. Hadn’t cared to. . . All while his baby had been kicking. For the first time.

It’s his loss, your brain echoed on a repetitive scream. And, at this moment, with your anger and hormones taking charge, you agreed. His fucking loss. He missed out.

“You already did that last night, Jake,” you clipped at him, resting your hands, subconsciously, on the small roundness of your belly. His suddenly-downcast eyes followed your movements momentarily, but quickly found their way back to your irises when you started speaking again. “You told me ‘Merry Christmas’ before you went to bed. Remember?”

“I—uh. . . Yeah, I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, shifting nervously on his feet before he decided to tuck both hands in his sweats’ pockets. “I also wanted to apologize for that. How tired I was.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing for being tired? God, Jake,” you snapped the words, without even thinking. 

His head pulled back, once more, in shock. Those beautiful lips pursed, before he briefly chewed on them, his eyes wide as he looked to the side, shaking his head in shock at your tone. All of this, blatantly showing his growing irritation. 

But no. He had no right to be anywhere near irritated. 

It made you angry that he had the audacity to feel any sort of negative emotion. It was your turn to feel hurt. And it pissed you the fuck off that he was apologizing for being ‘tired’. 

Last night, in his eyes, you’d seen more than tiredness. There had been an unnamable, heartbroken emotion that you couldn’t figure out then or now. The way his expression had hardened and wilted, all at once. . . It was stuck in a loop in your mind. 

He’d been more than just ‘tired’. And, on top of you not being able to figure out why, he was now lying to you by omission. 

But you were starting to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t want him to see how it had affected you. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, you weren’t going to be honest with him. So, you straightened up and hesitantly stretched a forced gentle smile on your lips. 

“You had a long weekend, Jake. It’s fine,” you tried again, grabbing hold of your belt bag’s strap with one hand. The other hand, going to rest on your lower back. This dull pain in your lower back. . . It truly had been a persistent enemy in recent days. And you’d been standing in your flat-footed platform Uggs long enough, on the concrete, that your back was feeling quite ungrateful for the combination. “Thank you – so much – for apologizing. Means a lot,” you continued, semi-kindly, before your voice dipped to a tone that didn’t mask your frustration as well. “But, if that’s all. . . I’m gonna go. My back is killing me and I’m past ready to get to my grandparents’. Thanks for the Merry Christmas. ‘Preciate it.”

You never said you were going to be completely dishonest. . . Just dishonest about your feelings towards the situation. Your feelings towards him. Just as you were going to turn on your heel, he was speaking again. 

“Uh—yeah. Um. . . Of-of course,” he stuttered, stepping back with a shake of his head. “I just–I just couldn’t go the whole day without saying something to you about it.”

“Mm. I get it. Thanks,” you bitterly replied, eyes squinting a bit with a sarcastic smile. 

Without even taking another second to consider saying something else, you turned away from him. Before you could expose your heart any further. And, just as you got to your driver’s side door and opened it to get in, you turned to him once more. 

And. . . there he was. Majestic beauty, in human form – now standing before you. 

He got to be the rejected one this time. Rejected by you. You got your revenge. 

His stare was pointed at the ground and his eyebrows screwed together in a conflicted manner. He was then saying something silently to himself before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, afterwards running an open palm down his face.

He was unhappy. Whatever. He could get over it.

But— it was when the same hand went to fluff the hair on the right side of his head. . . The strands of chestnut, left skewed in the wake of the tousle. Still looked effortlessly beautiful, even with more than one hair out of place. Then, once more, he was doing it again. 

He was jittering – feeling unsure of himself, most likely. 

The doubled flustered motion made your heart sink in your chest. He was nervous. And you hated it for him. And you. For both of you. You didn’t want him to feel nervous around you. . . Hell no. Losing every bit of progress was not the goal. . . 

You were just upset. It didn’t mean you wanted to lose him if it was possible he could still care enough to stop you to tell you Merry Christmas – and apologize. Even if the apology didn’t encompass the complete truth and he was masking something else, you couldn’t knock him for doing it. For, it was something you’d done a million times before. . . 

And, pathetic as it was, even if he wanted you — just a sliver of how much you wanted him — you’d take it. The way your body and soul craved him was overwhelming. The desire to satiate it meant your morality and feminism suffered for it at times. . .

With one leg in your car, you decided you could tell him one more thing. Before you left. Just to make sure he knew your opinion on a particular matter at hand. Something he’d previously mentioned, offhandedly. 

“And, no,” you began. 

His head snapped in your direction, mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise – surely not planning on hearing your voice again. Those handsomely thick eyebrows dipped before he lifted one in confusion. 

You continued. “You are the furthest thing from out of shape, Jake. I think I can confirm that much. . . Based on recent events and all. . .Yeah?” The lilt in your tone coincided with the blush in your cheeks. His lips quivered in satisfaction, just the slightest bit at your implication. You kept on, “Maybe it’s just a good idea to not bolt at full-fuckin’-speed down the stairs and across the lot.”

“I had to, though,” he said, his smile drooping just a bit to indicate his seriousness. With a gentle backwards jerk of his head, his brows still furrowed at you, acting as though it were supposed to be obvious that he’d been pulled to do it. He continued, “It wasn’t right for me to not hear you out when I got home. . . Real dickhead move.” 

Yeah, it wasn’t right, you mused internally. You are correct in that, Jacob Thomas. Thank you for seeing the truth of the matter.

Mentally, you were nodding your head to agree, but on the outside, you merely stuck out your bottom lip in contemplation before slapping on a tight-lipped smile.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head, once again not being transparent in your emotions regarding the matter. 

“No, it wasn’t ‘fine’, y/n. And you know it,” he replied, trying to continue this conversation that you needed to end. 

“Jake. I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything. I survived. It did not affect me at all,” you lied, each word like battery acid against your tongue. Felt wrong. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Except that it was, an inner voice tried to remind you. A big ass deal, in fact. Your daughter had made it a big deal.

But you didn’t want to tell him right now. Not yet. Sharing the news would keep you in this parking lot longer and you were ready to leave. Needed some time to breathe. You could tell him next time it happened. He had no clue it had happened in the first place, so it didn’t matter anyhow. Ignorance was bliss. . . Right? 

“What was it?” He asked, stepping forward just a bit. It seemed he was letting the tender moment take over for him. 

You knew he wanted to continue this and for everything to be okay. . . But now wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t want that right now. Because, you wanted to continue being dishonest with him. You didn’t want to let the tenderness influence your actions. . . You’d already given in to it by turning to reassure him of what sort of ‘shape’ he was in.

“It wasn’t anything,” you said the same lie as before, just with different words that were laced with dishonesty. Needed to go. Seriously. There were quite literally people waiting for you. Elsie was surely counting the minutes until you got there to help with the Christmas meal prep. “I’m gonna go, though. . .”

You positioned yourself to get in the car completely when he cleared his throat to speak again. “What are you doing for Christmas today? Just gonna be with your grandparents and Elsie?” 

One of your feet was in the car, your ass nearly touching the seat. But you stayed slightly elevated to be polite. “Yeah,” you grinned, the thought of seeing them made your heart thrum. 

You truly loved your family. . . They were so damn special to you. They’d been with you through the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. . . You felt safe with them. 

But, what was strange was that you felt that safety with new people now. When, years ago, you didn’t think you ever would. . . Josh, obviously, had worked his way into your heart, yes. That had been a shock, all on its own. 

But. . . the man in front of you? He’d completely, unexpectedly, nestled into your heart further than any other person you’d ever known. It had resulted in you truly feeling safer with him than anyone else. Even with the amount of hurt that hung in the air between you, he brought a sense of calmness that no one else could. Peace. . . An unreal, inexplicably captivating amount. 

He was your Safe Place, after all. Your subconscious, completely uninhibited mind said so itself. 

You assumed it was all due to the sensation of being ‘in love’ with him. . . He was simply more than anyone else. Your love for him went to places it didn’t — couldn’t — for other people. Never had.

It took him a bit to respond, his gaze looking just as torn as you felt. “Cool,” he rasped, the smallest smirk on his lips as he took a step back. “Tell your grandparents I say hey.”

“Not Elsie?” You joked, winking his way. Continuing this interaction, against your better judgment. “I’m sure she has some stupid ass Urban-fucking-Dictionary thing to call what you’re asking me to do. . . Snubbing her and all,” you wrinkled your nose, feeling sort of cringy with your words. 

You continued rambling to stay in the moment with him. Being in his presence was what your heart craved. “Because, if this woman can’t be normal about the way she refers to human body parts and what stimulates them – something that none of us want to hear about, anyway – she sure isn’t going to be normal about other shit. . . She’ll be quite offended and I’ll have to suffer for it.”

He responded with a roll of his eyes that indicated he was in on your humor. The curve of his lips was becoming more prominent by the second. God, you didn’t want to leave him. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he responded with an intoxicatingly raspy half-laugh. “Best to not upset your sister. Tell her I said hi, too.”

He continued to back further away, out of the way. He was giving you space to get in the car. To drive away. To leave. . . And while you should have wanted to leave, you couldn’t. Didn’t seem like the right method of action now that he was apparently okay ending the conversation. Because, even if he was okay with leaving you be, you didn’t want it to be over.

No – what you wanted was for him to be at your grandparents’ with you today. . . 

So, without even thinking, you began. “Why don’t you just–?”

Fuck! No, y/n! What the hell? That is way too damn much to ask of him, the voice in your mind heckled you. Know your place, y/n. . .

Phone sex and his face between your legs was one thing. . . Inviting him over for ‘Christmas with the Family’? Another thing entirely. There was no way that wouldn’t freak him out, right? Besides, you had a feeling he already had plans with Maya. . . . It was safe to assume she’d already included him in some sort of festivity with her family today. . . .

“What was that?” He wondered aloud, a brow raising to encourage you. His tone was genuinely curious. . . And aggravatingly knowing in his question. 

You knew he knew what you were going to ask. 

But, you weren’t going to say it. Nope. 

“Nothing,” you replied with a gentle shake of your head, tucking some stray hair that had fallen behind your ear. “Merry Christmas, Ja–.”

“Wait. Before you leave–I have to ask. . .,” he began, his voice lowering a decibel that had your tummy flip-flopping. He rubbed at his chin in a way that you’d deem delicious in your increasingly hormonal state. Fuck. . . “Are you saying you don’t want to talk about stimulating body parts?” He grinned, the corners of his lips turned up. The dirty words, combined with his demeanor, was making your entire body light up. “Because. . . I’d beg to differ, babydoll.”

Babydoll. Shitfuck. The new pet name. The one that’d had your body keeling over and aching as you’d worked yourself up for him, not even forty eight hours ago. . .

Without any warning, the use of the name had you suddenly remembering everything you’d felt, holed up in that fucking family stall. . . How badly you’d needed him – needed him with you. The way your entire body had prepared itself for him. . . The mess of your release, all over the inside of your thighs. . . You’d been needy for him. All while he’d been hours away from you. . . 

Yet, now, he was right here. 

And, well, you still needed him. Badly. 

The flush in your cheeks took over as you stood before him, completely disorienting you for the time being. . . . . How long would it take for you to just go upstairs and let him. . . . .? God! No.

Christmas. Elsie. Grandma. Grandpa. Food.

So — before you could decide against it one more time, you shot him one more toss of your eyes and the tiniest smile. Weren’t going to be honest about how you felt about the matter. You’d made that deal with yourself already. Doing the same as him, and avoiding the full truth, was safest for the time being.

The blush in your cheeks absolutely gave you away, though. . . Unfortunately.

“Merry Christmas to you, Jake,” you said, stilling one final time and catching his eyes before you slipped completely inside of the Jetta. “And, yes, I will tell them all that you said hi.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Mostly, you were giving her shit when you said it. The wine had not been tempting to you in the slightest. But, the urge to give Elsie shit? That was very tempting. . . Especially as you watched her pour her glass of red and take a generous sip.

“You know how fucked up it is for you to drink that in front of a pregnant woman?” 

Elsie only rolled her eyes at your words with a swish of her wine before she took another sip. The pour, already nearly gone as she poured a touch more into the pretty holiday-themed glass. Her lips, the color of mulled wine, staining the holiday green and berries that decorated the glass. 

“You know how fucked up it is for you to say fuck on fucking Christmas?” She challenged back, setting the wine down to check her phone. 

With a little smirk, you went about finishing up the green bean casserole. When it was mixed to perfection, you opened the oven and popped it into the preheated chamber. Only a few spaces left for the rest of the food on the hot trays. You eyed the incredibly sized ham. The smell of it made your mouth water from its place on the bottom rack. 

Before your stomach threatened to fall to your feet from hunger, you shut the oven and wiped your hands. It was time to move on to the final touches of the sweet potato casserole, anyhow.

As you began peeling the boiled orange potatoes, you smiled upon hearing your grandparents’ laughter from their bedroom. It had become a tradition when you’d grown up and left the house that your grandparents wrap your presents Christmas morning while, respectively, you and Elsie would cook for everyone. 

As adults, you and your sister had insisted on making Christmas dinner for them. Both of you, finding it as a teeny-tiny way to pay them back for everything they’d done for you two over the years. A giant, delicious dinner to finish up every year – with all kinds of delicious foods, that showed gratitude to their unfailing, limitless love. A consistent love that you hadn’t known until living with them. Your mother had not even been close to being the one to ever show you the authenticity of an unconditional love. 

Which reminded you. . . Elsie still had no clue about your revealed memory. Mr. Morgan. Mom.

So, you decided you’d tell her. No better time like the present. And a little bit of fun talk for Christmas morning. . . . “You know how I’ve been doing EMDR?” 

“Yes!” She replied, looking up from her phone for the umpteenth time that morning. Thankfully, she was slipping it in her back pocket, not allowing it to be a distraction. “How’s that going? I’m sorry I’ve been shit at asking about it. Job change and the big move does have my mind a bit fucked,” she said, stirring the gravy before checking on the tenderness of the boiling potatoes that would soon become mashed. “From what I’ve read, that type of therapy can get pretty dark. . . Are you doing okay with all of that?” 

Though, as soon as she was saying her last few words, her phone was gaining her attention again, must’ve buzzed in her pocket. You thought you’d be lucky to have her attention, but you were quickly mistaken as she was checking her phone again. 

But it didn’t take her as long to answer this time, and she eventually sat her phone on the counter, giving you her undivided focus. 

Seriously. All morning. The texting.

Well. . . to be fair, it had started about an hour after you’d gotten here. The texting and/or simple act of checking shit on her phone had been nonstop. You assumed she’d been texting, though. You knew the way her mouth rested when texting. And the occasional blush on her cheeks, accompanied by tiny grins indicated it was most likely Josh on the other end. 

You caught a sly glimpse of the phone, since she’d actually set it on the counter this time. It had only been in her back pocket until now. But now that it was visible, your curiosity got the best of you. 

And, you were able to see the presumed perpetrator pop up on her screen. Three messages popping up under his name. One after the other. . . . And then a fourth, right before your eyes. Dear lord.

The man did not know how to send one concise text. . . One thought, never failing to be split into multiple bits.

Elsie had told you already that the curly headed twin would be coming later. You didn’t know where he was now — all you knew was he wasn’t there yet. You assumed he was spending Christmas morning – at the very least – with Jake and Sam. Even if Jake did have plans with Maya, you knew him better than to believe he hadn’t carved out time for his brothers on Christmas Day. 

Danny had mentioned going home for Christmas on game night, so you knew it was just the three brothers here in New York for the holiday. There was no way they hadn’t decided on doing something to celebrate.

Though, selfishly, you wanted Josh here with you; he was a comfort. And, Christmas mornings being more comfortable didn’t hurt. And, stupid as it was, on Christmas, you always began to miss your mom the slightest bit. . . The woman had more negativity associated with her than positivity – by a landslide. 

But. . . She was your mom. And she was gone. On Christmas. What was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. . . 

Although, (of course) the ‘missing’ always came with overwhelming resentment. . . so you only ever tried to block it out. But, with lovely EMDR, the feelings were much more prominent than usual – harder to block.

So, seriously. . .Warmth and comfort was a necessity. 

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be experiencing your favorite source of comfort any more today. . . In the form of Josh’s twin. Fuck Maya. Seriously.

“Well,” you began with a slight pause, shifting your mind away from his goddess girlfriend. To busy your hands, you decided on grabbing a Bubly from the fridge. A newfound staple drink in your Grandma’s kitchen. Cherry, specifically. You popped the tab and took a sip before continuing, going to stand next to the sink as Elsie went about draining the now-fully boiled white potatoes and placing all of the food you’d prepared on the island. “I haven’t had too many dark sessions of unraveling the shit from our past. But. . . I did see mom again,” you paused, giving her time to respond to the words. 

But, she didn’t respond. No, instead, she was checking her phone. Yet again. 

So, you went on, trying to emphasize the importance of the previous words with your next to get her attention. “The first time I’ve been able to fully make out her face in years. . .” 

Still, though. No response. Her hands were slightly shaky, but the small, secret smile on her face as she stared at her screen, said it was a positive sort of shaking. They were truly insatiable. Whatever. Good for them and their happy relationship.

You continued, essentially talking to yourself at this point, it seemed. “EMDR is intense, but it has seriously worked wonders for me. . . You know, remembering things that I’ve forgotten and need to remember. It’s been a lot — especially with all of the mom shit. . . but it’s been worth it.”

To your surprise, she actually gave a response. But it was barely a response. She’d only offered a gentle,  “Yeah. . . Sounds like it.” But, still. She hadn’t stopped for a second what she was doing. 

She just kept busying herself with the food and her phone. Food, phone, food, phone. . .

Then, she was taking the lid off the pan on the stove to check on the cranberry sauce your grandma had put on. . . The vinegary, bitterly sweet cranberry sauce was the one thing your Grandmother still insisted on making. And, after a taste, Elsie was adding a touch more of raspberry vinegar to the pan. 

Normally, you loved your Grandma’s cranberry sauce. And, the smell of the red fruit and vinegar combination usually made you feel excited for the taste on your tongue. 

This Christmas, however, it was much different. 

The smell of the additional vinegar with the lid off of the pot, was making your stomach churn. And, as Elsie stirred it to mix the vinegar, your stomach rolled as the potently sour smell wafted through the air. 

The suddenly upset tummy only told you one thing: Lavender was not a fan of vinegar. . . And, chances were, she wouldn’t love Grandma’s cranberry sauce like her Mommy did. 

So, you backed away from the stove, your nose saved as you held your breath. You decided it was best to go to the opposite side of the kitchen with your sweet potato supplies. 

And once there, with your back turned to the stove, you let out the breath you’d been holding and finished peeling them. 

Once that step was over, you were dumping them into another bowl before holding your breath to gather the brown sugar and syrup that you’d mix in with them, from Elsie’s side of the kitchen. 

And, once you were at your counter again, you let out a ragged breath, your lungs not able to hold air to the same capacity they once could. With a baby steadily growing and taking up space that your organs usually did, something as simple as holding your breath looked much different now. 

The bright orange vegetables were cooked to perfection, breaking up smoothly under the potato masher you were wielding. The brown sugar and syrup were measured by eye, and dumped into the dish soon, once the potatoes were mashed properly. As always, you were readily looking forward to this scrumptious casserole. 

This was your favorite holiday dish. And, a big part of the reason you loved it so much was because it would eventually be finished off with little marshmallows. . . Yum. 

Thankfully, Lavender seemed to agree with her Mama on this one. 

Your mouth was still watering, as usual, at the smell of sweet potatoes. Your tummy rumbled as you held your breath again to face the direction of the stove.  

You dumped the mixture into the casserole dish sitting on the kitchen island. The dish had patiently awaited the potatoes on the kitchen island. 

The island held a variety of salads, fruits, crackers, dips, and veggies — all of them, littering the surface. These items were always first on the list to prepare, since they were good to snack on and couldn’t ‘get cold’. 

Once the sugary potato mix was pristinely pressed against the glass pan, you took a healthy whiff of the food you’d been working on. Then, you made your way back over towards the oven with the potatoes. Mouth closed. Nostrils saved, your stomach not in peril.

When you got to the stove, Elsie was opening the oven door to check on the ham. And once you were bending over to place your food on the last available spot in the oven, you quickly realized your sister was damn near shutting the oven door on your arm. 

“Elsie! Careful!” You urged, eyebrows creasing at the way her body seemed to be buzzing beside you. “Goddamn, sis.”

“Sorry,” she said on a distracted breath as she poked at the ham with the thermometer. “Just trying to finish this shit up. I’m starving.” 

You ignored her, your skin heating with annoyance. And, not just at her refusal to listen to you. No, it was because, for the second time that morning, you were being fibbed to by someone you loved. First, Jake. Now, Elsie. You knew there was more to why her shoulders were quivering with some sort of pent up emotion as she moved away to give you space. 

Whatever she and Josh were discussing was distracting her to a point of oblivion. . . It was just lovely. But, for now, you’d give her a pass and let her live in her own little world of bliss. One of you should get to.

Yet, her nervous energy was translating to you in a way you couldn’t ignore. Your hold on the dish, a little too tight. And, too late, you realized your unwavering hold on the glass had your pinky briefly touching the oven rack as you placed it there. The searing heat was instantaneous in its sensations, all the way from your smallest finger to your elbow, you felt it. 

Dammit! 

“Mother of fuck! Fuck it all to damn hell!” 

That sharp, stinging, and blistering pain was already forming a welp on your finger as you carefully removed your hand fully and shut the oven. Fuck, it hurt! 

The previous slew of dirty words blurted out of your mouth a touch too loudly, alerting your Grandmother, all the way from her bedroom. “Y/n y/m/n!” The older woman screeched in a motherly tone from the other room. Curse her super hearing abilities. You’d been blessed with a grandma who could hear a damn pin drop. . . her ears, continuing to refuse aging. “Watch your damn mouth!”

“Mary Jane!” You heard your Grandpa scolding her, just the same as she had you. 

Even with the pain that was radiating up throughout your entire hand, you couldn’t help the tiny grin at her own slip-up. At the same time, you turned the kitchen sink to the coldest it could go as you waited for it to chill completely.

Your Grandma was not a typical elderly woman. And you loved her so much for it. Prim and proper and so clean cut – yes. She was beauty, she was grace. . . But her mouth had always been one to slip a curse word in – whenever she wanted, a dirty word or two was known to slip past her lips.

It was no shock to you when the older woman came racing into the room to check on you. It seemed Elsie noticed your pain at the same time that your Grandma was entering the room, the younger woman’s body sidling up beside yours at the counter. Just as you were putting your hand under the chilling sink water, your Grandma was popping up at the other side.

The cold water against your hot flesh felt like heaven and hell, all at once. 

“Y/n, honey, put your hand under the water,” your Grandma said, on a hurried breath, even as she watched you do exactly that from her new spot beside you. “Goodness gracious, Lord have mercy, y/n.”

“I am, Grandma,” you replied with a small, huffy laugh. “Calm down.”

“Is your heart racing?” Elsie asked shortly after you finished speaking, her voice a bit shaky still. “Are you okay?” 

Are you okay, Elsie? You internally bated her as you turned to her to give her a look.

“Yes, babygirl. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” Your Grandmother asked at the same time as your vibrating sister.

“You two. . . I am okay. Baby is okay,” you replied with a small grin, glancing over at your Grandma before focusing on your finger. “Can one of you get me a towel though?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. I’ll get it. God,” Elsie responded instantly, seeming disappointed in herself. She slapped a hand to her forehead as she walked to do the task. “I’m sorry I’m so spacy. . .”

“You think?!” You hissed, though your mouth stayed curved in a smile. Staying mad at Elsie wasn’t easy.

“You’re spacy, Elsie Bug?” Grandma pondered from beside you, placing her hand on your back, the firm and reassuring touch floated soothingly  through your entire body. “What does that mean?”

“It means her head’s in the clouds, Grandma,” you said, on behalf of your bumbling sister. “Josh has her all weird and googly-eyed. Even over the phone. . . All morning and afternoon.”

Just as soon, Elsie was beside you again and slipping the tea towel under the sink’s freezing spray only briefly before holding it out for your hand. It took you a bit of time to oblige her, enjoying the feeling of the coolness against your burning flesh. Felt nice. 

But, the idea of the icy cold towel being snugly wrapped around your warm, persistently stinging finger sounded like a dream. So, turning off the water, you spun on your heel to face Elsie. Your back, now, to your Grandma. 

“You know why, Grandma,” Elsie insisted, shooting a look in the older woman’s direction, over your shoulder. “Remember what we talked about earlier? What I asked you about?”

“What does that mean?” You pried at her, brows drawn in with utter confusion. 

What in the fuck could she be hiding? And your Grandma knew about it, too? Was this why Elsie was acting so weird? She always got nervous and edgy when it came to surprises. . . 

After budging at her figuratively, you did so literally, with your elbow against her arm, as she attempted to wrap your finger tightly in the soft material. The movement of your arm took your hand from her grip momentarily, making her growl. 

“Y/n. Quit. Let me wrap your finger.”

“Elsie.”

“Oh! Yes! Our extra gue–.” But, before she could finish, she was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Well, lookie there! That must be them!” 

Them? What? Your mind was going a mile a minute. What were they implying?

It took almost no time for your Grandmother to race to the front door on her spindly legs. The woman was still rather fit for her age of almost 75. She’d taken her health very seriously, always. . . which you’d always admired about her.

It took less than a minute for her to get there, with the door to the house being on the other side of the wall. And, instantly, upon opening, you heard Josh’s rather cheerful voice through the wall. 

Elsie’s hand stilled on top of yours, mid-towel wrap. You looked at her curiously, her touch slightly clammy on your skin.

“Ms. Mary Jane!” He exclaimed familiarly, his voice quite actually reverberating off the walls of the house. “A very Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays to you, madam!”

Then, without any warning, he was very loudly singing “Mary Jane” by Rick James. . . to your Grandmother. Thankfully, he was leaving out the slightly explicit parts about Mary Jane turning him on and shit. Your eyes went to the wall, as if he could see your raised brow at the song choice.

While you were cringing at the song, it was only sending your Grandma into a fit of laughter. 

“Woo!” You heard your Grandma squeal from the entryway. “I wasn’t prepared for the dancin’, Joshua!”

Oh, Josh. . .

“Oh my god,” Elsie said to you, snickering under her breath. A little laugh left her lips as she rolled her eyes. “He is a mess.” 

The continued laughter that came through the wall made a smile fit to your lips. But you couldn’t let the moment pass without a comment about the song. With a tap against your hand, you noticed Elsie tying a bow with the small towel, leaving your now-wrapped hand. 

But, rather than running to Josh, she was checking on the ham – again. It shocked you that she wasn’t rushing to Josh. But, since she wasn’t, you didn’t. 

You also took notice of the fact that she wasn’t shaking anymore. . . Which relieved you. . . . But left you wondering what it meant. Had she just been dying for Josh to get here?

You stood in your place to joke with him, through the wall. Your voice raised slightly for him to hear you through the love song he continued to sing. “Rick James, Josh? Seriously?”

Just as soon as you’d asked your question, he was rounding the corner into the kitchen. 

But, the joke died on your lips – your mind completely blanking – as soon as the curly headed man made it into the room. 

 Because, trailing behind him was. . . Jake. 

You were pretty sure your heart stopped in your chest at the sight of him. The breath in your lungs, completely desolate from your chest with a single gasp. 

Oh, Jake. 

He looked so handsome in his all black attire. Black sweater, black jeans. And those worn, black Chelsea boots. . . The coins he’d started wearing, laying just right between his chest muscles. . . His long hair — various strands still damp from an apparent shower. . . Fuck. 

And his face, the most stunning part of all. He rivaled every other man you’d ever laid eyes on. No, didn’t rival — kicked them out of the ball park. He was immaculate, perfection in the most incredible form. 

Those features you’d studied for mornings and nights on end, nearly mirroring whatever expression you were making. A sort of stunned look behind his dark, deep set eyes.

You could see his apparent delight at the sight of you — in the loose grin that adorned his pretty lips. 

Though, rather than shock on his face (like you knew was painted on yours), he was waiting to see what your surprise entailed. It was as though he was waiting to see if you’d be more thrilled or upset by his presence. 

You observed his brown eyes, golden in the late afternoon sun shining in from the window behind you. Just like this morning. . . 

Those eyes, scanning your face, waiting to see how you felt about his arrival. And, rather than making the man suffer, you decided to show him. 

While you knew you couldn’t walk over to him and create a display, you knew you had to do something that would properly express the hope blossoming in your chest at the sight of him. The lack of display was upsetting, yes, but you were sure it would stun your poor Grandmother. The woman was oblivious to all of the parts and pieces of the ‘Jake and y/n puzzle’. 

Completely and totally oblivious.

You had to trust that your response would be fitting.

As he moved towards you, your heart plunged into the pit of your throat. He was coming up to you, just as Josh was to Elsie. He wasn’t touching you, but he was only a foot away, at best, as Josh and Elsie collided in a hug. 

He was still not as close as you wanted him, as he shuffled on his feet. But, he was as close as he could be. . . And the fact that he was near at all — in the same damned house as you — that was all that mattered. 

You let your lips rise in the most natural smile you’d felt since his initial return home last night. 

The same appreciation and whim that had been evident in your heart then was absolutely present now. Was this your second try? After all, he had come here. . . Though, had it fully been his choice? 

God, you didn’t know. And that was all it took for you to tone down just enough to stay in the reality of the situation. He was here, but he wasn’t yours. . . He wasn’t here as your boyfriend. He was here as Josh’s brother. 

But still, you didn’t hide the feelings swarming in your heart. You let your eyes communicate your unadulterated, contented bliss. . . 

And with the way his own eyes sunk into yours, you knew he understood — just enough. 

He knew that you were happy he was here. You could tell by the way his features softened.

And, that was all you needed at the moment. Just wanted him to know — ‘all was well’. 

“What brings you here, Jacob?” You asked with a bit of a teasing lilt in your tone. You had to remember you were being watched by an unassuming Grandma.

But, to your appeasement, she was soon escorting herself out of the vicinity. “I’m going to help Grandpa finish the gift wrapping! We are just about done,” she clarified. And, to not seem suspicious, your eyes went to watch her instead of the man who stood a few feet in front of you. “We’ll be ready to eat in an hour or so, girls!”

And, as she left, Jake came just the slightest bit closer. . . Enough closer that you could smell the vanilla laced with the sandalwood and amber in his cologne. . . Your favorite smell. 

“Just thought I’d join Josh on this excursion,” he clarified, his words authentic with the slightest bit of mystery hiding behind the phrase. “Sounded to me like this is the place to be. . .”

And, at the sound of his voice, you felt her. 

For the briefest of moments, for the first time since last night, you felt a little rustle in your belly that you now knew as a Lavender kick. 

And after the first, came another swift one, right where you’d felt her the night before. Her body was positioned in a way that you felt her little feet, right below your belly button. 

The timing was perfect for you to tell Jake about the kicks. He was right here this time. Right in front of you. And, you were just about to when he reached up to rub his chin. 

It was then, though, that you spotted a thick, dark silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand. . . Wasn’t wearing any of his other rings around this one. . . It was obviously a special piece of jewelry. 

This one, seeming to match the coins around his neck — that one-of-a-kind, antique silver that is unattainable unless you have money. . . A new ring that appeared to cost a lot of money. . .

You were hoping against hope that Josh had bought it for him. . . Or, maybe Jake had purchased it for himself? 

Surely Maya hadn’t. . . Right? It looked like an old, piratical relic. And last you knew, she couldn’t remember the difference between pirates and fucking mythology. . . Seriously, again — what in the fuck? Knowing that about the woman still got you.

So, really, you settled a decent amount. . . It was near impossible that it had been from her. 

Perhaps, he’d had it for a while, but had never worn it around you? Or you just hadn’t paid close enough attention to his wardrobe to notice? Yet, that was a fat chance. 

Maybe he’d bought it for himself with these new label paychecks. . . However, you knew the jewelry he gravitated towards. 

And, really, you paid very close attention to his wardrobe — perhaps more so now, than before. It was all your longing gaze had to torture you with. . . Concentrating on every Jake detail was the gospel for you. 

All of that to say, he had his ‘go-to’ rings. The same four or five silver rings — anytime he wore hand jewelry, those were his staples. So, truly. . . You knew this had to be a newer ring. One you’d yet to see. . .And, even if you hated the answer, you had to know who had bought it. 

Stupid, stupid idea. . . Why did you choose to do this shit to yourself? 

Whether you should have or not, you (foolishly) asked. “Who got you the fancy ring? Haven’t ever seen that one. . .”

The moment you saw the little twinge in his brows and the thoughtful purse of his lips. . . you knew you shouldn’t have asked. Fuck it all. His eyes glanced down at the hand he was, now, holding out at his waist between you two. Like it held all of the answers on how to respond to such a question. 

As if she’d sensed the new topic of conversation, and her mommy’s stress, Lavender began kicking harder. She was trying to gain your attention, it seemed. And while she absolutely had your attention, so did her father. . . Who you were still waiting on an answer from. 

After he’d taken a few too many seconds to deliberate an answer, and Elsie and Josh were seemingly in their own world, you decided you’d pry further. If they were distracted, you couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of your sister and your friend if Jake were to act annoyed with your additional prodding. 

You raised your brow at him. And, doing your best to ease any tension, you lightly tapped the top of his boot with a sock-clad toe. 

“Hey. . .,” you tried, leaning over a bit to get a better look at his face, which was now looking up from the floor. But, not at you. No way. He was very concerned with the window to Grandma’s garden behind you. Why had you asked about that damn ring? “Jake. You okay?” 

And, still, he didn’t respond with words, but he was at least looking at you again. All he did with his mouth was lick his lips; which, in turn, caused your insides to shiver with desperation for him. It made you feel even worse. This entire situation was so fucked. 

So, you back-tracked. Tried to save face. “Y-you don’t have to answer; I was just being nosy. It’s not my business to—.”

“You know who did, y/n,” he finally spoke, so quietly and with a tone that seemed too short for your taste. 

There wasn’t any way to stop the way your eyes leveled with his. You glared at him, hard. Right into those eyes. The same eyes you saw behind yours in every dream, the ones you wished to be the same to grace Lavender’s pretty face. . . 

But you weren’t feeling sentimental. Even as he seemed to soften, once again, under your penetrating, pinning stare. You weren’t having it. He’d made you mad. 

What was his problem with you simply asking a damned fucking question? You instantly took back feeling bad about asking. While it might not have been your business, it was a friendly conversation starter. 

And he was cutting you off mid-ramble, acting put out with you for asking about a motherfucking ring?

Lavender’s kicking continued on, growing feistier by the second. And with one particular jab to your bladder, you suddenly had no time to entertain Jake’s moody ass. Fuck him and his stupid ring, you suddenly had to pee. 

You were absolutely going to pee down your leg if you stood there a second longer. 

She was pressing so adamantly against you that the pain was sharp and dull all at once. You felt the buzzing throb, warning that your body would open with no chance of stopping if you weren’t quick.

Fuck. 

Without taking another second, you were shoving past him, taking out your frustration a bit while you could. Before you could leave the kitchen to get to the hallway bathroom, though, he was softly grasping your arm to make you pause. 

God. No, Jacob. Not the time.

He was already pissing you off. And now his daughter was insisting you needed to piss this badly, because of the bit of Bubly that you’d indulged in over the past hour. 

And, his surprise arrival definitely had you feeling all jittery and on edge. . . In a way you wanted to enjoy. But you couldn’t. He was making that impossible. With the blessed piece of silver on his finger and his snippy ass mouth. 

All of the fire you felt in your chest, you channeled to reflect in your irises as your eyes snapped to his. 

He looked apologetic. Good for him.

And, when he spoke again, his inflection proved the emotion emanating from his beautiful, amber-brown eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean—.”

Just as you felt his hand flex around your forearm, you yanked it from his grip, stumbling back a bit with the action. Which, of course, he reached out to help with instantly. 

“No, Jake,” you growled, holding both hands out to avoid his touch. Didn’t need his hands distracting you. Fuck him and his incredible hands. On top of that, a fucking tsunami was threatening to burst the dam of your body, lest you leave. “Not now.”

Seconds later, you were finally on your way out of the kitchen. And even as he tried to stop you again, calling your name once to stop you, you didn’t hear him. . . 

Because, all you could focus on was the heavenly hallway bathroom that finally came into view. The room that would offer you sweet, sweet relief. Relief of the heinous, painful strain of your damned bladder. . . 

As well as relief from the unexpected, aggravatingly delicious presence of Jacob fucking Kiszka. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Jacob?” Josh poked, raising his brow at the twin that stood behind you. 

He was right. His brother’s panties were, in fact, in a damn twist. 

For the past hour since they’d arrived and he’d pissed you off in the kitchen, Jake had become oddly quiet. 

You hadn’t gone out of your way to talk to him and ask him about it. . . Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. . . . Or so you tried to convince yourself. And, you were succeeding by playing oblivious to how your shitty response had turned into his now-shitty mood. 

It was annoying how you were still feeling in his presence, no matter how badly he made you want to punch a wall. Where Elsie had once been ridiculously jittery and weird, you now were. It felt juvenile. . . Felt like you were a preteen girl whose damned crush was hanging out with her for the first time. 

Every time you glanced his way, your heart quite actually twisted in your chest at the mere sight of how handsome he was. . . How damn good he smelled, attacking you, every time he came near to you. . . 

And, while you were finally (mostly) over the little fit concerning the ring, you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable to him. You knew you couldn’t handle a conversation and keep face. Especially not one about how he was feeling. You were not going to ask if he was ‘okay’ again. Not right now. . . 

But. . . there was a conversation was coming. You could feel it.

“They’re not in a twist, Josh,” he growled with a huff, his voice close at your back. Goosebumps were persisting on your neck. He’d come to stand behind you a few minutes prior as he’d finished conversation with your Grandpa in the other room. 

He’d joined you immediately after his conversation, as you took photos of Josh and Elsie. “And panties?” He hushed at Josh, tone distressed, worried. “Really? In front of their grandparents?”

“They’re not even in the room, Jake,” Elsie said with a snort, snuggling closer to Josh for another picture. “And they’ve heard worse than panties. Scout’s honor.”

Jake scooted closer to you. He hadn’t been bold enough to come much closer until now. He’d kept a safe distance from a couple of feet away. 

But, not now. Now, he was inches away from your ass. You could feel how close he was, by the way his body heat radiated to your body. 

Deciding to just suck it up — and not able to resist the urge to tend to his needs — you looked up and over your shoulder at him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. You would never get used to how handsome he was.  

“Jake,” you tried quietly, immediately gaining his attention. His face softened as soon as he was looking at you. Josh and Elsie were in their own little world already, giggling with each other and having a tickling contest or some shit. Gross. “There’s no need to be tense or anything. Just relax and enjoy yourself. It’s Christmas.”

His jaw went loose momentarily, then it was flexing again, before his next words. “Yeah, but you haven’t been acting like yourself and I feel like it’s my—.”

“Rolls and cranberry sauce are finished!” Grandma was suddenly piping up from the kitchen doorway. 

It was time for Christmas dinner. . . And, as if on cue, you felt your tummy rumble a bit. 

Somehow, you’d been able to put off how insanely hungry you were for all of this food. . . As a constantly hungry pregnant woman, on Christmas, you’d ignored your hunger for the holiday food. Damn. That was saying something about your headspace when it came to Jake.

“Let’s eat, girls and boys,” your Grandpa added, coming up behind the white haired lady. His thick, black and gray eyebrows raised as he looked at you all, awaiting a response. “Gotta get this goin’. I’m hungry.” 

And, then, they were both disappearing from the doorway. You assumed they were on their merry way to find their own places at the table. Following in their lead was all you wanted at the moment, as your tummy tickled at you again for satiation.

“Let’s go eat,” you brought the phone down, clicking it shut to give your full attention to him. Both of you turned a little until you were fully facing each other. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You can sit next to me?”

The offer came on its own, your heart speaking for you. And there was that fucking vulnerability you’d been afraid of showing. 

He breathed, his chest visibly deflating with relief. A grin quirked his lips, his brows rising. “I would love that.”

“What about our picture?” Elsie whined from where she stood, now-behind you from where you’d turned to Jake. 

Jake’s loose, lopsided grin made butterflies swarm your chest and belly. You felt his emotion, throughout your veins. His eyebrows raised in amusement, as you rolled your eyes at Elsie’s continued bickering. 

You had to turn to her to show her your irritation, forcing you to turn your back on Jake again. . . Which only irritated you further.

“Come on, y/n. Please,” she huffed, literally stomping her foot. “I took too damn many of you the other night for you to not return the favor. And you were basically fucking naked! This is nothing.”

Jake’s throat cleared behind you and your cheeks blushed as crimson as your grandmother’s living room walls. “Elsie Mabel,” you scolded her. “Seriously?!”

“Oh my god, Hormonal Holly,” she sassed, narrowing her eyes at you. “Cut the shit, shut the fuck up, and just take one more picture. Goddamn.”

“It’s nice to be young and in love on Christmas,” Josh explained, unnecessarily. 

Seriously. What the fuck, Josh?

“It absolutely is,��� Elsie reiterated, pressing against him and pressing her lips to his. 

O-kay. Dear God. You couldn’t take anymore of the cutesy couple-y shit. So, yanking the phone out again, you started snapping pictures. 

Whatever ploy this was, it was working to get under your skin just enough. 

And you had a damned good feeling you knew exactly what they were doing. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

When the cranberry sauce was being passed at the table, two people away from you, you instantly stilled and closed your eyes. You really didn’t want to puke. . . So, you did your best to ignore the smell, holding your breath. 

Jake noticed, placing a gentle hand on your thigh under the table as soon as your body stiffened. Your skin heated at his touch immediately. The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy. 

Naturally, you leaned over towards him and away from your Grandmother on your right side. When you were facing him completely, you looked up and into his eyes. 

“You okay?” He asked, Amber-brown eyes wide and curious. 

“The sauce—,” you gasped momentarily, catching a brief whiff when you stopped holding your breath. 

Your stomach rolled, the nearer it came. His hand tightened on your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. So, you decided to not try to speak, instead, throwing your pointer finger over his shoulder and placing a hand over your mouth. 

He peeked behind him, seeing exactly what you were referring to. 

“Oh. . . Don't like cranberry sauce?” He quietly asked, grinning down at you. Both of you, in this little world with each other as everyone else rambled on about nothing around you. 

His hand was still comfortably on your thigh, his thumb creating soothing circles on the top of it.

Rather than taking the easy way out and just shaking your head, you decided to try speaking again. You opened your mouth, hushing the word, “Vinegar.”

Though, when the smell momentarily infiltrated your senses with the opening of your mouth, you almost hurled. 

Your eyes pinched shut to find a sense of calm, covering your mouth and nose with one hand. His thumb was now creating careful stripes against your cashmere pants. You blinked your eyes open at him again. A small grin settled on your lips as you went to hold your breath once more. 

The way he was looking at you had your skin growing warm. His irises held every bit of care the man could muster, you were sure of it. His own smile was secretive and it made you want to kiss him. . . So, so badly wanted to kiss him. . . Especially as his thumb went to move nearer to your inner thigh. His fingers, now nestled on the softer, inner part of your thigh, in the crease made between your legs. 

Your core was heating up at how near he was to where you needed him most. For a second, you forgot you felt sick at all. . . Your heart, thumping hard against your chest and distracting you from the momentary crisis. 

Then, he was speaking again. “I don’t like vinegar either,” he said with a wink, his hand held tight to your thigh. You were glad you were turned away from your Grandmother, not wanting her to be privy to this interaction that was making your skin catch fire. “Hate it, actually.”

Wait. . . . Your brows crinkled in wonder. . . .

Oh my god. . ., you realized, watching the sparkle of the dining room light flicker in his eyes. Is it because of him? Can babies inherit food aversions in the womb? 

You didn’t know, but it seemed like a logical assumption. Your heart leaped at the thought of her already inheriting his traits. It was at that same moment that he also let go of your thigh, coming out of the little world you two had created to address his brother. 

Josh was apparently speaking, trying to get Jake’s attention and effectively broke you two out of the little world you’d created for the past couple of minutes.

You were definitely upset by the loss of contact for a few seconds before you found reprieve in watching the back of his head. . . His gorgeous, long locks. . . Thicker than one might think, always taking so long to dry. Even though they’d been here for over an hour, you still saw a couple of damp strands from a shower he must’ve taken before arriving. . . . 

It was ridiculous that his hair was enough to make you feel better. 

God, you had it bad. . .  That was for sure.

You watched as he held a hand up towards Josh. Thank god. Because he was just about to pass the cranberries to Jake. . . . 

Oh, Jake, your hero. . . .

“Oh, yes. . .,” Josh said, snapping you completely out of your reverie. You turned back to face forward in your seat when you saw him pointing a finger towards his brother, whose hand now sat on his own thigh instead of yours. You admired the veins in Jake’s hand as it laid on his leg. . . His long fingers. . . . Those digits, so skilled. The sight and thoughts had your head spinning. 

The louder twin was turning back to Elsie with the sauce, where she held it, curiously eyeing you, not yet placing it back in the middle of the table. 

The curly headed twin decided to inform the whole table of what was happening when he spoke next. “Jacob, here, has an aversion to vinegar. . . Always has hated it.”

“Grandma’s one dish, Jake? Can’t even try it?” Elsie questioned, jokingly. She wanted in on it, but she was still silently questioning. 

She was still holding the bowl in her hands. Though, she was about to ask a follow up question — you could see it in her eyes. You had no idea what it was going to be, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it.

But, thankfully, Grandpa beat her to it with his own reassuring statement. 

“Eh, it’s alright, kid,” Grandpa said with a small smile aimed towards Jake. The gray-haired man was putting some mac and cheese on his plate before passing that ceramic bowl to your Grandma. “It is delicious, my MJ. . . Just can’t be everyone’s cup of tea, hm?”

“Of course not, Harold. No harm, no foul,” she agreed, looking over at Jake with understanding painted on her beautifully aged features. She truly did age so incredibly well. You could only hope you’d be so lucky. “I’m not offended at all, Jake.”

Grandma smiled at something Josh said. But, you weren't aware of what he’d said because you could only stare at Jake, as he turned towards your Grandmother. 

“I promise I’ll try anything else you cook, Ms. Mary Jane,” he said in response to her, giving her an easy smile. Your chest ignited at the sight of the dimple in his cheek. “It’s not you, swear.”

“I believe you, sweetie. You’re welcome here anytime to try any and all of my other cooking,” Grandma assured before she was tapping you with a graceful finger. “Y/n. . . I’m sure you want some of the mac and cheese? You make it so deliciously, honey pie.”

When you were turning from Jake to grab the bowl from her, your Grandpa was still carrying on with your roommate. 

“Oh, Jacob. . .,” your Grandpa started as he forked at his green bean casserole. “Y/n’s homemade mac and cheese, kid. . . Woo-wee! My little Sugarplum is a fantastic little chef when she wants to be. . . You’ve gotta try it, son,” he encouraged, before taking a bite of his green beans. 

“Of course I’ll try it, sir,” Jake responded, nudging your shoulder with his own. You blushed under his attention, trying to focus on the warm noodle dish in your hands. “I do a lot of the cooking at home. . . Never really give her a chance to cook for me. Guess I should sometime, hm?”

Fuck. That sounded domestic. . . Too domestic. You didn’t look at him, kept your head down with a little smile on your lips as you hummed a sort-of response. When you passed the macaroni his way, your Grandpa’s little giggle caught your attention.  

Yes, giggle. 

What the hell? 

Had he caught on to Jake’s couple-y remark? Shit.

You looked his way, seeing he’d swallowed his last bite and was taking a drink of water. Then, he was grinning. “There’s no vinegar in it, Jacob – don’t worry,” he grinned, winking at Jake with a twinkle in his eye. “Unless y/n slipped some in this year. . .”

Thank god. You were very relieved that no one had picked up on Jake’s previous statements. . . Didn’t need anyone thinking too much of anything.

“Oh, yes, Grandpa. . . Vinegar in macaroni and cheese sounded too damn good. . .couldn’t resist the urge,” you sarcastically responded. Shaking your head at the older man, you released your own little giggle.

Your Grandpa’s joy around Jake was something you really, really loved. . . You couldn’t blame the old man for brightening up around the younger one. Jake brought the same immense joy to you. He made your heart feel warm in your chest.

“Okay, are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room? We all know — well, besides the twins — how much y/n loves Grandma’s cranberry sauce. . . Don’t you want some, y/n?” Elsie piped up from where she sat at the round table. She was across from you, and you caught her eyes with a raised brow. 

Was she forgetting you didn’t get to call the shots with what you ate these days? 

There was a tiny human who did a lot of the deciding. “The baby doesn’t like it,” you told her, sticking out your bottom lip. 

And, to avoid more questioning or Jake saying something without thinking (again), you decided to say something to (kind of) change the subject. 

You’d go ahead and drop the news you’d been anxiously waiting to divulge to your grandparents for weeks now. . . . News that you wanted so badly to share – even more than the news of the kicking. 

. . .which you still hadn’t told anyone about. Because, the more you’d considered it, the more wrong it felt to tell anyone before Jake. . . She was his baby, after all. Yours and his. . . No one else’s.

“I’d rather not upset the baby girl,” you remarked, looking down for a second to play it off. 

But, you couldn’t help the temptation to look over towards your Grandma when you heard her fork clatter against her plate. Elsie’s flare for dramatics came naturally from the gene pool. Your Grandma’s face made yours light up. Her blue, glassy eyes were wide with excitement, her mouth hanging open. 

“Y/n y/m/n. . . What in the heavens did you just tell us, sneaky pants?” She remarked, her tone one of a wise, all-knowing parent. “Did I just hear that my great grandbaby is a—?”

“A girl,” your Grandpa finished, from where he sat beside Elsie. His voice was full of pride. And when you looked his way, you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. His face read nothing but grandfatherly pride, his lips shaky with a small smile.

Your own eyes filled with wetness. Seeing your Grandpa so vulnerable was something you truly treasured. All your life, you’d wished to know every part of the (more-than-slightly grumpy) old man. . . And the more he opened up in recent months, the closer you got to knowing more and more of him. It was a dream for you, quite honestly. You’d always felt an innate sense of closeness to him. . . An unspoken understanding.

Back in the present moment, you were momentarily nervous over something you hadn’t really considered. . . 

Jake’s very apparent lack of reaction. 

You were too afraid to check his face for fatherly pride. All for the simple fact that you didn’t want him to accidentally out your fling to your grandparents. Though, thankfully, the two elderly people at the table didn’t catch onto Jake’s reaction. . . Or, lack thereof. 

Here was what worried you: you knew it would make sense to your grandparents for Josh and Elsie to already know. But would it make sense for your roommate to know the gender before family? 

Fuck. You didn’t know. You’d never done this shit before. But, even considering the fact that they had no clue who the father was, they still didn’t seem too worried by Jake’s non-response. . . 

Chances were, they just thought a roommate might not care so much about such a thing. And they were probably right to assume that. An ordinary male roommate probably wouldn’t care. 

But he wasn’t an ordinary male roommate. . . 

Noticeably, you weren’t involving him at the moment. And you hated it. You felt really bad for not — but it wouldn’t make any sense to your grandparents if you did. . . 

Though, Jake had to know something was amiss. You knew he did. . . Your back was turned to him during this important moment concerning his daughter, for God’s sake. . . Completely closing him out. . . Like he wasn’t involved at all.

Guilt overtaking you, you sent the briefest of peeks his way, only to find him forcing a toothless smile as he stared down at his plate. It wasn’t natural, you knew that much. And his leg was bouncing under the table to indicate he was feeling strange. 

But, to make matters worse, you watched his next move. Saw it happening before it actually happened. The tousling of the long hair over his ear was enough to show you that he, in fact, was not doing okay. 

He was definitely feeling jittery. He wanted to say something, you were sure, but he wasn’t going to say anything without you including him first. 

And he, by god, was not going to look at you. His eyes were trained on his hand, which was fidgeting with his fork against his plate. 

God. You felt so bad. Why hadn’t you just told them? They were going to find out eventually. . . 

Well. . . You knew why. You didn’t really know how to confess to a friends-with-benefits situation. . . . . to your grandparents. 

And now was definitely not the time you wanted to divulge that information. You’d already given them enough big news for one evening. The gender was a big deal. Only you, Jake, Josh, and Elsie had known. . . And now, your grandparents were in on the secret. It was exactly how you wanted it for the time being. No one else needed to know yet. 

“So, if she’s a girl. . .,” your Grandma started from beside you, causing you to look over and blink a few times in her direction. “Does she have a name?”

“Yes . . .,” you grinned, skin heating and stomach swirling with anticipation under the dubious expression on her finely wrinkled face. 

More than anything, you wanted to turn to Jake and have him say her name. . . Wanted to give him something exciting to share. But you knew you couldn’t.  

And it fucking gutted you. Made you feel like shit. Because it was his news to share, too. . . 

But, with the questioning gazes coming from your Grandmother and Grandfather, you knew you had to be the one to say it. They wanted to know now. And, as much as you wanted Jake to tell them right now, you’d put yourself in this position. 

“Lavender. . . her name is Lavender.”

And, even with your Grandmother’s crushing hug and elated words over all things Lavender, your heart continued to sink. Your Grandmother and Grandfather began debating, right in front of you, which big item they wanted to purchase for the baby first. But. . . you weren’t thinking about that. 

No, all you were concerned with was the man beside you. And you truly couldn’t resist the urge to flick your eyes to Jake amidst the joyous moment. 

But, still, he wasn’t looking anywhere near you. His eyes were still pointed towards the table, his thumbs now twiddling underneath the table, anxiously. 

Everyone flipping shit over the baby, and meanwhile, the  man who helped you make the baby was being left out completely. It was ironic that the moment was happening now. . . considering it had all started with the fact that you couldn’t eat the cranberry sauce this year. 

And the only reason you couldn't was because the baby bouncing in your womb had inherited the distaste from him. 

That was how closely entwined he was with it. She was half of him. She’d already inherited traits of his. Yet, the older people at the table had no clue that he’d had anything to do with it. 

Saying that you were at a loss would be a massive understatement.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

A couple of hours later, saw you in a much better mental headspace. 

Considering you were elbow deep in gifts now, you were able to divert your thoughts from the evening’s earlier events. And, one good thing was, aside from the pure sadness that had transferred from Jake’s heart and directly to yours, the rest of dinner had gone well. 

The topic of conversation had moved away from Lavender quite quickly. You hadn’t been able to stand watching Jake’s heart break right in front of you for much longer. So, after watching him for less than a minute and not knowing what to say to him, you’d decided to change the table’s topic to how good the ham was this year. 

And, with said subject change, Elsie had jumped head first into accepting the compliment. . . Which had gotten things going, once again, in a good direction. 

Truly, everything tasted better this year. It seemed that every year, you and Elsie got the hang of things just a little more than the year previous. 

It hadn’t taken long, then, for Jake and your Grandpa to wind up talking like old buddies, over music. And for the rest of your time at the table, you’d admired Jake with little chance glances. Though, there’d been no glances from him in your direction. 

You couldn’t blame him. And you hadn’t wanted to push him too far by inserting yourself in a conversation about your shared favorite thing (besides Lavender, of course). 

More than likely, he was less than impressed by your method (or lack thereof) of involving him in the Lavender conversation. Still now, you had the feeling that he wasn’t happy about any of it. 

Even as they were still going on about the music, Jake had chosen to not sit close to you. He was sitting on the couch a few feet behind you, ignoring you for your Grandpa — who sat in his chair across the room. 

You’d never witnessed your Grandpa be so open and talkative with someone who wasn’t in the family. . . But it made for a rather harmonious and divine holiday. You could listen to them talk for hours on end and never tire of it. . . Even when you had a bad feeling Jake was upset by your choices. 

And, there hadn’t been any more Lavender kicks to bring any other sense of completeness to your heart. It was as if she wasn’t pleased with you either. You couldn’t blame her or her father.

In the present time, you were, yet again, seeming to go against what she wanted. . . Your back was screaming at you as you sat on your knees, something you had never experienced before pregnancy. The back pain was a real enemy of yours.

You’d done a good job of ignoring it for the majority of the present unwrapping, but now you were shifting, every so often to sit slightly differently. When you were on your second to last gift, you decided criss-cross applesauce would just have to do. You were the last kid unwrapping — per usual. Josh and Elsie had already opened theirs, by age, and Jake hadn’t had a single gift. At which, he’d made sure to emphasize to your worried Grandmother that it was ‘completely okay’ and that he ‘wasn’t worried about it in the slightest.’  

Josh and Elsie’s gifts were the only ones left for you to unwrap at this point. But, even with only two gifts remaining, you couldn’t do any more of your heels pressing into your ass. Sore ass fuckin’ body.

The paper they’d chosen was shiny, just like yours. It caught every glimmer from the tree’s twinkling lights.

And, even if Josh hadn’t labeled his, you didn’t even have to guess whose was whose. 

Elsie’s corners were tucked (more like untucked) in the familiar way they always had been. While Josh’s gift was wrapped exquisitely, Elsie’s was wrapped. . . Not so exquisitely. Then Josh’s, labeled with a ‘to’ and ‘from’ and Elsie’s, with your name, scribbled in the top corner of the present from her. Her script alone was a dead giveaway. 

Josh’s gift came first. Once unwrapped, you found it in a smaller, long, slim box. A shallow box that didn’t give much room for anything too flashy. Josh’s gifts were always very thoughtful. Always drastically different than the last. 

For example, your birthday gift in February, had been the soft, fluffy blanket you loved so much and used every day. And with this box, you knew it would be nowhere near a blanket of any sort. Not even a baby blanket. 

You had no idea what to expect. All you knew was when you opened it to find a gift certificate for a professional maternity shoot, you could safely say that had been the last of your guesses.  

“Oh my god. . . Is this why you were so insistent on me understanding there was nothing wrong with my body the other night?” You asked, raising your brow at him, where he sat behind Elsie. “Needed me to be prepared for your gift?”

His own brow quirked, a smirk fitting to his lips. “Nooo, mama. That was just something you simply needed to know—need to know. This was planned already. Figured you deserved to have some good, professional photos taken while you’re in this magnificent and majestic state.”

While you weren’t exactly sure what to think, you were definitely anxious to see what could happen with a professional shoot. All of the theming possibilities. . . You wondered what all the photographer could do with lavender. . . The flower and the color. You were getting more and more excited by the minute. 

“Well, thank you, Joshy. . . I’m sure I will love them,” you grinned, winking in his direction. 

And while you wanted to turn and show Jake the certificate, you didn’t. One: it would be weird to your grandparents for you to do so. And, two: you didn’t want to piss Jake off any further. You just eyed the certificate to get a closer look at the company and the service. 

Glimmer & Glow Portraits. . . And, from what it looked like, you were getting The ‘Lush’ maternity shoot. . . It sounded pricey. The weighty material of the certificate felt expensive, too. And the swirly, embossed font screamed fancy. But. . . you’d never heard of the place. 

“Glimmer & Glow?” You questioned, holding the certificate up for Josh to see, as if he hadn’t been the one to buy it in the first place. 

“I’ll send you some example photos I saved of her work. She’s magnificent. Talked to a few friends from film school and they hooked me up with one of the best,” he explained, scooting closer to Elsie and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind her. “She’ll set us up with a newborn shoot, too, I’m sure.”

As you watched your sister and Josh mindlessly nuzzle each other’s noses, you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness at the fact that you did not have what they did. You, on the floor. And Jake, dating someone else entirely, while also being a few decently measured feet away from you. . . 

Your fate was a twisted joke. You couldn’t even look behind you to gauge his reaction to the sweet gift, for fear of embarrassing yourself or some shit. Josh and Elsie didn’t even have to worry about that kind of stuff. . . 

Though, instead of being sad, you tried to focus back on the maternity shoot.

“Seriously. . . Thank you, Josh,” you started, eyeing the certificate closer and looking at the specifications for the shoot. So many exclusive features. . . There was no way this had been affordable. “But please tell me this wasn’t too expensive.”

“Sam and Danny pitched in a little,” he assured, dodging the question. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m sure their portion was hefty,” Jake remarked sarcastically from behind you, on the couch. 

Hearing his voice had your tummy flip-flopping, made you feel jittery, all on its own. Though, what had you feeling the most overjoyed, was the fact that he was tuning in to what was happening with you. . . He wasn’t completely ignoring you. 

You wanted to look at him so badly, but. . . you refrained. All you could watch was Josh and Elsie in front of you, borderline absent from the room. It was depressing to watch, so you decided you’d move on to Elsie’s gift in the hopes of breaking up their display. 

“Elsie Mabel,” your Grandma tried, from her spot in the red armchair opposite your Grandfather’s chair. “Are you going to pay attention to your sister opening her gift?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Elsie groaned with irritation. 

But, you didn’t look up to see her presumed eye roll as you inspected the box carefully. It was also long, like Josh’s. But it was definitely more narrow, and not quite as flat. . . 

With a toss of your hair over your shoulder, you grinned at her. She was waiting for the question, a smile settled on her lips. “What sort of cry-worthy gift did you fit into this small box?” You quizzed her, genuinely curious. 

You were used to records or picture gifts. . . Sometimes a T-shirt with sentimentality backing it. The gifts from her were never dull — always thought out to the most specific extent. But you couldn’t remember the last time she’d gifted a small box. 

“You’ll see once you open it. . .,” she began with a purse of her full lips. “Don’t make me spoil the surprise yet, jerk.”

“Asshole,” you mumbled, beginning to pick at the paper. Slowly. You wanted to make her suffer in anticipation. 

“Oh, please. Go slower. I’d love that,” she mouthed off from beside you. 

“Girls. . .,” your Grandpa warned from his chair, like you were two hormonal, angsty teenagers all over again.

Ironically, you were still (very much) both angsty and hormonal. . . Just for slightly different reasons this time around. . .

As you snorted at the peculiarity of it all, you began to go a little faster to appease her and your own growing curiosity. Your Grandma provided background noise with conversation — as per usual. 

“Jake, honey. . . I haven’t even thought to ask you— how has it been with y/n’s pregnancy? Around the apartment? I’m sure she’s been a bit of a pill. . .”

Well, shit. Here we go again. . .

You froze your unwrapping, your eyes darting up to eye your Grandma, as inconspicuous as you could. She was right across from you. Not a white curl was out of place as she leaned, with graceful ease, against the arm of her chair to get a better look at Jake behind you. Her legs were stretched out, as they always were when she sat in her chair — and crossed at the ankle. Normally, the familiar sight would give you a sense of calm — but not right now. 

You felt your stomach drop, the present in your hands forgotten. You couldn’t see him, but you didn’t want to see him right now. You were worried. . . All you hoped was that this conversation didn’t lead to where it could potentially lead. . . But you had a bad feeling. . . . . 

Because, again, Grandma and Grandpa still didn’t know who the father was. And you got to win the fuckin’ prize for that wonderful decision.

“Oh, not at all actually. . . She’s been incredible,” he said, his tone lighting up significantly for the first time since he’d gotten to their house. God, you felt so damn bad. He continued easily, blissfully unaware of the torment in your mind. “It’s been nothing. I’ve more than enjoyed helping her. . . For whatever she needs, I try to be there. . .”

Whatever you needed was right. 

He trailed off on that one, and you couldn’t control the blush radiating in your cheeks as you looked down at the partially picked-at gift in your hands. You studied the gold of the paper in your clutch, noting every detail of it. From the scuffs on the paper, to the way the reflective material of the wrap danced with the tree lights. 

“Well, I’m darn glad she has you, honey pie,” Grandma replied, voice warm with sincere gratitude. She cleared her throat as she constantly did. And, again, it was not a comfort. It was nails on a chalkboard. . . Because you knew she was gearing up for more. “Truth of the matter is, you shouldn’t even have to deal with any of it. Considering you’re not the father. . .”

Fuck. You knew it was coming. Your body was tense, your heart thumping in your chest. . . notifying you of emotions you couldn’t show. 

You had a feeling, in the back of your mind, that she’d be the one to say something. It had been inevitable that words would be said, with how much your Grandma talked. 

If you were being completely honest, you were shocked that it had taken so long. It was nearing seven p.m., you’d discussed the goddamned gender, and they were just now mentioning the father.

Still, you were feeling, admittedly, really shitty about them not knowing who he was. Especially right now — like you’d felt earlier, but worse this time. It was completely clear now that they didn’t know. 

Josh’s eyes darted behind you, to where Jake sat. You could tell your friend was trying to be inconspicuous. . . And your grandparents likely wouldn’t notice his shift in attention to Jake as anything alarming. After Josh’s glance in Jake’s direction, you heard the latter twin uncomfortably clearing his throat from behind you. 

Goddammit. He was upset — had to be. And, he had every right to be. It would seem to anyone that you hadn’t said anything to them out of shame or embarrassment for who the father was. But that was the furthest thing from the truth. You just didn’t know how to tell them. 

All you were aware of at this moment was that you were a moron for not telling them sooner. That much was obvious. It was just. . . an uncomfortable subject matter to discuss with your grandparents. So, due to that, you were putting it off as long as you could. 

If you’d known he was coming today, though, you would have thought of a way on the spot to tell them before his arrival. But now. . .? How the fuck would you just throw that into conversation now?

The act of worrying over Jake and any possible internal or emotional reaction he could have to this was taking a decent amount of mental energy. So, you tried to simply zone completely in on the gift you were unwrapping. . . You could do that. . .

But your confidence in that shook when your Grandpa began talking.

“We just hope the guy is helping out a little,” the old man sighed, disappointment painted in the words. “Not leaving it all on the damn roommate,” your Grandpa grunted from his seat. You looked over at him, trying to feign any emotion besides the worry stirring in your gut. You found him adjusting his hands over his stomach before reclining back into his chair. “I mean, we can only trust the guy so much. . . We’ve yet to meet ‘im.”

God. Why were they being like this about it? So obviously hateful about the father? Though, with your Grandma’s next words, it all clicked. 

“The girls lacked a true father in their lives. . . He was only around for a bit before he was gone. . . Left their mother to do all of the work. . .,” she trailed off, the mention of your mother made the room still for a bit. 

Your mom was never mentioned — whether she was their daughter or not, you and Elsie were their girls. And, because they knew she’d caused you both immense pain — enough that they’d had to save you two —, they didn’t speak of her. Hardly ever.

So. . . Why all of this now?

“He was a deadbeat, MJ. . . Just say it,” your Grandpa emphasized the rude (but true) word, venom dripping from his tone as he spit it. “He refused to acknowledge his role as a father, but still stayed around long enough to make two girls he should have been better to. He missed out. . . Plain and simple. We can only hope Lavender’s father won’t make the same foolish decision.”

Your gut was rolling. The urge to vomit, suddenly lurking at the front of your racing mind. The mention of your mom and the reminder of your absent father made you feel even shittier. For a variety of reasons, you were feeling the most uncomfortable in this home than you had for a long time. 

Mostly, you were kicking yourself for not giving Jake the paternal credit he deserved. You couldn’t give two shits about your terrible parents and what they’d done (or hadn’t done) to and for you. All that mattered was Jake’s heart in this matter. And you knew how Jake was as a father. . . Completely opposite of your parents — both of them — in every way.

He was the ideal father. Helper. Co-parent. Already. 

But, only God knew how your grandparents would react to the news of Jake. Would they be angry that he was just now coming to a family gathering after so long? Would they be disappointed in you for not including him better? Would they automatically assume that he didn’t want to be a father and make assumptions before you could defend him? 

At this moment, it was impossible to tell them anything. . . And it was impossible to imagine how it would go if you tried. 

And, you were not going to make this Christmas any more uncomfortable than it already was at this very moment.

The only idea you could come up with was opening Elsie’s gift. You could get the room focused on something else. . . Anything else was better than this. 

Your fingers tore the messy corners of the paper with a much mightier speed. There was intention there that hadn’t been present before. Though, just before you could open the box, you heard Jake’s voice. 

You wanted to show him respect by waiting to hear him out. . . Whatever he wanted to say. . . (Also. . . you were admittedly curious how he would respond to all of that. . .) 

“Yeah. . . I mean, I never saw a guy traipsing through the place,” he started, his voice lacking any real depth. 

The pressure of your teeth against your lip was hardly noticeable as you kept your hand stilled on the lid of the box. At the moment, you didn’t even care if it looked suspicious that you were so focused on the sound of his voice.

He was trying to distance himself from the situation, trying to play aloof. You respected it, but it caught you off guard. What could he say next?

 “Well, there was one — is one — that she studies with every week. . . But there is no way it’s him,” he laughed sardonically under his breath. You imagined he was shaking his head. “Y/n wouldn’t ever lower herself to that standard of man. . .” 

“She has been rather picky through the years,” Elsie chimed in, from your right. You looked over to her, as she sent a grin your way that said ‘I’m right here. Don’t worry.’ “The baby’s daddy has to be an upstanding guy.”

Jake continued as though she hadn’t even spoken. His voice was clipped — you realized this. To anyone unassuming, his tone wasn’t strange. But to you? You knew he was pissed. 

“For all we know, the man was a mistake, Elsie. . . Who knows? A one night thing, perhaps?” 

Oh. . . So he was accusing you of one night stands in front of your grandparents?

“Jacob, she doesn’t venture down those paths. . .,” Josh tried, playing it off as a slight joke. “You know that.”

You were grateful for his quip, nodding towards him, in agreement with his statement. His brow was raised, though, when he caught your eye. . . He was questioning you. . . probably curious, as well, as to why you hadn’t clued your grandparents in on his brother’s role. 

Yes, again. . . you felt like shit about it.

Though, it landed on deaf ears where Jake was concerned. He clicked his tongue, his tone raising a bit to play off of a lighter feel. But you knew better. 

“I don’t know. . .,” he responded, presumably, to Josh. “She doesn’t really talk to me about anything. I found out about the baby by mistake, actually. . . She hasn’t been real big on telling people. Even those she lives with. . .,” he literally tacked on a huff of a chuckle to the end of his words. 

Nice. Hashing that instance out, too, was he? 

“It was shocking to find out, since I’d never seen anyone around. So, I don’t know. . .,” he finished with the curious words, just as he’d started. 

He was at a loss of knowing how to continue, it seemed. And so were you. His words were cutting straight to your heart. All of them. 

And, while he was obviously hurt (you knew him), he was playing it off strangely well. It just meant to you that he was really trying to put on a front for your grandparents. Knowing Jake, he didn’t want to cause any discomfort for them either. 

“Maybe she’s still feeling off about the idea of telling him,” Jake suddenly continued, apparently still having more to say. “Maybe she never will. . . And, yeah, maybe some would say she should give him the chance. . . But. . . that’s up to her.”

Fuck. Was that a backhanded thing? An emphasis on you not giving him a chance to your grandparents? Or were you just overthinking? God only knew. . .

“Oh, absolutely, Jacob,” your Grandma agreed, automatically. She was buying all of it. Jake was covering better than you could have begun to try. He was shielding your ass, even while ripping your heart to pieces with the hurt you’d inflicted on him. “I mean, I have to trust her. After all, I did raise the girl. . . And I believe she’ll do whatever she believes is best for her babygirl.”

“I agree. She’s already a fantastic mother,” Jake replied, a sad smile laced into his raspy timbre (you knew those little indicators in his tone). On your own face, you felt a watery smile form. If your grandparents noticed it, you didn’t care. His words were sweet, regardless. And, his next words caused the smile to become shakier. “I just hope if she does tell him, the guy isn’t a deadbeat. . . Y/n deserves better than that. The baby deserves better than that.”

Your baby, Jake. . . And that baby does have the best of the best. . .

The sniffle that escaped your nose was unstoppable, as was the single tear that trickled down your cheek onto your hand. You had to say something to that. 

“Thanks, Jake,” you replied, turning your head to the side to acknowledge him. Though, you were not daring looking at him. You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t completely break down, thus exposing something on accident.

“It’s true, y/n,” he said, tone softer than you deserved for putting him in this situation. You were lying to your grandparents, not giving Jake a chance to be involved, yet again. . . And, still, he was being so kind. “You are an incredible mother to her.”

Goddammit. Your shaky hand that reached up to stop more tears was your savior.

“Well, I’ll be. . . You seem to have just as much to say about this as you do music!” Grandpa laughed, slapping his thighs. The sound made you jump, looking over at the man, from where you’d apparently zoned out on the air between you and Jake. Your Grandpa’s copper skin, freckled with dark specks; his cheeks were pressed with genuine dimples. He was obviously elated with Jake’s responses. “If only you were the father, son. . . We wouldn’t even be stressin’ this!”

“Harold!” Your Grandma scolded him, laughing at him all the same. “You quit that. Don’t want to make the poor kids uncomfortable.”

Oh, yes, Grandma. . . We wouldn’t want that, now would we? The thoughts were instantaneous as you closed your eyes with a shake of your head. 

When you opened your eyes, your attention was visually trained on her. But, your thoughts weren’t concerned with her. No, all you felt was the stare that was heating the skin on the back of your body. Your entire backside was hot with the fact that Jake was right behind you. You felt him. Your mind was swimming with him. Everything he’d said. . . 

And, considering he had said all of that, you hated how very silent he was suddenly being. . . 

. . .Or did you? 

What was better for you at the moment? What would not make your supposed POTS — whatever heart issue — go into overdrive? You knew both reactions would have you overthinking to incredible heights. 

Honestly, you were just glad he hadn’t found a reason to ask Josh if they could leave. . . Or maybe he was just waiting until the presents were all unwrapped to ask his brother if they could dip out. 

Your heartbeat was thumping in your ears at the prospect of him leaving.

Because, one thing you did know: you did not want Jake to be away from you. You’d missed him and needed to keep him close. So, you needed him to stay long enough that you could explain yourself. Had to make sure he understood why your grandparents were still in the dark. . . 

Though, did you even understand why anymore?

a/n: when do you think her grandparents will find out? and, um... how do you think the rest of Christmas will go?... hm... the possibilities are endless, one might say ;)

AS ALWAYS -- please send in asks, respond to chapters, etc. I PROMISE I SEE THEM AND IT IS THE BEST REWARD FOR THE DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS SPENT WRITING THIS STORY! <333 this story takes up SO MUCH time in my already busy family-filled, work-filled, etc. life, but YOU all make it WORTH IT. So I LOVE to hear from you!!!!! <3 xoxoxo

trying my best to keep up w the Covet Visualizer... you may view it if you'd like. however, you don't NEED TO. i simply am a very visual person, sooo i made it for my fellow visual learners/lovers. the photos i pulled inspo from for y/n's photos in this chapter will be in the visualizer :D !!! (IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO USE IT, PLEASE VIEW IT IN PRINT LAYOUT!! — esp if you’re using the docs app/are on your phone!!)

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @jennyraye20

I always try to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! ughhh (taglist will be cont. in reblog !!) Please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3

[jakeyt]

i need her gone next chapter im sorry i cant take it

I am very sorry to disappoint you, my love…….

🫥😶‍🌫️

[jakeyt]

previous maya hater anon here… like why does she think shes lavender’s mother??? GET AWAY FROM HER

AHHH !!! Fr 🤬🤬

…who thinks they know how much longer she’ll be around

[jakeyt]

im going to crash out i hate maya so bad😭

Me too, babe… me too 💔

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 13

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary: Life was good. No, life was great. Was. Until. Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture. You welcomed him into your life—your home. Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; sexual tension + tense themes; self deprecation; mentions of toxic + absent parents; vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; jealous!reader; angry!jake; pregnancy hormones of multiple variety; INFIDELITY; manipulation; Y E A R N I N G !!!; elsie + josh being wonderful + helpful; mentions/talk of being unable to have children; BABY KICKS <3333; very sad Jake + reader who want each other so badly, but won’t let it happen; stubbornness out the wazoo; PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 13 Word Count: 22.1k+

a/n: ok. shit's getting real... and i'm not bullshitting you when i say the next chapter is right around the corner. I FUCKING SWEAR THAT SHIT.

as always, massive thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits + listening to every time i have anxiety over my writings <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person - forever + ever. <3 additionally, a BIG OL thank u to @builtbybrokenbells. you are a queen whose throne is one to be bowed at. always. you'll never understand just how much your help + friendship means to me... in this silly story, other stories, and in LIFE. ily more, canadian me <3 an ode to my wonderful pal @gretavangroupie for being my push to keep writing always, helping me in the final revisions and edits when i release my cry for help. you are a true friend + i hope you know how much i appreciate u <3 a shout out to my homie @gretavanmoon for being my daily partner in flipping shit over anything + everything jake kiszka. you're a fuckin' real one, babe. <3 and, finally, an ever-present thanks to my girl @alwaysonthemend. Thank you, my love, for always being just around the corner when i need you. you're a personal favorite of mine + you know this <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

"The covetous person lives as if the world were made altogether for him, and not he for the world." Robert South

When I opened my eyes, I turned to look at her again. 

And I found a woman who was far from who I’d left when I’d closed my eyes. No more tears. Nothing even close, actually. No, her eyes were completely dry and she didn’t look anywhere near sad. 

Thank fuck. That was all she’d wanted. . . Just the gender. That was all it had been. 

Y/n wouldn’t mind. Surely. Right? 

Fuck. I didn’t know. But it was too late now. 

“Now. . . That wasn’t too hard, was it?” Maya said, breaking into the silence that accompanied my still-harsh breathing. 

I simply blinked at her. The fuck it wasn’t. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. “No, not too bad,” I replied, a tight smile stretched across my closed lips. 

After a few moments of rather uncomfortable silence, she was speaking again. “Would it be okay if I stayed the night tonight?”

God. Why did her question make me want to scream? Shouldn’t one want their super hot girlfriend to stay the night? 

What in the fuck was wrong with me? 

I was a seriously terrible boyfriend. . . No two ways about it. 

How in the fuck was I supposed to let her down gently? I really didn’t want her around when I finally got to see y/n again. . . 

Not that anything would happen between us — considering the guilt over Maya that was eating me alive. . . But the idea of having Maya right there when I laid eyes on y/n again. . . Made me want to fuckin’ hurl.

Think, Jake. . . Think. . . I looked away from her (like the fucking coward I was) to process my thoughts.

After a minute, I had an idea that wouldn’t be too harsh, so I decided to just fucking run with it. “I really think it would be best for us to have a couple of nights apart,” I tried, trailing off and finally looking up at her. 

The way her face immediately drooped — from hopeful to heartbroken — it cut me. Fuck. 

Was I being selfish? I damn well felt like it. But I couldn’t help what I wanted. 

Luckily, the words that came out of her mouth next pissed me off bad enough that I was able to stand my ground. Firmly. 

Her dark eyes dug deep into my bones before she began. “Why is that, Jake? Is this about y/n and the mess–?”

“No!” I started, rather loudly, at that. Dammit! Too quick. Too sharp. Pick up the pieces, Jake. . . “Fuck, no. Sorry. I’m—I’m just tired as hell from the flights and I just need some time in my own bed. My body hurts from the hours of travel and shit. I don’t know,” I shook my head, at a loss for what else to say. None of it was a lie, really. . . Just wasn’t the full truth. 

Her features were still crestfallen, but she nodded in what seemed to be genuine understanding. How she’d switched gears so damn fast, I didn’t know. But I didn’t question it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. . ,” she said with one final nod of her head. Her eyes connected with mine over the armrest of her car, made of pristine tanned leather, between our seats. “I’m sorry. . .”

And the crushing guilt again. Why was she apologizing for simply wanting to be with me? And why in the goddamned world had I let myself get so annoyed with her wanting to simply be a part of my life? 

“Don’t be sorry,” I rushed out, questioning my idea to be away from her as soon as the words ‘I’m sorry’  had left her mouth. I needed to handle her with care and I wasn’t. What the fuck was wrong with me? The next words slipped out of my mouth, encouraging the idea I’d come up with, without a single thought for my supportive and loving girlfriend. “I can’t miss you if I’m with you, you know?”

Selfish. I was selfish. 

“Why do you need to miss me?” The frown on her face tore my heart the fuck up. Why I couldn’t just say the right thing, I didn’t know. It felt like everything that came out of my mouth was misconstrued and twisted. I wasn’t trying to make her feel this way, but I couldn’t help it. Being this tired, I didn’t think I could communicate anything effectively. “Wouldn’t it be better to just be with me instead?”

“It’s always better to be with you. . .But I also just want you to have some time to yourself, too, My,” I continued. “It’ll be nice to have a night to yourself before you have to deal with your mom and sister all day tomorrow.”

“Half sister, Jake. . . Only half,” she playfully smacked my arm, making me look at her with a raised brow. She was suddenly ‘okay’ enough to play around? “And praise god for that. . .”

“Yes. . .,” I chuckled at her antics, raising my brows. “Only half. She’s a lot for you to deal with, huh?”

“Yeah. And that’s putting it lightly,” she said, exasperated just at the thought of it. “You’re still thinking you can’t come to my mom’s with me?”

“I really need to be with Josh on Christmas day. Sam is going home with Danny,” I said, even though I’d explained this to her plenty of times before – when she’d asked me the same thing about going to her mom’s. “ Josh won’t have anyone and. . . I just. . . miss my brother. Twins can’t be apart for too long. . . I’ve tested it and it sucks if I don’t get to see him when my brain and heart are telling me I need to.”

“I get it. . .,” She conceded, giving a solemn nod. I knew she didn’t ‘get it’. But, I appreciated the way she was trying to understand. Hoping that was the end of this torturous conversation, I almost cringed when she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m sorry for everything that got dumped on you. . . . all of the shit from last night. . . I should’ve told you sooner and I’m sorry my dad had to be the one to do it.”

Yeah, I agree, I couldn’t help but internally respond. I’m sorry you handled it that way, too.

On the outside, though, I simply shook my head with knitted brows. “It’s okay, My, reall–.”

“No, Jake,” she shook her head to disagree, speaking to me as if she were a mother correcting her child. Real damn similar to how her father had spoken to me. “It’s not. I should have told you and I’m sorry I wasn’t better about that. Just hard to talk about, I guess. . .”

“Maya,” I started, gathering my thoughts so I could respond properly instead of with frustration. She had gotten enough of that tonight, and I didn’t want to keep giving her shit that she didn’t deserve. “It’s okay, babe. I’m sorry for my short response. Just a lot going on at once when I found out. I’m sorry I got quiet for the rest of the night,” I said, taking the opportunity to apologize for any behavior of mine last night. Just wanted to say sorry however I could – without telling her anything. “Just going through a lot of emotions lately and that’s not your fault. That’s on me.”

“It’s okay, Jakey,” Maya pushed a smile onto her face, but the tiredness from the past couple of days was starting to weigh very heavily on me. So much so that I had a seriously hard time telling if the smile was genuine or not. To make matters worse, I couldn’t even find the energy to care, let alone get to the bottom of it. 

All I knew was she had been acting strange. And, I couldn’t figure out if it was because I was tired or if she was in a tough place mentally. . . To be fair, the past several hours had definitely been emotionally taxing for her. Any woman with a heart like Maya’s would be struggling after all of that came to light.

Fuck, Jake. Just get inside, I counseled myself, watching Maya’s lips move as she continued on about something I couldn’t find the energy to listen to. Whatever this is with her, surely it can wait until the morning. 

Yes. Seriously. Waiting until morning sounded best. Ideal. I was too irritable at the moment, and her eyes were still so sad. . . It was hard to watch her like this. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen her express so much emotion. And normally, I would be eager to ease her mind, but right now I just wanted—no, needed–to see y/n. 

After all of the shit I’d done to her – fuck. Leaving her here, the texts, the pictures, leaving the phone call like an asshole, not speaking to her all day because I was in my damn head. . . Fucking selfish. I was such an asshole. And to do that to the woman carrying my child? Made me feel pretty goddamn worthless.

Then, there was my girlfriend. My perfect, stunning, beautiful girlfriend who was going through something. And, I couldn’t even find it in me to care. After everything, all of the shit she’d helped me with during and after the summer. . . Selfish, Jake. 

The guilt was eating me alive, but I still couldn’t seem to give her any more than I already was. Not at the moment, at least. With a quick eye at the stereo screen, I noticed the time. Past midnight. It was past fuckin’ midnight after a day of travel. And we were still sitting here. Outside of the complex. In her car. 

What more did she want? She’d spent the entire past two days with me, save for an hour and a half of me giving into overwhelming desires. Then, she’d forced me to tell her things about Lav, about our baby—not hers. I was just tired from all of it. 

More than anything, though, I was not sure if it would ever be enough for her. . . Not after witnessing the way her dad treated her. Like a goddamn princess. I couldn’t do that shit for Maya. Couldn’t treat her like a princess. In a few short months, I was going to have my own girl to treat that way. My baby girl. And I’d be damned if I gave that type of energy to my girlfriend before my daughter. 

Still, I sat in the car, not daring to move as her eyes threatened more tears. God, I just couldn’t take it. 

“You know, it’s just. . .,” she trailed off, another sniffle, another stab straight to my chest. “I gave up on the idea of ever having kids, even though I wanted them so badly. A shame, I think, that so many people can have as many as they want and treat them terribly, when I. . .,” she let out a shrouded sigh, likely trying to hide the quiver in her tone. “I would give anything to just have–.”

“My,” I tried, knowing I should reach over and touch her, even if it were just a reassuring hand on her knee, but I couldn’t. Didn’t want to touch her. So. Damn. Tired. My brain hurt, struggling to keep up with everything that had been thrown my damn way. 

“I’m happy for you, Jake. Really. So happy.” And there it was again, her voice had cleared and confidence had come back like she’d never cried at all. Another wave of guilt took over, making me realize just how hard she was trying to keep it together, so I wouldn’t feel bad. She was too good for me—especially this version of me. “I guess I never pictured it like this. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard for me lately.” 

“Why ‘lately’?” I bit the tip of my tongue, holding back the sigh that was begging to escape. God, Jake, just listen to her. Let her talk. 

“Being so. . . Uninvolved. It’s difficult. Knowing that I’m going to be a mom–finally–but not actually getting to be a part of it. . .,” Another sniffle shuttered between us to show just how cut up she was about it, effectively tearing my heart straight from my chest. “And y/n is great. Seriously. Love her. . . but, I don’t feel like she wants me involved. I know it’s not you keeping this all from me, Jakey.” 

There was a fire lighting up in my chest for the briefest of moments at the idea that she was somehow insulting y/n. . . Why would she be insulting y/n? I knew way fuckin’ better than to think y/n would ever treat anyone badly.

Fuck, I felt defensive and I was not liking the way her name was about to fall off of Maya’s lips again – I saw it forming. So, I interrupted it. “She wouldn’t ever—.”

“It’s okay, Jake.” She cut me off again, wanting to make sure I knew she wasn’t attacking anyone, probably. But if she wasn’t, why had it felt that way? I knew she wasn’t, and she would never, but everything felt so different right now, so wrong. I was wrong for throwing her in the middle of this, and perhaps I was even more of an asshole for keeping her out of it. 

And I knew her dad would have said the same damn thing to me that I was telling myself. He’d put me down if he got the chance. Like he already fucking had. . . The man had known me for less than a day before he was tearing into my ass. All that had told me was how I’d apparently made a very bad first impression. Made me feel like utter shit that I hadn’t done better for Maya and her family. . . Too absorbed in my own musings. . .

It was really starting to feel like nothing I did was right, for anyone. Every time I turned my head, y/n was upset about something. And when she wasn’t, Maya was, now. I couldn’t fucking win. At least I’d learned y/n’s ups and downs. . . Maya had hardly shown me anything but ‘ups’, so I was still learning her ‘downs’. . . 

But. . . Was it even worth it? Was it worth learning another woman like that with the immaculate woman upstairs waiting on me. . .?

Fucking shit. I was not doing well. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep. 

“I’ve always wanted kids, and I know I’d be–I will be a great mom. It’s only. . .having no say in this situation has definitely made it more difficult, but I am excited too, Jake,” she leaned over to hold my limp hand in hers. “This is my only chance, so I’m sorry if I’ve been too. . . Pushy. I just—I don’t want to miss out on this experience, even if it’s not how I thought it would go or how I want it to go.” 

I had to close my eyes for a moment, taking in a long breath through my nose to calm my nerves. It wasn’t like that, and she knew that. I wasn’t trying to make her feel bad, or unimportant, or anything like that. And neither was y/n. Not in the slightest, actually. I wanted Maya around – wanted her involved. But, all of this stuff, everything about Lavender was just so. . .  Sacred. To me, to y/n, to us. 

Sometimes, it felt like that was the only part of us that was still right – that was never wrong. Lavender was like this safe, hallowed ground. . .

But I didn’t want to make Maya feel like shit in a situation she didn’t ask for. . . didn’t want to leave her out of things. It was just so damn difficult, all of the time. 

I felt so frustrated and guilty over so much shit. And now – it was a hundred times worse. Every time I looked at her after last night, guilt was the resounding emotion. And remembering what her dad had said. . . 

The insane reality was none of it mattered to me at the moment when I knew I was so close to. . . God. Fuck. 

And that made it a fucked up mess. I didn’t know what to do at the moment, and I didn’t want to try to know. Not right now, anyway. 

Just needed to get inside.

But, with a twist in my gut, I realized that even the thought of seeing y/n wasn’t even comforting me anymore. The thought was only adding more complicated feelings to the stack of guilt. And that made me want to crawl in a fuckin’ hole. 

I just wanted to go to bed, to forget about every part of this damned trip and especially this conversation. 

It wasn’t y/n’s fault. Not at all. It was all on me. I didn’t like the idea of going in there to face y/n, knowing I let the gender slip, knowing she would know something was wrong. It just wasn’t something I wanted to face right now. 

None of this fell into place with how I’d originally wanted to greet her after this trip. And I really hoped y/n wouldn’t be mad if she found out how I’d told Maya the gender. Things had just started to feel okay again. And I’d be damned before I let it go back to whatever the fuck it had been before November.

“I love you, My. Seriously. I hope you know this,” I said, forcing another smile. I just couldn’t talk about this anymore. I needed this night to be over. I felt sick with stress, and I just wanted to be alone. “I want you to be a part of this. I will make sure you’re a part of this. Okay?” 

“I love you, Jake.” And finally, I took some goddamn initiative and leaned across the console, giving her a quick peck on the lips to cheer her up. . . . also wanted to get her to stop talking. “Thank you for understanding my crazy head. I don’t want you to think that I’m upset or angry. . . Just a bit sad. I feel better, now, though . . . Thank you for letting me be a part of this at all. It just means so much to me.” 

This was becoming too much. . . Just needed to get out, to go upstairs and go to bed before I let her keep me in this car any longer. Her words were all twisting around each other in my head. Her eyes, so sad, I just felt so horrible. But her back and forth was confusing as shit. 

I just needed to be alone, and the longer I sat with her, the worse I felt. I needed to leave before I gave in and told her to come upstairs with me. I really didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to tell her to come upstairs. 

I just couldn’t take it anymore. 

I couldn’t spend another night with her. Not yet. Figuring out whatever the hell was going on in my head was priority number one. And right now, everything I felt would likely be fixed with a good sleep. In the morning, I would feel better. I wouldn’t be so. . . Apathetic, to whatever she was feeling. We could talk it out after the holidays, and we would be fine. At least I hoped so. 

I really needed us to be fine. At the end of it all, I couldn’t lose Maya. And I wouldn’t let whatever this was, whatever I was feeling, get in the way of being with her. I felt like shit that I’d spent my entire weekend away with her thinking of y/n. I used a lot of time that should’ve been dedicated to Maya, with y/n — whether it be on the phone or in my head. 

I’d ignored Maya — my girlfriend — and turned her into an idea more than an actual person I was supposed to be paying attention to. 

A girlfriend, who only deserved the best of me. . . Not leftovers from what I was giving to someone who’d torn me up so badly. Hell, y/n had hurt me so badly that I’d led myself back to Maya. Maya had picked up every piece. 

What. A. Mess.

My eyes were heavy as I stepped out of the car, and even if I was completely wiped, I spent an ample amount of time holding and hugging this dream of a woman who I got the privilege to call my girlfriend. 

After a while of standing beside her car, I felt as though I might’ve fallen asleep standing up. So, with a bit of hesitance due to the guilt still swimming in waves through my chest, I pulled away before holding her lovely face in my hands. Those deep pools of dark chocolate. Irises so dark, I could hardly ever see her pupils. . . Beautiful eyes. . . But, as I looked into them, I couldn’t help but wish they were someone else’s. . . The fuck was wrong with me?! I gave her a kiss, intent on feeling that spark with her. . . 

And, thankfully, it came when my lips touched hers. I sucked her bottom lip between both of mine, savored the taste of her. . . She always tasted like a mix of Wintergreen gum and cherries – a staple taste in her favorite brand of lipstick. . . Didn’t know lipsticks could taste good until Maya. Knew about chapstick and shit. . . but not lipstick. 

Maya was funny like that, though. Teaching me all about shit I’d never known before her. I really loved all of the things she taught me. . . She forced me into a version of myself I’d yet to explore before her. A man who was confident, but curious. All of the time. . .

As she drove away, I waved goodbye slowly and sleepily. The best smile I could muster was a tight one, close-lipped and slightly forced. I stood there a few moments after, watching to make sure she was safe while pulling out of the parking lot. 

But, while I did this, my duffel slung over my shoulder, I momentarily felt myself falling asleep. I had never felt so exhausted in my entire life. My mind and heart, tired. Conflicted in ways I fucking hated. Shouldn’t have even been conflicted. 

By the time I reached the front door, I couldn’t even think anymore. I couldn’t give either woman any more of me tonight – because I didn’t have any more to give. 

In the morning, it would all be okay. I knew it would be. It had to be.

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

The keys jingling in the door wouldn’t be heard by a normal person. 

But you were nowhere near normal at the moment. Lav’s kicks were still lighting up your palm and you knew Jake was supposed to be home soon. It had to be him at the front door. And while you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by being too excited after he’d openly ignored you for a day, you couldn’t help but get excited over him finally being home. 

The fact that it coincided with Lavender’s first movements you were able to feel – it made the largest smile you’d emitted in a long time brighten your features. It was simply too perfectly timed for you to slow down from opening your bedroom door as eagerly as you did. 

And when you saw him. God. 

He looked so damn good. 

You’d missed the fuck out of him, and to have him back home had you feeling whole. Like everything was clicking back into place after two days where things had felt slightly off while he’d been away. 

Granted, for the first few seconds of admiring him, it was his back facing you. 

But, still, you had to admire the way his long brunette waves fell over his shoulders and graced his upper back. His peacoat, hanging just right at his hips. . . And, while the back of him was incredible, yes, when he turned around. . . your mind blanked. 

So handsome. The most handsome. . . He was everything to you in that moment. Having him standing there in front of you felt like a pipe dream, but it was actually happening and you couldn’t believe he was back. . . The love you felt for him was inexplicably strong and you were coming to realize this more and more by the damned day. 

The emotion you felt at simply having him home again was unlike any you’d ever felt before Jake Kiszka. 

He just brought this fire out in you. Your heart, only ever beating this feverishly for him. His cheeks, red from the bitter cold outside. A whopping sixteen degrees and lower, all day long. Freezing temperatures to welcome him back to Brooklyn. 

The smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. . . And you noticed his eyebrows were scrunched, like he was deliberating something. . . Whatever it was, you were sure you could brighten his night with your news. This was the most idyllic way to welcome him back. . . His mood was bound to improve once you told him.

“Jake,” you breathed, the air around you buzzing with the cloud you were floating on. The elation over feeling her, rushing through your veins. “I have the best news. . . I just felt–.”

But, before you could finish, he was holding up a hand with a shake of his head. With this action, you were taken aback. Your face fell slowly, your own brows furrowing to sort of mirror this odd expression he was giving you. He wasn’t really frowning, but he definitely wasn’t smiling. His mouth was set in this straight line, unamused. . . 

Had you made him angry? Was there a reason he’d been ignoring you? One that you hadn’t caught on to?

This expression he was donning was one you’d seen before – when he’d be deep in thought after a serious conversation. 

Maybe he and Maya just talked about something serious. . . But. . . what about? Her? Him? Them? You? He had cut you off rather abruptly the night before. . . Had he realized it was a mistake he’d made? The shit in the shower, your bedroom, over the phone. . .? Had he told her about what had happened between you two? Or worse, had she found what was on his phone? 

You really honed in on the sight of his eyes. They were sunken and dull; held this incredibly vast emotion that you were struggling to pick up on in your state of delirium. The dark bags under his eyes told you that, at the very least, he was tired. 

But still, there was more. . . 

More that you were not too sure you wanted to try to figure out with the way he looked sort of corrective and dismissive of you. 

It all left a sour taste in your mouth. You’d put yourself out there for him: sent your first titty pic ever, called him to talk him through an orgasm, worked yourself up to an orgasm (with his help) in a public restroom (granted, it had been a single stall – but still). . . . The whole nine yards, only to be ghosted over the phone and now fully rejected in person. 

“I’m just not feeling the best and I need to go to sleep,” he said, voice raspy as ever. But his tone – it was off. He was off. What in the fuck had happened over the past twenty four hours? It was like the bathroom incident had never occurred. . . 

Understandably, you were very hurt. Your ego and heart, holding hands and equally bruised. But you did the best you could to play it off. Didn’t want to put any more on his shoulders. So, you didn’t bother him with it. Didn’t tell him. Even as you stood there, right across from him. Your hand, still on your tummy as Lavender was kicking away in your womb, waiting for her daddy to notice her. 

But her daddy couldn’t handle it tonight. And you weren’t about to push him any further over the brink of his very apparent weariness over whatever the hell it was. At this point, any person worth their salt would have been able to put two and two together. . . It was obvious to any one that it was you he was exasperated with. . . All of the signs pointed to it. 

So, you nodded your head with finality and did your best to smile as genuinely as you could. . . Worked to make the happy emotion seem real. . . Who knew how well it was turning out. All you knew was you didn’t want him tainting any more of this precious moment. You didn’t want this magical moment to be forever marred by the emotion he was carrying home with him from South Carolina. 

If only he’d stayed home. God. Fuck it all. Truly. 

“No worries,” you squeaked, clearing your throat to deepen your voice to sound more normal. “I know you’re definitely tired. Obviously. I’ll let you go to bed.” 

If you kept going, you would continue to ramble. So instead, you clamped your mouth shut and didn’t say a word as a grin stretched tight across your lips. Had to let him go to sleep. . . You could’ve screamed, though. You’d really fucking missed him. Didn’t want him to leave to go to bed when he’d just gotten home. . . But he wanted space from you. 

Since you were already up, you went ahead and moved to escape to the kitchen. You were thirsty and needed to fill one of your Stanleys – just not the one he’d purchased for you. 

The next words that left his lips shocked you, realizing he wasn’t ignoring you completely. It stopped you — right before you made it to the doorway of the kitchen. Hand still on your tummy to feel the flutters, but your ears, irresistibly in tune with Jake. 

“Hey,” he called after you, making you turn to face him with unmasked hope. Yet, he was already at his door, with it half opened behind him. That duffel bag strap, showcasing the strong shoulders you longed to wrap your arms around. “Merry Christmas.”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’d closed the damned door, locking him and his shitty mood away in his bedroom. 

Really, you tried to be understanding. But you couldn’t help the wave of rejection that washed over you, making you want to hide away in your own room. At such a happy moment, too. 

Blinking away the tears brimming your eyelids (damn baby hormones), you tried your very best to just enjoy the moment, the milestone, the very thing you’d been waiting to feel for so long. You stood in place, hand on your tummy in the same spot Lav’s little feet were thrumming against you, even more so now. You wondered why she was so enthusiastic, what had woken her up and why she was so intent on letting you know she was there, too. Letting your palm rub slow, tedious circles on the bump that held your energetic, enthusiastic baby, your eyes stayed trained on Jake’s closed door. 

Could she have been kicking because of him? Did the sound of his voice cheer her up the same way it did for you? Could she recognize her daddy, even through your tummy? 

Feeling a tear escape your eye, you began filling your Stanley cup with ice, and most definitely not the one Jake had so graciously bought for you. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling, the fact that Lavender was healthy and happy, but it just felt like something was missing. The apartment felt emptier, lonelier now that Jake had come inside and closed the door on you. On you both. 

He was missing the biggest milestone yet. Willingly ignoring you, not giving you a chance to include him. 

You couldn’t help but feel slightly upset that he was so quick to walk away. . . Yes, walk away on you, sure. . . He had no reason to sit in the kitchen and talk to you, especially not after spending time with Maya and her dad. (You felt stupid, thinking he would be excited to see you after just leaving his perfect girlfriend. That was understandable, even if it hurt.)

But it wasn’t just you. Not anymore, anyway. 

You were hurt on behalf of the tiny one in your tummy.

The ice cold sip you took from your now-filled cup distracted you from the hurt for a moment, just because it was so damn refreshing. Pregnancy really took it out of a person. You wanted more of everything. . . Food, water, Jake. . . 

You wanted to knock on his door, to tell him to fuck off for missing this, but you didn’t. It wasn’t his fault, even if you were pissed at him. For the texts, for the phone call, for the ignoring, for the rejecting, and now for this. . .

Even if you were sad he was missing it, you should have just said something sooner, before he went to his room. Maybe if you had just gone for it, he would have stayed. You wanted that for her—not for you. Always for her, because she was most important. 

Yet, selfish as it sounded, you did want him to stay for you. And maybe that was why it hurt so damn bad. . . You were doing this to yourself, in the end.

Merry fucking Christmas to you. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 25, 2022  

The sun shone in beautifully to escort the bright, cheerful winter day into its rightful place. 

Christmas. You were so damn ready for the joy the day never failed to bring with it. Last night had been a fucking drag and you didn’t want to spend an unnecessary amount of lamenting over it. It sounded most attractive to simply avoid the apartment at all costs. . . So, you knew getting ready for your grandparents’ Christmas was bound to take no time. 

You were past ready to get to their house and sink into their unwavering love. And, if you were being completely honest, you were also past ready to involve someone else in the unexplainable joy of Lavender’s kicks. She wasn’t doing it again (yet) this  morning, but you were seriously hoping that she’d do it again. . . Surely she would. But. . . you were trying not to overthink it. 

Before leaving your room to feed Stevie, you’d tentatively glanced in the direction of Jake’s room. You didn’t want to accidentally bump into him. Because, try as you might, your mind was stuck on a loop of the look he’d given you last night. How he’d dismissed you so easily. You saw it over and over. It was embarrassing as hell and you weren’t anxious to see him again after that. 

You were beginning to lose hope that he’d actually meant the shit he’d said before leaving for his little trip and on his trip. . . It was very possible he’d lost interest. And that broke your heart more than you cared to admit. You’d ghosted people before — acted short towards them to try and get rid of them. That was what it seemed like he was doing with you. Or, at least something similar. 

It was safe to assume he was appreciative of your body and what you were doing for his child. But, what you feared was that he didn’t think you were worth risking anything with Maya. . . 

So, it had been your lucky day when you peered curiously to his door and found it to be closed. And no other room was in use by him, from what you could tell. 

It was stupid that your heart fell at his lack of presence. 

Fuck your foolish heart. 

Majority of the time, it couldn’t be trusted when it came to him. But, you were coming not to care. You felt how you felt and there was nothing you could do about it. And you had more important things — like a literal baby — to worry about than controlling the natural way you felt for him. It was what it was.  

You just couldn’t have him. And that was that.

So, you went about your morning like normal. But, you did so quickly. You wanted to take advantage of the time he was still sleeping with his door shut. 

After feeding Stevie, a quick shower was necessary to wash your hair and do a quick shave. You hadn’t done either in the bath last night and you were enjoying still being able to shave. The inevitable was coming in a few months where it would be impossible to do so. No more reaching your legs or anything else below the waist once the belly got to a certain size. 

Thankfully, the no-no area wax was still holding up from the other night, so the shaving went fairly quickly after the hair rinse. You’d done the blow drying of your hair in the bathroom, not wanting to wake Jake from his sleep. 

As you’d dried your hair, you’d had time for your irritation to rev up at the idea of walking out and perhaps seeing Jake. Thinking about the idea that he could be ignoring you — or trying to avoid you — made you want to throw your blow dryer into the mirror. After what he’d done to lead you on in the days prior. God. If he was trying to get rid of you after pulling all of that shit, it really did make you want to scream. But you wouldn’t. 

He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Whatever floated his fucking boat.

 In fact, by the time you were wrapping the cord around the dryer, you’d decided you were glad he was ignoring you. Seriously. You didn’t need to see him and get all sad on Christmas Day. 

Once you were safely back in your room, with your still-sleeping roommate in his room, you put him out of mind. 

You focused on getting dressed and to your grandparents’. And once you were all dressed,  you took a minute to admire your outfit. It was really cute. Comfy. 

The mirror saw you looking at  your brand new lounge set from the TikTok shop. The prettiest cream color. Not see-through in the slightest (you’d been worried it would be flimsy material —TikTok shop and all that). You had to admit, TikTok shop wasn’t totally unreliable. . . At least when it came to winter lounge sets. 

Your bump looked adorable in the smooth, cashmere outfit and your ass looked incredible. In fact, you looked so damn cute — so good — that you weren’t even thinking about Jake. Or his attitude towards you only hours ago. 

With the lightest and easiest makeup on, you loaded up your oversized tote bag with your family’s presents. And once they were all packed up, you were ready to go. Had to get there to help Elsie get the food ready.

But, with a forlorn gaze, you eyed the two smaller flat presents, still sitting in the corner of your room. Wrapped in the same shiny red paper as the rest. You couldn’t help but feel slightly saddened at the fact that you weren’t sure you’d ever find the time to give them to him. . . Couldn’t be sure of jackshit when it came to him. 

At least not this morning. 

Nope. Didn’t matter.

You gave one final and reassuring swoop along Stevie’s back and promised her you’d be back that evening to feed her. Then, after swiftly grabbing your overnight bag, you were slipping on your long, black peacoat and aviators. You were ready to escape the suffocating feeling that encompassed your entire apartment. 

Making it down the exterior stairs of the building proved to be more of a feat with the additional bag, full of presents, on your shoulder and the overnight bag in your opposite hand. Gravity was something to become acquainted with again, the bigger you got. And additional baggage obviously didn’t help that. But, by the grace of god, you made it to the bottom step and were well on your way to your car within a few minutes. 

But, just as you were closing the back door, bags safely secured in the backseat, you heard a very familiar voice call out your name. 

The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy upon hearing him. 

And try as you might have wanted, you couldn’t resist looking up towards him. He was running down the stairs, his torn-up white vans hanging on by their singular thread as he was jogging towards you. He was wearing sweatpants that were haphazardly pulled on and the t-shirt he was wearing, the same heathered one, burnt-red in color, that he’d been wearing the night you first. . . . Damn.

But no coat. And it was frigid out.

“Jacob, where is your damn coat?!” You worried at him, not giving him a chance to say a word as he finally settled in front of you, breathless. 

“It’s not necessary,” he replied, the three words sounding more like harsh breaths than anything. “Goddamn, I am out of shape, huh?” He laughed, his hands settling on his hips as he briefly looked down, chest expanding to allow him a minute to catch his breath. 

Then, he was looking at you again. Whatever you wanted to say was trapped at the back of your throat. He was so handsome. His skin, ever-tan, glowing in the winter morning light. And the day’s new sunshine was doing the amber in the center of his eyes wonders. . . 

You almost forgot you were more than borderline mad at him. Almost. 

“What do you want, Jake?” You spit, blinking once with a roll of your eyes. The sunglasses that sat on your face were translucent enough that you knew he could see the motions of your irises. 

And, you were damn near elated at the thought that he could see your annoyance as you’d so blatantly seen his the night prior. 

He looked taken aback at your tone – yet, not surprised in the slightest, at the same time. 

“I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas,” he started, looking desperate for you to understand where he was coming from. . . That this was somehow more than a simple ‘Merry Christmas’. 

The sincerity in his eyes, with the traditional saying, was enough to make your knees weak. . . Though, it didn’t matter how sincere he was – or if he was trying to translate more than a holiday greeting. . . all that mattered was how your mind was still reeling from last night. 

So, you didn’t want to give in to any of the butterflies fluttering around in your belly. This time, you didn’t want their jittery, rousing influence. So, you stood your ground. Stayed mad at him. He’d rejected you last night. 

Rejected you — even after the (very) intense phone sex. . . After what had happened in the shower and your bedroom. . . After all of the shit he’d promised he’d do upon returning home. . . 

He hadn’t even stopped and taken a few minutes of time to hear you out. Hadn’t cared to. . . All while his baby had been kicking. For the first time.

It’s his loss, your brain echoed on a repetitive scream. And, at this moment, with your anger and hormones taking charge, you agreed. His fucking loss. He missed out.

“You already did that last night, Jake,” you clipped at him, resting your hands, subconsciously, on the small roundness of your belly. His suddenly-downcast eyes followed your movements momentarily, but quickly found their way back to your irises when you started speaking again. “You told me ‘Merry Christmas’ before you went to bed. Remember?”

“I—uh. . . Yeah, I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, shifting nervously on his feet before he decided to tuck both hands in his sweats’ pockets. “I also wanted to apologize for that. How tired I was.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing for being tired? God, Jake,” you snapped the words, without even thinking. 

His head pulled back, once more, in shock. Those beautiful lips pursed, before he briefly chewed on them, his eyes wide as he looked to the side, shaking his head in shock at your tone. All of this, blatantly showing his growing irritation. 

But no. He had no right to be anywhere near irritated. 

It made you angry that he had the audacity to feel any sort of negative emotion. It was your turn to feel hurt. And it pissed you the fuck off that he was apologizing for being ‘tired’. 

Last night, in his eyes, you’d seen more than tiredness. There had been an unnamable, heartbroken emotion that you couldn’t figure out then or now. The way his expression had hardened and wilted, all at once. . . It was stuck in a loop in your mind. 

He’d been more than just ‘tired’. And, on top of you not being able to figure out why, he was now lying to you by omission. 

But you were starting to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t want him to see how it had affected you. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, you weren’t going to be honest with him. So, you straightened up and hesitantly stretched a forced gentle smile on your lips. 

“You had a long weekend, Jake. It’s fine,” you tried again, grabbing hold of your belt bag’s strap with one hand. The other hand, going to rest on your lower back. This dull pain in your lower back. . . It truly had been a persistent enemy in recent days. And you’d been standing in your flat-footed platform Uggs long enough, on the concrete, that your back was feeling quite ungrateful for the combination. “Thank you – so much – for apologizing. Means a lot,” you continued, semi-kindly, before your voice dipped to a tone that didn’t mask your frustration as well. “But, if that’s all. . . I’m gonna go. My back is killing me and I’m past ready to get to my grandparents’. Thanks for the Merry Christmas. ‘Preciate it.”

You never said you were going to be completely dishonest. . . Just dishonest about your feelings towards the situation. Your feelings towards him. Just as you were going to turn on your heel, he was speaking again. 

“Uh—yeah. Um. . . Of-of course,” he stuttered, stepping back with a shake of his head. “I just–I just couldn’t go the whole day without saying something to you about it.”

“Mm. I get it. Thanks,” you bitterly replied, eyes squinting a bit with a sarcastic smile. 

Without even taking another second to consider saying something else, you turned away from him. Before you could expose your heart any further. And, just as you got to your driver’s side door and opened it to get in, you turned to him once more. 

And. . . there he was. Majestic beauty, in human form – now standing before you. 

He got to be the rejected one this time. Rejected by you. You got your revenge. 

His stare was pointed at the ground and his eyebrows screwed together in a conflicted manner. He was then saying something silently to himself before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, afterwards running an open palm down his face.

He was unhappy. Whatever. He could get over it.

But— it was when the same hand went to fluff the hair on the right side of his head. . . The strands of chestnut, left skewed in the wake of the tousle. Still looked effortlessly beautiful, even with more than one hair out of place. Then, once more, he was doing it again. 

He was jittering – feeling unsure of himself, most likely. 

The doubled flustered motion made your heart sink in your chest. He was nervous. And you hated it for him. And you. For both of you. You didn’t want him to feel nervous around you. . . Hell no. Losing every bit of progress was not the goal. . . 

You were just upset. It didn’t mean you wanted to lose him if it was possible he could still care enough to stop you to tell you Merry Christmas – and apologize. Even if the apology didn’t encompass the complete truth and he was masking something else, you couldn’t knock him for doing it. For, it was something you’d done a million times before. . . 

And, pathetic as it was, even if he wanted you — just a sliver of how much you wanted him — you’d take it. The way your body and soul craved him was overwhelming. The desire to satiate it meant your morality and feminism suffered for it at times. . .

With one leg in your car, you decided you could tell him one more thing. Before you left. Just to make sure he knew your opinion on a particular matter at hand. Something he’d previously mentioned, offhandedly. 

“And, no,” you began. 

His head snapped in your direction, mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise – surely not planning on hearing your voice again. Those handsomely thick eyebrows dipped before he lifted one in confusion. 

You continued. “You are the furthest thing from out of shape, Jake. I think I can confirm that much. . . Based on recent events and all. . .Yeah?” The lilt in your tone coincided with the blush in your cheeks. His lips quivered in satisfaction, just the slightest bit at your implication. You kept on, “Maybe it’s just a good idea to not bolt at full-fuckin’-speed down the stairs and across the lot.”

“I had to, though,” he said, his smile drooping just a bit to indicate his seriousness. With a gentle backwards jerk of his head, his brows still furrowed at you, acting as though it were supposed to be obvious that he’d been pulled to do it. He continued, “It wasn’t right for me to not hear you out when I got home. . . Real dickhead move.” 

Yeah, it wasn’t right, you mused internally. You are correct in that, Jacob Thomas. Thank you for seeing the truth of the matter.

Mentally, you were nodding your head to agree, but on the outside, you merely stuck out your bottom lip in contemplation before slapping on a tight-lipped smile.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head, once again not being transparent in your emotions regarding the matter. 

“No, it wasn’t ‘fine’, y/n. And you know it,” he replied, trying to continue this conversation that you needed to end. 

“Jake. I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything. I survived. It did not affect me at all,” you lied, each word like battery acid against your tongue. Felt wrong. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Except that it was, an inner voice tried to remind you. A big ass deal, in fact. Your daughter had made it a big deal.

But you didn’t want to tell him right now. Not yet. Sharing the news would keep you in this parking lot longer and you were ready to leave. Needed some time to breathe. You could tell him next time it happened. He had no clue it had happened in the first place, so it didn’t matter anyhow. Ignorance was bliss. . . Right? 

“What was it?” He asked, stepping forward just a bit. It seemed he was letting the tender moment take over for him. 

You knew he wanted to continue this and for everything to be okay. . . But now wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t want that right now. Because, you wanted to continue being dishonest with him. You didn’t want to let the tenderness influence your actions. . . You’d already given in to it by turning to reassure him of what sort of ‘shape’ he was in.

“It wasn’t anything,” you said the same lie as before, just with different words that were laced with dishonesty. Needed to go. Seriously. There were quite literally people waiting for you. Elsie was surely counting the minutes until you got there to help with the Christmas meal prep. “I’m gonna go, though. . .”

You positioned yourself to get in the car completely when he cleared his throat to speak again. “What are you doing for Christmas today? Just gonna be with your grandparents and Elsie?” 

One of your feet was in the car, your ass nearly touching the seat. But you stayed slightly elevated to be polite. “Yeah,” you grinned, the thought of seeing them made your heart thrum. 

You truly loved your family. . . They were so damn special to you. They’d been with you through the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. . . You felt safe with them. 

But, what was strange was that you felt that safety with new people now. When, years ago, you didn’t think you ever would. . . Josh, obviously, had worked his way into your heart, yes. That had been a shock, all on its own. 

But. . . the man in front of you? He’d completely, unexpectedly, nestled into your heart further than any other person you’d ever known. It had resulted in you truly feeling safer with him than anyone else. Even with the amount of hurt that hung in the air between you, he brought a sense of calmness that no one else could. Peace. . . An unreal, inexplicably captivating amount. 

He was your Safe Place, after all. Your subconscious, completely uninhibited mind said so itself. 

You assumed it was all due to the sensation of being ‘in love’ with him. . . He was simply more than anyone else. Your love for him went to places it didn’t — couldn’t — for other people. Never had.

It took him a bit to respond, his gaze looking just as torn as you felt. “Cool,” he rasped, the smallest smirk on his lips as he took a step back. “Tell your grandparents I say hey.”

“Not Elsie?” You joked, winking his way. Continuing this interaction, against your better judgment. “I’m sure she has some stupid ass Urban-fucking-Dictionary thing to call what you’re asking me to do. . . Snubbing her and all,” you wrinkled your nose, feeling sort of cringy with your words. 

You continued rambling to stay in the moment with him. Being in his presence was what your heart craved. “Because, if this woman can’t be normal about the way she refers to human body parts and what stimulates them – something that none of us want to hear about, anyway – she sure isn’t going to be normal about other shit. . . She’ll be quite offended and I’ll have to suffer for it.”

He responded with a roll of his eyes that indicated he was in on your humor. The curve of his lips was becoming more prominent by the second. God, you didn’t want to leave him. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he responded with an intoxicatingly raspy half-laugh. “Best to not upset your sister. Tell her I said hi, too.”

He continued to back further away, out of the way. He was giving you space to get in the car. To drive away. To leave. . . And while you should have wanted to leave, you couldn’t. Didn’t seem like the right method of action now that he was apparently okay ending the conversation. Because, even if he was okay with leaving you be, you didn’t want it to be over.

No – what you wanted was for him to be at your grandparents’ with you today. . . 

So, without even thinking, you began. “Why don’t you just–?”

Fuck! No, y/n! What the hell? That is way too damn much to ask of him, the voice in your mind heckled you. Know your place, y/n. . .

Phone sex and his face between your legs was one thing. . . Inviting him over for ‘Christmas with the Family’? Another thing entirely. There was no way that wouldn’t freak him out, right? Besides, you had a feeling he already had plans with Maya. . . . It was safe to assume she’d already included him in some sort of festivity with her family today. . . .

“What was that?” He wondered aloud, a brow raising to encourage you. His tone was genuinely curious. . . And aggravatingly knowing in his question. 

You knew he knew what you were going to ask. 

But, you weren’t going to say it. Nope. 

“Nothing,” you replied with a gentle shake of your head, tucking some stray hair that had fallen behind your ear. “Merry Christmas, Ja–.”

“Wait. Before you leave–I have to ask. . .,” he began, his voice lowering a decibel that had your tummy flip-flopping. He rubbed at his chin in a way that you’d deem delicious in your increasingly hormonal state. Fuck. . . “Are you saying you don’t want to talk about stimulating body parts?” He grinned, the corners of his lips turned up. The dirty words, combined with his demeanor, was making your entire body light up. “Because. . . I’d beg to differ, babydoll.”

Babydoll. Shitfuck. The new pet name. The one that’d had your body keeling over and aching as you’d worked yourself up for him, not even forty eight hours ago. . .

Without any warning, the use of the name had you suddenly remembering everything you’d felt, holed up in that fucking family stall. . . How badly you’d needed him – needed him with you. The way your entire body had prepared itself for him. . . The mess of your release, all over the inside of your thighs. . . You’d been needy for him. All while he’d been hours away from you. . . 

Yet, now, he was right here. 

And, well, you still needed him. Badly. 

The flush in your cheeks took over as you stood before him, completely disorienting you for the time being. . . . . How long would it take for you to just go upstairs and let him. . . . .? God! No.

Christmas. Elsie. Grandma. Grandpa. Food.

So — before you could decide against it one more time, you shot him one more toss of your eyes and the tiniest smile. Weren’t going to be honest about how you felt about the matter. You’d made that deal with yourself already. Doing the same as him, and avoiding the full truth, was safest for the time being.

The blush in your cheeks absolutely gave you away, though. . . Unfortunately.

“Merry Christmas to you, Jake,” you said, stilling one final time and catching his eyes before you slipped completely inside of the Jetta. “And, yes, I will tell them all that you said hi.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Mostly, you were giving her shit when you said it. The wine had not been tempting to you in the slightest. But, the urge to give Elsie shit? That was very tempting. . . Especially as you watched her pour her glass of red and take a generous sip.

“You know how fucked up it is for you to drink that in front of a pregnant woman?” 

Elsie only rolled her eyes at your words with a swish of her wine before she took another sip. The pour, already nearly gone as she poured a touch more into the pretty holiday-themed glass. Her lips, the color of mulled wine, staining the holiday green and berries that decorated the glass. 

“You know how fucked up it is for you to say fuck on fucking Christmas?” She challenged back, setting the wine down to check her phone. 

With a little smirk, you went about finishing up the green bean casserole. When it was mixed to perfection, you opened the oven and popped it into the preheated chamber. Only a few spaces left for the rest of the food on the hot trays. You eyed the incredibly sized ham. The smell of it made your mouth water from its place on the bottom rack. 

Before your stomach threatened to fall to your feet from hunger, you shut the oven and wiped your hands. It was time to move on to the final touches of the sweet potato casserole, anyhow.

As you began peeling the boiled orange potatoes, you smiled upon hearing your grandparents’ laughter from their bedroom. It had become a tradition when you’d grown up and left the house that your grandparents wrap your presents Christmas morning while, respectively, you and Elsie would cook for everyone. 

As adults, you and your sister had insisted on making Christmas dinner for them. Both of you, finding it as a teeny-tiny way to pay them back for everything they’d done for you two over the years. A giant, delicious dinner to finish up every year – with all kinds of delicious foods, that showed gratitude to their unfailing, limitless love. A consistent love that you hadn’t known until living with them. Your mother had not even been close to being the one to ever show you the authenticity of an unconditional love. 

Which reminded you. . . Elsie still had no clue about your revealed memory. Mr. Morgan. Mom.

So, you decided you’d tell her. No better time like the present. And a little bit of fun talk for Christmas morning. . . . “You know how I’ve been doing EMDR?” 

“Yes!” She replied, looking up from her phone for the umpteenth time that morning. Thankfully, she was slipping it in her back pocket, not allowing it to be a distraction. “How’s that going? I’m sorry I’ve been shit at asking about it. Job change and the big move does have my mind a bit fucked,” she said, stirring the gravy before checking on the tenderness of the boiling potatoes that would soon become mashed. “From what I’ve read, that type of therapy can get pretty dark. . . Are you doing okay with all of that?” 

Though, as soon as she was saying her last few words, her phone was gaining her attention again, must’ve buzzed in her pocket. You thought you’d be lucky to have her attention, but you were quickly mistaken as she was checking her phone again. 

But it didn’t take her as long to answer this time, and she eventually sat her phone on the counter, giving you her undivided focus. 

Seriously. All morning. The texting.

Well. . . to be fair, it had started about an hour after you’d gotten here. The texting and/or simple act of checking shit on her phone had been nonstop. You assumed she’d been texting, though. You knew the way her mouth rested when texting. And the occasional blush on her cheeks, accompanied by tiny grins indicated it was most likely Josh on the other end. 

You caught a sly glimpse of the phone, since she’d actually set it on the counter this time. It had only been in her back pocket until now. But now that it was visible, your curiosity got the best of you. 

And, you were able to see the presumed perpetrator pop up on her screen. Three messages popping up under his name. One after the other. . . . And then a fourth, right before your eyes. Dear lord.

The man did not know how to send one concise text. . . One thought, never failing to be split into multiple bits.

Elsie had told you already that the curly headed twin would be coming later. You didn’t know where he was now — all you knew was he wasn’t there yet. You assumed he was spending Christmas morning – at the very least – with Jake and Sam. Even if Jake did have plans with Maya, you knew him better than to believe he hadn’t carved out time for his brothers on Christmas Day. 

Danny had mentioned going home for Christmas on game night, so you knew it was just the three brothers here in New York for the holiday. There was no way they hadn’t decided on doing something to celebrate.

Though, selfishly, you wanted Josh here with you; he was a comfort. And, Christmas mornings being more comfortable didn’t hurt. And, stupid as it was, on Christmas, you always began to miss your mom the slightest bit. . . The woman had more negativity associated with her than positivity – by a landslide. 

But. . . She was your mom. And she was gone. On Christmas. What was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. . . 

Although, (of course) the ‘missing’ always came with overwhelming resentment. . . so you only ever tried to block it out. But, with lovely EMDR, the feelings were much more prominent than usual – harder to block.

So, seriously. . .Warmth and comfort was a necessity. 

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be experiencing your favorite source of comfort any more today. . . In the form of Josh’s twin. Fuck Maya. Seriously.

“Well,” you began with a slight pause, shifting your mind away from his goddess girlfriend. To busy your hands, you decided on grabbing a Bubly from the fridge. A newfound staple drink in your Grandma’s kitchen. Cherry, specifically. You popped the tab and took a sip before continuing, going to stand next to the sink as Elsie went about draining the now-fully boiled white potatoes and placing all of the food you’d prepared on the island. “I haven’t had too many dark sessions of unraveling the shit from our past. But. . . I did see mom again,” you paused, giving her time to respond to the words. 

But, she didn’t respond. No, instead, she was checking her phone. Yet again. 

So, you went on, trying to emphasize the importance of the previous words with your next to get her attention. “The first time I’ve been able to fully make out her face in years. . .” 

Still, though. No response. Her hands were slightly shaky, but the small, secret smile on her face as she stared at her screen, said it was a positive sort of shaking. They were truly insatiable. Whatever. Good for them and their happy relationship.

You continued, essentially talking to yourself at this point, it seemed. “EMDR is intense, but it has seriously worked wonders for me. . . You know, remembering things that I’ve forgotten and need to remember. It’s been a lot — especially with all of the mom shit. . . but it’s been worth it.”

To your surprise, she actually gave a response. But it was barely a response. She’d only offered a gentle,  “Yeah. . . Sounds like it.” But, still. She hadn’t stopped for a second what she was doing. 

She just kept busying herself with the food and her phone. Food, phone, food, phone. . .

Then, she was taking the lid off the pan on the stove to check on the cranberry sauce your grandma had put on. . . The vinegary, bitterly sweet cranberry sauce was the one thing your Grandmother still insisted on making. And, after a taste, Elsie was adding a touch more of raspberry vinegar to the pan. 

Normally, you loved your Grandma’s cranberry sauce. And, the smell of the red fruit and vinegar combination usually made you feel excited for the taste on your tongue. 

This Christmas, however, it was much different. 

The smell of the additional vinegar with the lid off of the pot, was making your stomach churn. And, as Elsie stirred it to mix the vinegar, your stomach rolled as the potently sour smell wafted through the air. 

The suddenly upset tummy only told you one thing: Lavender was not a fan of vinegar. . . And, chances were, she wouldn’t love Grandma’s cranberry sauce like her Mommy did. 

So, you backed away from the stove, your nose saved as you held your breath. You decided it was best to go to the opposite side of the kitchen with your sweet potato supplies. 

And once there, with your back turned to the stove, you let out the breath you’d been holding and finished peeling them. 

Once that step was over, you were dumping them into another bowl before holding your breath to gather the brown sugar and syrup that you’d mix in with them, from Elsie’s side of the kitchen. 

And, once you were at your counter again, you let out a ragged breath, your lungs not able to hold air to the same capacity they once could. With a baby steadily growing and taking up space that your organs usually did, something as simple as holding your breath looked much different now. 

The bright orange vegetables were cooked to perfection, breaking up smoothly under the potato masher you were wielding. The brown sugar and syrup were measured by eye, and dumped into the dish soon, once the potatoes were mashed properly. As always, you were readily looking forward to this scrumptious casserole. 

This was your favorite holiday dish. And, a big part of the reason you loved it so much was because it would eventually be finished off with little marshmallows. . . Yum. 

Thankfully, Lavender seemed to agree with her Mama on this one. 

Your mouth was still watering, as usual, at the smell of sweet potatoes. Your tummy rumbled as you held your breath again to face the direction of the stove.  

You dumped the mixture into the casserole dish sitting on the kitchen island. The dish had patiently awaited the potatoes on the kitchen island. 

The island held a variety of salads, fruits, crackers, dips, and veggies — all of them, littering the surface. These items were always first on the list to prepare, since they were good to snack on and couldn’t ‘get cold’. 

Once the sugary potato mix was pristinely pressed against the glass pan, you took a healthy whiff of the food you’d been working on. Then, you made your way back over towards the oven with the potatoes. Mouth closed. Nostrils saved, your stomach not in peril.

When you got to the stove, Elsie was opening the oven door to check on the ham. And once you were bending over to place your food on the last available spot in the oven, you quickly realized your sister was damn near shutting the oven door on your arm. 

“Elsie! Careful!” You urged, eyebrows creasing at the way her body seemed to be buzzing beside you. “Goddamn, sis.”

“Sorry,” she said on a distracted breath as she poked at the ham with the thermometer. “Just trying to finish this shit up. I’m starving.” 

You ignored her, your skin heating with annoyance. And, not just at her refusal to listen to you. No, it was because, for the second time that morning, you were being fibbed to by someone you loved. First, Jake. Now, Elsie. You knew there was more to why her shoulders were quivering with some sort of pent up emotion as she moved away to give you space. 

Whatever she and Josh were discussing was distracting her to a point of oblivion. . . It was just lovely. But, for now, you’d give her a pass and let her live in her own little world of bliss. One of you should get to.

Yet, her nervous energy was translating to you in a way you couldn’t ignore. Your hold on the dish, a little too tight. And, too late, you realized your unwavering hold on the glass had your pinky briefly touching the oven rack as you placed it there. The searing heat was instantaneous in its sensations, all the way from your smallest finger to your elbow, you felt it. 

Dammit! 

“Mother of fuck! Fuck it all to damn hell!” 

That sharp, stinging, and blistering pain was already forming a welp on your finger as you carefully removed your hand fully and shut the oven. Fuck, it hurt! 

The previous slew of dirty words blurted out of your mouth a touch too loudly, alerting your Grandmother, all the way from her bedroom. “Y/n y/m/n!” The older woman screeched in a motherly tone from the other room. Curse her super hearing abilities. You’d been blessed with a grandma who could hear a damn pin drop. . . her ears, continuing to refuse aging. “Watch your damn mouth!”

“Mary Jane!” You heard your Grandpa scolding her, just the same as she had you. 

Even with the pain that was radiating up throughout your entire hand, you couldn’t help the tiny grin at her own slip-up. At the same time, you turned the kitchen sink to the coldest it could go as you waited for it to chill completely.

Your Grandma was not a typical elderly woman. And you loved her so much for it. Prim and proper and so clean cut – yes. She was beauty, she was grace. . . But her mouth had always been one to slip a curse word in – whenever she wanted, a dirty word or two was known to slip past her lips.

It was no shock to you when the older woman came racing into the room to check on you. It seemed Elsie noticed your pain at the same time that your Grandma was entering the room, the younger woman’s body sidling up beside yours at the counter. Just as you were putting your hand under the chilling sink water, your Grandma was popping up at the other side.

The cold water against your hot flesh felt like heaven and hell, all at once. 

“Y/n, honey, put your hand under the water,” your Grandma said, on a hurried breath, even as she watched you do exactly that from her new spot beside you. “Goodness gracious, Lord have mercy, y/n.”

“I am, Grandma,” you replied with a small, huffy laugh. “Calm down.”

“Is your heart racing?” Elsie asked shortly after you finished speaking, her voice a bit shaky still. “Are you okay?” 

Are you okay, Elsie? You internally bated her as you turned to her to give her a look.

“Yes, babygirl. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” Your Grandmother asked at the same time as your vibrating sister.

“You two. . . I am okay. Baby is okay,” you replied with a small grin, glancing over at your Grandma before focusing on your finger. “Can one of you get me a towel though?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. I’ll get it. God,” Elsie responded instantly, seeming disappointed in herself. She slapped a hand to her forehead as she walked to do the task. “I’m sorry I’m so spacy. . .”

“You think?!” You hissed, though your mouth stayed curved in a smile. Staying mad at Elsie wasn’t easy.

“You’re spacy, Elsie Bug?” Grandma pondered from beside you, placing her hand on your back, the firm and reassuring touch floated soothingly  through your entire body. “What does that mean?”

“It means her head’s in the clouds, Grandma,” you said, on behalf of your bumbling sister. “Josh has her all weird and googly-eyed. Even over the phone. . . All morning and afternoon.”

Just as soon, Elsie was beside you again and slipping the tea towel under the sink’s freezing spray only briefly before holding it out for your hand. It took you a bit of time to oblige her, enjoying the feeling of the coolness against your burning flesh. Felt nice. 

But, the idea of the icy cold towel being snugly wrapped around your warm, persistently stinging finger sounded like a dream. So, turning off the water, you spun on your heel to face Elsie. Your back, now, to your Grandma. 

“You know why, Grandma,” Elsie insisted, shooting a look in the older woman’s direction, over your shoulder. “Remember what we talked about earlier? What I asked you about?”

“What does that mean?” You pried at her, brows drawn in with utter confusion. 

What in the fuck could she be hiding? And your Grandma knew about it, too? Was this why Elsie was acting so weird? She always got nervous and edgy when it came to surprises. . . 

After budging at her figuratively, you did so literally, with your elbow against her arm, as she attempted to wrap your finger tightly in the soft material. The movement of your arm took your hand from her grip momentarily, making her growl. 

“Y/n. Quit. Let me wrap your finger.”

“Elsie.”

“Oh! Yes! Our extra gue–.” But, before she could finish, she was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Well, lookie there! That must be them!” 

Them? What? Your mind was going a mile a minute. What were they implying?

It took almost no time for your Grandmother to race to the front door on her spindly legs. The woman was still rather fit for her age of almost 75. She’d taken her health very seriously, always. . . which you’d always admired about her.

It took less than a minute for her to get there, with the door to the house being on the other side of the wall. And, instantly, upon opening, you heard Josh’s rather cheerful voice through the wall. 

Elsie’s hand stilled on top of yours, mid-towel wrap. You looked at her curiously, her touch slightly clammy on your skin.

“Ms. Mary Jane!” He exclaimed familiarly, his voice quite actually reverberating off the walls of the house. “A very Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays to you, madam!”

Then, without any warning, he was very loudly singing “Mary Jane” by Rick James. . . to your Grandmother. Thankfully, he was leaving out the slightly explicit parts about Mary Jane turning him on and shit. Your eyes went to the wall, as if he could see your raised brow at the song choice.

While you were cringing at the song, it was only sending your Grandma into a fit of laughter. 

“Woo!” You heard your Grandma squeal from the entryway. “I wasn’t prepared for the dancin’, Joshua!”

Oh, Josh. . .

“Oh my god,” Elsie said to you, snickering under her breath. A little laugh left her lips as she rolled her eyes. “He is a mess.” 

The continued laughter that came through the wall made a smile fit to your lips. But you couldn’t let the moment pass without a comment about the song. With a tap against your hand, you noticed Elsie tying a bow with the small towel, leaving your now-wrapped hand. 

But, rather than running to Josh, she was checking on the ham – again. It shocked you that she wasn’t rushing to Josh. But, since she wasn’t, you didn’t. 

You also took notice of the fact that she wasn’t shaking anymore. . . Which relieved you. . . . But left you wondering what it meant. Had she just been dying for Josh to get here?

You stood in your place to joke with him, through the wall. Your voice raised slightly for him to hear you through the love song he continued to sing. “Rick James, Josh? Seriously?”

Just as soon as you’d asked your question, he was rounding the corner into the kitchen. 

But, the joke died on your lips – your mind completely blanking – as soon as the curly headed man made it into the room. 

 Because, trailing behind him was. . . Jake. 

You were pretty sure your heart stopped in your chest at the sight of him. The breath in your lungs, completely desolate from your chest with a single gasp. 

Oh, Jake. 

He looked so handsome in his all black attire. Black sweater, black jeans. And those worn, black Chelsea boots. . . The coins he’d started wearing, laying just right between his chest muscles. . . His long hair — various strands still damp from an apparent shower. . . Fuck. 

And his face, the most stunning part of all. He rivaled every other man you’d ever laid eyes on. No, didn’t rival — kicked them out of the ball park. He was immaculate, perfection in the most incredible form. 

Those features you’d studied for mornings and nights on end, nearly mirroring whatever expression you were making. A sort of stunned look behind his dark, deep set eyes.

You could see his apparent delight at the sight of you — in the loose grin that adorned his pretty lips. 

Though, rather than shock on his face (like you knew was painted on yours), he was waiting to see what your surprise entailed. It was as though he was waiting to see if you’d be more thrilled or upset by his presence. 

You observed his brown eyes, golden in the late afternoon sun shining in from the window behind you. Just like this morning. . . 

Those eyes, scanning your face, waiting to see how you felt about his arrival. And, rather than making the man suffer, you decided to show him. 

While you knew you couldn’t walk over to him and create a display, you knew you had to do something that would properly express the hope blossoming in your chest at the sight of him. The lack of display was upsetting, yes, but you were sure it would stun your poor Grandmother. The woman was oblivious to all of the parts and pieces of the ‘Jake and y/n puzzle’. 

Completely and totally oblivious.

You had to trust that your response would be fitting.

As he moved towards you, your heart plunged into the pit of your throat. He was coming up to you, just as Josh was to Elsie. He wasn’t touching you, but he was only a foot away, at best, as Josh and Elsie collided in a hug. 

He was still not as close as you wanted him, as he shuffled on his feet. But, he was as close as he could be. . . And the fact that he was near at all — in the same damned house as you — that was all that mattered. 

You let your lips rise in the most natural smile you’d felt since his initial return home last night. 

The same appreciation and whim that had been evident in your heart then was absolutely present now. Was this your second try? After all, he had come here. . . Though, had it fully been his choice? 

God, you didn’t know. And that was all it took for you to tone down just enough to stay in the reality of the situation. He was here, but he wasn’t yours. . . He wasn’t here as your boyfriend. He was here as Josh’s brother. 

But still, you didn’t hide the feelings swarming in your heart. You let your eyes communicate your unadulterated, contented bliss. . . 

And with the way his own eyes sunk into yours, you knew he understood — just enough. 

He knew that you were happy he was here. You could tell by the way his features softened.

And, that was all you needed at the moment. Just wanted him to know — ‘all was well’. 

“What brings you here, Jacob?” You asked with a bit of a teasing lilt in your tone. You had to remember you were being watched by an unassuming Grandma.

But, to your appeasement, she was soon escorting herself out of the vicinity. “I’m going to help Grandpa finish the gift wrapping! We are just about done,” she clarified. And, to not seem suspicious, your eyes went to watch her instead of the man who stood a few feet in front of you. “We’ll be ready to eat in an hour or so, girls!”

And, as she left, Jake came just the slightest bit closer. . . Enough closer that you could smell the vanilla laced with the sandalwood and amber in his cologne. . . Your favorite smell. 

“Just thought I’d join Josh on this excursion,” he clarified, his words authentic with the slightest bit of mystery hiding behind the phrase. “Sounded to me like this is the place to be. . .”

And, at the sound of his voice, you felt her. 

For the briefest of moments, for the first time since last night, you felt a little rustle in your belly that you now knew as a Lavender kick. 

And after the first, came another swift one, right where you’d felt her the night before. Her body was positioned in a way that you felt her little feet, right below your belly button. 

The timing was perfect for you to tell Jake about the kicks. He was right here this time. Right in front of you. And, you were just about to when he reached up to rub his chin. 

It was then, though, that you spotted a thick, dark silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand. . . Wasn’t wearing any of his other rings around this one. . . It was obviously a special piece of jewelry. 

This one, seeming to match the coins around his neck — that one-of-a-kind, antique silver that is unattainable unless you have money. . . A new ring that appeared to cost a lot of money. . .

You were hoping against hope that Josh had bought it for him. . . Or, maybe Jake had purchased it for himself? 

Surely Maya hadn’t. . . Right? It looked like an old, piratical relic. And last you knew, she couldn’t remember the difference between pirates and fucking mythology. . . Seriously, again — what in the fuck? Knowing that about the woman still got you.

So, really, you settled a decent amount. . . It was near impossible that it had been from her. 

Perhaps, he’d had it for a while, but had never worn it around you? Or you just hadn’t paid close enough attention to his wardrobe to notice? Yet, that was a fat chance. 

Maybe he’d bought it for himself with these new label paychecks. . . However, you knew the jewelry he gravitated towards. 

And, really, you paid very close attention to his wardrobe — perhaps more so now, than before. It was all your longing gaze had to torture you with. . . Concentrating on every Jake detail was the gospel for you. 

All of that to say, he had his ‘go-to’ rings. The same four or five silver rings — anytime he wore hand jewelry, those were his staples. So, truly. . . You knew this had to be a newer ring. One you’d yet to see. . .And, even if you hated the answer, you had to know who had bought it. 

Stupid, stupid idea. . . Why did you choose to do this shit to yourself? 

Whether you should have or not, you (foolishly) asked. “Who got you the fancy ring? Haven’t ever seen that one. . .”

The moment you saw the little twinge in his brows and the thoughtful purse of his lips. . . you knew you shouldn’t have asked. Fuck it all. His eyes glanced down at the hand he was, now, holding out at his waist between you two. Like it held all of the answers on how to respond to such a question. 

As if she’d sensed the new topic of conversation, and her mommy’s stress, Lavender began kicking harder. She was trying to gain your attention, it seemed. And while she absolutely had your attention, so did her father. . . Who you were still waiting on an answer from. 

After he’d taken a few too many seconds to deliberate an answer, and Elsie and Josh were seemingly in their own world, you decided you’d pry further. If they were distracted, you couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of your sister and your friend if Jake were to act annoyed with your additional prodding. 

You raised your brow at him. And, doing your best to ease any tension, you lightly tapped the top of his boot with a sock-clad toe. 

“Hey. . .,” you tried, leaning over a bit to get a better look at his face, which was now looking up from the floor. But, not at you. No way. He was very concerned with the window to Grandma’s garden behind you. Why had you asked about that damn ring? “Jake. You okay?” 

And, still, he didn’t respond with words, but he was at least looking at you again. All he did with his mouth was lick his lips; which, in turn, caused your insides to shiver with desperation for him. It made you feel even worse. This entire situation was so fucked. 

So, you back-tracked. Tried to save face. “Y-you don’t have to answer; I was just being nosy. It’s not my business to—.”

“You know who did, y/n,” he finally spoke, so quietly and with a tone that seemed too short for your taste. 

There wasn’t any way to stop the way your eyes leveled with his. You glared at him, hard. Right into those eyes. The same eyes you saw behind yours in every dream, the ones you wished to be the same to grace Lavender’s pretty face. . . 

But you weren’t feeling sentimental. Even as he seemed to soften, once again, under your penetrating, pinning stare. You weren’t having it. He’d made you mad. 

What was his problem with you simply asking a damned fucking question? You instantly took back feeling bad about asking. While it might not have been your business, it was a friendly conversation starter. 

And he was cutting you off mid-ramble, acting put out with you for asking about a motherfucking ring?

Lavender’s kicking continued on, growing feistier by the second. And with one particular jab to your bladder, you suddenly had no time to entertain Jake’s moody ass. Fuck him and his stupid ring, you suddenly had to pee. 

You were absolutely going to pee down your leg if you stood there a second longer. 

She was pressing so adamantly against you that the pain was sharp and dull all at once. You felt the buzzing throb, warning that your body would open with no chance of stopping if you weren’t quick.

Fuck. 

Without taking another second, you were shoving past him, taking out your frustration a bit while you could. Before you could leave the kitchen to get to the hallway bathroom, though, he was softly grasping your arm to make you pause. 

God. No, Jacob. Not the time.

He was already pissing you off. And now his daughter was insisting you needed to piss this badly, because of the bit of Bubly that you’d indulged in over the past hour. 

And, his surprise arrival definitely had you feeling all jittery and on edge. . . In a way you wanted to enjoy. But you couldn’t. He was making that impossible. With the blessed piece of silver on his finger and his snippy ass mouth. 

All of the fire you felt in your chest, you channeled to reflect in your irises as your eyes snapped to his. 

He looked apologetic. Good for him.

And, when he spoke again, his inflection proved the emotion emanating from his beautiful, amber-brown eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean—.”

Just as you felt his hand flex around your forearm, you yanked it from his grip, stumbling back a bit with the action. Which, of course, he reached out to help with instantly. 

“No, Jake,” you growled, holding both hands out to avoid his touch. Didn’t need his hands distracting you. Fuck him and his incredible hands. On top of that, a fucking tsunami was threatening to burst the dam of your body, lest you leave. “Not now.”

Seconds later, you were finally on your way out of the kitchen. And even as he tried to stop you again, calling your name once to stop you, you didn’t hear him. . . 

Because, all you could focus on was the heavenly hallway bathroom that finally came into view. The room that would offer you sweet, sweet relief. Relief of the heinous, painful strain of your damned bladder. . . 

As well as relief from the unexpected, aggravatingly delicious presence of Jacob fucking Kiszka. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Jacob?” Josh poked, raising his brow at the twin that stood behind you. 

He was right. His brother’s panties were, in fact, in a damn twist. 

For the past hour since they’d arrived and he’d pissed you off in the kitchen, Jake had become oddly quiet. 

You hadn’t gone out of your way to talk to him and ask him about it. . . Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. . . . Or so you tried to convince yourself. And, you were succeeding by playing oblivious to how your shitty response had turned into his now-shitty mood. 

It was annoying how you were still feeling in his presence, no matter how badly he made you want to punch a wall. Where Elsie had once been ridiculously jittery and weird, you now were. It felt juvenile. . . Felt like you were a preteen girl whose damned crush was hanging out with her for the first time. 

Every time you glanced his way, your heart quite actually twisted in your chest at the mere sight of how handsome he was. . . How damn good he smelled, attacking you, every time he came near to you. . . 

And, while you were finally (mostly) over the little fit concerning the ring, you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable to him. You knew you couldn’t handle a conversation and keep face. Especially not one about how he was feeling. You were not going to ask if he was ‘okay’ again. Not right now. . . 

But. . . there was a conversation was coming. You could feel it.

“They’re not in a twist, Josh,” he growled with a huff, his voice close at your back. Goosebumps were persisting on your neck. He’d come to stand behind you a few minutes prior as he’d finished conversation with your Grandpa in the other room. 

He’d joined you immediately after his conversation, as you took photos of Josh and Elsie. “And panties?” He hushed at Josh, tone distressed, worried. “Really? In front of their grandparents?”

“They’re not even in the room, Jake,” Elsie said with a snort, snuggling closer to Josh for another picture. “And they’ve heard worse than panties. Scout’s honor.”

Jake scooted closer to you. He hadn’t been bold enough to come much closer until now. He’d kept a safe distance from a couple of feet away. 

But, not now. Now, he was inches away from your ass. You could feel how close he was, by the way his body heat radiated to your body. 

Deciding to just suck it up — and not able to resist the urge to tend to his needs — you looked up and over your shoulder at him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. You would never get used to how handsome he was.  

“Jake,” you tried quietly, immediately gaining his attention. His face softened as soon as he was looking at you. Josh and Elsie were in their own little world already, giggling with each other and having a tickling contest or some shit. Gross. “There’s no need to be tense or anything. Just relax and enjoy yourself. It’s Christmas.”

His jaw went loose momentarily, then it was flexing again, before his next words. “Yeah, but you haven’t been acting like yourself and I feel like it’s my—.”

“Rolls and cranberry sauce are finished!” Grandma was suddenly piping up from the kitchen doorway. 

It was time for Christmas dinner. . . And, as if on cue, you felt your tummy rumble a bit. 

Somehow, you’d been able to put off how insanely hungry you were for all of this food. . . As a constantly hungry pregnant woman, on Christmas, you’d ignored your hunger for the holiday food. Damn. That was saying something about your headspace when it came to Jake.

“Let’s eat, girls and boys,” your Grandpa added, coming up behind the white haired lady. His thick, black and gray eyebrows raised as he looked at you all, awaiting a response. “Gotta get this goin’. I’m hungry.” 

And, then, they were both disappearing from the doorway. You assumed they were on their merry way to find their own places at the table. Following in their lead was all you wanted at the moment, as your tummy tickled at you again for satiation.

“Let’s go eat,” you brought the phone down, clicking it shut to give your full attention to him. Both of you turned a little until you were fully facing each other. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You can sit next to me?”

The offer came on its own, your heart speaking for you. And there was that fucking vulnerability you’d been afraid of showing. 

He breathed, his chest visibly deflating with relief. A grin quirked his lips, his brows rising. “I would love that.”

“What about our picture?” Elsie whined from where she stood, now-behind you from where you’d turned to Jake. 

Jake’s loose, lopsided grin made butterflies swarm your chest and belly. You felt his emotion, throughout your veins. His eyebrows raised in amusement, as you rolled your eyes at Elsie’s continued bickering. 

You had to turn to her to show her your irritation, forcing you to turn your back on Jake again. . . Which only irritated you further.

“Come on, y/n. Please,” she huffed, literally stomping her foot. “I took too damn many of you the other night for you to not return the favor. And you were basically fucking naked! This is nothing.”

Jake’s throat cleared behind you and your cheeks blushed as crimson as your grandmother’s living room walls. “Elsie Mabel,” you scolded her. “Seriously?!”

“Oh my god, Hormonal Holly,” she sassed, narrowing her eyes at you. “Cut the shit, shut the fuck up, and just take one more picture. Goddamn.”

“It’s nice to be young and in love on Christmas,” Josh explained, unnecessarily. 

Seriously. What the fuck, Josh?

“It absolutely is,” Elsie reiterated, pressing against him and pressing her lips to his. 

O-kay. Dear God. You couldn’t take anymore of the cutesy couple-y shit. So, yanking the phone out again, you started snapping pictures. 

Whatever ploy this was, it was working to get under your skin just enough. 

And you had a damned good feeling you knew exactly what they were doing. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

When the cranberry sauce was being passed at the table, two people away from you, you instantly stilled and closed your eyes. You really didn’t want to puke. . . So, you did your best to ignore the smell, holding your breath. 

Jake noticed, placing a gentle hand on your thigh under the table as soon as your body stiffened. Your skin heated at his touch immediately. The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy. 

Naturally, you leaned over towards him and away from your Grandmother on your right side. When you were facing him completely, you looked up and into his eyes. 

“You okay?” He asked, Amber-brown eyes wide and curious. 

“The sauce—,” you gasped momentarily, catching a brief whiff when you stopped holding your breath. 

Your stomach rolled, the nearer it came. His hand tightened on your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. So, you decided to not try to speak, instead, throwing your pointer finger over his shoulder and placing a hand over your mouth. 

He peeked behind him, seeing exactly what you were referring to. 

“Oh. . . Don't like cranberry sauce?” He quietly asked, grinning down at you. Both of you, in this little world with each other as everyone else rambled on about nothing around you. 

His hand was still comfortably on your thigh, his thumb creating soothing circles on the top of it.

Rather than taking the easy way out and just shaking your head, you decided to try speaking again. You opened your mouth, hushing the word, “Vinegar.”

Though, when the smell momentarily infiltrated your senses with the opening of your mouth, you almost hurled. 

Your eyes pinched shut to find a sense of calm, covering your mouth and nose with one hand. His thumb was now creating careful stripes against your cashmere pants. You blinked your eyes open at him again. A small grin settled on your lips as you went to hold your breath once more. 

The way he was looking at you had your skin growing warm. His irises held every bit of care the man could muster, you were sure of it. His own smile was secretive and it made you want to kiss him. . . So, so badly wanted to kiss him. . . Especially as his thumb went to move nearer to your inner thigh. His fingers, now nestled on the softer, inner part of your thigh, in the crease made between your legs. 

Your core was heating up at how near he was to where you needed him most. For a second, you forgot you felt sick at all. . . Your heart, thumping hard against your chest and distracting you from the momentary crisis. 

Then, he was speaking again. “I don’t like vinegar either,” he said with a wink, his hand held tight to your thigh. You were glad you were turned away from your Grandmother, not wanting her to be privy to this interaction that was making your skin catch fire. “Hate it, actually.”

Wait. . . . Your brows crinkled in wonder. . . .

Oh my god. . ., you realized, watching the sparkle of the dining room light flicker in his eyes. Is it because of him? Can babies inherit food aversions in the womb? 

You didn’t know, but it seemed like a logical assumption. Your heart leaped at the thought of her already inheriting his traits. It was at that same moment that he also let go of your thigh, coming out of the little world you two had created to address his brother. 

Josh was apparently speaking, trying to get Jake’s attention and effectively broke you two out of the little world you’d created for the past couple of minutes.

You were definitely upset by the loss of contact for a few seconds before you found reprieve in watching the back of his head. . . His gorgeous, long locks. . . Thicker than one might think, always taking so long to dry. Even though they’d been here for over an hour, you still saw a couple of damp strands from a shower he must’ve taken before arriving. . . . 

It was ridiculous that his hair was enough to make you feel better. 

God, you had it bad. . .  That was for sure.

You watched as he held a hand up towards Josh. Thank god. Because he was just about to pass the cranberries to Jake. . . . 

Oh, Jake, your hero. . . .

“Oh, yes. . .,” Josh said, snapping you completely out of your reverie. You turned back to face forward in your seat when you saw him pointing a finger towards his brother, whose hand now sat on his own thigh instead of yours. You admired the veins in Jake’s hand as it laid on his leg. . . His long fingers. . . . Those digits, so skilled. The sight and thoughts had your head spinning. 

The louder twin was turning back to Elsie with the sauce, where she held it, curiously eyeing you, not yet placing it back in the middle of the table. 

The curly headed twin decided to inform the whole table of what was happening when he spoke next. “Jacob, here, has an aversion to vinegar. . . Always has hated it.”

“Grandma’s one dish, Jake? Can’t even try it?” Elsie questioned, jokingly. She wanted in on it, but she was still silently questioning. 

She was still holding the bowl in her hands. Though, she was about to ask a follow up question — you could see it in her eyes. You had no idea what it was going to be, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it.

But, thankfully, Grandpa beat her to it with his own reassuring statement. 

“Eh, it’s alright, kid,” Grandpa said with a small smile aimed towards Jake. The gray-haired man was putting some mac and cheese on his plate before passing that ceramic bowl to your Grandma. “It is delicious, my MJ. . . Just can’t be everyone’s cup of tea, hm?”

“Of course not, Harold. No harm, no foul,” she agreed, looking over at Jake with understanding painted on her beautifully aged features. She truly did age so incredibly well. You could only hope you’d be so lucky. “I’m not offended at all, Jake.”

Grandma smiled at something Josh said. But, you weren't aware of what he’d said because you could only stare at Jake, as he turned towards your Grandmother. 

“I promise I’ll try anything else you cook, Ms. Mary Jane,” he said in response to her, giving her an easy smile. Your chest ignited at the sight of the dimple in his cheek. “It’s not you, swear.”

“I believe you, sweetie. You’re welcome here anytime to try any and all of my other cooking,” Grandma assured before she was tapping you with a graceful finger. “Y/n. . . I’m sure you want some of the mac and cheese? You make it so deliciously, honey pie.”

When you were turning from Jake to grab the bowl from her, your Grandpa was still carrying on with your roommate. 

“Oh, Jacob. . .,” your Grandpa started as he forked at his green bean casserole. “Y/n’s homemade mac and cheese, kid. . . Woo-wee! My little Sugarplum is a fantastic little chef when she wants to be. . . You’ve gotta try it, son,” he encouraged, before taking a bite of his green beans. 

“Of course I’ll try it, sir,” Jake responded, nudging your shoulder with his own. You blushed under his attention, trying to focus on the warm noodle dish in your hands. “I do a lot of the cooking at home. . . Never really give her a chance to cook for me. Guess I should sometime, hm?”

Fuck. That sounded domestic. . . Too domestic. You didn’t look at him, kept your head down with a little smile on your lips as you hummed a sort-of response. When you passed the macaroni his way, your Grandpa’s little giggle caught your attention.  

Yes, giggle. 

What the hell? 

Had he caught on to Jake’s couple-y remark? Shit.

You looked his way, seeing he’d swallowed his last bite and was taking a drink of water. Then, he was grinning. “There’s no vinegar in it, Jacob – don’t worry,” he grinned, winking at Jake with a twinkle in his eye. “Unless y/n slipped some in this year. . .”

Thank god. You were very relieved that no one had picked up on Jake’s previous statements. . . Didn’t need anyone thinking too much of anything.

“Oh, yes, Grandpa. . . Vinegar in macaroni and cheese sounded too damn good. . .couldn’t resist the urge,” you sarcastically responded. Shaking your head at the older man, you released your own little giggle.

Your Grandpa’s joy around Jake was something you really, really loved. . . You couldn’t blame the old man for brightening up around the younger one. Jake brought the same immense joy to you. He made your heart feel warm in your chest.

“Okay, are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room? We all know — well, besides the twins — how much y/n loves Grandma’s cranberry sauce. . . Don’t you want some, y/n?” Elsie piped up from where she sat at the round table. She was across from you, and you caught her eyes with a raised brow. 

Was she forgetting you didn’t get to call the shots with what you ate these days? 

There was a tiny human who did a lot of the deciding. “The baby doesn’t like it,” you told her, sticking out your bottom lip. 

And, to avoid more questioning or Jake saying something without thinking (again), you decided to say something to (kind of) change the subject. 

You’d go ahead and drop the news you’d been anxiously waiting to divulge to your grandparents for weeks now. . . . News that you wanted so badly to share – even more than the news of the kicking. 

. . .which you still hadn’t told anyone about. Because, the more you’d considered it, the more wrong it felt to tell anyone before Jake. . . She was his baby, after all. Yours and his. . . No one else’s.

“I’d rather not upset the baby girl,” you remarked, looking down for a second to play it off. 

But, you couldn’t help the temptation to look over towards your Grandma when you heard her fork clatter against her plate. Elsie’s flare for dramatics came naturally from the gene pool. Your Grandma’s face made yours light up. Her blue, glassy eyes were wide with excitement, her mouth hanging open. 

“Y/n y/m/n. . . What in the heavens did you just tell us, sneaky pants?” She remarked, her tone one of a wise, all-knowing parent. “Did I just hear that my great grandbaby is a—?”

“A girl,” your Grandpa finished, from where he sat beside Elsie. His voice was full of pride. And when you looked his way, you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. His face read nothing but grandfatherly pride, his lips shaky with a small smile.

Your own eyes filled with wetness. Seeing your Grandpa so vulnerable was something you truly treasured. All your life, you’d wished to know every part of the (more-than-slightly grumpy) old man. . . And the more he opened up in recent months, the closer you got to knowing more and more of him. It was a dream for you, quite honestly. You’d always felt an innate sense of closeness to him. . . An unspoken understanding.

Back in the present moment, you were momentarily nervous over something you hadn’t really considered. . . 

Jake’s very apparent lack of reaction. 

You were too afraid to check his face for fatherly pride. All for the simple fact that you didn’t want him to accidentally out your fling to your grandparents. Though, thankfully, the two elderly people at the table didn’t catch onto Jake’s reaction. . . Or, lack thereof. 

Here was what worried you: you knew it would make sense to your grandparents for Josh and Elsie to already know. But would it make sense for your roommate to know the gender before family? 

Fuck. You didn’t know. You’d never done this shit before. But, even considering the fact that they had no clue who the father was, they still didn’t seem too worried by Jake’s non-response. . . 

Chances were, they just thought a roommate might not care so much about such a thing. And they were probably right to assume that. An ordinary male roommate probably wouldn’t care. 

But he wasn’t an ordinary male roommate. . . 

Noticeably, you weren’t involving him at the moment. And you hated it. You felt really bad for not — but it wouldn’t make any sense to your grandparents if you did. . . 

Though, Jake had to know something was amiss. You knew he did. . . Your back was turned to him during this important moment concerning his daughter, for God’s sake. . . Completely closing him out. . . Like he wasn’t involved at all.

Guilt overtaking you, you sent the briefest of peeks his way, only to find him forcing a toothless smile as he stared down at his plate. It wasn’t natural, you knew that much. And his leg was bouncing under the table to indicate he was feeling strange. 

But, to make matters worse, you watched his next move. Saw it happening before it actually happened. The tousling of the long hair over his ear was enough to show you that he, in fact, was not doing okay. 

He was definitely feeling jittery. He wanted to say something, you were sure, but he wasn’t going to say anything without you including him first. 

And he, by god, was not going to look at you. His eyes were trained on his hand, which was fidgeting with his fork against his plate. 

God. You felt so bad. Why hadn’t you just told them? They were going to find out eventually. . . 

Well. . . You knew why. You didn’t really know how to confess to a friends-with-benefits situation. . . . . to your grandparents. 

And now was definitely not the time you wanted to divulge that information. You’d already given them enough big news for one evening. The gender was a big deal. Only you, Jake, Josh, and Elsie had known. . . And now, your grandparents were in on the secret. It was exactly how you wanted it for the time being. No one else needed to know yet. 

“So, if she’s a girl. . .,” your Grandma started from beside you, causing you to look over and blink a few times in her direction. “Does she have a name?”

“Yes . . .,” you grinned, skin heating and stomach swirling with anticipation under the dubious expression on her finely wrinkled face. 

More than anything, you wanted to turn to Jake and have him say her name. . . Wanted to give him something exciting to share. But you knew you couldn’t.  

And it fucking gutted you. Made you feel like shit. Because it was his news to share, too. . . 

But, with the questioning gazes coming from your Grandmother and Grandfather, you knew you had to be the one to say it. They wanted to know now. And, as much as you wanted Jake to tell them right now, you’d put yourself in this position. 

“Lavender. . . her name is Lavender.”

And, even with your Grandmother’s crushing hug and elated words over all things Lavender, your heart continued to sink. Your Grandmother and Grandfather began debating, right in front of you, which big item they wanted to purchase for the baby first. But. . . you weren’t thinking about that. 

No, all you were concerned with was the man beside you. And you truly couldn’t resist the urge to flick your eyes to Jake amidst the joyous moment. 

But, still, he wasn’t looking anywhere near you. His eyes were still pointed towards the table, his thumbs now twiddling underneath the table, anxiously. 

Everyone flipping shit over the baby, and meanwhile, the  man who helped you make the baby was being left out completely. It was ironic that the moment was happening now. . . considering it had all started with the fact that you couldn’t eat the cranberry sauce this year. 

And the only reason you couldn't was because the baby bouncing in your womb had inherited the distaste from him. 

That was how closely entwined he was with it. She was half of him. She’d already inherited traits of his. Yet, the older people at the table had no clue that he’d had anything to do with it. 

Saying that you were at a loss would be a massive understatement.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

A couple of hours later, saw you in a much better mental headspace. 

Considering you were elbow deep in gifts now, you were able to divert your thoughts from the evening’s earlier events. And, one good thing was, aside from the pure sadness that had transferred from Jake’s heart and directly to yours, the rest of dinner had gone well. 

The topic of conversation had moved away from Lavender quite quickly. You hadn’t been able to stand watching Jake’s heart break right in front of you for much longer. So, after watching him for less than a minute and not knowing what to say to him, you’d decided to change the table’s topic to how good the ham was this year. 

And, with said subject change, Elsie had jumped head first into accepting the compliment. . . Which had gotten things going, once again, in a good direction. 

Truly, everything tasted better this year. It seemed that every year, you and Elsie got the hang of things just a little more than the year previous. 

It hadn’t taken long, then, for Jake and your Grandpa to wind up talking like old buddies, over music. And for the rest of your time at the table, you’d admired Jake with little chance glances. Though, there’d been no glances from him in your direction. 

You couldn’t blame him. And you hadn’t wanted to push him too far by inserting yourself in a conversation about your shared favorite thing (besides Lavender, of course). 

More than likely, he was less than impressed by your method (or lack thereof) of involving him in the Lavender conversation. Still now, you had the feeling that he wasn’t happy about any of it. 

Even as they were still going on about the music, Jake had chosen to not sit close to you. He was sitting on the couch a few feet behind you, ignoring you for your Grandpa — who sat in his chair across the room. 

You’d never witnessed your Grandpa be so open and talkative with someone who wasn’t in the family. . . But it made for a rather harmonious and divine holiday. You could listen to them talk for hours on end and never tire of it. . . Even when you had a bad feeling Jake was upset by your choices. 

And, there hadn’t been any more Lavender kicks to bring any other sense of completeness to your heart. It was as if she wasn’t pleased with you either. You couldn’t blame her or her father.

In the present time, you were, yet again, seeming to go against what she wanted. . . Your back was screaming at you as you sat on your knees, something you had never experienced before pregnancy. The back pain was a real enemy of yours.

You’d done a good job of ignoring it for the majority of the present unwrapping, but now you were shifting, every so often to sit slightly differently. When you were on your second to last gift, you decided criss-cross applesauce would just have to do. You were the last kid unwrapping — per usual. Josh and Elsie had already opened theirs, by age, and Jake hadn’t had a single gift. At which, he’d made sure to emphasize to your worried Grandmother that it was ‘completely okay’ and that he ‘wasn’t worried about it in the slightest.’  

Josh and Elsie’s gifts were the only ones left for you to unwrap at this point. But, even with only two gifts remaining, you couldn’t do any more of your heels pressing into your ass. Sore ass fuckin’ body.

The paper they’d chosen was shiny, just like yours. It caught every glimmer from the tree’s twinkling lights.

And, even if Josh hadn’t labeled his, you didn’t even have to guess whose was whose. 

Elsie’s corners were tucked (more like untucked) in the familiar way they always had been. While Josh’s gift was wrapped exquisitely, Elsie’s was wrapped. . . Not so exquisitely. Then Josh’s, labeled with a ‘to’ and ‘from’ and Elsie’s, with your name, scribbled in the top corner of the present from her. Her script alone was a dead giveaway. 

Josh’s gift came first. Once unwrapped, you found it in a smaller, long, slim box. A shallow box that didn’t give much room for anything too flashy. Josh’s gifts were always very thoughtful. Always drastically different than the last. 

For example, your birthday gift in February, had been the soft, fluffy blanket you loved so much and used every day. And with this box, you knew it would be nowhere near a blanket of any sort. Not even a baby blanket. 

You had no idea what to expect. All you knew was when you opened it to find a gift certificate for a professional maternity shoot, you could safely say that had been the last of your guesses.  

“Oh my god. . . Is this why you were so insistent on me understanding there was nothing wrong with my body the other night?” You asked, raising your brow at him, where he sat behind Elsie. “Needed me to be prepared for your gift?”

His own brow quirked, a smirk fitting to his lips. “Nooo, mama. That was just something you simply needed to know—need to know. This was planned already. Figured you deserved to have some good, professional photos taken while you’re in this magnificent and majestic state.”

While you weren’t exactly sure what to think, you were definitely anxious to see what could happen with a professional shoot. All of the theming possibilities. . . You wondered what all the photographer could do with lavender. . . The flower and the color. You were getting more and more excited by the minute. 

“Well, thank you, Joshy. . . I’m sure I will love them,” you grinned, winking in his direction. 

And while you wanted to turn and show Jake the certificate, you didn’t. One: it would be weird to your grandparents for you to do so. And, two: you didn’t want to piss Jake off any further. You just eyed the certificate to get a closer look at the company and the service. 

Glimmer & Glow Portraits. . . And, from what it looked like, you were getting The ‘Lush’ maternity shoot. . . It sounded pricey. The weighty material of the certificate felt expensive, too. And the swirly, embossed font screamed fancy. But. . . you’d never heard of the place. 

“Glimmer & Glow?” You questioned, holding the certificate up for Josh to see, as if he hadn’t been the one to buy it in the first place. 

“I’ll send you some example photos I saved of her work. She’s magnificent. Talked to a few friends from film school and they hooked me up with one of the best,” he explained, scooting closer to Elsie and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind her. “She’ll set us up with a newborn shoot, too, I’m sure.”

As you watched your sister and Josh mindlessly nuzzle each other’s noses, you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness at the fact that you did not have what they did. You, on the floor. And Jake, dating someone else entirely, while also being a few decently measured feet away from you. . . 

Your fate was a twisted joke. You couldn’t even look behind you to gauge his reaction to the sweet gift, for fear of embarrassing yourself or some shit. Josh and Elsie didn’t even have to worry about that kind of stuff. . . 

Though, instead of being sad, you tried to focus back on the maternity shoot.

“Seriously. . . Thank you, Josh,” you started, eyeing the certificate closer and looking at the specifications for the shoot. So many exclusive features. . . There was no way this had been affordable. “But please tell me this wasn’t too expensive.”

“Sam and Danny pitched in a little,” he assured, dodging the question. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m sure their portion was hefty,” Jake remarked sarcastically from behind you, on the couch. 

Hearing his voice had your tummy flip-flopping, made you feel jittery, all on its own. Though, what had you feeling the most overjoyed, was the fact that he was tuning in to what was happening with you. . . He wasn’t completely ignoring you. 

You wanted to look at him so badly, but. . . you refrained. All you could watch was Josh and Elsie in front of you, borderline absent from the room. It was depressing to watch, so you decided you’d move on to Elsie’s gift in the hopes of breaking up their display. 

“Elsie Mabel,” your Grandma tried, from her spot in the red armchair opposite your Grandfather’s chair. “Are you going to pay attention to your sister opening her gift?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Elsie groaned with irritation. 

But, you didn’t look up to see her presumed eye roll as you inspected the box carefully. It was also long, like Josh’s. But it was definitely more narrow, and not quite as flat. . . 

With a toss of your hair over your shoulder, you grinned at her. She was waiting for the question, a smile settled on her lips. “What sort of cry-worthy gift did you fit into this small box?” You quizzed her, genuinely curious. 

You were used to records or picture gifts. . . Sometimes a T-shirt with sentimentality backing it. The gifts from her were never dull — always thought out to the most specific extent. But you couldn’t remember the last time she’d gifted a small box. 

“You’ll see once you open it. . .,” she began with a purse of her full lips. “Don’t make me spoil the surprise yet, jerk.”

“Asshole,” you mumbled, beginning to pick at the paper. Slowly. You wanted to make her suffer in anticipation. 

“Oh, please. Go slower. I’d love that,” she mouthed off from beside you. 

“Girls. . .,” your Grandpa warned from his chair, like you were two hormonal, angsty teenagers all over again.

Ironically, you were still (very much) both angsty and hormonal. . . Just for slightly different reasons this time around. . .

As you snorted at the peculiarity of it all, you began to go a little faster to appease her and your own growing curiosity. Your Grandma provided background noise with conversation — as per usual. 

“Jake, honey. . . I haven’t even thought to ask you— how has it been with y/n’s pregnancy? Around the apartment? I’m sure she’s been a bit of a pill. . .”

Well, shit. Here we go again. . .

You froze your unwrapping, your eyes darting up to eye your Grandma, as inconspicuous as you could. She was right across from you. Not a white curl was out of place as she leaned, with graceful ease, against the arm of her chair to get a better look at Jake behind you. Her legs were stretched out, as they always were when she sat in her chair — and crossed at the ankle. Normally, the familiar sight would give you a sense of calm — but not right now. 

You felt your stomach drop, the present in your hands forgotten. You couldn’t see him, but you didn’t want to see him right now. You were worried. . . All you hoped was that this conversation didn’t lead to where it could potentially lead. . . But you had a bad feeling. . . . . 

Because, again, Grandma and Grandpa still didn’t know who the father was. And you got to win the fuckin’ prize for that wonderful decision.

“Oh, not at all actually. . . She’s been incredible,” he said, his tone lighting up significantly for the first time since he’d gotten to their house. God, you felt so damn bad. He continued easily, blissfully unaware of the torment in your mind. “It’s been nothing. I’ve more than enjoyed helping her. . . For whatever she needs, I try to be there. . .”

Whatever you needed was right. 

He trailed off on that one, and you couldn’t control the blush radiating in your cheeks as you looked down at the partially picked-at gift in your hands. You studied the gold of the paper in your clutch, noting every detail of it. From the scuffs on the paper, to the way the reflective material of the wrap danced with the tree lights. 

“Well, I’m darn glad she has you, honey pie,” Grandma replied, voice warm with sincere gratitude. She cleared her throat as she constantly did. And, again, it was not a comfort. It was nails on a chalkboard. . . Because you knew she was gearing up for more. “Truth of the matter is, you shouldn’t even have to deal with any of it. Considering you’re not the father. . .”

Fuck. You knew it was coming. Your body was tense, your heart thumping in your chest. . . notifying you of emotions you couldn’t show. 

You had a feeling, in the back of your mind, that she’d be the one to say something. It had been inevitable that words would be said, with how much your Grandma talked. 

If you were being completely honest, you were shocked that it had taken so long. It was nearing seven p.m., you’d discussed the goddamned gender, and they were just now mentioning the father.

Still, you were feeling, admittedly, really shitty about them not knowing who he was. Especially right now — like you’d felt earlier, but worse this time. It was completely clear now that they didn’t know. 

Josh’s eyes darted behind you, to where Jake sat. You could tell your friend was trying to be inconspicuous. . . And your grandparents likely wouldn’t notice his shift in attention to Jake as anything alarming. After Josh’s glance in Jake’s direction, you heard the latter twin uncomfortably clearing his throat from behind you. 

Goddammit. He was upset — had to be. And, he had every right to be. It would seem to anyone that you hadn’t said anything to them out of shame or embarrassment for who the father was. But that was the furthest thing from the truth. You just didn’t know how to tell them. 

All you were aware of at this moment was that you were a moron for not telling them sooner. That much was obvious. It was just. . . an uncomfortable subject matter to discuss with your grandparents. So, due to that, you were putting it off as long as you could. 

If you’d known he was coming today, though, you would have thought of a way on the spot to tell them before his arrival. But now. . .? How the fuck would you just throw that into conversation now?

The act of worrying over Jake and any possible internal or emotional reaction he could have to this was taking a decent amount of mental energy. So, you tried to simply zone completely in on the gift you were unwrapping. . . You could do that. . .

But your confidence in that shook when your Grandpa began talking.

“We just hope the guy is helping out a little,” the old man sighed, disappointment painted in the words. “Not leaving it all on the damn roommate,” your Grandpa grunted from his seat. You looked over at him, trying to feign any emotion besides the worry stirring in your gut. You found him adjusting his hands over his stomach before reclining back into his chair. “I mean, we can only trust the guy so much. . . We’ve yet to meet ‘im.”

God. Why were they being like this about it? So obviously hateful about the father? Though, with your Grandma’s next words, it all clicked. 

“The girls lacked a true father in their lives. . . He was only around for a bit before he was gone. . . Left their mother to do all of the work. . .,” she trailed off, the mention of your mother made the room still for a bit. 

Your mom was never mentioned — whether she was their daughter or not, you and Elsie were their girls. And, because they knew she’d caused you both immense pain — enough that they’d had to save you two —, they didn’t speak of her. Hardly ever.

So. . . Why all of this now?

“He was a deadbeat, MJ. . . Just say it,” your Grandpa emphasized the rude (but true) word, venom dripping from his tone as he spit it. “He refused to acknowledge his role as a father, but still stayed around long enough to make two girls he should have been better to. He missed out. . . Plain and simple. We can only hope Lavender’s father won’t make the same foolish decision.”

Your gut was rolling. The urge to vomit, suddenly lurking at the front of your racing mind. The mention of your mom and the reminder of your absent father made you feel even shittier. For a variety of reasons, you were feeling the most uncomfortable in this home than you had for a long time. 

Mostly, you were kicking yourself for not giving Jake the paternal credit he deserved. You couldn’t give two shits about your terrible parents and what they’d done (or hadn’t done) to and for you. All that mattered was Jake’s heart in this matter. And you knew how Jake was as a father. . . Completely opposite of your parents — both of them — in every way.

He was the ideal father. Helper. Co-parent. Already. 

But, only God knew how your grandparents would react to the news of Jake. Would they be angry that he was just now coming to a family gathering after so long? Would they be disappointed in you for not including him better? Would they automatically assume that he didn’t want to be a father and make assumptions before you could defend him? 

At this moment, it was impossible to tell them anything. . . And it was impossible to imagine how it would go if you tried. 

And, you were not going to make this Christmas any more uncomfortable than it already was at this very moment.

The only idea you could come up with was opening Elsie’s gift. You could get the room focused on something else. . . Anything else was better than this. 

Your fingers tore the messy corners of the paper with a much mightier speed. There was intention there that hadn’t been present before. Though, just before you could open the box, you heard Jake’s voice. 

You wanted to show him respect by waiting to hear him out. . . Whatever he wanted to say. . . (Also. . . you were admittedly curious how he would respond to all of that. . .) 

“Yeah. . . I mean, I never saw a guy traipsing through the place,” he started, his voice lacking any real depth. 

The pressure of your teeth against your lip was hardly noticeable as you kept your hand stilled on the lid of the box. At the moment, you didn’t even care if it looked suspicious that you were so focused on the sound of his voice.

He was trying to distance himself from the situation, trying to play aloof. You respected it, but it caught you off guard. What could he say next?

 “Well, there was one — is one — that she studies with every week. . . But there is no way it’s him,” he laughed sardonically under his breath. You imagined he was shaking his head. “Y/n wouldn’t ever lower herself to that standard of man. . .” 

“She has been rather picky through the years,” Elsie chimed in, from your right. You looked over to her, as she sent a grin your way that said ‘I’m right here. Don’t worry.’ “The baby’s daddy has to be an upstanding guy.”

Jake continued as though she hadn’t even spoken. His voice was clipped — you realized this. To anyone unassuming, his tone wasn’t strange. But to you? You knew he was pissed. 

“For all we know, the man was a mistake, Elsie. . . Who knows? A one night thing, perhaps?” 

Oh. . . So he was accusing you of one night stands in front of your grandparents?

“Jacob, she doesn’t venture down those paths. . .,” Josh tried, playing it off as a slight joke. “You know that.”

You were grateful for his quip, nodding towards him, in agreement with his statement. His brow was raised, though, when he caught your eye. . . He was questioning you. . . probably curious, as well, as to why you hadn’t clued your grandparents in on his brother’s role. 

Yes, again. . . you felt like shit about it.

Though, it landed on deaf ears where Jake was concerned. He clicked his tongue, his tone raising a bit to play off of a lighter feel. But you knew better. 

“I don’t know. . .,” he responded, presumably, to Josh. “She doesn’t really talk to me about anything. I found out about the baby by mistake, actually. . . She hasn’t been real big on telling people. Even those she lives with. . .,” he literally tacked on a huff of a chuckle to the end of his words. 

Nice. Hashing that instance out, too, was he? 

“It was shocking to find out, since I’d never seen anyone around. So, I don’t know. . .,” he finished with the curious words, just as he’d started. 

He was at a loss of knowing how to continue, it seemed. And so were you. His words were cutting straight to your heart. All of them. 

And, while he was obviously hurt (you knew him), he was playing it off strangely well. It just meant to you that he was really trying to put on a front for your grandparents. Knowing Jake, he didn’t want to cause any discomfort for them either. 

“Maybe she’s still feeling off about the idea of telling him,” Jake suddenly continued, apparently still having more to say. “Maybe she never will. . . And, yeah, maybe some would say she should give him the chance. . . But. . . that’s up to her.”

Fuck. Was that a backhanded thing? An emphasis on you not giving him a chance to your grandparents? Or were you just overthinking? God only knew. . .

“Oh, absolutely, Jacob,” your Grandma agreed, automatically. She was buying all of it. Jake was covering better than you could have begun to try. He was shielding your ass, even while ripping your heart to pieces with the hurt you’d inflicted on him. “I mean, I have to trust her. After all, I did raise the girl. . . And I believe she’ll do whatever she believes is best for her babygirl.”

“I agree. She’s already a fantastic mother,” Jake replied, a sad smile laced into his raspy timbre (you knew those little indicators in his tone). On your own face, you felt a watery smile form. If your grandparents noticed it, you didn’t care. His words were sweet, regardless. And, his next words caused the smile to become shakier. “I just hope if she does tell him, the guy isn’t a deadbeat. . . Y/n deserves better than that. The baby deserves better than that.”

Your baby, Jake. . . And that baby does have the best of the best. . .

The sniffle that escaped your nose was unstoppable, as was the single tear that trickled down your cheek onto your hand. You had to say something to that. 

“Thanks, Jake,” you replied, turning your head to the side to acknowledge him. Though, you were not daring looking at him. You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t completely break down, thus exposing something on accident.

“It’s true, y/n,” he said, tone softer than you deserved for putting him in this situation. You were lying to your grandparents, not giving Jake a chance to be involved, yet again. . . And, still, he was being so kind. “You are an incredible mother to her.”

Goddammit. Your shaky hand that reached up to stop more tears was your savior.

“Well, I’ll be. . . You seem to have just as much to say about this as you do music!” Grandpa laughed, slapping his thighs. The sound made you jump, looking over at the man, from where you’d apparently zoned out on the air between you and Jake. Your Grandpa’s copper skin, freckled with dark specks; his cheeks were pressed with genuine dimples. He was obviously elated with Jake’s responses. “If only you were the father, son. . . We wouldn’t even be stressin’ this!”

“Harold!” Your Grandma scolded him, laughing at him all the same. “You quit that. Don’t want to make the poor kids uncomfortable.”

Oh, yes, Grandma. . . We wouldn’t want that, now would we? The thoughts were instantaneous as you closed your eyes with a shake of your head. 

When you opened your eyes, your attention was visually trained on her. But, your thoughts weren’t concerned with her. No, all you felt was the stare that was heating the skin on the back of your body. Your entire backside was hot with the fact that Jake was right behind you. You felt him. Your mind was swimming with him. Everything he’d said. . . 

And, considering he had said all of that, you hated how very silent he was suddenly being. . . 

. . .Or did you? 

What was better for you at the moment? What would not make your supposed POTS — whatever heart issue — go into overdrive? You knew both reactions would have you overthinking to incredible heights. 

Honestly, you were just glad he hadn’t found a reason to ask Josh if they could leave. . . Or maybe he was just waiting until the presents were all unwrapped to ask his brother if they could dip out. 

Your heartbeat was thumping in your ears at the prospect of him leaving.

Because, one thing you did know: you did not want Jake to be away from you. You’d missed him and needed to keep him close. So, you needed him to stay long enough that you could explain yourself. Had to make sure he understood why your grandparents were still in the dark. . . 

Though, did you even understand why anymore?

a/n: when do you think her grandparents will find out? and, um... how do you think the rest of Christmas will go?... hm... the possibilities are endless, one might say ;)

AS ALWAYS -- please send in asks, respond to chapters, etc. I PROMISE I SEE THEM AND IT IS THE BEST REWARD FOR THE DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS SPENT WRITING THIS STORY! <333 this story takes up SO MUCH time in my already busy family-filled, work-filled, etc. life, but YOU all make it WORTH IT. So I LOVE to hear from you!!!!! <3 xoxoxo

trying my best to keep up w the Covet Visualizer... you may view it if you'd like. however, you don't NEED TO. i simply am a very visual person, sooo i made it for my fellow visual learners/lovers. the photos i pulled inspo from for y/n's photos in this chapter will be in the visualizer :D !!! (IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO USE IT, PLEASE VIEW IT IN PRINT LAYOUT!! — esp if you’re using the docs app/are on your phone!!)

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @jennyraye20

I always try to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! ughhh (taglist will be cont. in reblog !!) Please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3