Resources and action items to call for an end to the violence in Gaza.
I haven’t seen this linked on here so: this is an awesome resource for how you can help the people in Palestine. It has donation links, helps you figure out how to contact your representatives, and a regularly updated list of planned protests. It is USAmerican centric but the list of protests is international.
If you are American this site has a tool that sends an email for you. All you need to enter is your name, email address, and street address so they can auto-find your senators. It will take 30 seconds.
⤷ . ᵒ . 🥃 .༄ cinnamon and whiskey ! ࿔* ━━ series masterlist
summary .' in which you ( the reader ) are jackson’s cinnamon roll girl—the one who bakes before sunrise, hums under her breath, and hands out cookies with a smile. no one notices how your hands tremble. no one asks why you never eat what you bake.
joel miller notices.
it should’ve ended there : a nod, a tray of bread, polite conversation. but he sees the way your husband holds your wrist too tight. the way your smile fades the second the door closes. and the way your silence stretches a little too long. joel doesn't mean to get involved. but once he starts paying attention, once he hears you laugh, once he realizes how much you're hiding—he can’t walk away.
not this time—not from you.
trigger warnings .' lowercase intended!!! \ emotional abuse \ domestic abuse \ controlling behavior \ gaslighting \ power imbalance within a relationship ( reader x husband ) \ references to past physical abuse ( implied bruises, flinching, dissociation ) \ depression \ emotional shutdown \ food and eating-related trauma ( mentions of reader not eating ) \ slow-burn romantic tension while reader is in an unhealthy relationship \ protective and or obsessive behavior \ ptsd responses ( flashbacks, hypervigilance ) \ power dynamics (town council / social reputation dynamics ) \ mentions of implied marital intimacy without consent ( reader x husband )
main masterlist | join the taglist | dividers by @cafekitsune
jackson!joel miller x chef!reader
CHAPTER ONE .' smile, sweetheart ( coming soon )
CHAPTER TWO .' tbd ( coming soon )
CHAPTER THREE .' tbd ( coming soon )
and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - part ii.
"It changed the way she thought about their relationship. It had always been her and him – Quincy and Bradley, Duckie and Rooster, his baby and her daddy." or Quincy Bradshaw picks the fight of all fights with her dad.
a/n: not gonna lie guys, i've majorly lost inspiration for writing but recently had an urge to write angst. hopefully this is sufficient enough.
The smell of black coffee could never be any less appealing when paired with the immediate second whiff of stagnant acidity from a metal popcorn tin full of vomit, and the harsh smell of outdoors.
Quincy Bradshaw wrinkles her nose and immediately rubs her eyes.
A rectangle of light cast from the kitchen windows paints opaque radiance onto the living room floor. The sound of the kitchen cabinet slamming shut pairs with the dull hum of the ancient coffee maker that had been around since before she had even been a thought.
Her eyes open only a quarter of the way – partly because her eyelashes are threaded together from slept in mascara, halfway because of the fact her contact lenses are living in the corners furthest away from her pupils, and entirely because of the fact she’ll puke again if the light hits her all at once.
The Leemore naval base sweatshirt she doesn’t remember putting on feels like a straitjacket, and the seams of the jeans she does remember putting on cut into her legs in strange places.
Her head doesn’t pound, but she doesn’t feel amazing either. The throbbing rocks back and forth and forward and backward. She subconsciously feels herself mimicking the motion of the dull ache in her temples.
Another slam of a cabinet closing startles her. Her eyes shoot open despite the natural effort her body has exerted to keep them closed. An immediate flux of nausea comes over her as her eyes open completely. She leans over to search for the metal popcorn bucket she knows is full of her vomit from last night.
A sputtering cough and a dry heave fill the space, and she’s throwing up what seems to be everything she had consumed in the last twenty-four hours to join what stomach contents already reside in the bucket.
Quincy’s diaphragm is out of sync with her lungs, and she would be in hysterics by now if this were normal. She hates throwing up. Loathes it. Would possibly rather die than ever throw up, but this isn’t normal, and she isn’t sick with the flu or food poisoning or some mysterious stomach virus.
This is her throwing up because she fucked up and got caught.
She takes a stuttering breath before gagging again. The glasses in the kitchen cupboard subtly shake as footsteps approach her. She hears a sigh of disappointment over the strangled sound of her puking.
Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life!
Another item on the list of things she would rather die than encounter happens to be the rage of her father. Nothing can compare to how horrible that feeling is.
She finally finishes, sitting up straight and wiping the acidity from her mouth onto the sleeve of the sweatshirt that’s swallowing her whole. Bradley stands before her. One of his hands holds a bottle of sugar-free Gatorade and a piece of toast wrapped in a paper towel. The other holds a chipped mug that has her Kindergarten handprint stamped upside down in green to make a plant on it. The whiff of black coffee almost makes her gag again. The vomit rises, but she swallows it down.
Once is enough this morning.
She stares down at the popcorn bucket and sees a color she can’t even describe. The contents of it make her anxious the longer she stares, but she would rather look at what she assumes to be the result of mixing copious amounts of alcohol (a Four Locko Sour, a mango Beatbox, a few shots of tequila, and whatever fuck ass shooters her friends pulled from their bras that were bought illegally from the gas station three blocks from her house, if she recalls correctly) than look her father in the eyes. Especially not when she knows that the party she had gone to was off limits, she doesn’t entirely recall how she had gotten home, and the fact that she had snuck out right under his nose on a school night.
Not to mention, this is the first time they’ve looked at each other since January after her principal called the house and revealed she had stopped going to school beyond second period after the start of October. But if you asked Quincy, the deterioration of their relationship began long before she started ditching school and roaming the city during the day.
It was subtle at first. Her dad not remembering their conversations when he used to hang onto every word she said with such permanence and accuracy, it was as if the thought came from his own mind. Sometimes he would work late and would miss her soccer games. Then he stopped asking her to tag along with him to surf early on the weekends. Then he just kind of... stopped talking to her altogether.
She doesn’t remember exactly when that pinprick of doubt kicked in. It lingered in the shadows, she assumes. It stained every moment she had when he wasn’t there. When he didn’t call or didn’t text or didn’t remember anything she had said. It changed the way she thought about their relationship. It had always been her and him – Quincy and Bradley, Duckie and Rooster, his baby and her daddy.
But now it seemed like it was just that.
Her. And then him.
Two separate people whose lives are parallel and never touch each other.
And then she thought maybe they were just one because she wasn’t her own person then. She was an extension of her dad; a person, but a person who didn’t have their own thoughts and feelings and just existed as a shadow.
It starts with a letdown and ends with abandonment. It sure does fucking feel like it when your parents announce they’re having another baby your Senior year of high school.
Then that doubt doesn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.
After the phone call to the house, there was a silence that ensued. There were no theatrics. No screaming match. No dramatic, “I fucking hate you!” screeched at the top of anyone’s lungs. There had just been a sigh of disappointment from her dad paired with his hand reaching across the kitchen table, palm up, gesturing for her keys to go in his hand. She doesn’t even think he said the words, “You’re grounded,” but he didn’t have to for her to get the message.
The same way he didn’t have to for her to know that he didn’t care anymore.
She can’t even remember why she’s afraid because even if the capability of her father’s rage has always frightened her, he doesn’t seem to give enough of a damn to summon it. Part of her knows that it probably won’t even happen at all, and a pang of hurt causes her heart to shrink in on itself.
I just want you to care. I want you to care. I want you to care.
“School. It’s a quarter till seven.”
She peers up at her father. His hand extends the bread and the beverage to her, but she doesn’t move. He stands in front of her, the same eyes and nose and mustache that he had always had. He looks like her dad, but he doesn’t seem like he’s her dad.
At least not anymore.
“You need to get going,” he says plainly. His gaze falls to his watch you and her had gotten him this past Father’s Day.
Quincy rolls her eyes. Her body buzzes with annoyance at the fact that she had done anything nice for him at all. He doesn’t give a fuck about her. Why should she give a damn about making sure he knows she cares? That he gets a gift for Father’s Day. That she says “I love you” before hanging up the phone. That she tells him about her friends at school or the yearbook, or even the fact that she had gotten into UC Berkeley and had already paid the seat deposit on her own.
Her dad didn’t care that she was her own person. Why should she care that he’s his own person, too?
Quincy’s anger starts to flourish in her chest, and she starts to shake. She tries to calm herself; her eyes catching on the spindles in the staircase he had just fixed this past weekend, even though they’d been loose since her ninth birthday.
Following the news that you were pregnant, you had gone on a two-month-long nesting cleaning spree, and to cope, her dad had started hyperfixating on every “handyman” project he could get his hands on. He had never given a fuck about the waterstain on the laundry room ceiling before, but now the task seems to plague his mind constantly. Her dad doesn’t know how to redo tile, but his Saturday afternoon trips to Lowe’s to look for grout say otherwise.
Both your brains are occupied with thoughts that aren’t her and she knows your hearts are growing in size to accommodate for someone she certainly isn’t. Now, as she’s being stoned with annoyance and disappointment from the “caring” adults in her life, the red-hot anger boils until it starts to burn.
Fuck them for being pissed at me. Fuck them for not understanding. Fuck them for not seeing me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fuck!
She can feel it in her chest before she can recognize that she’s even angry and is showing it. The curse word doesn’t even feel like a curse word anymore. Her brain can’t even make it sound like a real word, nonetheless.
Her lips chase after her frustration’s consonants and vowels; the anger so rambunctious she can’t hear herself think over it.
“Fuck off,” she manages to mutter, teeth clenched and cheeks pink with irritation.
Quincy’s eyes find her dad’s face. She can see the usual terracotta flush on his cheeks spread down his neck. His face contorts into an expression equal parts angry and awful. His eyebrows are furrowed. The lines in his forehead are pinched. His chest is heaving.
Bradley’s eyes practically saws her in half on the spot.
The little five-year-old inside of her, who would rather die than make her dad angry, screeches at her, tells her to say sorry and that she’s a bad person for behaving this way. She screams that Quincy is being unreasonable. Quincy screams back that he doesn’t care anyway.
Go be with your new kid. I don’t fucking matter anyway.
“Wh-what? What did you just say to me, young lady?” Bradley asks, half in shock and half enraged.
He’s positive he heard her correctly, but also not sure if he’s dreaming or not. Quincy has never openly rebelled like this, nor has she ever spoken to any adult in her life in that way. Not his girl. Not his sweet, precious, precocious baby girl.
She rolls her eyes and moves herself to sit upright. Bradley can see her attempt to conceal a gag at her sudden change of position, but he knows she’s too stubborn to let him see what effect it has on her. She’s like that and he’s like that too, he supposes.
“Fuck. Off.” Her voice drips with certainty and cruelty.
She surprises herself with how hateful it comes out. Bradley’s hands move from his hips to apply pressure on his temples.
“Are you being serious right now?” he snaps.
The sound of the groaning floorboard outside the door of the master bedroom announces itself, and both their heads snap up to glance at the staircase. They know you’re listening to their conversation.
How could you not be? Curse words and tension don’t exactly knock on your household’s door before 8 AM.
“Would I fucking repeat it if I wasn’t?” she snaps back. Her head tilts to the side and her eyebrows scrunch on her face in disgust.
Bradley feels the challenge she’s trying to present; equal parts pissed off at her from last night’s incident, pissed from her earlier comment, and looking to be pissed off at whatever else she’s gearing up to say.
“You’ve got,” he looks down at his watch before fixing his gaze on his teenage daughter, “Thirty seconds to lose your attitude and turn this shit around or I’m getting on your ass and you’ll wish you never grew the balls to go to that party.”
She rolls her eyes with such fervent dismissiveness before stomping her feet on the ground and grabbing the metal popcorn bucket on the floor. Her feet stomp away upstairs to her bedroom. She makes a point to brush past her dad with force and agility; making sure he knows her fury and hoping the pungent odor of her vomit finds its way to his nostrils.
Quincy stomps so loudly that the newly repaired spindles in the staircase vibrate with each step. Bradley stands in a state of dissociation before his brain catches up with the events unfolding in front of him. His conscience removes itself from his body as he embarks on what he feels will be the most catastrophic parenting moment he’ll ever have.
“Hey! We’re not done talking!” he yells. He spins on his heel, not daring to reach out and grab her before she can fully ascend up the stairs, but his voice is loud and alarming enough to make her stop and turn around to face him.
“I walked away, Dad. I don’t wanna talk.”
Bradley rolls his eyes, leaning his back on the wall near the bottom of the staircase. If you had asked him seventeen years ago on that fateful November night, he would have never considered being in this position. His new baby, nine pounds of sweetness and a head full of dark hair, would never ever make him feel this way – angry and frustrated beyond belief.
Now, seventeen years later on a random Friday morning in May, he feels like an idiot for thinking he could survive the years of teenage terror.
“That’s not an option. This isn’t a choice. We’re talking because you’re being disrespectful and this is my house,” he winces internally as he says it (partly because he sounds like his mom way back when, but mostly because he knows he sounds like Maverick), “And you don’t get to talk to me or treat anyone like that ever.”
She puts the bucket down on the stairs in front of her and crosses her arms to sit on her chest.
“Insane that you’re saying “this house” as if you give a fuck about anything I do ever,” Quincy snides, “You can’t only care about me whenever it makes you look bad.”
Something about that sends an arrow straight through Bradley’s heart. Instead of recognizing the ache, instead of realizing that it hurts for a reason, he does the opposite and pulls it right back out.
His rage knows no allies. The exception used to be his daughter, but now he’s not so sure.
“Yeah, you’re right, kid,” his hand comes up to wipe at his face before he completely comes unglued, “You’re right because how would it look if you got arrested at that party? If you drove home and got a DUI? If your little dumbass friends got you in that car and you ended up with a fucking stop sign through your neck and dead because you’re so desperate for friends?”
“What happened to the girl I raised? Huh? To having some fucking common sense?” he sighs, finally coming down from his rage-induced rant, “You’re so fucking smart but so fucking stupid sometimes.”
Bradley knows he shouldn’t; he knows this will kill her alone, but the monster of fury in his chest forces it out of him before he can resume thinking. “I’m so damn embarrassed to be your dad right now that it makes me fucking sick, Quince.”
The veil of apathy falls, and she can feel the fire in her throat and the flames licking her tear ducts; tempting her with how amazing it would feel to cry. She’s feeling something that she’s never been made to feel before. She knows it’s not embarrassment, but rather something different.
It’s more humiliating. It’s more disheartening. It’s more saddening.
She’s feeling ashamed.
But she can’t show weakness now. Bradley can recognize the look of fury in her eyes and kicks himself for it. She is her father’s child and she not only inherited Bradley’s huffiness, but also his need to have the last word.
“Why does it fucking matter if you’re gonna go have a new kid anyway? You get to be a dad to someone who doesn’t make you fucking sick in a few weeks so don’t waste your precious time pretending like you care about me or that you give a damn about anything I say or do.”
“Quincy –” he tries to interrupt her, but she shakes her head and continues to rattle on anyway.
“I got into Berkeley, Dad. I got into fucking Berkeley and you didn’t even fucking care enough to hear about it.”
His jaw drops open in shock. He didn’t even know that she applied. The last he had heard about college decisions, she was headed up the road to UC San Diego in September. He’s not prepared to send her eight hours away at the end of the summer. He doesn’t even know how he could have missed something as amazing and exciting as her getting into the school of her dreams. His heart begins to splinter on the spot.
Quincy is hurting and he didn’t even open his eyes wide enough to notice.
“Babe –”
“No! No, you don’t get to try and get me to shut the fuck up,” she shrieks. She begins her descent down the stairs with her finger pointing into her father’s chest accusingly. “You don’t care about me, Dad. That’s what this new baby is, right? You’re trading me for something shiny and new and for something that fits whatever fucked up idea of a family you have in your head because yours got totally fucked by the “War on Terrorism” or some other military propagandist bullshit.”
He backs up from her knowing that she’s doing exactly what he does – poking the bear until it bites that person’s head off.
If she knew what was good for her (and she seems to not know that, as of late) she would back off. But Bradley knows that pride is her Achilles' Heel.
Fuck, it seems to be for every seventeen year old. He can’t wait for her to grow out of it.
“Go to your room. Now,” he says. Quincy screams and slaps the wall; truly unlocking a different kind of anger she had never reached before.
“No!” she bellows, “You’re being a coward. Tell me you don’t love me! Tell me that you should’ve given me up! Tell me you should’ve made my mom get an abortion!”
Bradley grabs her arms, holding her still in front of him. “That’s enough!”
She laughs cruelly in his face, wrangling her arms out of his hold and stomping up the stairs until she reaches the top. “That’s just your solution for everything, isn’t it? To ignore me? To make me go away when I say something you don’t like?”
Bradley rolls his eyes, trying not to entertain her goading because he knows nothing good can come from it.
“You just gonna ice me out like you did Papa Mav because – because I’m not letting you live out some fantasy you have about how your life should be?”
He walks away and paces around the living room. He can feel his heart thumping in his chest and his mouth itching to say the magic words he knows will shut her up. He hopes and prays that Quincy decides to give it a rest, but he knows that she won’t. He doesn’t know if he should call it father’s intuition or looking in a mirror.
“I hope you fuck up this baby as much as you’ve fucked me up so you’ll finally see that you’re the problem,” she says, half hoping for a response but half craving for more of a fight.
She hears her dad return to the bottom step of the stairs and prepares herself for the satisfactory feeling of knowing she won the verbal battle she just put up.
He looks up at her with a look that she has never seen before and the calmness in his demeanor shoots her down.
“I can’t believe I raised someone as fucked up as you,” he says, the casual cruelness slitting the throat of any ounce of hope she had left.
Bradley can’t bear to witness the pain she wears on her face and returns to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water; begging and praying that the ice-cold gulps he takes will help him wake up from the nightmare he just experienced.
The slamming of her bedroom door vibrating the house and the pained sobs echoing trap him in the deepest circle of hell he can feasibly imagine.
Bradley thinks Hell might be more pleasant than this.
Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.
Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments, mentions of cheating
Word count: 6.1k
The soft light of morning streamed through the curtains as Bradley stirred, the warmth of your body pressed against his pulling him from sleep. His arm instinctively tightened around your waist for a moment before he let go, careful not to wake you.
He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing his phone and squinting at the bright screen. There was a text waiting for him, and when he saw it was from Phoenix, his stomach clenched.
Phoenix: Did you tell her yet?
Bradley stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He glanced over at you, your face peaceful and relaxed in sleep, the events of last night leaving a slight smile on your lips.
He ran a hand over his face, sighing quietly. He hadn’t told you. Instead, he had lied to you, weaving together an excuse to justify his impending trip to San Diego. You trusted him, and here he was, betraying that trust.
His chest tightened as guilt surged through him. He typed a response, then hesitated, deleting it before writing something else.
Bradley: No. Not yet.
A moment later, Phoenix replied.
Phoenix: Bradshaw… you can’t keep putting this off. She’s gonna find out, and it’ll be worse.
Bradley frowned, staring at her words. She was right, but he couldn’t bring himself to face it—not yet. You’d been so tense, so tired. The argument couple nights back still lingered in his mind, and the thought of adding more stress made his chest ache.
He locked his phone, placing it back on the nightstand as he shifted closer to you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, trying to push the guilt aside.
You stirred softly, the sensation of Bradley’s arm wrapped around your waist grounding you as you blinked against the morning light. The warmth of his body pressed against your back made you sigh contentedly, though the weight of the week still lingered at the edge of your mind.
“Good morning,” his voice rumbled low and soft in your ear, and you could feel the gentle press of his lips against your shoulder.
You shifted to face him, your eyes meeting his, still half-lidded with sleep. “Morning,” you murmured, your voice heavy with drowsiness. “You’re up early.”
He smiled faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Couldn’t stay asleep,” he said, his hand lingering on your cheek. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “What time is it?”
“A little after seven,” he replied.
You groaned softly, stretching your arms above your head before curling back into him. “It’s too early,” you mumbled, letting your eyes close again.
Bradley chuckled, his hand running soothing circles on your back. “You can sleep a little longer if you want,” he said, though there was something in his tone—hesitation, almost as if he was distracted.
You peeked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind?” you asked, your voice still quiet but sharper now, more alert.
He hesitated, his hand stilling on your back for a moment before resuming its slow movement. “Nothing,” he said, his smile faint but not quite reaching his eyes. “Just thinking about the day.”
You didn’t press him—yet—but you could feel that something was off. Still, the warmth of his embrace and the softness of the morning kept you from digging too deep right away. Instead, you snuggled closer, letting the moment linger just a little longer.
You smirked sleepily, the teasing tone in your voice unmistakable as you tilted your head up to look at him. “You better not be over there thinking about anything other than repeating last night’s events, Bradshaw.”
Bradley’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before a grin broke across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmured, his hand sliding from your back to rest on your hip.
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “I mean, if you’re going to keep me awake like that, you’d better make it worth my while.”
He let out a low laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
“I like to think I’m persuasive,” you countered, your smirk widening as you felt his hand tighten slightly on your hip.
Bradley’s grin softened, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours. “Well, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “if that’s what’s on your mind, who am I to argue?”
“Exactly,” you whispered against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
He chuckled again, the sound deep and warm, before kissing you fully. It wasn’t hurried or rushed like the chaos of your everyday lives—it was deliberate, slow, and full of the same intensity that had lingered between you last night.
“You’re trouble,” he muttered as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
“And you love it,” you teased, your smile softening as you held his gaze.
“Damn right, I do,” he admitted, leaning in for another kiss, letting the world outside your bedroom wait just a little longer.
As Bradley’s lips trailed down your neck, warm and deliberate, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access, but the thought still lingered in your mind, unshakable.
“You’re leaving right after New Year’s,” you murmured, your voice laced with a mix of resignation and disappointment.
Bradley paused for a fraction of a second, his lips stilling against your skin before he resumed his kisses, slower this time, as though trying to soothe your worry without saying a word. His hands tightened slightly on your hips, pulling you closer to him.
“You’ll be back soon, right?” you asked softly, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah,” he mumbled against your skin, his tone low and almost evasive as he moved to press a kiss to your shoulder.
You let out another sigh, your breath shaky as you tried to push past the unease building in your chest. “It’s just… I thought this time would be different, you know? That we’d have more time together before the Navy called you away again. I just don't want any of the kids to get sick again, especially Theo.”
Bradley pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression tender, though there was a flicker of something else—guilt—that he quickly masked. “I know,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’ll make it up to you.”
You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You always say that.”
He didn’t have a response for that, so he leaned in to kiss you again instead, as if that could erase the weight of what he wasn’t saying. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth—that this trip wasn’t just a routine call, but something he’d chosen to do, knowing how much it would hurt you.
As he kissed you, his heart ached with the knowledge that he was betraying your trust, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the moment, on the way you fit perfectly in his arms.
“I’ll do better,” he promised against your lips, though even he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—you or himself.
Bradley rolled out of bed with a groan, his movements fluid yet unhurried as he stretched his arms above his head. The morning light filtered in through the blinds, catching on the muscles of his back as he reached for his clothes on the chair nearby.
You watched him with a small, appreciative smile, your chin propped on your hand. Your gaze shamelessly wandered to his backside as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, the fabric clinging in just the right way.
“Enjoying the view?” he teased without turning around, his voice laced with amusement.
“Always,” you shot back, your smirk growing as he turned to glance at you over his shoulder, shaking his head with a grin.
Bradley pulled on a T-shirt and ran a hand through his messy hair before leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll grab Theo,” he said softly, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he left the room.
You lay back against the pillows, hearing the familiar creak of the floorboards as he made his way to Theo’s room. A few moments later, you heard the soft sound of Bradley’s voice as he spoke to the baby.
“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he approached the crib. “You ready to start the day?”
Theo babbled happily in response, his tiny hands reaching up toward Bradley as he leaned down to scoop him up.
“There we go,” Bradley said, cradling Theo against his chest as he rubbed the baby’s back gently. “Let’s go see Mama, huh?”
Theo giggled, his little fingers gripping the fabric of Bradley’s shirt as he carried him back into your shared room.
When they entered, your heart melted at the sight. Bradley’s broad frame dwarfed the tiny baby in his arms, yet his movements were so gentle, so full of love, that it was impossible not to feel a pang of affection.
“Look who I found,” Bradley said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed as Theo reached out toward you.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” you cooed, taking Theo into your arms and kissing his chubby cheeks as he squirmed happily.
Bradley leaned back on his hands, watching the two of you with a soft smile. “Best way to start the day,” he said, his voice warm and sincere.
You settled Theo in your lap, his tiny hands gripping yours as he babbled endlessly, his bright eyes darting between you and Bradley.
“You’re full of energy this morning,” you murmured, smoothing down his soft hair before leaning in to kiss the top of his head.
Bradley watched the scene for a moment, his expression soft, before he stretched and stood. “I’ll start breakfast,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Any requests?”
You shrugged, shifting Theo onto your hip as you stood to follow him. “Surprise me.”
Bradley grinned. “You might regret saying that.”
He headed downstairs, his steps quiet as he moved toward the kitchen. You trailed behind him, bouncing Theo lightly as he giggled at the movement.
In the kitchen, Bradley set to work, pulling ingredients from the fridge while you settled Theo into his high chair. The baby watched his dad intently, his little hands slapping the tray of his chair as he babbled nonsense.
“Think he’s giving me cooking advice?” Bradley quipped, glancing at Theo with a smirk as he cracked eggs into a bowl.
“Probably critiquing your technique,” you teased, leaning against the counter with a smile.
Bradley shot you a mock-offended look. “I’m a pro at this, thank you very much.”
You chuckled softly, enjoying the easy banter. Despite the tension from the nights before, moments like this reminded you of why you fell in love with him in the first place—the way he could make even the simplest mornings feel special.
As Bradley whisked the eggs with practiced ease, you glanced toward the stairs. “Should I go wake the girls? They’ll probably want breakfast soon.”
He smirked without looking up, pouring the eggs into the sizzling pan. “Let them sleep in,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “It’s finally quiet around here. We should enjoy it while it lasts.”
You laughed softly, leaning back against the counter. “Peace and quiet doesn’t last long in this house.”
“Nope,” he agreed, flipping the eggs with a deft hand. “Which is exactly why I’m soaking this in.”
Theo, as if sensing the calm, let out a loud babble and smacked his high chair tray with both hands.
Bradley turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not entirely quiet.”
You chuckled, reaching out to tickle Theo’s belly, earning another giggle from him. “This one doesn’t know the meaning of quiet.”
Bradley grinned, plating the eggs before grabbing the bread to toast. “He takes after you.”
You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am the epitome of calm.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Bradley teased, leaning over to kiss your temple as he passed you on his way to the toaster. “Whatever you say.”
As you leaned against the counter, watching Bradley work, a thought crossed your mind. You shifted, resting your elbows on the surface as you spoke.
“Hey,” you began casually, “do you want to go shopping today? Pick up some stuff for your deployment to San Diego?”
Bradley froze for the slightest moment, the spatula hovering above the pan. He quickly recovered, flipping the eggs onto a plate, but you caught the way his shoulders tensed.
“Uh,” he started, avoiding your gaze as he busied himself with the toast, “yeah, we could do that.”
You tilted your head, sensing something was off. “I mean, it’s not like we have a ton of time. It’s probably better to get ahead of it, right?”
He forced a smile as he turned back to you, holding the plate of food. “Right.”
But there was something in his tone—something hesitant, almost strained. You narrowed your eyes slightly, studying him.
“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.
“Yeah, fine,” he replied quickly, setting the plate on the counter. He leaned against it, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinking about everything we’ll need to sort before I go.”
You nodded, accepting his answer but still feeling a nagging suspicion. “Well, let me know when you want to head out. I can leave the kids with Matt or take them with us. Whatever works.”
Bradley’s guilt twisted in his chest as he looked at you, so calm and supportive despite everything. He swallowed hard, knowing he should tell you the truth but unable to force the words out.
“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice softer. “I’ll let you know.”
He turned back to the stove, pretending to focus on cleaning up, but his mind was racing. How was he supposed to tell you he wasn’t going on deployment, that the orders he claimed to have received weren’t real? The weight of his lie felt heavier than ever, and the thought of hurting you made it even worse.
For now, though, he pushed it down, giving you a weak smile when you handed him Theo’s bottle. “I’ll take him while you eat,” he offered, desperate for a distraction.
You nodded, watching him carefully as he picked up Theo and headed to the living room. Something was definitely going on, but you decided to let it slide—for now.
Bradley climbed the stairs slowly, Theo balanced on his hip as the little boy babbled softly. His tiny hands played with Bradley’s shirt collar, but Bradley barely noticed, his mind clouded with guilt.
“This is such a mess,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at Theo, who gazed up at him innocently. “What the hell am I supposed to do, buddy?”
Theo gurgled in response, his wide-eyed stare unbothered by his dad’s internal conflict.
Bradley sighed, shifting the baby’s weight as he reached the top of the stairs. “I screwed up,” he admitted quietly, the words barely audible even to himself. “I should’ve just told her from the start.”
He paused outside Theo’s room, leaning against the doorframe for a moment. “But how am I supposed to look her in the eye and say I lied?”
Theo let out a tiny squeal, breaking Bradley from his thoughts. He glanced down and gave the baby a faint smile. “You don’t know how lucky you are, kid. No big decisions, no guilt... just bottles and naps.”
With a deep breath, Bradley pushed open the door and stepped inside. He set Theo down on the soft play mat near the crib, watching as his son grabbed a plush toy and started chewing on it.
Bradley crouched down beside him, running a hand over his face. “I’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “I have to.”
Bradley reached over to grab Theo’s bottle from the small table beside the rocking chair, checking the temperature with a quick touch to his wrist. Satisfied, he held it out to Theo, who immediately dropped the plush toy in favour of the bottle, his little hands grasping at it eagerly.
“There you go, bud,” Bradley said softly, easing himself into the chair as he helped guide the bottle to Theo’s mouth.
Theo latched on instantly, his eyes half-closing in contentment as he sucked on the bottle. Bradley watched him in silence, his thoughts still swirling.
“Your mom’s going to kill me, you know that?” he muttered, more to himself than to Theo. The baby offered no response beyond the soft sound of his drinking.
Bradley leaned back in the chair, one hand cradling Theo’s small body while the other rubbed tiredly at his face. “I want to do right by her, by you and your sisters,” he whispered. “But sometimes... I feel like I’m just making it worse.”
Theo’s eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at his dad with an expression so trusting it made Bradley’s chest ache.
“Guess it’s not about me, huh?” he said, smiling faintly as he adjusted the bottle. “It’s about you guys. Always.”
Theo’s tiny hand reached up, gripping one of Bradley’s fingers tightly as if to agree.
As Bradley sat in the rocking chair, Theo cradled in his arms with the nearly empty bottle, he heard the unmistakable sound of little feet thundering down the stairs.
A moment later, Anna and Judy appeared in the doorway, their hair tousled from sleep and their matching pyjama tops slightly askew.
“Daddy!” Anna squealed, her voice bright and excited despite the early hour.
“Rooster,” Judy greeted, rubbing her eyes with one hand while holding her beloved stuffed bunny in the other.
“Morning, troublemakers,” Bradley said with a smile, sitting up straighter as the girls bounded into the room. Anna immediately climbed onto his lap, careful to avoid Theo, who blinked at her with wide, curious eyes.
“Why didn’t you wake us up?” Anna asked, pouting as she leaned against Bradley’s shoulder.
“Because you two finally slept in for once,” he teased, wrapping one arm around her while still holding Theo steady with the other.
Judy climbed onto the armrest of the rocking chair, her legs swinging as she looked down at her baby brother. “Did Theo cry again? I heard him.”
“Yeah, he woke me up at three,” Bradley said with mock exasperation. “Guess he figured I didn’t need sleep.”
Judy giggled, leaning over to tickle Theo’s tiny foot. “You’re a little troublemaker too, aren’t you?”
Theo gurgled in response, his face lighting up at the attention.
“Alright, you two,” Bradley said, shifting to stand up with Theo in one arm and Anna still clinging to his other side. “Let’s get you some breakfast. Pancake leftovers sound good?”
“Yes!” Anna cheered, sliding down from his arm and darting toward the kitchen.
Judy groaned as Rooster was ruffling her hair. As she skipped after her sister, Bradley adjusted Theo on his hip and headed toward the kitchen, ready to start the day with his lively little crew.
The sound of little feet thundering down the stairs filled the house as Anna and Judy raced ahead, their excited giggles echoing through the hall. Bradley followed behind them, carrying Theo on his hip as the girls darted toward the kitchen.
“Slow down!” he called after them, though the grin on his face betrayed that he wasn’t really upset.
The girls skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen, spotting you at the counter with a mug of coffee in hand. You turned at the commotion, raising an eyebrow as the girls barrelled toward you.
“Mommy!” Anna shouted, wrapping her arms around your leg while Judy stood beside her.
“Well, good morning to you two,” you said with a laugh, ruffling Anna’s messy hair. “What’s got you so hyper already?”
“We just woke up,” Judy said matter-of-factly, though the sparkle in her eyes said she was more excited to see you than anything else.
Bradley entered the room behind them, setting Theo down in his high chair with practiced ease. “Apparently, sleeping in makes them even more energetic,” he joked, leaning against the counter as he watched the scene unfold.
You smiled at him briefly before turning your attention back to the girls. “Alright, go wash up before breakfast,” you said, nudging them gently toward the sink.
“Yes, Mommy,” Anna said, dragging Judy with her as they raced to the sink to wash their hands.
Bradley stepped closer to you, his gaze soft as he tilted his head. “They’re a whirlwind this morning.”
“They take after their dad,” you teased, giving him a knowing look over your coffee cup.
He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “And here I thought I was the calm one in this family.”
You snorted, shaking your head as the girls returned, ready for whatever chaos breakfast would bring.
You opened the fridge and pulled out the plate of leftover pancakes from the morning before, giving them a quick once-over. “Good thing you made extra yesterday,” you said, grabbing a pan to reheat them.
The girls watched eagerly from the table, Anna practically bouncing in her seat while Judy rested her chin in her hands, still looking a little sleepy. Bradley had settled Theo in his high chair and was now helping him fiddle with a toy to keep him occupied.
As the pancakes warmed, you glanced over your shoulder. “Butter and syrup for both of you?”
“Yes, please!” Anna chirped, her voice full of excitement.
Judy nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “But not too much syrup,” she added thoughtfully. “I don’t want it to be too sticky.”
“You got it,” you replied, flipping the pancakes once before plating them.
A few minutes later, you placed the warm pancakes in front of the girls, handing Anna her fork first. “There you go, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mommy!” Anna said, digging in immediately.
“And for you,” you said, setting Judy’s plate down carefully and ruffling her hair.
“Thanks,” Judy replied, a small smile on her face as she cut into her pancake.
Bradley watched the scene unfold from his spot at the counter, his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. “You’re spoiling them, you know,” he teased lightly.
“They deserve it,” you shot back with a smirk. “Besides, you’ll just end up eating the leftovers if I don’t give them these now.”
“Fair point,” he said with a laugh, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee as the girls happily devoured their breakfast.
As you leaned against the counter, sipping your coffee, you turned to Bradley with a casual but pointed question. “So, about that shopping we talked about earlier—should we bring the kids with us, or should I call Matt to babysit?”
Bradley froze mid-sip of his coffee, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly. His face paled slightly, and he set the mug down on the counter with deliberate care, as if the question had suddenly weighed him down.
“Uh…” he started, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. “I mean… bringing the kids could be a lot, but Matt’s usually busy, right?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, noticing the slight waver in his voice. “Matt owes me one, actually. It wouldn’t be a problem.”
His jaw clenched, and he quickly turned to busy himself with the coffee pot, pouring more into his already full mug. “I don’t know… maybe it’s better if we just bring the kids. Make it a family thing, you know?”
The way he wouldn’t meet your eyes sent a spark of suspicion through you. “Bradley,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“What? No, nothing!” he said quickly, waving you off with a forced chuckle. “I’m just—uh, just trying to think of the easiest plan. That’s all.”
You didn’t buy it for a second, but you decided not to push just yet. “Alright,” you said slowly, setting your mug down. “If you’re sure.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he leaned against the counter, the tension in his shoulders all too obvious.
As you turned back to the stove, your mind was already working through the situation. Something wasn’t adding up, and you were determined to figure out what it was.
You rinsed your mug in the sink, glancing at the small pile of dishes left from breakfast. Turning to Bradley, who was still leaning against the counter with his coffee, you asked, “Can you handle the dishes for me?”
He blinked, as if startled out of his thoughts, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”
“Thanks,” you said, drying your hands on a towel before reaching for your phone on the counter. You scrolled through your contacts and opened a message thread with Matt.
You: Hey, can you come in half an hour early on Monday?
It didn’t take long for Matt to reply.
Matt: What’s up? You okay?
Bradley, still standing by the sink and avoiding your gaze, turned on the water and started scrubbing the plates. You typed a quick response as you leaned casually against the counter.
You: Yeah, it’s just my husband.
Matt’s response came almost immediately.
Matt: Oh, say no more. See you Monday morning.
You smirked at his typical no-nonsense tone and set your phone down, glancing back at Bradley. He was diligently working on the dishes, his broad shoulders tense as he focused on his task.
“Thanks for doing that,” you said lightly, though your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. Something still felt off, but you decided to let it lie for now.
---
Walking into the lab on Monday morning, you barely had time to adjust your bag on your shoulder before Matt appeared out of nowhere, his eager expression lighting up the room. He jogged up to you, clipboard in hand, and practically skidded to a stop in front of you.
“Okay, spill. What’s the deal with your husband? This feels huge,” he said, his voice low but filled with excitement.
You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you pulled off your coat. “Calm down, Matt. It’s not that dramatic.”
“Come on,” he pressed, following you to your workstation. “You wouldn’t have texted me if it wasn’t serious and you know I don't like him. So what’s going on? Deployment stuff?”
You set your bag down and started unpacking your things, pausing for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, Matt. I feel like Bradley isn’t telling me everything about this deployment.”
Matt’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned against the edge of your desk. “What makes you say that?”
“He’s been… off,” you admitted, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “Like, distracted. He told me he has orders to go back to San Diego, but the way he’s acting—it doesn’t feel right. It’s like he’s hiding something.”
Matt crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a pretty big accusation. You sure it’s not just, I don’t know, deployment nerves?”
You shook your head. “No, this is different. Bradley’s usually upfront about this kind of thing, but now…” You trailed off, feeling a pang of frustration. “It’s like he’s keeping me at arm’s length.”
Matt tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Maybe he’s trying to protect you from something. You know how guys like him are—they think they’re doing us a favour by not telling us the full story.”
“Maybe,” you conceded, though the thought didn’t sit well with you. “But I’m his wife, Matt. If there’s something going on, I deserve to know.”
Matt nodded slowly, his expression softening. “You’re right. Just… don’t let it eat at you too much, okay? He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, you’ve got me to back you up.”
You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. “Thanks, Matt.”
“Anytime,” he said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back to give you space to settle in.
Matt hesitated, lingering by your desk as you opened your laptop and tried to immerse yourself in work. His expression was a mix of curiosity and concern, and you could feel his eyes on you. Finally, he broke the silence.
“Hey,” he said softly, “this might be out of line, but… do you think Bradley might be cheating?”
The question hit you like a slap, and you froze, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Slowly, you turned to look at him, disbelief flashing across your face.
“Matt,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut, “absolutely not.”
He raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to accuse him of anything. It’s just… you seem suspicious of him, and I had to ask.”
You shook your head, your expression softening slightly as you let out a breath. “No, Matt. Bradley isn’t like that. He’s a lot of things, but a cheater? Never. He loves me, he loves the kids—he wouldn’t do that.”
Matt nodded, his tone apologetic. “Fair enough. I just thought maybe… I don’t know, sometimes when people act distant, it’s because they’re hiding something like that.”
“Well, if he’s hiding something, it’s not that,” you said firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. “If anything, it’s probably work-related. Maybe something he can’t talk about yet.”
Matt studied you for a moment longer before nodding again. “Alright. I believe you. Sorry for even bringing it up.”
You forced a small smile, though your chest felt tight. “It’s fine. I get why you asked. But trust me, that’s not it.”
With Matt finally gone, you turned back to your desk, letting out a slow breath as you tried to push the conversation out of your mind. You opened your laptop, pulling up the equations and data you’d been analyzing before he interrupted.
The numbers stared back at you, stark and unyielding, but your focus wavered. You twirled a pen between your fingers, staring blankly at the screen as Matt’s question replayed in your mind.
Do you think Bradley might be cheating?
You shook your head sharply, as if physically dislodging the thought. It was absurd. You knew Bradley. You’d seen the way he looked at you, the way he adored your kids, the lengths he went to make you feel loved—even when things were complicated.
Still, the unease lingered, not about infidelity, but about the secret he seemed to be keeping. You sighed and forced yourself to concentrate, jotting down notes and reworking formulas. Your project wasn’t going to wait for your personal life to straighten out.
Little by little, you managed to lose yourself in the work. The problem on the whiteboard drew you in, and soon, you were focused, scribbling solutions and testing calculations. Whatever was going on with Bradley would have to wait. For now, you had a job to do.
The whiteboard in front of you was already crowded with formulas and diagrams, but it wasn’t enough. Grabbing a marker, you started jotting down new calculations, muttering to yourself as the equations unravelled in your mind.
You stepped back to survey your work, one hand on your hip and the other tapping the marker against your chin. Something wasn’t adding up. Crossing out part of the formula, you rewrote it, the sound of the marker squeaking against the board filling the room.
After a few minutes, you moved to your desk and began inputting the data into your laptop. The numbers on the screen shifted as you ran the simulation, but the result wasn’t what you were hoping for.
“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, glancing back at the whiteboard.
You scribbled more notes in your notebook, flipping pages as you cross-referenced earlier data. Your mind was racing, but the distraction from everything happening at home was oddly welcome. Work was one of the few places where things felt controlled, logical.
The hours passed quickly as you dove deeper into the problem. At some point, you stood to erase a section of the board and replace it with a new idea. Stepping back, you tilted your head, studying the new layout.
“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this has to work.”
Returning to your desk, you started running the calculations again, fingers flying across the keyboard. The room was silent except for the hum of the computer and the faint scratch of your pen as you jotted down corrections.
For a while, it was just you, the data, and the relentless pursuit of a solution. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed on the desk beside you that you paused, startled out of your concentration.
You glanced at the screen and saw Bradley's name flashing. Swiping to answer, you leaned back in your chair, still holding a pen in one hand.
"Hey," you greeted, your voice soft but distracted, your mind half on the formula you’d been working on.
"Hey, sweetheart," Bradley said, his tone a little too calm. It set you on edge immediately, even before he continued. "I just wanted to let you know I’ll be staying later at work today. Something came up, and they need me to handle it."
You sat up straighter, setting your pen down on the desk. “Later? How late are we talking?”
There was a pause, a faint shuffling on his end of the line, as if he were debating how much to say. “Not too late. Probably dinner time, give or take. I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.”
The unease you’d been battling all morning stirred again. “What’s going on?” you asked carefully. “I thought today was supposed to be an easy day for you.”
Bradley hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but, uh… plans changed. Last-minute stuff, you know how it is.”
You frowned, your grip tightening on the edge of your desk. “Bradley…”
“I promise, it’s nothing big,” he said quickly, sensing the suspicion in your tone. “Just some loose ends that need tying up. I didn’t want you wondering why I wasn’t home.”
You bit your lip, unsure whether to push or let it go. Finally, you sighed. “Alright. Just don’t make it too late. The kids were looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll make it up to them. And to you.”
“Okay,” you replied, though the weight in your chest didn’t lift. “Drive safe, alright?”
“I will,” he assured you. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye,” you said, ending the call and placing your phone back on the desk.
After the call with Bradley, the unease lingered like a storm cloud you couldn’t shake. You tried going back to work, but your thoughts kept circling back to his tone, his excuses, and the odd behaviour he’d shown lately. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, you decided you needed to talk to someone.
You stood and made your way down the hall to Matt’s office, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. Reaching his door, you knocked lightly before pushing it open.
“Got a minute?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Matt looked up from his desk, where he was flipping through a stack of papers. His expression shifted immediately to one of concern when he saw your face. “Of course. What’s going on?”
You stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The weight of your worries pressed heavily on your chest, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure how to even voice what you were feeling. Finally, you sank into the chair across from him and folded your hands in your lap.
“How can you tell if someone’s cheating?” you blurted out, the words sounding strange and raw as they left your mouth.
Matt’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back in his chair. “Whoa. That’s… a loaded question. Are you seriously talking about Bradley? The accusation you nearly killed me about.”
You nodded, swallowing hard. “I don’t know, Matt. He’s been acting… different. Cagey. Saying things that don’t quite add up. And then there’s this deployment he mentioned, but something about it doesn’t feel right.”
Matt frowned, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk. “Okay.”
summary: Bradley Bradshaw was happy to retire to the small town of Southport with his two children after their mother had passed. He traded in training pilots at Top Gun in San Diego to being a fire chief for a small town of 3,000. What he doesn't expect in his small town is a new neighbor who captures his attention. She's making the cross country move from New York promising never to fall for a man quickly ever again and then she meets the hot single dad next door. Yeah right. Between the two of them and everything they have going on in their lives on they going to fall out in a Tailspin?
warnings: blood, stalking, death, domestic violence
4.8K ☀️
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
She leans back, still sitting in his lap but putting her weight on her ass instead of her knees straddling him. Bradley can’t quite get a read on her and what she’s thinking.
“After a story like that you want to be my boyfriend?”
His response is slow and calculated. Bradley’s eyes never leave hers, she’s certain. His hands keep her dress bunched up, but his thumb traces the tops of her thighs back and forth.
“Of course I do.” Bradley sighs, “If you’re ready. You are the first person I’ve wanted to know since Anna passed. The connection we have is undeniable, and I have no doubt that we’re headed in the right direction. Why wait? Plus I think Sadie would never forgive me if I blew this”
She finally cracks a smile at the mention of Sadie.
“You’re crazy.” She admits with a laugh, “You don’t think we’re rushing?”
“I don’t, but I’ll also be okay if you want to slow down. I know that it’s only been a couple weeks, but I never even thought I could feel like this again. You’ve brightened up my whole life.”
She can’t help herself but lean in and press her lips to his again at that. How could she not kiss him after saying that?
“Yes.” She mumbles, lips still pressed against his, but she knows he heard when his lips shift into a grin. He pulls his head back, his eyes wild. He definitely heard her.
“Seriously?”
“Only because I would hate to disappoint Sadie.” She teases.
“Oh really?” He rolls his eyes, but his smile hasn’t dimmed for a second.
“Okay, you’re alright too.”
✿
It took some serious self control to walk the short distance back to her own house, but she managed after several more kisses. She never imagined she would find someone she could trust again, let alone so rapidly after moving here. Southport has only been her home for a month, but she’s known the Bradshaws nearly every second since. He makes her feel safe. She didn’t know if it was the small town that brought her comfort, but the more time she spends with him she knows he’s the real reason.
Bradley has to work a couple of long days which gives Y/n the time to finish some of the small projects. Bradley even loans her some of his more serious tools. She got an educated lesson in all of them before he was willing to leave them to her digression.
She ends up watching the kids for an hour for him when one of his shifts goes long covering for someone else. Y/n was nervous to have Nick under her supervision, but he was surprisingly tame. She can’t tell if he’s warming to her, or if he's just exhausted from being annoyed by everyone. They simply made dinner together with all of them, but she caught him smiling to himself a few times. She gave them each a job and Bradley was able to come home to his house to a warm meal and all of his favorite people under one roof. What did they do before she came into their lives?
Bradley gets his sitter Hannah to wrangle the kids for a night when he finally gets done early so he can have redemption for the time he had to bring the kids with him. He knows that she still loved that date, but he knows that they really do need time just the two of them.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing with that?” Y/n asks, together they stand in her dated bathroom. She watches while he takes a wrench to the showerhead. They’ve already managed to tear down the old tile off the walls.
“I was a naval aviator, I’ve flown multimillion dollar jets. I can handle your plumbing from the 60s.” He lets out a huff while pulling hard to loosen the old pipes. He gives it a few hard pulls before a loud shriek of metal gives, leaving water spraying in every direction without the sealed pipe in place.
“Bradley!” She yells, water spraying out in every direction.
“Didn’t you turn the water off?” He calls back, taking the brunt of the water while trying to seal it off again and stop the downpour.
“No, you didn’t say anything about that!”
“I thought it was a given!”
He can’t help but laugh and Y/n joins in after a second. She races out of the room to turn off the water, seeing as whatever Bradley did to the pipes can’t be undone as easily. By the time she makes her way back to the bathroom the water has stopped spraying and Bradley is totally drenched.
“I’m so sorry.” She can’t help but giggle, she’s definitely wet too, but he looks like he walked through a car wash.
“What was that again about handling my 60s plumbing?” She teases. Bradley looks up from wiping the water from his face to cut her a look.
“Am I at least pulling off the drenched hero look?” He asks, pulling at the bottom of his tee shirt to wipe his face off with it. In the process, revealing his golden tan and the stack of abs while he’s at it.
“Do that again and I’ll start drooling.” She admits, his cheeks dust pink and he throws his head back in a laugh. He’ll happily be ogled by her any day of the week.
A drop of water falls from her hair down her neck before disappearing into her chest, Bradley watching it with trained eyes.
“I can grab us some towels.” Her voice quiet. The atmosphere in the bathroom has changed and it’s a lot more intense than giggling over home renovations.
“Why bother?” He asks, reaching a hand out to cup her cheek. His thumb brushes away a droplet that had been resting on her cheekbone.
She pulls him in closer by the neckline of his wet tee shirt and connects their lips. She’s just as wet as he was now that she’s pressing herself against him. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn urgent and breathless.
Soaked to the bone, he wraps an arm around the back of her waist holding her there. He lifts her slightly while walking her back into the counter. One of the only things left in the room that they hadn’t demolished. They stumble a bit on the wet floor but their chemistry keeps them in sync.
Now that she’s sitting, she wraps her legs around him, her turn to hold him hostage although she’s sure he has no complaints. He doesn’t have any complaints when she reaches to pull his wet tee off while she’s at it. It peels off like a second skin and she drops it to the ground barely breaking their kiss.
“Sounds like we’re taking a little break from the reno.” Bradley teases, she makes her way down his neck leaving a trail of kisses.
“We are absolutely taking a break.” She continues her assault on his chest now and he pulls up on her chin to reconnect their lips. The sound of water dripping is replaced with soft moans and gasps from both parties while they explore each other's bodies.
“Do we wanna take this somewhere that isn’t soaking wet?”
“Good luck with that.” She grins mischievously.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta get you to a bedroom.” He chuckles, picking her up right from the counter. She tightens her grip with her legs around his bare torso.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna finish the bathroom?” She cards her fingers through his hair while he carries her towards her bedroom.
“Nope. The shower can wait. You and I can’t.”
✿
They barely made it to her bed, the pillows launched all over the room with the blankets as well. Her hair is still wet, but Bradley’s has dried with the most volume she’s ever seen. Probably due to her hands filtering through it on end. It’s still early afternoon so the room is bright with light from the windows, her bed facing the ocean.
“One of my old Navy buddies is coming to town tomorrow. She’s Nick’s godmother so she’s gonna take the kids out for the day.” She’s leaning against his chest while he lays on his back. His hand absentmindedly tracing along her bare back while they talk.
“What are you gonna do with yourself? A whole day off with no kids?”
“I’m looking at it.” He looks down at her and she rolls her eyes before looking up at him.
“You’re slowing me down.” She teases, “I’m never gonna finish the house at this rate.”
“I thought you liked it slow.” He flips them over so her back is pressed against the mattress, again, and leans his weight down against her. His knee resting between her legs.
“I do. Trust me.” She laughs, patting his chest, “At this rate I’m going to be working on this place for a whole year. The goal is to finish by the end of the summer, remember.”
He presses kisses all over her face while she talks, causing her to laugh and interrupt herself. She can tell he’s listening, but the focus is not on the reno and her timeline for it.
“Bradley.” She laughs, shoving him off so she can sit up.
“You know, as far as home renovations go, that one was my favorite.” He tucks his arms behind his head leaning back into her bed. It smells like her and he’s the comfiest he’s ever been. She might have to drag him out of it.
“Not bad for our first plumbing disaster.” She teases.
“Disaster?” His brows raise.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, I was talking about actual plumbing.” She reminds and simply shakes her head.
“Yeah whatever, coming from Miss “Good luck with that”, uh huh.” He teases right back. Okay, fair point. He pulls her right back against his chest again, his arms wrapped around her holding her there. She traces along his chest again without thought.
“You okay? Not too much too fast?” He asks, waiting for any reaction from her. He knows that they jumped the gun a little, but it felt so right. He knows there’s no set rules of what order you have to do things in, but everything they’ve done has felt right. He’s waited years for someone like this and he didn’t think it was possible. He’s also aware of the fact that she isn’t coming from the same place he is. He likes their pace, but could do slower if she wanted it.
“No, I’m good. More than that actually.” She looks up into his eyes so he would know she means it, “I’m just surprised. I didn’t think I would find something so good so quickly.”
“Yeah?”
“No, I didn’t think when I moved here I would end up in bed with my neighbor boyfriend.” She laughs.
“I really like hearing that.” He grins.
“Neighbor boyfriend?”
“Just boyfriend.” He corrects, “Neighbor boyfriend makes it sound like you have a dozen.”
“Maybe I do.” She pokes his side.
“You say the sweetest things, babe.” He squeezes her tighter. “But seriously this feels good. Being here with you. You’re the best to be around. Even when I’m soaked and bruised.”
“Bruised?”
“You climbed me like a tree earlier, there’s gotta be bruises.” His laugh booms, “Scratches too.”
“Okay, I’m putting you back to work.” She gets up, slowly slipping out of his grasp.
“You’re right, we have other rooms to defile.”
✿
They manage to get it together enough to finish the tear down of that bathroom. Even with the water turned off. Bradley tells Y/n more about Natasha aka Phoenix who is the friend who will be arriving. She’s one of his closest friends from the Navy and the Godmother to Nick. Bradley has the whole day off and already promised to take Y/n to Hanks to pick up the new tile and work on that today while Nat gets time with the kids.
Bradley has to leave once they’ve finished the tile to pick up Sadie from dance and be home in time for Nick. He invited Y/n over for breakfast the next day with Nat right when she arrives so they can meet before she steals the kids for the day.
“Good morning!” Y/n voice calls as she lets herself in the front door.
“Y/n!” Sadie calls back from the kitchen running to greet her with a big hug. Y/n scoops her up onto her hip and continues walking to the kitchen. She follows her nose, the smell of bacon in the air.
“Hey, Nick.” She greets as she walks past the counter he’s sitting at.
“Hey.” He mumbles back. He doesn’t look like he wants to set the house on fire because she’s there, so she’ll take it. Progress?
“Hi, you.” She turns to Bradley who is standing in front of the stove cooking. He turns to look at his girl only to find both his girls together. That is a sight he’s dreamed of.
“Hey. How’s it going?”
“You’re cooking.” She skips past his question, instead she’s trying not to drool at the sight of him in a “kiss the cook” apron in front of his kids.
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“It’s just… bold of you to trust yourself with open flames after the plumbing fiasco.” She reminds, he can see the knowing smirk she’s trying to hide over his shoulder.
“Fiasco, huh?”
“Something like that.”
There are kids in the room. There are kids in the room. She continues to tell herself that over and over.
“Company will be here any minute, I gotta have food ready for when she gets here. She left Coronado about an hour ago, so it could be any time now.”
Y/n nods to Bradley and turns her attention to the other side of the kitchen where Nick is still glued to a stool, Sadie still on her hip.
“So Nick, when are we going fishing?” Y/n turns her attention to the younger man of the pair. She knows Bradley told him she used to go with her dad, but she’ll try anything to get him to warm up. Things have been getting better, but she wants to keep things headed in the right direction. In all honesty, it would just be nice to fish again. She hasn’t done it since she was a kid, probably younger than Nick and it feels nostalgic.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, his eyes darting between hers and Bradley in the background.
“Well-“
A sharp knock at the front door interrupts her before she can finish her sentence.
“Saved by the bell.”
“Auntie Nat!” Sadie cheers, excited for her arrival. Y/n puts her down on the ground again so she can take off for the front door. Nick gets off his stool and makes his way to the front door.
“That’ll be her.” Bradley throws a kitchen towel over his shoulder and makes his way over to press a kiss to Y/n’s lips.
“Thank you.” He mutters, pressing another kiss to her lips, she raises her brows in confusion.
“Fishing?” He reminds, clarifying what he was thankful for.
She simply shakes her head, to her there’s no need for a thank you. Instead it's her turn to press a kiss to his lips before pulling him towards his front door.
Nat is giving big hugs to both kids when they make their way into view.
“Well aren’t we looking all domestic.” Nat grins.
“Phoenix.” Bradley rolls his eyes, nonetheless takes a few steps forward to give her a hug, “Don’t scare her off in the first thirty seconds.”
“Rooster, you’re wearing an apron.” She continues and now it’s Y/n’s turn to laugh.
Bradley’s cheeks turn redder than she’s ever seen at this. It takes Y/n a half second to remember his call sign and then actually process what was said.
“Nat, this is my girlfriend Y/n.” Bradley introduces.
“You’ve even put a title on it?” She says with faux shock. “All it’s been the past few weeks “Nat, she’s hilarious,” “Nat, she makes fun of my playlist but still kisses me,” “Nat, she lives right next door.”
“Wow, I am loving this intel.” Y/n laughs proudly.
“Oh I am a wealth of knowledge on this man.” Nat slaps a hand on his shoulder.
“You two are gonna be dangerous together.” Bradley comments.
“That’s the hope.” Nat agrees. A timer beeps from the kitchen causing them to break up the conversation. Y/n and the kids go to the kitchen to investigate what was done.
“You’re in deep my friend.” Phoenix pats a hand to his back while they both watch her and the kids make their way back to the kitchen. They can both hear Sadie tell Y/n quite loudly about how she likes blueberries in her pancakes, which all three seem to agree on. Y/n tells her she can see what she can do about it.
“I know.” He nods, looking fondly towards the kitchen but still glued to his spot next to the door.
“I like her, you did good.”
“I know.”
They manage to finish everything up and get the table set up with all of the food that was prepared. Phoenix fills them in on her most recent mission and everything new down in San Diego. Her and her girlfriend are packing up their longtime apartment as they close on a house.
“So, how long have you guys been officially dating?” Phoenix asks, taking a bite of strawberry off her fork after asking.
The two of them look at each other without an answer. The kids know, but they only just found out. They’ve only had the official title for a week. Nick took it better than either of them thought he would, but it hasn’t exactly been something to celebrate about. Unless you’re Sadie, she was a cheerleader in the living room at the news.
“Long enough to know he has a thing about sharing the radio with someone in the car.” Y/n jabs, taking a sip of orange juice.
“Hey!” He laughs,
“Trust me, I know.” Nat shakes her head, “The amount of times I’ve heard him sing Hall and Oates.”
“Phoenix, stop-”
“And the dance routines? He used to-”
“Nat!”
“Dance routine?” Y/n brows raise, she turns to face Bradley and he shakes his head in denial.
“No comment.” He rests his arm around the back of Y/n’s chair and Nat snorts over her coffee.
“Why haven’t I seen this dance routine?”
“Because I like you.” Bradley admits, “I don’t want to scare you off.”
“Daddy, you can dance!” Sadie defends, “The Spice Girls are his-”
“Wow, all the women in my life are not to be trusted with anything!” Bradley interrupts and then reaches out to fistbump his son, “Nicky it’s you and be against the rest of them.”
Nat delves into a few more stories about the ’glory days’ and some of their badass missions.
“Wait, you haven’t met Hangman yet?” Natasha gasps, setting down her fork on her plate. They’ve all long finished eating, but they remain seated being too investing in catching up.
“You think I’ve let her meet Hangman?” Bradley scoff, dramatically shaking his head.
“I’ve heard a few stories.” Y/n chuckles, “He’s your assistant chief, right?”
“A sentence I never thought could be uttered.” Phoenix interrupts.
“Yeah, that’s him. We’re good now, but we definitely had to overcome a lot of differences.” Bradley admits.”
“They were enemies in flight school.” Nat shakes her head, “They could barely be in the same room.”
“Uncle Jake?” Nick questions, looking between the two aviators.
“Yeah, Mom was actually the one that got us to get along.” Bradley admits with a swallow, “Anna was from Texas and it made the two of them thick as thieves.”
Nat nods along with a reminiscent look in her eye. Anna was a big part of softening Hangman up. She has no doubt in her mind that without her he never would’ve moved to Southport after he retired last year without Anna in mind.
“Alright!” Nat turns in her chair to the two kids, “Time to get swimsuits on, we’re having a beach day!”
The kids race away from the table and up the stairs. Nat grabs her duffle from the ground and makes her way upstairs to change and Y/n starts picking up plates.
“Hey, you don’t need to clean up.” Bradley jumps to his feet.
“Yeah, it’ll make me feel better about putting you to work later.” She throws an evil grin over her shoulder.
“Is that so?” He asks, stepping behind her. He reaches an arm around each side of her to put the plates in the sink in front of her. He leans in a little closer and she backs up slightly into his touch.
“Tile, remember?” She leans to arch her ass back a little further, rubbing against his front. She’s tempted to turn in his grasp. His head brushes against the side of hers, his breath hot against her ear.
“I think I could come just from your mouth over my ear” Y/n whispers, the desperation in her voice and the tightness at the front of his jeans exposing them both.
“We’re testing that theory at some point.” Bradley moans back, pressing her harder into the sink. This is far too dirty for a house full of three potential witnesses.
“Dad!”
Bubble broken. Bradley takes a step back and lets out a deep exhale. The yell came from upstairs and he turns around in the kitchen. Still just them.
“Yeah, bud?” Bradley calls back.
“I can’t find my trunks!”
“I’m coming buddy.” He gives himself another second to regain control. He mutters a simple ‘Jesus’ turning to see Y/n’s state. Her face is flushed red and it would seem he’s pushed down the strap of her shirt down her shoulder. He shakes his head simply causing Y/n to chuckle and he makes his way to help his son find swim trunks.
After helping Nat pack a beach bag and snacks for the day, Bradley and Y/n make their way to Hank’s to pick up the tile and start that project. After getting everything they need and setting it all up, they get started. 80s rock plays softly in the back, it’s Bradley’s old radio from his garage sitting in the corner of the bathroom.
She wears simple overalls that already have paint, grout, and stain stuck to them and he knows he’s seen her wear them frequently for messy projects. Yellow paint splattered in certain spots. The same yellow from her kitchen.
“Have you ever done this before, or are you trying to impress me?” She watches him mix the grout, checking the instructions on the back of the bag a few times.
Bradley doesn’t even pick up his eyes from the bag, a smirk appearing.
“Is it working?”
“If this isn’t crooked at the end of the day, yes.”
He finally looks up and she has a kind knowing smile resting on her face. Her love for teasing him never fading, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
They manage to tile two whole walls while working together while using the same batch of grout. It took a few adjustments to get it thick enough not to be runny, but the two of them work well to quickly finish things up. They get distracted a few times with each other but still manage to finish the room before the others make their way up from the beach.
The kids seem exhausted from their day, and Y/n takes Nat through the house showing her the place. She tells her the plans she has and the projects they’ve already completed. Nat is listening eagerly, loving her vision for the space. By the end of the tour Phoenix wrangles the two kids and get them back to the Bradshaw house for showers before dinner.
“No, you should head over there. You don’t get to see Phoenix often either.” Y/n insists.
“You want to join?”
“Maybe later.” She slides her hands around his back to pull him in for a hug. “I have a few more things I want to work on. I feel like I’m in a groove right now! And it would probably be good for you and the kids to spend time with her.”
He presses his lips to hers in a quick peck, followed by two more before he makes his way to her front door. He knows that she’s probably right, it would be good for him to spend some time with just Nat and the kids.
He makes his way over to the house and they decide to have a seafood boil down on the beach. They manage to stay out down by the water until it’s dark out before they make their way up the trail to the house. It’s movie night, Sadie insists Phoenix chooses the movie since she’s the guest for the weekend. She did whine a few times about the lack of Y/n, but Bradley tells her that she might come later. Bradley plans to run next door to see if she wants to come over for some ice cream with them after the movie. She did say maybe later. Over an hour after they settled in on the couches, the credits roll on the movie and Sadie and Nick both leap up from the couch.
“Ice cream time!” They make their way to the kitchen counter.
“Alright, I’m gonna see if I can tempt Y/n to join.” Bradley puts on his shoes and makes his way to the front door. Nat makes her way into the kitchen to get out all of the ice cream fixins for everyone. Bradley hops the short fence between their property, saving himself the few seconds of walking down all the way to the sidewalk. He’s feeling impatient to see her. He takes her front steps in one stride and his heart drops at the sight of her front door open wide.
“Y/n?” His voice calls loudly as he cautiously walks through the open door. The light in the kitchen is on, casting a faint glow in the living room. He reaches to turn on a light and when it comes on, that’s when his pulse really jumps.
A pool of red blood stretching across the floor, splattered on the wall. No sign of Y/n. He shouts her name again, and one more time as he makes a lap through the first floor looking for any sign of her. He checks the whole house, nothing. He makes his way downstairs when he hears a noise. Nick is waiting at the front door, shaking in place. His gaze focused on the red that takes over the floor.
Bradley flies down the stairs and picks up Nick on his way out, not slowing for a second. He doesn’t know what happened, but Nick can’t be seeing this.
“Bradley! Bradley!” A frantic voice calls. Bradley turns, Nick still in his arms. Iris is standing on her porch, her face stuck in a frown obviously upset.
“What happened? What’s going on?”
“It’s Y/n. Something happened with a nail gun, it recoiled and went into her leg. They were worried about it hitting an artery. EMTs picked her up a couple hours ago.”
“Hours ago!” He shouts, how did he not know about this? How has there been no call? No sirens?
Iris simply nods while Bradley takes off in a sprint for his house. He tries to leave the kids at the house with Nat so he can go to the hospital himself, but it seems it would take longer to convince everyone to stay. They all climb into the bronco and Bradley puts the pedal to the metal.
✿
The hospital has a chill in the air that doesn’t pair well with the summer heat. The air conditioning is working overtime to keep everyone cool. A little too cool for Y/n’s liking. The only source of warmth is a hand wrapped around her own. Her eyes open before rapidly shutting at the bright light overhead.
“Shh, take it easy.” A familiar voice calls out. Y/n struggles to get her eyes to focus while rapidly blinking. It smells sterile in the air and she can hear the sound of the EKG machine reflecting her pulse in steady beeps.
“Hi darling.” The voice calls out again.
She stills at the pet name, suddenly making it her mission to focus her vision. Her head is pounding.
“Matt?”
y'all i'm sorry for that cliffhanger... but i'm really not LMAOOOO!! let me know what you guys think below plz! 💛
