what if you were my idol turned best friend who everyone in the league knew i was completely gone for. and what if i drafted you first on the team i was captaining for the all star game after begging the captains going before me not to pick you. and what if absolutely nobody was surprised. what if the emcee and tate mcrae already knew who i Wanted Before Going To Bed last night and i was so crazypossessive even sports writers knew i’d pulverise anyone who took you from me. and what if i told reporters after that this was my longtime dream come true. and what if you told them that all you wanted to do now was to make your captain happy. and what if… after all that... you put my hoodie on and did a live interview in front of god and gary bettman.
Requested by the lovely, @rockyroadthepastryarchy: I was wondering if I could request a present!roger fic? he and the reader have been married for forever, and are very sarcastic and bantery with each other but are very in love. She also visits the borhap set all the time, and the cast/crew adores her and see her as a second mom (especially ben) and she’s super heckin protective of them? Thanks babe and best wishes💕
I loved this request, it’s not exactly what you asked for but, nonetheless I hope you’ll enjoy it!
Warnings: kind of an AU Roger?
———————
YN and Roger had been together going on 41 years. After meeting in 1978 during Queen’s ‘Jazz’ tour, the two had fallen madly in love… despite being over 10 years apart in age. YN was only 19 when they got together, but to them age was always just a number.
In 1980 the couple welcomed their first child, a boy. Lennon Brian Taylor. That was also the year Roger’s infidelity made the tabloids. YN wasn’t sure if it was the first time he had strayed during their relationship, but she hoped it would be the last. Even if was the last time, she despised him for cheating on her, but she couldn’t leave. Their newborn son needed his father, and despite being a cheating husband he was anything but a bad father. So she stayed.
Roger was sure he was dreaming when he came home to find YN asleep in their bed and their baby son asleep in the bassinet beside her. He was sure she would be halfway across the country after news of his affair made the papers. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why she stayed, but he was glad she did. So, to be certain his wife and baby weren’t figments of his jet lagged imagination, he climbed in bed behind his wife and nuzzles his face in her neck.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He cried, his salty tears dripping down his cheeks and into YN’s hair.
YN didn’t answer him that day, she didn’t break things or yell as Roger had expected her do do. He even asked her to, because any kind of emotion— even bad or angry ones were better than none. Even Freddie and John told her that the silent treatment was destroying Roger. He was showing up to recording sessions drunk, crying over the photographs he kept if YN and the baby in his wallet every time they went out to a pub.
But YN held her ground and she didn’t speak to him for nearly two weeks after the incident became public. One day she lost it. He kept repeating himself, over and over again.
“I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me. It meant nothing it will never happen again.”
“Oh, really Roger? That’s all you have to say for yourself is ‘I’m sorry’?? Tell me this, are you truly sorry it happened or are you only sorry you got caught? The only reason I haven’t left yet is because of this precious boy right here. And because we made a vow, Roger! For better or worse, and this, I hope is the worst our marriage will be.” She spat, attempting to whisper-yell so not to disturb the baby nursing from her.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he sat next to his wife in their bed and stroked the baby’s cheek.
“No, YN. I love you and only you. I made a mistake. I know that’s no excuse but I was drunk and missing you, but I’ll never stray again. I promise you, my love.”
She still made him sleep on the couch for nearly an entire month after they had spoken about it. She knew staying silent and distant would hurt him the most, because despite what he had done, she knew deep down she was his everything. She just wanted to hurt him as badly as he hurt her, without doing exactly as he had done. She would never, ever be unfaithful to the man she loves.
After that month of torture, they never spoke of the news or the woman again. From the day she forgave him he vowed never to be unfaithful or do anything to jeopardize their relationship again. Lennon and YN were all that mattered to him and he did everything in his power to show them and tell them that every day, cards, love letters, flowers and even notes in their children’s school lunches.
Not once in the next 40 years was Roger Taylor ever in the paper for anything that wasn’t good news. In fact, if anything Roger’s one time indiscretion brought them closer than ever. Sure, they bickered about little things and everyday issues like who’s turn it was to change diapers or walk the dog, but never again did they doubt their feelings for one another nor did Roger find comfort in anyone but his wife. She was and still is his everything. His Queen, his love, his soulmate. The only one who really understands him.
In late 1997, Roger and YN welcomed their second and third children, their miracle twins. After a miscarriage and a still birth, Roger and YN never thought they’d be blessed with another life, let alone two. Farrah May Taylor and Deacon Roger Taylor. Named for the two friends that kept them together all those years ago, their angel himself (Freddie ~Farrokh~) and (John ~Deacon~).
—present—
“Roger Meddows Taylor, if I have to tell you to get out of bed one more time, you won’t be sleeping in said bed this evening.” YN Taylor said to her husband as she placed a cup of coffee on his bedside table and kissed his cheek in morning greeting.
“Oh, my love. Must you be so dramatic? We’ve slept in the same bed every night for nearly 40 years. I doubt that will change now.” He groaned, but smiled, ridding his eyes of sleep and taking a slip of his black, yet lightly sweetened coffee before kissing his wife good morning.
“Benjamin will be here any moment to pick up Farrah for brunch.” YN smiled.
“What?! He’s taking her to brunch?” Roger gasped, nearly spitting out his coffee at the idea of his daughter dating his movie counter part.
“Speaking of dramatics, my dear. They’ve been dating nearly 4 months. Don’t act surprised that he’s taking her to breakfast.” His wife scoffed, walking into the kitchen.
Roger all but jumped out of bed and slid on his slippers and robe before joining his wife at the breakfast table.
“Should I tell her she’s too young to date? Remember when she was 4, I picked her up from nursery school and she told me she had a boyfriend? All I had to do was buy her ice cream and that boy was forgotten as fast as yesterday’s news. Think it’ll still work?”
“Darling, she’s 21, the same age I was when I gave birth to Lennon. Now, eat your eggs before they go cold.” YN patronized for taking his hand across the table and kissing the rosary tattoo up his hand
“But, but— she’s my baby!” He stuttered, in a whiny voice putting on a fake pout. “And besides, he’s 28!”
“My love, may I remind you that you were 30 when we began dating and I was only 19. Even younger than she is now, and he is younger than you were. We should be the last to speak about age gaps.” YN Taylor could always talk sense into her husband, no matter his feelings on the issue.
Just then their daughter emerged from her bedroom with a bright smile on her face and greeted her parents good morning.
“Morning daddy, morning mum.” Farrah smiled as she kissed her father on the cheek before doing the same to her mother and walking out the door.
“I should have never suggested him for the part and this never would have happened.” Roger huffed, setting down his coffee and pushing aside his eggs and bacon.
—2016 flashback—
One day in 2016 while the couple as washing dishes after dinner, Roger stood behind his wife with his hands around her waist and peppered her cheeks with kisses.
“Rog, stop! I’m trying to clean up. I love you, but grab a dish cloth and dry something will ya? Make those hands of yours useful.” YN giggled.
“Oh baby, if I recall, you thought they were plenty useful last night.” He smirked, doing as his wife asked and pulling the dish towel from her shoulder.
That night as they laid in bed, he brought up the idea of the BoRhap movie to his love, and the boy he had in mind to play his younger self, Mr. Ben Hardy. Her response?
“Really baby? You’re ego isn’t big enough? You need to be immortalized on television?” She giggled, looking at some of Ben’s headshots.
“Besides, this young boy has abs. You have never had abs my love.” She said, turning to her side to look properly at her husband and rub his tummy, that had become quite obviously bigger in the last 40 years.
“Shove off.” He chuckled before kissing his wife good night and turning off the bedside lamp.
—— present again ——
Roger was ripped from his thoughts when his wife came over and sat on his knee in the dining chair and picked at his bacon.
“Oi, woman! That’s my bacon.” Roger quipped, pinching his wife’s behind as he took a sip of his coffee.
“Hey! I had your children, mister. Plus, I made this bacon. Bacon for babies is a good trade, don’t ya think?” YN smiled and Roger just laughed, giving a quiet “touché” as his love clambered off of his lap before beckoning for her youngest son to wake up.
———
That evening the Taylor gang decided to invite the BoRhap cast (boys, Lucy and Tom Hollander (Jim Beach)) as well as Bri and Deaky over for dinner.
Jokes were told, stories were shared and even embarrassing home videos of the Taylor children were shown.
“Gee, thanks dad. Ben’s going to dump me now!” Farrah joked as her father played a video of her at 7 years old dressed up as Freddie Mercury’s Live Aid mini-me for Halloween complete with the moustache.
Ben just laughed and pulled her closer into his lap as they sat next to YN and Roger on the sofa.
“I don’t know, babe. I think I see why you dig me in my Rogerina get up now.” Ben winked.
“Oi! Don’t corrupt my baby, mister Hardy.” Roger lamely scolded as his wife smacked his chest playfully before kissing him sweetly and a little too long and passionately.
“Ok mum, your children are present.” Deacon murmured, trying to put an end to his parents make out session. Though, after everything they’d been through, their children were secretly ecstatic that their parents were still so in love after 40 years together.
As the gathering came to an end, and the cast aside from the real Brian and Deaky had left, the oldest Taylor child and his wife decided to make an announcement.
“Mum, dad, Julia and I are having a baby!” Lennon blurted. Farrah and Deacon were the first to congratulate their brother, while YN looked at her husband with tears of joy in her eyes. Still sitting in his lap on the sofa, she leaned into her husband’s lips and whispered,
Warnings: None. Just a lot of fluff and nerdy stuff. Childhood best friends to lovers. Do not copy!
AN: I absolutely love incorporating songs with my stories and I have this song on my playlist, and I got this idea. I have been at a terrible writer's block, but luckily, I was able to get this story done just in time for Valentine's.
Summary: All the times Jake asked you to marry him and all the times you turned him down... until one day it was different.
~
7 years old.
Jake runed through the yard and back to the tree house even though his mother specifically told him not to run. He had quickly climbed up, plates in hand. He sat by you, grin wide, you could tell he was up to no good like he usual his. The question was what was he is up to now?
His legs swinged as he happily ate the sandwich his mom made him for lunch, and you ate yours that she made for you. Luckily that day, she let you eat outside.
He giggled and smiled next to you, not being able to contain himself. He turned to you. "Will you marry me?" He finally said what has been on his mind.
You gave him a strange look as he held his arm out. Flower in hand. He patiently waited for an answer from you.
"No! We're to young." You spoke as if it was the most obvious thing.
His arm fell to his side, and before his smile could fall, he quickly snapped back with confidence, "But you will one day."
"No way Jake!" You shook your head and your refusal only made Jake want it more. Even if it would be a challenge, it was nothing he couldn't figure out. Jake knew right there and then that you were going to be his girl one day. He is going to stop at nothing until you are his.
11 years old.
Jake had searched the entire house, and there was no sight of you. After asking your mom, he made his way to the barn in hopes he would find you there. And he did.
He made his way to the top of the hay-bales where you sat up high. Head down in your notebook. He peaked his head over your shoulder. Trying to see what it is your drawing now.
"Whatcha drawing?" He asked.
"A cowboy Jedi." You answered without looking up at him. To focused on the shading, you were doing.
"A cowboy Jedi?" He repeated your words.
You turned the notebook so he could see it better. Using the pencil to point out each detail to him, explaining it. "See?"
He looked down at the western style Jedi that you have been working on for no telling how long. He only smiled widely at you. He didn't understand your obsession with all those Star Wars movies, but he knew it made you happy and he loves seeing you get all excited about something.
Looking away from the drawing, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring-pop, he held it out to you. "Will you marry me now?"
You laughed at him. Looking at him, then the candy. "Um... no. Nice try though." You smiled at him as you turned him down.
He let his head fall back, sighing. "I really thought the ring-pop would work. How could you say no to a ring-pop?" He said dead seriously, and you died of laughter.
"Will it make you feel better if I take it?" You somehow managed to speak through giggles. He said nothing as he handed it to you. His smile growing as he watched you go back to your own little world you have created in your notebook. You will be mine one day, He thought to himself.
18 years old.
Jake knocked on your bedroom door. Shortly after, you peaked your head out, then you fully opened the door for him to come in. Allowing him to see the mess you are. Your hair is tied up in a knot on top of your head. Mascara running down your cheeks and you wear an oversized shirt that swallows you whole.
You crawled back into bed, holding a pillow tight to your chest. Jake sat at the edge of the bed. Sitting two bags in front of you. He hated seeing you like this. It's rare for you to be this upset. Even when your sad, you usually still had a smile on your face, but that night you only frowned.
He pulls all the candy out of the bag. Trying to focus on cheering you up and not his anger. If you didn't ask him to come over when you called, he would have gone straight to the guy's house that did this to you. The guy you have been going out with standing you up for another girl.
"I got your favorites." He finally spoke. Handing you a bag of milky-ways. He reached into the second bag, pulling out a cd. He smiled as he handed it to you.
You gasped, eyes growing wide as you looked down at the Limp Bizkit's greatest hits cd. "Where did you find this? It's been sold out at every place I've checked."
"Well, a magician never tells his secrets." You roll your eyes. Tossing the pillow at him. He laughs.
"I'm sorry." He suddenly speaks. "You didn't deserve that." His voice is comforting. Soft. It catches you off guard. Tears threatening to fall. You stand up. Walking over to his side. As if he read your mind, he wraps you up in his arms. Holding you tightly. He gives you the comfort you need.
"You know... you wouldn't have to deal with assholes like him if you were married to me." You slap his chest.
"But then I would be married to an asshole- that I would never get to see."
"That's true..." He trails off.
"And before you ask, no." You speak. Knowing he will ask. And you know your answer. You're not dare going to say yes because you know once he joins the Navy, you will never get to see him.
"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Your voice cracks. Your terrified for him. But you won't let him know just how scared you are.
"I do, sweetheart." He fights off the knot that grows in his throat as he looks into your pain filled eyes.
"Well... may the force be with you." He chuckles.
"And may the force be with you." He puts up a smile for you. He wants to pull out the little round box with the ring he bought, get on one knee and beg you to marry him, but before he could even ask, you said no. And that's fine. He plans to try again.
35 years old. Presents day.
Jake's not paying one bit of attention to the movie. He looks down at his girlfriend in awe. You're laying against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. He watches carefully as your eyes light up and your smile grows as you watch A New Hope.
He's never cared for the movies but yet he knows everything about them because of you. He is willing to suffer for two hours just because he knows you love them so much. Even though you have seen the movies thousands of times, you still squeal and squirm in excitement when a part you love happens, and that's what he loves to see.
He loves his metalhead, Star Wars, comic book loving, nerd of a girlfriend. You're still the exact same person you were when you were 7. Even though you two have been dating for three years now, he is still in shock that he got you. That you are his and he is yours. He jokingly mentioned dating one night, and you said yes. Completely confusing the hell out of him. But he quickly pulled it together and asked you out. You've been dating ever since. All his dreams have come true. And yours to. Jake's a fighter pilot for the US Navy, a job he loves, and is dating the woman he has been in love with for his entire life. Things couldn't be better.
While Jake was off in the Navy, you were working your ass off in college, getting a degree in art. Now you're a comic book artist, dating your childhood best friend. Everything is perfect. But Jake knows a way it could be even more perfect. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants. Pulling out the death star ring box he has had since he was eighteen.
He sits it on your leg. Not saying a word. You pick it up and he tenses under you. You open it. Looking at the two sliver bands. You pick up the smaller one, noticing the words 'I know' printed on the inside. You grab the other ring, and it says, 'I love you'. You immediately realize that he printed what Leia said to Han in the rings. Your heart sinks, your throat tightening and tears coming to your eyes. The rings are Stars Wars, and the box is as well. Even though he doesn't like it, he did it for you.
Tears fall from your eyes, and he looks at you confused. You hand him your ring, looking into those emerald eyes. "Yes." You say softly.
He didn't think it was even possible for his body to tense even more, but it does. He moves his head back to look at you better. His eyebrows furrowing.
You chuckle, "Don't make me change my mind." You tease. He clears his throat. Breathing deeply. His body starts to relax as he takes your hand in his. Sliding the ring onto your finger. Before you can say anything, he smashes his lips onto yours. His hold on you tightening. Holding you impossibly close to him.
You finally pull away from him to catch your breath. Looking into his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "Mrs. Seresin... It's got a ring to it." His words make your smile grow. He holds and loves you the rest of the night. Never letting go of you.
Harry Styles has been there for YN LN through all of her most painful moments in life. That is until he becomes her pain.
When YN was 5 she broke her arm falling off the playground at nursery school, and Harry had been there to pick her up, literally and figuratively. The 7 year old carried her all the way to the infirmary in the school.
When she was 7 her parents divorced, and 9 year old Harry had been there with tissues and ice cream. Her shoulder to cry on, because he too had been through that pain.
When she was 15 she got her first period. 17 year old Harry, her best friend had been there getting her a heating pad and watching Disney movies.
When she was 17 and he was 19 and her date to the spring formal had ditched her for the most popular girl in school, Harry put on his best suit, bought her flowers and paraded her around as if she had just won Miss Universe.
But when she is 22, 24 year old Harry was no longer there for her.
I don’t ever ask you where you’ve been
And I don’t feel the need to
Know who you’re with
I can’t even think straight but I can tell
You were just with her
YN knows he’s out with the new most important woman in his life. Camille. The name burned in the back of her throat. Every time she says the name it feels as though someone lit a match on her tongue.
Lately, he’s blown off their plans more times than she can count. The weekly Friday night movie binge they’ve had since she was 6 and he was 8, has become a thing of the past. Yet the moment he calls her because he’s upset about something Camille did she answers the phone and goes running to him, though she knows he doesn’t deserve it.
And I’ll still be a fool, I’m a fool for you
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit of your heart is all I want
Just once, she wants him to call her for no reason, like he used to every day at 3 o’clock, no matter what he was doing or where he was. Just once, she wants him to blow off the plans he made with her and start putting YN first again.
Nothing’s ever easy
That’s what they say
I know I’m not your only
But I’ll still be a fool
‘Cause I’m a fool for you
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit of your heart is all I want
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit is all I’m asking for
Not to mention, YN wouldn’t dare tell Harry how she felt. Not because she was afraid or ashamed, but because she doesn’t really know how. She wishes things would go back to how they were before. Her and him against the world, forever. She misses him. His voice. His touch. His smile. The sound of his heart beating as she laid her head on his chest when they cuddled. Everything. And he doesn’t even know it.
I don’t ever tell you how I really feel
'Cause I can’t find the words to say what I mean
And nothing’s ever easy
That’s what they say
I know I’m not your only
But I’ll still be a fool
'Cause I’m a fool for you
In a way, she’s kind of come to accept she’s taken second or third place in his life at this point, but she’s decided to grin and bare it. She still has Anne and Gemma and her other friends to lean on.
She sees the way Anne and Gemma have looked at her lately. It’s as if they know it too. She’s losing him.
It isn’t only the distance between them that makes it obvious. It’s the fact that his eyes have become a little less bright when he looks at her. It’s the fact that his voice has a little less emotion in it when he speaks to her. That’s when she knows she’s truly lost him. Lost her place in his life, and she took it over. But at least she still has a place in his life… even if it’s not the place she wants to be. She’s happy, he’s happy.
parenthood part twenty three: forever & always, and then some
a/n: oh boy! 12k words to (hopefully) feed your parenthood craving. i am already dying to know what you all think of this, so please don't hesitate to hop into the comments or my ask box to talk! hope you enjoy! reblogs are appreciated :)
The Island Club hasn’t changed one bit since you were employed here and running drinks around to Rafe and his friends before you knew he even had a crush on you. As you watch the waitresses make their rounds to the same customers, serving the same food to the same tables, you chuckle to yourself at the thought of ever having to deal with that again.
Scott sits across from you, fidgeting in his seat slightly as he holds himself back from pulling a cigarette from his pocket. You skim over him, taking in his appearance.
His hair is freshly cut and the rosiness is back in his cheeks after having disappeared for so long. He’s eating three meals a day again, and to you, it seems his only unhealthy habit is smoking. In time, you’re sure he will move past that.
“How’re the kids?” he asks, looking up at you.
“They’re good,” you reply, “They’re busy bees lately. Connor is starting on a soccer team, so Rafe’s been helping him practice.”
“That’s awesome,” Scott grins, and the sight makes you smile, “Kid always has had one hell of a kick. What about Josie girl?”
You chuckle, “She’s all about dance, recently. She wants me to sign her up for a class, and I’ve been trying to get this teacher to call me back about getting her in.”
“Wow. Good for her. She’s so driven, Y/N. They both are.”
“Yeah, they’re something,” you laugh.
He gives you a smile, but it fades fast before he asks, “And, Rafe?”
“He’s doing really well. He’s less stressed at work, and he’s spending a lot of time with the kids.”
Scott nods, “Is he still… y’know? Pissed at me?”
You sigh and look down at your lap, unwilling to respond right away. Rafe’s feelings toward Scott have been complicated ever since he showed up to the house and scared the shit out of you and the kids, even though you’ve worked through it and have encouraged Rafe to do the same. Your loyalty to your brother runs deeper than Rafe’s does — because, as he puts it, he will always choose the safety and security of his family. Especially his children.
“He’s not pissed, Scott,” you say carefully.
“Right, he’s just done with me,” he laughs dryly, “Look, it’s fine, Y/N. I get it.”
You nod, and when your waiter drops your plates in front of you, you’re relieved when Scott eats his meal and has several glasses of water.
He tells you about the new job he just started and how he’s finally, officially, cut ties with Mae after she’s yanked him around for over a year. How he’s attending regular AA meetings and actually participating in them. He’s even made a few friends in the group, and they go out to eat together after their meetings to keep themselves busy.
By the time he pays for your lunch and walks you out to your car, you can’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. He hugs you back and gives you a wide smile, silently telling you that he really is doing better.
“So, listen, I was kinda hoping I could see them soon,” he says, clarifying, “The kids.”
You know you should run it by Rafe first, but the look in Scott’s eye and the pride swelling in your heart at his improvement has you answering faster than you should.
“That would be great,” you nod.
He smiles, “Perfect. How about Wednesday afternoon? I don’t have to be at work ‘til six. Do they have sports or anything?”
You hold up a finger and check the calendar on your phone, finding nothing for yourself or either of the kids on Wednesday after they get home from school.
“Wednesday works,” you reply, “I’ll bring them to your apartment.”
“Awesome,” he beams, then pulls you in for another hug, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I can’t wait.”
“The kids will be very excited,” you tell him, squeezing him tight.
He laughs lightly, sounding like himself and making you relax even more. He’s finally in a better place, and you couldn’t be happier about it.
Scott opens your car door for you and then closes it once you’re inside. He stands there and watches as you back out, then offers you a wave before you drive away. You smile the whole way home, thankful beyond belief that your brother is doing right by himself and improving his life where he needs it.
When you get home, Rafe is in the kitchen. You smile at the sight of him at the stove, stirring peppers around a skillet and listening to music. You can hear the kids playing in the playroom, and when Rafe notices you come in, he steps away from the food and to you.
“Hey, baby, how was lunch?” he asks, helping you remove your jacket.
“It was good,” you say with a smile, “Club hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Nah, I figured as much.”
He hangs up your jacket and your purse for you, then steps back over and guides his arm around your waist. You smile and set your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth.
“How are the kids?” you ask him.
“Josie hid Connor’s firetruck underneath the couch, and Bo got it,” he fills you in, watching your eyes pop in horror, “He was very distraught.”
“Oh, no, poor baby,” you pout, “I’ll see if I can find another one for him tomorrow.”
Rafe grins, “You’re so good to them, they don’t even know it.”
You laugh and grab ahold of his chin lightly, pulling him down to give him a kiss. He accepts it, then offers you a small apology as he momentarily breaks away to pull the skillet off the heat and to the back burner.
When he moves back to you, assuming the same position, you swallow your nervousness of breaching the topic, and instead, slip your hands under his shirt.
“So, listen,” you start, “Scott got a job. He’s working nights right now, and he goes after his AA meetings. He seems really, really good.”
He nods patiently, but you can tell by his eyes that he’s not receptive whatsoever to where you’re going to take this conversation.
“That’s good,” he replies, his voice even.
“Yeah, it is,” you say hopefully, rising up on your tiptoes, “So, anyway, he was asking if he could see the kids on Wednesday before he has to work.”
Rafe raises a brow, “And what did you tell him?”
You swallow again and press your palms into his skin, hoping your touch will lighten him up.
“Well, I… I think it’s a good idea. It would be good for him, and the kids miss him.”
Rafe’s chest deflates against your hands, and only because you know him so well can you predict what he’s going to say next.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m thrilled that Scott is doing better. I am. I just don’t think this is the best time for that. Josie’s still adjusting to school, and Connor’s getting settled in a new classroom and he’s on a sports team. I feel like they have enough change going on right now, you know?”
You nod slowly, but look to the floor. He covers your hands with his own and takes them, bringing both of your knuckles up to his lips to kiss. You meet his eyes then, and you both take a second to analyze the other person’s expression.
“It’s not really a change, though,” you push, keeping your voice light, “It’s just Scott.”
“Y/N, Scott scared the shit out of both of them when he showed up drunk.”
“I know, but he apologized for that,” you reply.
Rafe drops your hands, “That doesn’t make it okay. To be honest, I’m just not comfortable with it. I need more time to work through things with him. I’m sorry, but can we please table this for now?”
You move to speak up, but bite your tongue at the very last second when one specific thought hits you. If you told Rafe you weren’t comfortable with something, he’d never fight with you on it. He would never pressure you into anything, and the thought of doing that to him makes your stomach turn.
“Yes, of course,” you answer, “Thank you for being straight with me. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”
Rafe shifts and sets one large palm on your hip bone, where he pulls your body closer to his.
“I’m not saying no, sweetheart. I’m just saying that I’d like to give it a little more time and make sure Scott really sticks to this change before we bring the kids back into it. That’s all.”
You nod and offer him a smile, “I understand, Rafe. I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”
“Thank you,” he says sweetly, “Now, Connor and I are making a grocery store run. Need anything?”
You step closer, “Coffee. And laundry pods for the washer. But not the blue and white ones—”
“The green and yellow ones, I know,” he teases, “I also put a stick of deodorant on the list for you, considering you went to throw it in the garbage this morning and fuckin’ banked the shot.”
“Excuse me,” you scoff, even though your heart swells at the fact that he not only noticed that, but also remembered it and put it on the list, “We need more bananas, too. You know what Josie’s like when we run out of those for her lunch.”
He laughs, “Yeah. Okay. Bananas, coffee, and laundry pods. I’ve got the rest of the list, but text me if you remember anything okay?”
“Okay,” you smile, “Thanks, handsome.”
He nods and signals for a kiss, grinning when you stand up on your tiptoes to give to him. When you pull back, he yells for Connor, knowing Josie will come running, too.
“Oh, hey, did that lady ever call you back about Josie’s dance class?” he asks.
“No,” you groan, “I’m hoping she will in the next few days. Otherwise, I’ll look somewhere else. I just heard that place is so good, I really wanted her to try it out.”
He shrugs, “She’ll be great anywhere. Come on, Connor! Shoes and jacket, hurry!”
He kisses you again quickly before he pulls away to get his own shoes and jacket, finishing in record time so he could steal just a few more kisses before the Sunday chores officially start.
Monday comes before you know it, and it brings a wave of destruction. Your meetings all get delayed, your work project is put on suspension, and Rose is driving you crazy about an upcoming event that you’re not even technically assigned to.
Even more than that, Josie had a day. She refused to let go of you when you dropped her off at preschool, and after you managed to escape, they called you twice and Rafe once to report that she would not stop crying and demanding one of you to come get her. Being the parent at home on Mondays, Rafe picked her up, and she sat with him in his home office for the remainder of the day.
Tuesday morning finds you easier. You’re seated at your desk and fire up your work email after dropping both kids off at school — Josie did better today — when you realize that you never told Scott that the plans for tomorrow are off.
You draft up a text message slowly over the next few hours, trying to sound equal parts assertive and sympathetic. At one o’clock, right before you send the text, your drafting is interrupted by a phone call. The nurse at Connor’s school tells you that he’s been running a fever and complaining of a stuffy nose and sore throat since before lunch. You sigh and agree to be right there to get him, then hit send on the text to Scott without thinking twice about it.
You return home with both Connor and Josie behind you. Well, Josie walks behind you while Connor lays in your arms, mumbling softly about how he feels cold despite his fever being high. Josie helps you the best she can to get Connor settled in his room, where you lay him in bed and put a light blanket over him, then get him a cup of water and take his temperature once more. It’s still high, so you give him a kiss and tell him to sleep for a bit before you come back up to check on him.
“Is Connor okay, Mommy? Can we make him some soup?” Josie asks as the two of you slip out of his bedroom.
You smile and pick her up, giving her a hug since you didn’t get to when you picked her up from school.
“We should make him some soup,” you agree, “And, I’m sure you’re ready for your after-school snack, too.”
She grins mischievously, “Maybe.”
You laugh and carry her downstairs to the kitchen, where your phone sits on the counter. The screen fills with unanswered texts, so you set Josie down and grab it, scrolling through the messages.
The first one you open is Rafe’s chain. Two from him — both exactly what you expected them to be.
Just got a notification you checked Connor out of school? Is everything okay?
I’ve got a meeting in half an hour but I can come home after if you need me.
You look over at Josie, watching as she uses the handle on the bottom oven as a balance beam for ballet. Your heart squeezes, and you make a mental note to reach out to other dance studios in the area tomorrow.
Quickly, you text Rafe back while stepping over to the pantry to get Josie a snack.
He’s sick, but okay. Slight fever and head cold. Nothing to worry about. Good luck on your meeting, handsome. I love you.
He returns the sentiment quickly, while also reminding you to call him if things change. Then, as you pour animal crackers into a bowl, you switch over to Scott’s text chain.
First, you reread the text you sent to him.
Hey, so I discussed things with Rafe, and we have decided to hold off on allowing the kids to come over. For now. We think it’s best to give you some more adjustment time, and then we can revisit the idea. I’m sorry, Scott. But, I will try to do better by sending you more pics of them. Just hang in there. Love you.
You know it’s not perfect, but it has to do. It gets your point across, it doesn’t blame Rafe, and it’s sugar coated just enough for him.
His reply follows your message, and the length looks drastically different.
Y/N, I’m adjusted. I just want to see them. Didn’t you tell Rafe I’m doing better? Why is he keeping them from me?
“Mommy!” Josie calls, standing at the kitchen window, “There’s a red bird on the fence!”
You frown at Scott’s text but lock your phone, then carry Josie’s snack over to her. You look out the window to where she’s pointing and find the cardinal that’s holding her attention so well.
“Wow, beautiful, huh?” you ask, and she nods before you say, “Okay, come on. Let’s sit at the table and have a snack.”
She obeys and sits in her usual seat at the table, smiling widely when you follow her. You sit with her while she eats and talk to her about her day at school, listening intently even as she tells you the same story for ten entire minutes.
You perk up when you hear the front door close. You know Rafe wouldn’t be coming into the house with his meeting coming up, and a fresh wave of worry passes through your body.
“Y/N?”
You relax when you hear Scott’s voice, but only for a second. He knows he’s not allowed to come to the house; you had talked Rafe out of taking Scott’s key from him after his latest episode.
Josie, like you, recognises the voice, and practically tips her chair right over as she attempts to get up.
“Uncle Scott!”
Her scream is loud, and she takes off from the kitchen before you can stop her. You groan internally, scrambling to already try and figure out what you’re going to say to Rafe. Despite it all, you follow Josie out of the kitchen and to the foyer, where she is currently diving into Scott’s open arms.
“Hey, lovebug,” he grins widely, “Wasn’t sure you’d be home from school yet. I’m so happy to see you!”
She locks herself around his neck and presses kiss after kiss to his cheek, laughing when he laughs.
“I’ve missed you,” she tells him, “Where have you been?”
He smiles sadly, then returns her kisses with his own, “I’ve been getting myself together. For you and Connor. Are you proud of me?”
“Yes,” she giggles, “Want to have an after school snack with me?”
His smile at her question tells you just how much the question means to him, and when he looks over at you for approval, you just can’t say no. Not to Scott; not to your baby brother who has struggled so much for so long, and just needs a little bit of love to keep him going. You can’t fault him for that, and no part of you is able to even consider kicking him out. Even if it’s not what you and Rafe have discussed and agreed on, you hope that when you explain, he will understand.
You nod your head, and he turns and kisses her cheek again, like he just can’t help himself.
“I would love to,” he agrees.
Scott carries her into the kitchen and you follow. He sets her down and lets her run over to her chair, but he hangs back just long enough to talk to you.
“I’m sorry, I just came over to talk about your text. I didn’t think she’d be here—”
“It’s fine,” you reply, waving him off, “Connor’s home sick from school, so I picked her up because I can’t leave him to go get her later.”
He nods, “Do you need me to bring you anything for him? Soup? Gatorade?”
“No, I have it covered,” you reply, “Go. She’s waiting so patiently for you.”
He chuckles when he sees her sitting on her knees in the chair, waving him over with an animal cracker half shoved into her mouth. Without hesitation, he rushes over and takes a seat beside her, stealing one of her animal crackers and laughing when she protests.
You puff out your cheeks and check the time, wondering if you can squeeze in a quick call to Rafe before his meeting. When you decide you can’t, you set your phone back down. You’re here, you’re supervising, and he won’t be mad, you tell yourself. Scott can’t do anything wrong with you here, too.
Your phone’s sharp ring draws you out of your head. When you look to see who’s calling, you gasp and practically pounce on the phone — the dance school that you’ve been trying to get Josie into.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Cameron?”
“Yes,” you reply.
“Hi there. My name is Chelsea, I’m calling to see if you are still interested in signing your daughter, Josephine, up for dance class?”
“Yes,” you say enthusiastically, waving to Scott and then holding up your finger as you step into the living room, “Yes, I am. She’s really excited to start.”
“Oh, wonderful. We actually have an opening today in our three o’clock class. It’s only one spot, but if you could bring her by today, I can almost guarantee it would be hers.”
You freeze, “Today?”
“Yes ma’am. Spots here tend to go fast, but I saw your last name, and we wanted to offer you and your daughter the spot, first.”
“Oh,” you say, brain running a mile a minute as you try to figure out how to make this all work out, “Um, yes, thank you, we’d love the spot. I just have a few things to work out, but I will do my best to get her there by three o’clock. Does she need to bring anything?”
“We’ll just do a trial run for today, so we have everything she will need here. If you all are interested in continuing after today, we can give you a list of everything she will need for future classes.”
You barely even hear her words, too busy trying to figure out how you’re supposed to be in two places at once. You want Josie to be in this dance school desperately, but with Connor being so sick, you don’t know how to make it happen.
“Thank you, I’ll try to work it out and have her there at three,” you say, trying to sound more chipper than you are, “Thank you so much for calling.”
“Yes ma’am. See you soon!”
You disconnect the call and let out a long sigh, having wanted that phone call to come at a better time than just now. You wander back into the kitchen and find Scott and Josie still giggling at the kitchen table, and when they both look over at you, you offer a smile.
“Who was that?” Scott asks.
You give Josie a smile, “It was the dance studio I’ve been trying to get Josie into. They have an opening for this afternoon.”
“No way!” she exclaims, “Mommy, we have to go!”
Scott can see it on your face before you can even say a word. He watches as you subconsciously glance back over your shoulder, desperate to check on Connor and not sure what to do. Under normal circumstances, you’d call Rafe — at least to just talk it out. But with him in a meeting and unavailable, you don’t have that option.
“I can take her,” Scott volunteers, “I know you won’t leave Connor, so let me take her to dance. Just there and back, I promise.”
“Y/N, let me help you out,” he says, “Come on. I can do it.”
“Mommy,” Josie repeats, “I want Uncle Scott to take me to dance.”
“Scott,” you whisper, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”
“And you’re drowning,” he points out, “I swear. I can totally handle it. I’ll even video the whole thing for you. Please, come on, let me prove myself to you. To Rafe.”
At the mention of your husband, your eyes find your phone. You want to call him more than anything, but you can’t. Then, you think about the agreement amongst parents when they’re raising children together. There are so many split second decisions that a parent has to make, so they trust that their partner will make the right one. Rafe trusts that you will make the right decision for your shared children, and right now, you can only see one.
“Okay,” you sigh. Josie’s squeals interrupt you and Scott grins, grabbing her from her chair as you add, “Just there and back. No ice cream, no playground. Just to the studio and back, alright?”
“Alright,” Scott repeats back, still smiling, “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, lovebug?”
“Right!” she squeals.
“Josie, go get your shoes, okay?” you say, watching her nod feverishly, like she just can’t wait for Scott to put her down so they can go to dance.
“Okay!” she says quickly, rushing off.
Scott laughs as he watches her go, and when he turns back to you, his expression falls.
“I need you to take extensive notes,” you say sternly, watching his smile grow once more.
“You got it,” he replies.
You allow yourself to smile, too, and he pulls you into a hug. He squeezes his thankfulness into you, and only pulls away when Josie returns with her shoes.
You hurry upstairs to check on Connor after putting Josie in her car seat and into Scott’s truck. As you feel Connor’s forehead, he stirs and groans, but he still feels very warm.
“Mama?” he whispers into the air.
“Hey, baby,” you reply, “How do you feel?”
“Not good,” he whines, “I’m cold. And I need a tissue.”
You grab the box from his nightstand and offer him one, then help him sit up. He blows his nose and hands the tissue back to you, then lays back down.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll bring you some more medicine in a little bit, okay?”
He nods. His lower lip juts out in the pout he always gives you when he’s sick, so you lean down and kiss his forehead before you stand. You retuck his blanket around him, then use careful steps to escape the dark room.
Downstairs, you hurry into the kitchen and start heating up from soup for Connor, then pour out the next dose of his medicine. You make him a nice tray of everything so he can eat in bed; complete with crackers, a water bottle, and his iPad so he can watch a show while he eats. Just as you’re putting the finishing touches on it, ready to take it upstairs and check on him again, your phone buzzes on the counter. And buzzes. And buzzes.
Scott’s contact picture lights up your screen, and you furrow your brows as you check the time. They should just be getting to the dance studio, and you wonder if someone had questions for him that he couldn’t answer.
“Hello?” you say innocently.
“Y/N,” he sighs, almost in relief, but his voice also holds another emotion, too, “Listen, don’t freak out.”
You freeze, “What? Why?”
The worst possible scenarios go through your brain instantly, and you begin to listen for signs of Josie in the background. Her laugh, her whine at Scott to hurry up.
“Just let me get it all out, first,” he demands, then groans in pain, “Fuck, okay, we got into an accident. Josie is fine. Not hurt at all. I think I broke my arm, so I’m in an ambulance. They’re taking both of us to the hospital, but she’s right here, she’s good, she’s with me.”
You suddenly can’t suck in a deep breath. All you can picture is Josie in the back of an ambulance, hurt. Josie in a car accident. Josie being scared because she doesn’t understand what’s happening.
Tears blur your vision just at the thought of her being alone, and the inhale that you try to suck in is sharp and quick.
“Let me speak to her,” you choke out.
Scott sighs but complies with your request, and you listen to their muffled voices before you get clarity.
“Mommy, Uncle Scott is hurt,” she tells you, and just the sound of her voice brings relief to your body, mind, and heart.
“Josie, baby, are you okay?” you ask her, letting the tears run without a care in the world.
“Yes, Mommy. They let me put the siren on.”
You laugh, then cry again, “Oh, that’s awesome. Listen, Mommy’s gonna come pick you up, okay? Can you just stay with Uncle Scott for a little bit?”
Josie immediately whines, “No, he’s hurt. I have to stay with him. I told Daddy I am staying.”
A fresh wave of anxiety runs through your body. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind yet, but apparently, it had to Josie.
“You told Daddy?” you ask weakly, “When?”
“I called him,” she answers, “I was scared, and wanted Daddy.”
“Oh,” your eyes flutter shut, “Okay, honey. Just stay with Uncle Scott until I see you. I love you so much, Jo.”
“Love you, too, Mommy,” she says, sounding perfectly fine, perfectly normal, and all you want to do is get to her.
She hands the phone back to Scott, and you hear him grunt again in pain before his voice comes through the speaker.
“”Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “It wasn’t my fault, I swear, I did everything right—”
“I’m on my way,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the details right now, “Just… I love you. I’m glad you’re okay other than the arm.”
He takes a minute to answer, and you can see the exact expression on his face as he debates what’s best to do right now.
“Thanks,” he eventually says, “I love you, too.”
“See you soon,” you mumble, then disconnect the call before either one of you can say anything else.
The first thing you do is check your text messages. Rafe has sent nothing, said nothing. When it comes to Rafe, you know silence from him is worse than anything else. You take a deep breath and attempt to type out a text to him, but delete it before you can find the words to explain to him any part of it.
With a long sigh, you hurry up the stairs and into Connor’s room, forgetting all about his soup and medicine. He sits up when you enter, and when he sees the expression on your face, his eyes widen.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” he asks, coughing after he finishes his question.
“We have to go, baby. Can you come with me, please?”
He nods and stands from his bed, bringing his blanket along with him. You put socks on his feet and slide his shoes on, then carry him down the stairs, wrapped in his blanket. Your mind can’t stop running wild as you picture Josie in Scott’s truck, scared out of her mind. You don’t even notice the tears that fall until Connor reaches up and brushes them away with his finger. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, you strap him into his car seat and pull back to look at his face.
“I’m so sorry, handsome,” you whisper, “I know you don’t feel well, but we have to go pick up Josie.”
“Okay, Mama,” he replies, even going so far as to offer you a small smile.
You’re grateful for it, and you show him such. With a kiss on the cheek, you close the car door and climb into the driver’s side, all while trying not to burst into tears again.
Your knuckles turn white as you squeeze the steering wheel, glancing up at Connor every five seconds in the rear view mirror. He’s still okay, still staring out the window, but you’re paranoid about every single car that even comes close to yours.
The drive to the hospital finally comes to an end, and you’ve barely parked your car before you’re out of it again. Connor is once again placed on your hip, and you rush in from the parking lot.
Once you’re inside, you hurry to the closest nurse you can find. She directs you to a desk, who directs you to another nurse, who, finally, tells you what room number to go to. Connor buries his head in your neck and starts to cough again, and the guilt piles on top of your chest.
You finally spot the room number on the wall and rush to it, just needing to lay eyes on her. To assess her for injuries and make sure that she really is okay. When you enter, you relax instantly. Scott is laying in the bed with his arm in a sling, and Josie is seated in the middle of his chest, giggling as he pokes her stomach. They both look so happy despite their current state and what they’ve been through in the past hour.
“Josie,” you sigh in relief, setting Connor down in the singular chair before hurrying to her and pulling her into your arms.
“Mommy,” she cheers, “Look, Uncle Scott got a boo-boo.”
You cradle her head and rock her in your arms, then glance at Scott. He’s giving you a sad smile and a wave using his bad arm, but you shake your head at him.
“Is it broken?” you ask him.
“Yeah,” he replies with a shrug, “I’ll get a cool brace for it, though.”
You roll your eyes, “Scott—”
“Y/N,” he stops you, his expression suddenly serious, “The guy ran a red light. I didn’t even see him coming until— Look, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”
“I know,” you nod, and you mean it.
He’s your brother, and you believe him. Especially because he needs you to so desperately, given that he won’t stop trying to explain himself.
“Good. Now, I have to use the bathroom, then I want to see what’s going on with Little Cam. You don’t look so hot, dude.”
Connor shrugs, “Been better.”
Scott chuckles and stands from the hospital bed, taking two steps over to Connor.
“You like my sling?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Connor smiles, “Does it hurt?”
“No, I’m tough.”
Connor laughs and so does Josie, and for a brief moment, you feel emotionally stable. You feel at peace, knowing that everyone is okay.
Then, the door pushes open, and reality slaps you right in the face. You turn too late, and Rafe’s eyes have already assessed the room. He’s frozen for a moment, long enough for you to set Josie down, because you know she’ll want to run to him.
Instead of waiting on that, however, Rafe crosses the room in a few strides, and you figure out just a beat too late what’s going to happen.
With a clenched jaw and a balled fist, Rafe states at Scott right as he starts to explain what happened.
“Yo, Rafe—” he starts, but Rafe’s fist connects with his jaw and knocks him flat on the ground.
“Oh, my God,” you yell, grabbing Josie and holding her against you while you reach for Connor’s hand.
Your only focus is getting them both out of the room. You know Scott can fight his own battles, and there’s nothing you can do to talk to Rafe when he’s like this. Looking like he knows this, Scott remains on the ground, leaving Rafe with nothing. He’s dead silent as he turns and faces you and the kids, looking away from you within the same second your eyes meet.
“Josephine,” Rafe says in relief, crossing over to you and pulling her from you without a word or a look, “Hey, princess. My girl. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”
She nods, “Yes, Daddy. I just got scared.”
“I know you did, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you. Do you have any injuries?”
Josie doesn’t respond right away, and you take it as an opportunity.
“She’s okay. I checked her when I got here.”
Rafe’s eyes flicker to you for only a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look at you with anything besides pure admiration and love. This time, his glance is cold, calculated, and practically unrecognizable.
“Let me take you home,” he says to her, “I’m gonna take you home, and nobody will ever take you anywhere again.”
“Except for you?” she asks.
“Except for me,” he replies with a nod, “Let’s take Bubby home, too, okay?”
Your heart sinks as Rafe looks down at Connor, who is gripping his blanket tightly. When Rafe offers him a hand, Connor slips out of your grasp and takes it.
You frown, “I can take—”
“Y/N, I’m so damn pissed right now. You need to stay with your brother, since that’s clearly where you want to be.”
He doesn’t even look at you as he says it, which is what makes the tears come. He’s too busy fussing over Josie’s hair and Connor’s runny nose. Rafe grabs him a tissue, then tosses it when Connor’s done.
You look over at Scott and find him still seated on the floor, blood running down his chin from his nose, and he’s just staring at the kids. You’re sure he thinks this could be his final time seeing them in a long time, and you feel sick over that.
“Rafe,” you choke out, “Please, just listen—”
“No,” he snaps, “Not to you. I’m taking them home.”
Connor whimpers, but when Rafe takes his hand again, he doesn’t object as his dad starts to lead him out of the room. Nobody says a word, and before you can blink, the three of them are gone.
“Fuck,” Scott groans from the floor, “Y/N, I’m so—”
“Don’t,” you shake your head, turning back to him and observing his state before stepping over and offering him a hand, “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”
Scott gets released from the hospital a few hours later, and you drive him back to his apartment. Neither of you speak about anything other than the weather and your parents, because neither of you know what to say. You want to pretend like everything is fine. At least for now.
You set him up on his couch with dinner, snacks, and a blanket, then let him know that you love him no matter what. In return, he offers you his room if you need a place to crash, and you almost burst into tears right then and there.
By the time you make it home, you know the kids will already be in bed. You debate taking the long way, but the fact that Connor is sick draws you back to the house so you can check on him.
You pull your car into the garage and shut it off, then get out quickly before you can debate sitting inside for a while. You sigh and push open the door to the house, not knowing exactly what you’re walking into with Rafe.
The house is dark and silent. There’s no plate of dinner sitting on the counter for you like he usually leaves behind, and no light on in the living room to guide your path to bed. With a heavy heart, you head upstairs and peek your head into Connor’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep with a box of tissues and an empty medicine cup on his nightstand.
Of course Rafe took care of everything.
Quietly, you close his bedroom door and cross the hall over to Josie’s bedroom. When you peek in, you find her bed to be empty, but her stuffed animals are missing. Immediately, you know where she is.
You hesitate at the door to your shared bedroom with Rafe for a brief moment, then push open the door and walk inside. Rafe’s bedside lamp is on, which allows you to see him lying on his side of the bed on his side, with Josie facing him. She’s tucked in his arms and sleeping soundly, but Rafe is wide awake and watching every single breath she draws.
He never looks over at you. For a moment, you wonder if he even realizes you came into the room. When your lips part to speak, no sound comes out. You don’t know what to say or where to start.
“She could’ve been killed,” Rafe says evenly, like he’s stating a fact rather than getting emotional. His eyes don’t leave her for even a split second.
“Rafe—” you start, but he sits up carefully.
“Don’t wake her. I just got her to sleep.”
You silence yourself and stare at the two of them for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. After a moment, Rafe leans forward and brushes his lips over Josie’s forehead, then stands from the bed. He walks over to you, watching as you stand completely still in hopes that he’ll just take you into his arms and tell you that everything will be okay. Instead, he clenches his jaw and points to the door of the bedroom, silently telling you to walk through it.
Rafe follows out of the room behind you and closes the door softly. You walk out to the couch and sit down, watching his movements extra carefully. He’s in sweatpants and a black tee shirt that you’ve always loved on him, but never told him so.
You watch as he takes a deep breath, then places his hands on his hips. He doesn’t sit; he stands in front of you and keeps his eyes on anything but you.
“Why was she with your brother?”
His tone is harsh; like nothing you say in this moment could make sense to him. None of it will make any difference at all.
“Um,” you shift, your voice shaky, “She— no, okay, the dance studio called and— wait—”
“Y/N,” Rafe stops you, exhaling loudly, “I just want you to explain why she was with your brother.”
You nod, “Okay. Sorry. So, I texted Scott and told him that we weren’t comfortable having the kids see him right now. He came over here to talk to me in person, thinking the kids weren’t home, and Josie saw him. So, naturally, she wouldn’t let him go, and he was just gonna have a snack with her and then leave. But, then, that dance studio called and said they had a spot for Josie this afternoon, and the spot was going to be given away if we couldn’t make it. I didn’t want to leave Connor, and Scott offered, and— Rafe, I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, hands still proudly glued to his hips. His eyes close under the explanation, and the way his jaw is set tells you that, although it might make sense to him, he still isn’t happy or satisfied with the explanation.
“You should have called me,” he says quietly, “I would’ve helped you work it out. I would’ve come home.”
“You were in a meeting, I didn’t want to bother you—”
“Bother me, Y/N!” he exclaims, silencing you, “Bother me. Every time. If it means I don’t get the fucking call that one of my kids has been in a car accident with someone I didn’t even want them around in the first place. How could you let her go with Scott? After we discussed it and agreed that he was off limits, you just—”
“I didn’t see any other choice,” you speak up, “I didn’t want them to give the spot away.”
“Let them give the damn spot away, then!” he cries, shaking his head, “I told you, she’d be fine dancing anywhere, but you were so dead set on this one place, and that was fine with me until you shipped her off with your brother and he almost got our daughter killed—”
“Rafe, the accident wasn’t his fault,” you say, finally having the courage to stand, “He loves her. He would never put her at risk.”
He laughs then, and it’s deep, loud, sarcastic. Your eyes hit the floor and you swallow, wanting nothing more than his touch. Despite Rafe being the one causing the ache in your chest, you know he’s the only one who can fix it. He’s the only one who can ever fix it.
“He did put her at risk, Y/N. Many times. Every time he showed up drunk, every time he stumbled down the stairs. It’s not a fucking coincidence that this happened when she was with him.”
You draw back, shaking your head, “That’s not fair. It could’ve happened to anyone. It could’ve been me—”
“Don’t,” he says immediately, stepping closer to you, “Don’t you dare go there. It wouldn’t have. It can’t.”
“Why not, Rafe?” you question, raising a brow, angry that he wants to blame everything on Scott when you don’t feel it’s his fault, “You’d blame Scott for everything if you could. If I had decided to take Josie to dance, it would’ve been me and the kids at that intersection—-”
“No!” he shouts, silencing you once again, “Stop it. It can’t happen again, Y/N. I almost lost you once, it cannot fucking happen again.”
Your lips glue shut as you realize what this is truly about for him. He runs a hand through his hair and sucks in a deep breath, letting the silence fall between the two of you.
You know exactly how Rafe has internalized the accident you were in the night of Midsummers with Topper and Kelce. You know, because he’s told you. How he had nightmares for ages afterward, how he still will grip the steering wheel with two hands when he drives with you in the car at night. How he thinks about it every year at Midsummers, regardless of how much time has passed.
Now, you can’t imagine what this will do to him. His Josie, his baby girl. Getting that call was not easy on him, you’re sure, and for a moment, you understand why he’s so angry with you for putting him in that situation.
“Rafe,” you whisper, watching the way he looks up at you with vulnerability in his eyes, “I’m so, so sorry.”
He nods, like he really just needed to hear that. You take a step closer, but before you can reach for him, he steps back.
“I need to sleep on it all. We can regroup in the morning.”
You swallow and nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You settle for tucking them behind your back, squirming under his gaze.
“I’ll sleep upstairs. In case Connor needs anything,” you say.
“Alright,” he nods, looking at you like he’s considering something.
“Alright,” you repeat.
He sighs, like he’s annoyed with himself, then steps forward and cups your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment before placing a kiss on your forehead forcefully, then drops you from his grip completely.
You step forward out of habit, wanting his touch back. Instead of reaching for him, you just stare, knowing that he can tell what you want but refuses to give it to you.
“I love you, Rafe,” you whisper to him.
Even as angry as he is, he doesn’t miss a beat, “I love you, too.”
He nods, then turns around and leaves you like that. In the middle of the living room with his kiss still lingering on your forehead, and his words sitting in front of you, etching themselves into your heart so you never forget them.
When you wake in the morning, your first thought is of Connor. You don’t allow yourself to think of anything else, because it weighed on you all night, until you just couldn’t take it anymore. You cried in the guest room bed. Buried your face in a pillow and sobbed as you relived the day, your choices, and what became of them. You cry for Josie, for Rafe, for Scott. You cry because all you’d wanted to do was make the right choice for all of them, and you wound up only making the wrong ones.
So, when you wake up with swollen under eyes and a red nose, the only thing you allow yourself to think about is Connor.
He’s asleep when you enter his room, and when you feel his forehead, he feels the same as he had last night. You make a mental note to bring up more medicine for him, then take his temperature.
Slipping back out of his room, you head downstairs. Your stomach twists as you hear Rafe talking to Josie in the kitchen, and the thought of facing him without knowing exactly how he feels today makes you anxious.
As you walk in, you find Josie sitting on the counter and Rafe at the stove, where he flips a pancake in the pan. Josie giggles at something he said, and Rafe laughs back. His eyes catch on you, and for a brief moment, he smiles. Then, he drops it and looks down.
“Hi, Mommy!” Josie cheers, “Daddy’s staying home today! He said I could, too.”
“He did, huh?” you smile at her, walking around the island to embrace her.
“Thought I could, considering we’re not consulting each other on decisions anymore,” Rafe mutters.
For Josie’s sake, you ignore him, but you stare at him while you do it. In no way can you tell Rafe how to feel or act, but you’re shocked at how openly petty he’s being.
“Rafe—”
He cuts you off when he spins around with a plate in his hand, then gives Josie a wide smile.
“Alright, princess, your breakfast is ready. Go sit at the table for me.”
He carries Josie’s plate over as you help her down from the counter, then watch her take off to her seat. Once she’s settled, Rafe comes back into the kitchen, but he doesn’t spare you a single glance.
“How’d you sleep?” you try, stepping closer.
“I didn’t,” he replies as he pours more pancake batter into the pan, “She did. All night.”
You swallow, “Good. So, listen, I was hoping—”
“I’m taking her to my parents’ today. We’ll swim and visit with Topper and Ellie. I figure Connor needs quiet, anyway.”
“Oh, okay,” you nod weakly, “Do you think we could talk later, though?”
“I don’t know.”
You frown and look at the floor, then glance over at the coffee pot. What’s usually filled halfway for you is now empty, and you know the pancakes he’s making on the stove are for himself. It makes your heart ache, to think that he’s so angry with you that he no longer wants to take care of you.
“Rafe, I just… I want to fix it,” you practically beg, “Please.”
He drops the spatula on the counter before he turns to you, keeping his voice low on account of Josie.
“This isn’t just something you can fix, Y/N. You hurt me. You prioritize your brother over our kids and you always have. Every time he stumbles in drunk, you always tell him it’s okay. It’s not. This time, you let him take our daughter and they got into an accident. She could’ve gotten really hurt. I’m not okay with that, and I never will be. Until you can get your priorities straight, I’m not interested in what you have to say.”
You step back from him and swallow the lump in your throat. Instead of just rolling over, you want to explain your thought process — have an actual conversation instead of bickering over the stove.
“He’s sick, Rafe. He’s an alcoholic. Guilting him every time he comes to us like that isn’t going to help him,” you reply, trying to stay strong despite the tears stinging your eyes, “And, how dare you accuse me of not prioritizing our family. This is my top priority— my only priority. I made a judgment call, and I was wrong, I admit it. If I could go back and change it, I would.”
He shrugs, looking back down at the pancake, “But, you can’t.”
His left hand rests on the counter where he leans, supporting his body. You want to reach out and grab it, pull him into you and keep him close as you tell him that you’re sorry over and over again. You give in before you can help yourself, and when you cover his hand with your own, he doesn’t pull away immediately.
“Rafe, please,” you beg, but you’re not sure for what exactly. His eyes. His love. His forgiveness.
“Don’t,” he says, pulling hand from under yours, “You really hurt me this time.”
Before you can say anything else, he plates his pancakes, then turns to face Josie.
She grins when she sees him holding up his own plate, and he puts on his parent mask as he nears her.
“Can we eat together, baby?” he asks enthusiastically, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was absolutely, positively, fine.
After Josie and Rafe leave, you bring Connor downstairs. You cuddle with him when he asks for it, you make him soup, give him more medicine, and watch Paw Patrol until he falls asleep on your lap.
You, however, don’t nap. You stare at your phone screen, at a drafted text to Rafe as your thumb hovers over the send button.
I hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Josie. I never would. The three of you are my priority. We can talk more when you’re ready, but I just want you to know that I’m thinking about what you said and I want to work this out with you more than anything. Please come home.
You debate taking off the plea for him to come home, but you decide to leave it and press send. When you see that it went through, you put your phone down and take a deep breath, then leave your eyes glued to the screen so you can see the second he responds.
When your phone does light up again, you pounce on it. You frown when you see Maddie’s name at the top of the new text, asking you why Rafe canceled the dinner plans that you two had with Maddie and Kelce tonight — which you’d completely forgotten about.
You reply quickly and tell her that Connor is sick, and debate asking her if she can talk on the phone so you can get advice. However, you decide against it and fire off your excuse just as Rafe’s response comes in.
We will pick up dinner and be there soon. How’s Connor?
You smile, because something about this feels like progress. Silently, you look down to the sleeping boy, running your hand through his hair because you just can’t help yourself.
He’s good. Sleeping off the fever, I hope. Thank you for getting dinner!
He won’t respond to that and you know it, but you don’t care. At least he gave you one response.
Connor wakes just before Josie and Rafe get home, and with a perfect temperature, he says he wants to stay downstairs for dinner. You nod and give him a hug, and when you hear the garage door open, you wave him up and into the kitchen.
“Mommy!” Josie shouts when she enters the house, “Look, Daddy got me a princess sticker!”
She holds it up to you proudly as you hug her tight, “Oh, I love it, Jo.”
She beams and moves over to show it to Connor as Rafe walks in. He holds a pizza in his left hand and Josie’s bag in his right. You don’t miss the name on the pizza box — your favorite place, meaning he had to drive fifteen extra minutes each way to get it instead of getting the easy, shitty pizza down the street.
“You got Lighthouse,” you say, biting your lip to hide a smile as you acknowledge his drive to the pizza place.
“Yeah, I—” he stops himself and closes his eyes, then shakes his head before repeating, “Yeah.”
You take a daring step forward, “Thank you.”
He nods once, and when you see him swallow down his impulse to reach for you, to hug you and kiss you and ask about your day, he looks over to the kids.
“Hey, Connor. How are you feeling, buddy?”
Rafe steps past you to get to him, and the pizza you’d just been swooning over suddenly doesn’t seem as appetizing. Regardless, you get plates out and divide up slices while Rafe works behind you to get everyone drinks. He pours juice out for the kids and tells them to sit at the table, then gets a beer for himself. He doesn’t ask you what you want because he already knows, and he sets the glass of white wine at your place setting.
Dinner is quiet, but you pretend it’s only because Josie is tired from swimming all day and Connor isn’t feeling well. Everything feels off because you and Rafe didn’t work today — you told Rose that Connor was sick — and Josie didn’t go to school. It feels like it should be a weekend, but it’s not.
You want to ask Rafe if he plans on going back to work tomorrow. If he wants to sleep next to you tonight, because you want to sleep next to him. You want to ask him everything, anything, just to get him to look at you.
After dinner, Rafe volunteers himself to do bath and bedtime, which leaves you downstairs to clean up the small mess from the meal. As you clean, you spot a tub of ice cream in the freezer and pull it out, smiling to yourself at your little idea.
When Rafe comes back downstairs, he doesn’t look for you. Instead, he makes his way into your shared bedroom, already peeling off his shirt in preparation for a shower when he freezes. You’re sitting on his side of the bed with two small bowls of ice cream and that pout on your lips that you know he loves. He visibly softens at the sight, and when you hold up the bowl, his jaw ticks.
“You’re something else,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, as he crosses the room shirtless.
You give him a small smile as he plants himself beside you and accepts the bowl. His knee touches yours, and you feel giddy inside when he doesn’t pull himself away.
“I’m trying, Rafe,” you whisper as he takes a bite, staring down at the bowl instead of you, “I’m trying to figure out what to do. Because I miss you. And I know I made a mistake. But I don’t want to cut my brother off in the process of working this out. He’s doing better, and I’m afraid that would trigger him into a relapse, or something.”
“I get that,” he murmurs.
“So, let’s talk about it. All three of us. Let’s set clear boundaries and we can even make a timeline—”
“Y/N,” Rafe practically laughs, “I already did that with you. I told you that I wasn’t ready. I set my boundary, and you crossed it.”
You swallow, “I know, but I think it will help if Scott is clued in, too. That way, wires don’t get crossed, and we can all—”
“We can all what?” he scoffs, standing up, “Live happily ever after? Scott can worm his way back into our kids’ lives? I cave on a lot of shit for you, Y/N, but this is not something you can ask me to do.”
“Rafe, I’m not asking you to change how you feel,” you reply, your voice small and pleading, as if silently begging him to sit back down with you, “Please, I’m not. I’m just trying to make everyone happy.”
He shakes his head and lets his eyes close, rolling them behind his lids, “That’s the problem with you. You’re always so focused on how everyone else feels. You’re so afraid to tell Scott ‘no’ because you’re afraid you’ll be responsible for a relapse if you do. You know what, Y/N? You’re allowed to be selfish. You’re allowed to stand up for yourself and our children. Scott is a grown ass man, and his choices are his own. You baby the fuck out of him, and it needs to stop.”
You digest Rafe’s words, letting them hang in the air between the two of you. On one hand, you want to fight back. You want to tell him that Scott is your family, and you’re just trying to help. On the other hand, you see how trying to help turned into Josie being in an accident. Then, you hear Rafe’s words in your head once more.
I cave on a lot of shit for you.
He does, and you know it. With a deep breath, you nod your head, willing to sacrifice for him the way he always does for you — without a second thought.
“Okay,” you whisper, watching his eyes dart to you, “Alright. I’ll take space. I’ll work on it. Whatever is best for you and the kids, I will do that.”
Rafe stares at you like that’s the last thing he expected you to say. His hands meet his hips and he assesses you from head to toe before swallowing.
“Maybe you should sleep on that decision,” he says carefully.
You shake your head, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. He watches you carefully as you stand up and step over to him, then place a gentle hand on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, and you want to smile at the thought of still being able to do that to him after all this time.
“I don’t need to. You’re right, I let people walk all over me because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But, our marriage is my priority, and our children are my priority, and I need to do better. I’m sorry, Rafe, I’m so sorry.”
His eyes close when your lips ghost over his cheek. His fists ball at his sides as he fights the urge to pull you in, to forget it all and just let his body take over. You move down and kiss along his jawline, then back up to his mouth. You let your lips hover for a moment, giving him time to object, before you lean closer.
“Y/N,” he whispers at the very last second, “You can’t just tell me what I want to hear because we’re in a fight. You need to figure this shit out for yourself.”
“Rafe,” you sigh, but he shakes his head.
“I need some time, too. This really rattled me, and I need to figure out how I want to proceed.”
You furrow your brows, “How you want to proceed? Like, with us?”
You fear the answer more than anything, but you need to hear it.
“With everything,” he replies, “I just… I need sleep. So do you.”
You nod but don’t say a word, standing there and thinking about the melting ice cream that sits on your bed.
Rafe takes a deep breath and watches as you avoid his eyes, then sighs and steps forward. You think he might reach out to touch you, grab you, kiss you, anything. Instead, he picks up his pillow from his side of the bed and steps back, offering you half a smile.
“I’ll be on the couch,” he mumbles, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” you reply.
He picks up the two ice cream bowls and carries them to the door, turning back and staring at the scene in front of him for a moment. You, still standing on his side of the bed, where you know you’ll sleep tonight.
“Love you,” he whispers.
“Love you, too.”
He nods and then closes the door behind him. Only then do you fall into his side of the bed and inhale his scent on the sheets, allowing your tears to fall right where you lay. You don’t grab a pillow, you don’t cover yourself with a blanket. You just cry until your body grows so tired that it forces you to sleep, with swollen eyes and a regretful heart.
You jolt awake to the sound of the doorknob to your bedroom rattling up and down a few times, which immediately has you sitting up in bed. Your first thought is that it’s Connor trying to get in because he’s sick, and your heart sinks at the thought of him having gotten worse.
Which is why, when Rafe comes rushing into the room, your eyes grow wide. He’s shirtless and his hair is a mess, but more than that, he looks completely terrified. Your heart races as he starts over to you at a fast pace, lips parted like he’s trying to speak, but can’t.
“Rafe, what is it?” you ask softly.
His breaths are shallow and jagged, and when he tries to inhale, it seems like he can’t. You scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and when he rounds the mattress and gets to you, he sinks to his knees in front of you.
“You’re okay,” he whispers in relief, beginning to check you from top to bottom with his eyes and hands, “Fuck, thank God.”
His palms grip your forearms and he flips them over to check for any sort of marking or injury, then moves down your body to your legs. He runs his hands over every square inch of your skin, and you let him.
“Of course I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing one of his hands in yours, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
He lets out a long breath, then shakes his head, but his hands never leave you. He grips you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go for even a moment.
“Nothing, nothing,” he rushes, “Just a bad dream, I guess. Felt real.”
You tense, “Are you having nightmares again?”
He shrugs, but when you cup his cheek with your free hand, he nods.
“Yeah,” he admits shyly, “I, um, I know we’re in a weird place right now, but—”
“Come to bed,” you demand, tugging him in.
He nods, as if that’s exactly what he wanted you to say. You scoot over just enough for him to crawl onto the mattress, then bury yourself in him the moment he’s laying flat. His arms wrap around you and your head presses against his heart; this time racing for a different reason.
Just as you settle and the room falls silent, you debate what to say. If you should ask any questions or just let him be. Rafe speaks, silencing your mind.
“Y/N,” he whispers into the darkness, “I have to tell you something.”
“Tell me,” you encourage, squeezing him slightly.
He takes a long moment to start, but when he does, you can tell by the shakiness in his voice that he’s emotional.
“I think part of the reason I got so upset with you was because I was very aware of the fact that it could’ve been the three of you at that intersection. Even though you let Scott take her against my wishes, you still made the right choice, somehow. Because, I swear, if I had gotten a call that all of you were at the hospital, I think I would’ve had a heart attack right then and there in my office.”
“Rafe,” you whine, cuddling closer.
He shakes his head, “Let me finish, okay, baby?”
“Okay,” you whisper.
“I’m terrified that something will happen one day. That I won’t be there to protect you, or stop it, or fix it, and this whole thing really brought that fear out of me. I know that I seem overprotective with the kids, especially with Scott, but I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to them. To you. You’re my entire world, Y/N. I just need you to understand that.”
“I do understand that,” you answer, heart hammering in your chest, “But, we also can’t live our lives in fear of what could happen. All we can do is take precautions and make informed decisions together. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Rafe. I would never, ever do that on purpose. I love you too much to even consider it.”
He swallows roughly, “I know, sweetheart.”
You want to say more, to spill your guts and tell him every thought you’ve had for the past twenty four hours. Instead, you cuddle deeper into him and inhale his scent, then kiss his cheek.
“You should sleep, handsome,” you whisper against his skin, “I’m right here, and I’m okay. We’ll work it out in the morning.”
He nods, then presses a kiss into your hair, “I’m in love with you.”
“I’m in love with you, too,” you reply, “That means you’re stuck with me.”
He chuckles lightly, “Good.”
You smile against him, then kiss his cheek once more before you resign to laying your head on his chest. Both of you are asleep in seconds, surrounded in the warmth and love of the other.
When you wake up in the morning, your hands are both tangled in Rafe’s. You feel his smooth palms in yours and you smile before you even open your eyes to find him. When you do, he’s laying across from you, already wide awake. When his eyes meet yours, his lips tip up in a smile.
"What are you staring at?” you ask teasingly, shifting closer.
“My wife,” he replies in that morning voice that always seems to get you, “My beautiful, infuriating wife.”
You laugh, even though it shouldn’t be funny. He smiles a real smile then, and you bask in it. Having not seen it in what feels like forever, you want to keep it there for the rest of your life.
“Rafe,” you whisper. “I—”
“I know,” he stops you, tugging you closer, “I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“Really?” you ask hopefully.
“Mhm,” he hums, “Can you just promise that you’ll call me the next time you don’t know what to do? No matter what?”
You nod, “I promise.”
“Thank you,” he says, then takes a breath before saying, “Now, about your brother.”
“I still want him in my life, Rafe. But, I’ll meet up with him and really discuss boundaries and everything. I’ll take the house key from him. I will do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, but I won’t cut him out.”
He nods, “I’m not asking you to cut him out, baby. Not at all. You just need to be more firm with him. You know Scott, you give him an inch, he takes a mile.”
“I know,” you reply, dropping your shoulders at the evident quality your brother possesses, “I’ll work on being more assertive with my boundaries when it comes to him.”
“Good. You deserve to be appreciated and respected. You’re not a doormat for your brother and his issues.”
You know Rafe’s right, but you’re not ready to admit that that might just be what Scott has been doing to you. That he knows you’ll go easy on him, so he comes to you first. You haven’t wanted to see it, so you don’t.
“So, we’re okay?” you ask, biting your lip.
He stares at you for a moment, and you notice how his look of admiration has returned. You smile as he begins to nod, then squeeze his hand.
“We’re okay,” he replies, “Sorry if I scared you last night.”
“You did. Do you think our fight brought it on?”
He shrugs, “The fight. Josie being in the accident. I’m sure it will go away in the next few nights, as I calm down.”
You nod in understanding, then place a few gentle pecks onto his bare chest.
“If there’s anything I can do, tell me,” you murmur, “You’re never alone.”
“Thank you, baby.”
As much as you want to stay and bask in his body heat, you know you should get up to check on Connor and take him more medicine. Rafe can feel you tense as you prepare to move, and his grip tightens.
“Rafe—”
“He’s fine,” Rafe bluffs, “Don’t get up.”
“I have to.”
He laughs gruffly, then releases you. Reluctantly, you climb from the bed in your tank top and short shorts, eliciting a groan from Rafe where he lays. Without being able to contain himself, it seems, he reaches over and swats your backside as you escape from the bed, earning a jaw drop from you.
“Sorry,” he grins mischievously.
“Sure you are,” you mutter, “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I really am, sweetheart. I remind myself every day.”
You know he’s being his silly self, but the words bring butterflies to your stomach. You grin and turn back to look at him as you walk toward your bedroom door, taking a mental picture of him laying in bed with his shirt off and his hair messy. He’s practically begging you to come back to him, and for a moment, you strongly consider it.
“Don’t move,” you command, “I’ll be back in ten.”
He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”
You hurry from the room and up the stairs, already missing Rafe’s heat and the comfort of your bed with him in it. You’re already making plans for when you return to your bedroom, because although fighting with Rafe is one of the worst things in your entire world, making up is your absolute favorite.
*i no longer have a tag list! follow @mackupdates for updates! thank you for reading <3
parenthood part twenty three: forever & always, and then some
a/n: oh boy! 12k words to (hopefully) feed your parenthood craving. i am already dying to know what you all think of this, so please don't hesitate to hop into the comments or my ask box to talk! hope you enjoy! reblogs are appreciated :)
The Island Club hasn’t changed one bit since you were employed here and running drinks around to Rafe and his friends before you knew he even had a crush on you. As you watch the waitresses make their rounds to the same customers, serving the same food to the same tables, you chuckle to yourself at the thought of ever having to deal with that again.
Scott sits across from you, fidgeting in his seat slightly as he holds himself back from pulling a cigarette from his pocket. You skim over him, taking in his appearance.
His hair is freshly cut and the rosiness is back in his cheeks after having disappeared for so long. He’s eating three meals a day again, and to you, it seems his only unhealthy habit is smoking. In time, you’re sure he will move past that.
“How’re the kids?” he asks, looking up at you.
“They’re good,” you reply, “They’re busy bees lately. Connor is starting on a soccer team, so Rafe’s been helping him practice.”
“That’s awesome,” Scott grins, and the sight makes you smile, “Kid always has had one hell of a kick. What about Josie girl?”
You chuckle, “She’s all about dance, recently. She wants me to sign her up for a class, and I’ve been trying to get this teacher to call me back about getting her in.”
“Wow. Good for her. She’s so driven, Y/N. They both are.”
“Yeah, they’re something,” you laugh.
He gives you a smile, but it fades fast before he asks, “And, Rafe?”
“He’s doing really well. He’s less stressed at work, and he’s spending a lot of time with the kids.”
Scott nods, “Is he still… y’know? Pissed at me?”
You sigh and look down at your lap, unwilling to respond right away. Rafe’s feelings toward Scott have been complicated ever since he showed up to the house and scared the shit out of you and the kids, even though you’ve worked through it and have encouraged Rafe to do the same. Your loyalty to your brother runs deeper than Rafe’s does — because, as he puts it, he will always choose the safety and security of his family. Especially his children.
“He’s not pissed, Scott,” you say carefully.
“Right, he’s just done with me,” he laughs dryly, “Look, it’s fine, Y/N. I get it.”
You nod, and when your waiter drops your plates in front of you, you’re relieved when Scott eats his meal and has several glasses of water.
He tells you about the new job he just started and how he’s finally, officially, cut ties with Mae after she’s yanked him around for over a year. How he’s attending regular AA meetings and actually participating in them. He’s even made a few friends in the group, and they go out to eat together after their meetings to keep themselves busy.
By the time he pays for your lunch and walks you out to your car, you can’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. He hugs you back and gives you a wide smile, silently telling you that he really is doing better.
“So, listen, I was kinda hoping I could see them soon,” he says, clarifying, “The kids.”
You know you should run it by Rafe first, but the look in Scott’s eye and the pride swelling in your heart at his improvement has you answering faster than you should.
“That would be great,” you nod.
He smiles, “Perfect. How about Wednesday afternoon? I don’t have to be at work ‘til six. Do they have sports or anything?”
You hold up a finger and check the calendar on your phone, finding nothing for yourself or either of the kids on Wednesday after they get home from school.
“Wednesday works,” you reply, “I’ll bring them to your apartment.”
“Awesome,” he beams, then pulls you in for another hug, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I can’t wait.”
“The kids will be very excited,” you tell him, squeezing him tight.
He laughs lightly, sounding like himself and making you relax even more. He’s finally in a better place, and you couldn’t be happier about it.
Scott opens your car door for you and then closes it once you’re inside. He stands there and watches as you back out, then offers you a wave before you drive away. You smile the whole way home, thankful beyond belief that your brother is doing right by himself and improving his life where he needs it.
When you get home, Rafe is in the kitchen. You smile at the sight of him at the stove, stirring peppers around a skillet and listening to music. You can hear the kids playing in the playroom, and when Rafe notices you come in, he steps away from the food and to you.
“Hey, baby, how was lunch?” he asks, helping you remove your jacket.
“It was good,” you say with a smile, “Club hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Nah, I figured as much.”
He hangs up your jacket and your purse for you, then steps back over and guides his arm around your waist. You smile and set your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth.
“How are the kids?” you ask him.
“Josie hid Connor’s firetruck underneath the couch, and Bo got it,” he fills you in, watching your eyes pop in horror, “He was very distraught.”
“Oh, no, poor baby,” you pout, “I’ll see if I can find another one for him tomorrow.”
Rafe grins, “You’re so good to them, they don’t even know it.”
You laugh and grab ahold of his chin lightly, pulling him down to give him a kiss. He accepts it, then offers you a small apology as he momentarily breaks away to pull the skillet off the heat and to the back burner.
When he moves back to you, assuming the same position, you swallow your nervousness of breaching the topic, and instead, slip your hands under his shirt.
“So, listen,” you start, “Scott got a job. He’s working nights right now, and he goes after his AA meetings. He seems really, really good.”
He nods patiently, but you can tell by his eyes that he’s not receptive whatsoever to where you’re going to take this conversation.
“That’s good,” he replies, his voice even.
“Yeah, it is,” you say hopefully, rising up on your tiptoes, “So, anyway, he was asking if he could see the kids on Wednesday before he has to work.”
Rafe raises a brow, “And what did you tell him?”
You swallow again and press your palms into his skin, hoping your touch will lighten him up.
“Well, I… I think it’s a good idea. It would be good for him, and the kids miss him.”
Rafe’s chest deflates against your hands, and only because you know him so well can you predict what he’s going to say next.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m thrilled that Scott is doing better. I am. I just don’t think this is the best time for that. Josie’s still adjusting to school, and Connor’s getting settled in a new classroom and he’s on a sports team. I feel like they have enough change going on right now, you know?”
You nod slowly, but look to the floor. He covers your hands with his own and takes them, bringing both of your knuckles up to his lips to kiss. You meet his eyes then, and you both take a second to analyze the other person’s expression.
“It’s not really a change, though,” you push, keeping your voice light, “It’s just Scott.”
“Y/N, Scott scared the shit out of both of them when he showed up drunk.”
“I know, but he apologized for that,” you reply.
Rafe drops your hands, “That doesn’t make it okay. To be honest, I’m just not comfortable with it. I need more time to work through things with him. I’m sorry, but can we please table this for now?”
You move to speak up, but bite your tongue at the very last second when one specific thought hits you. If you told Rafe you weren’t comfortable with something, he’d never fight with you on it. He would never pressure you into anything, and the thought of doing that to him makes your stomach turn.
“Yes, of course,” you answer, “Thank you for being straight with me. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”
Rafe shifts and sets one large palm on your hip bone, where he pulls your body closer to his.
“I’m not saying no, sweetheart. I’m just saying that I’d like to give it a little more time and make sure Scott really sticks to this change before we bring the kids back into it. That’s all.”
You nod and offer him a smile, “I understand, Rafe. I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”
“Thank you,” he says sweetly, “Now, Connor and I are making a grocery store run. Need anything?”
You step closer, “Coffee. And laundry pods for the washer. But not the blue and white ones—”
“The green and yellow ones, I know,” he teases, “I also put a stick of deodorant on the list for you, considering you went to throw it in the garbage this morning and fuckin’ banked the shot.”
“Excuse me,” you scoff, even though your heart swells at the fact that he not only noticed that, but also remembered it and put it on the list, “We need more bananas, too. You know what Josie’s like when we run out of those for her lunch.”
He laughs, “Yeah. Okay. Bananas, coffee, and laundry pods. I’ve got the rest of the list, but text me if you remember anything okay?”
“Okay,” you smile, “Thanks, handsome.”
He nods and signals for a kiss, grinning when you stand up on your tiptoes to give to him. When you pull back, he yells for Connor, knowing Josie will come running, too.
“Oh, hey, did that lady ever call you back about Josie’s dance class?” he asks.
“No,” you groan, “I’m hoping she will in the next few days. Otherwise, I’ll look somewhere else. I just heard that place is so good, I really wanted her to try it out.”
He shrugs, “She’ll be great anywhere. Come on, Connor! Shoes and jacket, hurry!”
He kisses you again quickly before he pulls away to get his own shoes and jacket, finishing in record time so he could steal just a few more kisses before the Sunday chores officially start.
Monday comes before you know it, and it brings a wave of destruction. Your meetings all get delayed, your work project is put on suspension, and Rose is driving you crazy about an upcoming event that you’re not even technically assigned to.
Even more than that, Josie had a day. She refused to let go of you when you dropped her off at preschool, and after you managed to escape, they called you twice and Rafe once to report that she would not stop crying and demanding one of you to come get her. Being the parent at home on Mondays, Rafe picked her up, and she sat with him in his home office for the remainder of the day.
Tuesday morning finds you easier. You’re seated at your desk and fire up your work email after dropping both kids off at school — Josie did better today — when you realize that you never told Scott that the plans for tomorrow are off.
You draft up a text message slowly over the next few hours, trying to sound equal parts assertive and sympathetic. At one o’clock, right before you send the text, your drafting is interrupted by a phone call. The nurse at Connor’s school tells you that he’s been running a fever and complaining of a stuffy nose and sore throat since before lunch. You sigh and agree to be right there to get him, then hit send on the text to Scott without thinking twice about it.
You return home with both Connor and Josie behind you. Well, Josie walks behind you while Connor lays in your arms, mumbling softly about how he feels cold despite his fever being high. Josie helps you the best she can to get Connor settled in his room, where you lay him in bed and put a light blanket over him, then get him a cup of water and take his temperature once more. It’s still high, so you give him a kiss and tell him to sleep for a bit before you come back up to check on him.
“Is Connor okay, Mommy? Can we make him some soup?” Josie asks as the two of you slip out of his bedroom.
You smile and pick her up, giving her a hug since you didn’t get to when you picked her up from school.
“We should make him some soup,” you agree, “And, I’m sure you’re ready for your after-school snack, too.”
She grins mischievously, “Maybe.”
You laugh and carry her downstairs to the kitchen, where your phone sits on the counter. The screen fills with unanswered texts, so you set Josie down and grab it, scrolling through the messages.
The first one you open is Rafe’s chain. Two from him — both exactly what you expected them to be.
Just got a notification you checked Connor out of school? Is everything okay?
I’ve got a meeting in half an hour but I can come home after if you need me.
You look over at Josie, watching as she uses the handle on the bottom oven as a balance beam for ballet. Your heart squeezes, and you make a mental note to reach out to other dance studios in the area tomorrow.
Quickly, you text Rafe back while stepping over to the pantry to get Josie a snack.
He’s sick, but okay. Slight fever and head cold. Nothing to worry about. Good luck on your meeting, handsome. I love you.
He returns the sentiment quickly, while also reminding you to call him if things change. Then, as you pour animal crackers into a bowl, you switch over to Scott’s text chain.
First, you reread the text you sent to him.
Hey, so I discussed things with Rafe, and we have decided to hold off on allowing the kids to come over. For now. We think it’s best to give you some more adjustment time, and then we can revisit the idea. I’m sorry, Scott. But, I will try to do better by sending you more pics of them. Just hang in there. Love you.
You know it’s not perfect, but it has to do. It gets your point across, it doesn’t blame Rafe, and it’s sugar coated just enough for him.
His reply follows your message, and the length looks drastically different.
Y/N, I’m adjusted. I just want to see them. Didn’t you tell Rafe I’m doing better? Why is he keeping them from me?
“Mommy!” Josie calls, standing at the kitchen window, “There’s a red bird on the fence!”
You frown at Scott’s text but lock your phone, then carry Josie’s snack over to her. You look out the window to where she’s pointing and find the cardinal that’s holding her attention so well.
“Wow, beautiful, huh?” you ask, and she nods before you say, “Okay, come on. Let’s sit at the table and have a snack.”
She obeys and sits in her usual seat at the table, smiling widely when you follow her. You sit with her while she eats and talk to her about her day at school, listening intently even as she tells you the same story for ten entire minutes.
You perk up when you hear the front door close. You know Rafe wouldn’t be coming into the house with his meeting coming up, and a fresh wave of worry passes through your body.
“Y/N?”
You relax when you hear Scott’s voice, but only for a second. He knows he’s not allowed to come to the house; you had talked Rafe out of taking Scott’s key from him after his latest episode.
Josie, like you, recognises the voice, and practically tips her chair right over as she attempts to get up.
“Uncle Scott!”
Her scream is loud, and she takes off from the kitchen before you can stop her. You groan internally, scrambling to already try and figure out what you’re going to say to Rafe. Despite it all, you follow Josie out of the kitchen and to the foyer, where she is currently diving into Scott’s open arms.
“Hey, lovebug,” he grins widely, “Wasn’t sure you’d be home from school yet. I’m so happy to see you!”
She locks herself around his neck and presses kiss after kiss to his cheek, laughing when he laughs.
“I’ve missed you,” she tells him, “Where have you been?”
He smiles sadly, then returns her kisses with his own, “I’ve been getting myself together. For you and Connor. Are you proud of me?”
“Yes,” she giggles, “Want to have an after school snack with me?”
His smile at her question tells you just how much the question means to him, and when he looks over at you for approval, you just can’t say no. Not to Scott; not to your baby brother who has struggled so much for so long, and just needs a little bit of love to keep him going. You can’t fault him for that, and no part of you is able to even consider kicking him out. Even if it’s not what you and Rafe have discussed and agreed on, you hope that when you explain, he will understand.
You nod your head, and he turns and kisses her cheek again, like he just can’t help himself.
“I would love to,” he agrees.
Scott carries her into the kitchen and you follow. He sets her down and lets her run over to her chair, but he hangs back just long enough to talk to you.
“I’m sorry, I just came over to talk about your text. I didn’t think she’d be here—”
“It’s fine,” you reply, waving him off, “Connor’s home sick from school, so I picked her up because I can’t leave him to go get her later.”
He nods, “Do you need me to bring you anything for him? Soup? Gatorade?”
“No, I have it covered,” you reply, “Go. She’s waiting so patiently for you.”
He chuckles when he sees her sitting on her knees in the chair, waving him over with an animal cracker half shoved into her mouth. Without hesitation, he rushes over and takes a seat beside her, stealing one of her animal crackers and laughing when she protests.
You puff out your cheeks and check the time, wondering if you can squeeze in a quick call to Rafe before his meeting. When you decide you can’t, you set your phone back down. You’re here, you’re supervising, and he won’t be mad, you tell yourself. Scott can’t do anything wrong with you here, too.
Your phone’s sharp ring draws you out of your head. When you look to see who’s calling, you gasp and practically pounce on the phone — the dance school that you’ve been trying to get Josie into.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Cameron?”
“Yes,” you reply.
“Hi there. My name is Chelsea, I’m calling to see if you are still interested in signing your daughter, Josephine, up for dance class?”
“Yes,” you say enthusiastically, waving to Scott and then holding up your finger as you step into the living room, “Yes, I am. She’s really excited to start.”
“Oh, wonderful. We actually have an opening today in our three o’clock class. It’s only one spot, but if you could bring her by today, I can almost guarantee it would be hers.”
You freeze, “Today?”
“Yes ma’am. Spots here tend to go fast, but I saw your last name, and we wanted to offer you and your daughter the spot, first.”
“Oh,” you say, brain running a mile a minute as you try to figure out how to make this all work out, “Um, yes, thank you, we’d love the spot. I just have a few things to work out, but I will do my best to get her there by three o’clock. Does she need to bring anything?”
“We’ll just do a trial run for today, so we have everything she will need here. If you all are interested in continuing after today, we can give you a list of everything she will need for future classes.”
You barely even hear her words, too busy trying to figure out how you’re supposed to be in two places at once. You want Josie to be in this dance school desperately, but with Connor being so sick, you don’t know how to make it happen.
“Thank you, I’ll try to work it out and have her there at three,” you say, trying to sound more chipper than you are, “Thank you so much for calling.”
“Yes ma’am. See you soon!”
You disconnect the call and let out a long sigh, having wanted that phone call to come at a better time than just now. You wander back into the kitchen and find Scott and Josie still giggling at the kitchen table, and when they both look over at you, you offer a smile.
“Who was that?” Scott asks.
You give Josie a smile, “It was the dance studio I’ve been trying to get Josie into. They have an opening for this afternoon.”
“No way!” she exclaims, “Mommy, we have to go!”
Scott can see it on your face before you can even say a word. He watches as you subconsciously glance back over your shoulder, desperate to check on Connor and not sure what to do. Under normal circumstances, you’d call Rafe — at least to just talk it out. But with him in a meeting and unavailable, you don’t have that option.
“I can take her,” Scott volunteers, “I know you won’t leave Connor, so let me take her to dance. Just there and back, I promise.”
“Y/N, let me help you out,” he says, “Come on. I can do it.”
“Mommy,” Josie repeats, “I want Uncle Scott to take me to dance.”
“Scott,” you whisper, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”
“And you’re drowning,” he points out, “I swear. I can totally handle it. I’ll even video the whole thing for you. Please, come on, let me prove myself to you. To Rafe.”
At the mention of your husband, your eyes find your phone. You want to call him more than anything, but you can’t. Then, you think about the agreement amongst parents when they’re raising children together. There are so many split second decisions that a parent has to make, so they trust that their partner will make the right one. Rafe trusts that you will make the right decision for your shared children, and right now, you can only see one.
“Okay,” you sigh. Josie’s squeals interrupt you and Scott grins, grabbing her from her chair as you add, “Just there and back. No ice cream, no playground. Just to the studio and back, alright?”
“Alright,” Scott repeats back, still smiling, “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, lovebug?”
“Right!” she squeals.
“Josie, go get your shoes, okay?” you say, watching her nod feverishly, like she just can’t wait for Scott to put her down so they can go to dance.
“Okay!” she says quickly, rushing off.
Scott laughs as he watches her go, and when he turns back to you, his expression falls.
“I need you to take extensive notes,” you say sternly, watching his smile grow once more.
“You got it,” he replies.
You allow yourself to smile, too, and he pulls you into a hug. He squeezes his thankfulness into you, and only pulls away when Josie returns with her shoes.
You hurry upstairs to check on Connor after putting Josie in her car seat and into Scott’s truck. As you feel Connor’s forehead, he stirs and groans, but he still feels very warm.
“Mama?” he whispers into the air.
“Hey, baby,” you reply, “How do you feel?”
“Not good,” he whines, “I’m cold. And I need a tissue.”
You grab the box from his nightstand and offer him one, then help him sit up. He blows his nose and hands the tissue back to you, then lays back down.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll bring you some more medicine in a little bit, okay?”
He nods. His lower lip juts out in the pout he always gives you when he’s sick, so you lean down and kiss his forehead before you stand. You retuck his blanket around him, then use careful steps to escape the dark room.
Downstairs, you hurry into the kitchen and start heating up from soup for Connor, then pour out the next dose of his medicine. You make him a nice tray of everything so he can eat in bed; complete with crackers, a water bottle, and his iPad so he can watch a show while he eats. Just as you’re putting the finishing touches on it, ready to take it upstairs and check on him again, your phone buzzes on the counter. And buzzes. And buzzes.
Scott’s contact picture lights up your screen, and you furrow your brows as you check the time. They should just be getting to the dance studio, and you wonder if someone had questions for him that he couldn’t answer.
“Hello?” you say innocently.
“Y/N,” he sighs, almost in relief, but his voice also holds another emotion, too, “Listen, don’t freak out.”
You freeze, “What? Why?”
The worst possible scenarios go through your brain instantly, and you begin to listen for signs of Josie in the background. Her laugh, her whine at Scott to hurry up.
“Just let me get it all out, first,” he demands, then groans in pain, “Fuck, okay, we got into an accident. Josie is fine. Not hurt at all. I think I broke my arm, so I’m in an ambulance. They’re taking both of us to the hospital, but she’s right here, she’s good, she’s with me.”
You suddenly can’t suck in a deep breath. All you can picture is Josie in the back of an ambulance, hurt. Josie in a car accident. Josie being scared because she doesn’t understand what’s happening.
Tears blur your vision just at the thought of her being alone, and the inhale that you try to suck in is sharp and quick.
“Let me speak to her,” you choke out.
Scott sighs but complies with your request, and you listen to their muffled voices before you get clarity.
“Mommy, Uncle Scott is hurt,” she tells you, and just the sound of her voice brings relief to your body, mind, and heart.
“Josie, baby, are you okay?” you ask her, letting the tears run without a care in the world.
“Yes, Mommy. They let me put the siren on.”
You laugh, then cry again, “Oh, that’s awesome. Listen, Mommy’s gonna come pick you up, okay? Can you just stay with Uncle Scott for a little bit?”
Josie immediately whines, “No, he’s hurt. I have to stay with him. I told Daddy I am staying.”
A fresh wave of anxiety runs through your body. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind yet, but apparently, it had to Josie.
“You told Daddy?” you ask weakly, “When?”
“I called him,” she answers, “I was scared, and wanted Daddy.”
“Oh,” your eyes flutter shut, “Okay, honey. Just stay with Uncle Scott until I see you. I love you so much, Jo.”
“Love you, too, Mommy,” she says, sounding perfectly fine, perfectly normal, and all you want to do is get to her.
She hands the phone back to Scott, and you hear him grunt again in pain before his voice comes through the speaker.
“”Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “It wasn’t my fault, I swear, I did everything right—”
“I’m on my way,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the details right now, “Just… I love you. I’m glad you’re okay other than the arm.”
He takes a minute to answer, and you can see the exact expression on his face as he debates what’s best to do right now.
“Thanks,” he eventually says, “I love you, too.”
“See you soon,” you mumble, then disconnect the call before either one of you can say anything else.
The first thing you do is check your text messages. Rafe has sent nothing, said nothing. When it comes to Rafe, you know silence from him is worse than anything else. You take a deep breath and attempt to type out a text to him, but delete it before you can find the words to explain to him any part of it.
With a long sigh, you hurry up the stairs and into Connor’s room, forgetting all about his soup and medicine. He sits up when you enter, and when he sees the expression on your face, his eyes widen.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” he asks, coughing after he finishes his question.
“We have to go, baby. Can you come with me, please?”
He nods and stands from his bed, bringing his blanket along with him. You put socks on his feet and slide his shoes on, then carry him down the stairs, wrapped in his blanket. Your mind can’t stop running wild as you picture Josie in Scott’s truck, scared out of her mind. You don’t even notice the tears that fall until Connor reaches up and brushes them away with his finger. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, you strap him into his car seat and pull back to look at his face.
“I’m so sorry, handsome,” you whisper, “I know you don’t feel well, but we have to go pick up Josie.”
“Okay, Mama,” he replies, even going so far as to offer you a small smile.
You’re grateful for it, and you show him such. With a kiss on the cheek, you close the car door and climb into the driver’s side, all while trying not to burst into tears again.
Your knuckles turn white as you squeeze the steering wheel, glancing up at Connor every five seconds in the rear view mirror. He’s still okay, still staring out the window, but you’re paranoid about every single car that even comes close to yours.
The drive to the hospital finally comes to an end, and you’ve barely parked your car before you’re out of it again. Connor is once again placed on your hip, and you rush in from the parking lot.
Once you’re inside, you hurry to the closest nurse you can find. She directs you to a desk, who directs you to another nurse, who, finally, tells you what room number to go to. Connor buries his head in your neck and starts to cough again, and the guilt piles on top of your chest.
You finally spot the room number on the wall and rush to it, just needing to lay eyes on her. To assess her for injuries and make sure that she really is okay. When you enter, you relax instantly. Scott is laying in the bed with his arm in a sling, and Josie is seated in the middle of his chest, giggling as he pokes her stomach. They both look so happy despite their current state and what they’ve been through in the past hour.
“Josie,” you sigh in relief, setting Connor down in the singular chair before hurrying to her and pulling her into your arms.
“Mommy,” she cheers, “Look, Uncle Scott got a boo-boo.”
You cradle her head and rock her in your arms, then glance at Scott. He’s giving you a sad smile and a wave using his bad arm, but you shake your head at him.
“Is it broken?” you ask him.
“Yeah,” he replies with a shrug, “I’ll get a cool brace for it, though.”
You roll your eyes, “Scott—”
“Y/N,” he stops you, his expression suddenly serious, “The guy ran a red light. I didn’t even see him coming until— Look, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”
“I know,” you nod, and you mean it.
He’s your brother, and you believe him. Especially because he needs you to so desperately, given that he won’t stop trying to explain himself.
“Good. Now, I have to use the bathroom, then I want to see what’s going on with Little Cam. You don’t look so hot, dude.”
Connor shrugs, “Been better.”
Scott chuckles and stands from the hospital bed, taking two steps over to Connor.
“You like my sling?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Connor smiles, “Does it hurt?”
“No, I’m tough.”
Connor laughs and so does Josie, and for a brief moment, you feel emotionally stable. You feel at peace, knowing that everyone is okay.
Then, the door pushes open, and reality slaps you right in the face. You turn too late, and Rafe’s eyes have already assessed the room. He’s frozen for a moment, long enough for you to set Josie down, because you know she’ll want to run to him.
Instead of waiting on that, however, Rafe crosses the room in a few strides, and you figure out just a beat too late what’s going to happen.
With a clenched jaw and a balled fist, Rafe states at Scott right as he starts to explain what happened.
“Yo, Rafe—” he starts, but Rafe’s fist connects with his jaw and knocks him flat on the ground.
“Oh, my God,” you yell, grabbing Josie and holding her against you while you reach for Connor’s hand.
Your only focus is getting them both out of the room. You know Scott can fight his own battles, and there’s nothing you can do to talk to Rafe when he’s like this. Looking like he knows this, Scott remains on the ground, leaving Rafe with nothing. He’s dead silent as he turns and faces you and the kids, looking away from you within the same second your eyes meet.
“Josephine,” Rafe says in relief, crossing over to you and pulling her from you without a word or a look, “Hey, princess. My girl. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”
She nods, “Yes, Daddy. I just got scared.”
“I know you did, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you. Do you have any injuries?”
Josie doesn’t respond right away, and you take it as an opportunity.
“She’s okay. I checked her when I got here.”
Rafe’s eyes flicker to you for only a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look at you with anything besides pure admiration and love. This time, his glance is cold, calculated, and practically unrecognizable.
“Let me take you home,” he says to her, “I’m gonna take you home, and nobody will ever take you anywhere again.”
“Except for you?” she asks.
“Except for me,” he replies with a nod, “Let’s take Bubby home, too, okay?”
Your heart sinks as Rafe looks down at Connor, who is gripping his blanket tightly. When Rafe offers him a hand, Connor slips out of your grasp and takes it.
You frown, “I can take—”
“Y/N, I’m so damn pissed right now. You need to stay with your brother, since that’s clearly where you want to be.”
He doesn’t even look at you as he says it, which is what makes the tears come. He’s too busy fussing over Josie’s hair and Connor’s runny nose. Rafe grabs him a tissue, then tosses it when Connor’s done.
You look over at Scott and find him still seated on the floor, blood running down his chin from his nose, and he’s just staring at the kids. You’re sure he thinks this could be his final time seeing them in a long time, and you feel sick over that.
“Rafe,” you choke out, “Please, just listen—”
“No,” he snaps, “Not to you. I’m taking them home.”
Connor whimpers, but when Rafe takes his hand again, he doesn’t object as his dad starts to lead him out of the room. Nobody says a word, and before you can blink, the three of them are gone.
“Fuck,” Scott groans from the floor, “Y/N, I’m so—”
“Don’t,” you shake your head, turning back to him and observing his state before stepping over and offering him a hand, “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”
Scott gets released from the hospital a few hours later, and you drive him back to his apartment. Neither of you speak about anything other than the weather and your parents, because neither of you know what to say. You want to pretend like everything is fine. At least for now.
You set him up on his couch with dinner, snacks, and a blanket, then let him know that you love him no matter what. In return, he offers you his room if you need a place to crash, and you almost burst into tears right then and there.
By the time you make it home, you know the kids will already be in bed. You debate taking the long way, but the fact that Connor is sick draws you back to the house so you can check on him.
You pull your car into the garage and shut it off, then get out quickly before you can debate sitting inside for a while. You sigh and push open the door to the house, not knowing exactly what you’re walking into with Rafe.
The house is dark and silent. There’s no plate of dinner sitting on the counter for you like he usually leaves behind, and no light on in the living room to guide your path to bed. With a heavy heart, you head upstairs and peek your head into Connor’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep with a box of tissues and an empty medicine cup on his nightstand.
Of course Rafe took care of everything.
Quietly, you close his bedroom door and cross the hall over to Josie’s bedroom. When you peek in, you find her bed to be empty, but her stuffed animals are missing. Immediately, you know where she is.
You hesitate at the door to your shared bedroom with Rafe for a brief moment, then push open the door and walk inside. Rafe’s bedside lamp is on, which allows you to see him lying on his side of the bed on his side, with Josie facing him. She’s tucked in his arms and sleeping soundly, but Rafe is wide awake and watching every single breath she draws.
He never looks over at you. For a moment, you wonder if he even realizes you came into the room. When your lips part to speak, no sound comes out. You don’t know what to say or where to start.
“She could’ve been killed,” Rafe says evenly, like he’s stating a fact rather than getting emotional. His eyes don’t leave her for even a split second.
“Rafe—” you start, but he sits up carefully.
“Don’t wake her. I just got her to sleep.”
You silence yourself and stare at the two of them for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. After a moment, Rafe leans forward and brushes his lips over Josie’s forehead, then stands from the bed. He walks over to you, watching as you stand completely still in hopes that he’ll just take you into his arms and tell you that everything will be okay. Instead, he clenches his jaw and points to the door of the bedroom, silently telling you to walk through it.
Rafe follows out of the room behind you and closes the door softly. You walk out to the couch and sit down, watching his movements extra carefully. He’s in sweatpants and a black tee shirt that you’ve always loved on him, but never told him so.
You watch as he takes a deep breath, then places his hands on his hips. He doesn’t sit; he stands in front of you and keeps his eyes on anything but you.
“Why was she with your brother?”
His tone is harsh; like nothing you say in this moment could make sense to him. None of it will make any difference at all.
“Um,” you shift, your voice shaky, “She— no, okay, the dance studio called and— wait—”
“Y/N,” Rafe stops you, exhaling loudly, “I just want you to explain why she was with your brother.”
You nod, “Okay. Sorry. So, I texted Scott and told him that we weren’t comfortable having the kids see him right now. He came over here to talk to me in person, thinking the kids weren’t home, and Josie saw him. So, naturally, she wouldn’t let him go, and he was just gonna have a snack with her and then leave. But, then, that dance studio called and said they had a spot for Josie this afternoon, and the spot was going to be given away if we couldn’t make it. I didn’t want to leave Connor, and Scott offered, and— Rafe, I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, hands still proudly glued to his hips. His eyes close under the explanation, and the way his jaw is set tells you that, although it might make sense to him, he still isn’t happy or satisfied with the explanation.
“You should have called me,” he says quietly, “I would’ve helped you work it out. I would’ve come home.”
“You were in a meeting, I didn’t want to bother you—”
“Bother me, Y/N!” he exclaims, silencing you, “Bother me. Every time. If it means I don’t get the fucking call that one of my kids has been in a car accident with someone I didn’t even want them around in the first place. How could you let her go with Scott? After we discussed it and agreed that he was off limits, you just—”
“I didn’t see any other choice,” you speak up, “I didn’t want them to give the spot away.”
“Let them give the damn spot away, then!” he cries, shaking his head, “I told you, she’d be fine dancing anywhere, but you were so dead set on this one place, and that was fine with me until you shipped her off with your brother and he almost got our daughter killed—”
“Rafe, the accident wasn’t his fault,” you say, finally having the courage to stand, “He loves her. He would never put her at risk.”
He laughs then, and it’s deep, loud, sarcastic. Your eyes hit the floor and you swallow, wanting nothing more than his touch. Despite Rafe being the one causing the ache in your chest, you know he’s the only one who can fix it. He’s the only one who can ever fix it.
“He did put her at risk, Y/N. Many times. Every time he showed up drunk, every time he stumbled down the stairs. It’s not a fucking coincidence that this happened when she was with him.”
You draw back, shaking your head, “That’s not fair. It could’ve happened to anyone. It could’ve been me—”
“Don’t,” he says immediately, stepping closer to you, “Don’t you dare go there. It wouldn’t have. It can’t.”
“Why not, Rafe?” you question, raising a brow, angry that he wants to blame everything on Scott when you don’t feel it’s his fault, “You’d blame Scott for everything if you could. If I had decided to take Josie to dance, it would’ve been me and the kids at that intersection—-”
“No!” he shouts, silencing you once again, “Stop it. It can’t happen again, Y/N. I almost lost you once, it cannot fucking happen again.”
Your lips glue shut as you realize what this is truly about for him. He runs a hand through his hair and sucks in a deep breath, letting the silence fall between the two of you.
You know exactly how Rafe has internalized the accident you were in the night of Midsummers with Topper and Kelce. You know, because he’s told you. How he had nightmares for ages afterward, how he still will grip the steering wheel with two hands when he drives with you in the car at night. How he thinks about it every year at Midsummers, regardless of how much time has passed.
Now, you can’t imagine what this will do to him. His Josie, his baby girl. Getting that call was not easy on him, you’re sure, and for a moment, you understand why he’s so angry with you for putting him in that situation.
“Rafe,” you whisper, watching the way he looks up at you with vulnerability in his eyes, “I’m so, so sorry.”
He nods, like he really just needed to hear that. You take a step closer, but before you can reach for him, he steps back.
“I need to sleep on it all. We can regroup in the morning.”
You swallow and nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You settle for tucking them behind your back, squirming under his gaze.
“I’ll sleep upstairs. In case Connor needs anything,” you say.
“Alright,” he nods, looking at you like he’s considering something.
“Alright,” you repeat.
He sighs, like he’s annoyed with himself, then steps forward and cups your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment before placing a kiss on your forehead forcefully, then drops you from his grip completely.
You step forward out of habit, wanting his touch back. Instead of reaching for him, you just stare, knowing that he can tell what you want but refuses to give it to you.
“I love you, Rafe,” you whisper to him.
Even as angry as he is, he doesn’t miss a beat, “I love you, too.”
He nods, then turns around and leaves you like that. In the middle of the living room with his kiss still lingering on your forehead, and his words sitting in front of you, etching themselves into your heart so you never forget them.
When you wake in the morning, your first thought is of Connor. You don’t allow yourself to think of anything else, because it weighed on you all night, until you just couldn’t take it anymore. You cried in the guest room bed. Buried your face in a pillow and sobbed as you relived the day, your choices, and what became of them. You cry for Josie, for Rafe, for Scott. You cry because all you’d wanted to do was make the right choice for all of them, and you wound up only making the wrong ones.
So, when you wake up with swollen under eyes and a red nose, the only thing you allow yourself to think about is Connor.
He’s asleep when you enter his room, and when you feel his forehead, he feels the same as he had last night. You make a mental note to bring up more medicine for him, then take his temperature.
Slipping back out of his room, you head downstairs. Your stomach twists as you hear Rafe talking to Josie in the kitchen, and the thought of facing him without knowing exactly how he feels today makes you anxious.
As you walk in, you find Josie sitting on the counter and Rafe at the stove, where he flips a pancake in the pan. Josie giggles at something he said, and Rafe laughs back. His eyes catch on you, and for a brief moment, he smiles. Then, he drops it and looks down.
“Hi, Mommy!” Josie cheers, “Daddy’s staying home today! He said I could, too.”
“He did, huh?” you smile at her, walking around the island to embrace her.
“Thought I could, considering we’re not consulting each other on decisions anymore,” Rafe mutters.
For Josie’s sake, you ignore him, but you stare at him while you do it. In no way can you tell Rafe how to feel or act, but you’re shocked at how openly petty he’s being.
“Rafe—”
He cuts you off when he spins around with a plate in his hand, then gives Josie a wide smile.
“Alright, princess, your breakfast is ready. Go sit at the table for me.”
He carries Josie’s plate over as you help her down from the counter, then watch her take off to her seat. Once she’s settled, Rafe comes back into the kitchen, but he doesn’t spare you a single glance.
“How’d you sleep?” you try, stepping closer.
“I didn’t,” he replies as he pours more pancake batter into the pan, “She did. All night.”
You swallow, “Good. So, listen, I was hoping—”
“I’m taking her to my parents’ today. We’ll swim and visit with Topper and Ellie. I figure Connor needs quiet, anyway.”
“Oh, okay,” you nod weakly, “Do you think we could talk later, though?”
“I don’t know.”
You frown and look at the floor, then glance over at the coffee pot. What’s usually filled halfway for you is now empty, and you know the pancakes he’s making on the stove are for himself. It makes your heart ache, to think that he’s so angry with you that he no longer wants to take care of you.
“Rafe, I just… I want to fix it,” you practically beg, “Please.”
He drops the spatula on the counter before he turns to you, keeping his voice low on account of Josie.
“This isn’t just something you can fix, Y/N. You hurt me. You prioritize your brother over our kids and you always have. Every time he stumbles in drunk, you always tell him it’s okay. It’s not. This time, you let him take our daughter and they got into an accident. She could’ve gotten really hurt. I’m not okay with that, and I never will be. Until you can get your priorities straight, I’m not interested in what you have to say.”
You step back from him and swallow the lump in your throat. Instead of just rolling over, you want to explain your thought process — have an actual conversation instead of bickering over the stove.
“He’s sick, Rafe. He’s an alcoholic. Guilting him every time he comes to us like that isn’t going to help him,” you reply, trying to stay strong despite the tears stinging your eyes, “And, how dare you accuse me of not prioritizing our family. This is my top priority— my only priority. I made a judgment call, and I was wrong, I admit it. If I could go back and change it, I would.”
He shrugs, looking back down at the pancake, “But, you can’t.”
His left hand rests on the counter where he leans, supporting his body. You want to reach out and grab it, pull him into you and keep him close as you tell him that you’re sorry over and over again. You give in before you can help yourself, and when you cover his hand with your own, he doesn’t pull away immediately.
“Rafe, please,” you beg, but you’re not sure for what exactly. His eyes. His love. His forgiveness.
“Don’t,” he says, pulling hand from under yours, “You really hurt me this time.”
Before you can say anything else, he plates his pancakes, then turns to face Josie.
She grins when she sees him holding up his own plate, and he puts on his parent mask as he nears her.
“Can we eat together, baby?” he asks enthusiastically, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was absolutely, positively, fine.
After Josie and Rafe leave, you bring Connor downstairs. You cuddle with him when he asks for it, you make him soup, give him more medicine, and watch Paw Patrol until he falls asleep on your lap.
You, however, don’t nap. You stare at your phone screen, at a drafted text to Rafe as your thumb hovers over the send button.
I hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Josie. I never would. The three of you are my priority. We can talk more when you’re ready, but I just want you to know that I’m thinking about what you said and I want to work this out with you more than anything. Please come home.
You debate taking off the plea for him to come home, but you decide to leave it and press send. When you see that it went through, you put your phone down and take a deep breath, then leave your eyes glued to the screen so you can see the second he responds.
When your phone does light up again, you pounce on it. You frown when you see Maddie’s name at the top of the new text, asking you why Rafe canceled the dinner plans that you two had with Maddie and Kelce tonight — which you’d completely forgotten about.
You reply quickly and tell her that Connor is sick, and debate asking her if she can talk on the phone so you can get advice. However, you decide against it and fire off your excuse just as Rafe’s response comes in.
We will pick up dinner and be there soon. How’s Connor?
You smile, because something about this feels like progress. Silently, you look down to the sleeping boy, running your hand through his hair because you just can’t help yourself.
He’s good. Sleeping off the fever, I hope. Thank you for getting dinner!
He won’t respond to that and you know it, but you don’t care. At least he gave you one response.
Connor wakes just before Josie and Rafe get home, and with a perfect temperature, he says he wants to stay downstairs for dinner. You nod and give him a hug, and when you hear the garage door open, you wave him up and into the kitchen.
“Mommy!” Josie shouts when she enters the house, “Look, Daddy got me a princess sticker!”
She holds it up to you proudly as you hug her tight, “Oh, I love it, Jo.”
She beams and moves over to show it to Connor as Rafe walks in. He holds a pizza in his left hand and Josie’s bag in his right. You don’t miss the name on the pizza box — your favorite place, meaning he had to drive fifteen extra minutes each way to get it instead of getting the easy, shitty pizza down the street.
“You got Lighthouse,” you say, biting your lip to hide a smile as you acknowledge his drive to the pizza place.
“Yeah, I—” he stops himself and closes his eyes, then shakes his head before repeating, “Yeah.”
You take a daring step forward, “Thank you.”
He nods once, and when you see him swallow down his impulse to reach for you, to hug you and kiss you and ask about your day, he looks over to the kids.
“Hey, Connor. How are you feeling, buddy?”
Rafe steps past you to get to him, and the pizza you’d just been swooning over suddenly doesn’t seem as appetizing. Regardless, you get plates out and divide up slices while Rafe works behind you to get everyone drinks. He pours juice out for the kids and tells them to sit at the table, then gets a beer for himself. He doesn’t ask you what you want because he already knows, and he sets the glass of white wine at your place setting.
Dinner is quiet, but you pretend it’s only because Josie is tired from swimming all day and Connor isn’t feeling well. Everything feels off because you and Rafe didn’t work today — you told Rose that Connor was sick — and Josie didn’t go to school. It feels like it should be a weekend, but it’s not.
You want to ask Rafe if he plans on going back to work tomorrow. If he wants to sleep next to you tonight, because you want to sleep next to him. You want to ask him everything, anything, just to get him to look at you.
After dinner, Rafe volunteers himself to do bath and bedtime, which leaves you downstairs to clean up the small mess from the meal. As you clean, you spot a tub of ice cream in the freezer and pull it out, smiling to yourself at your little idea.
When Rafe comes back downstairs, he doesn’t look for you. Instead, he makes his way into your shared bedroom, already peeling off his shirt in preparation for a shower when he freezes. You’re sitting on his side of the bed with two small bowls of ice cream and that pout on your lips that you know he loves. He visibly softens at the sight, and when you hold up the bowl, his jaw ticks.
“You’re something else,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, as he crosses the room shirtless.
You give him a small smile as he plants himself beside you and accepts the bowl. His knee touches yours, and you feel giddy inside when he doesn’t pull himself away.
“I’m trying, Rafe,” you whisper as he takes a bite, staring down at the bowl instead of you, “I’m trying to figure out what to do. Because I miss you. And I know I made a mistake. But I don’t want to cut my brother off in the process of working this out. He’s doing better, and I’m afraid that would trigger him into a relapse, or something.”
“I get that,” he murmurs.
“So, let’s talk about it. All three of us. Let’s set clear boundaries and we can even make a timeline—”
“Y/N,” Rafe practically laughs, “I already did that with you. I told you that I wasn’t ready. I set my boundary, and you crossed it.”
You swallow, “I know, but I think it will help if Scott is clued in, too. That way, wires don’t get crossed, and we can all—”
“We can all what?” he scoffs, standing up, “Live happily ever after? Scott can worm his way back into our kids’ lives? I cave on a lot of shit for you, Y/N, but this is not something you can ask me to do.”
“Rafe, I’m not asking you to change how you feel,” you reply, your voice small and pleading, as if silently begging him to sit back down with you, “Please, I’m not. I’m just trying to make everyone happy.”
He shakes his head and lets his eyes close, rolling them behind his lids, “That’s the problem with you. You’re always so focused on how everyone else feels. You’re so afraid to tell Scott ‘no’ because you’re afraid you’ll be responsible for a relapse if you do. You know what, Y/N? You’re allowed to be selfish. You’re allowed to stand up for yourself and our children. Scott is a grown ass man, and his choices are his own. You baby the fuck out of him, and it needs to stop.”
You digest Rafe’s words, letting them hang in the air between the two of you. On one hand, you want to fight back. You want to tell him that Scott is your family, and you’re just trying to help. On the other hand, you see how trying to help turned into Josie being in an accident. Then, you hear Rafe’s words in your head once more.
I cave on a lot of shit for you.
He does, and you know it. With a deep breath, you nod your head, willing to sacrifice for him the way he always does for you — without a second thought.
“Okay,” you whisper, watching his eyes dart to you, “Alright. I’ll take space. I’ll work on it. Whatever is best for you and the kids, I will do that.”
Rafe stares at you like that’s the last thing he expected you to say. His hands meet his hips and he assesses you from head to toe before swallowing.
“Maybe you should sleep on that decision,” he says carefully.
You shake your head, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. He watches you carefully as you stand up and step over to him, then place a gentle hand on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, and you want to smile at the thought of still being able to do that to him after all this time.
“I don’t need to. You’re right, I let people walk all over me because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But, our marriage is my priority, and our children are my priority, and I need to do better. I’m sorry, Rafe, I’m so sorry.”
His eyes close when your lips ghost over his cheek. His fists ball at his sides as he fights the urge to pull you in, to forget it all and just let his body take over. You move down and kiss along his jawline, then back up to his mouth. You let your lips hover for a moment, giving him time to object, before you lean closer.
“Y/N,” he whispers at the very last second, “You can’t just tell me what I want to hear because we’re in a fight. You need to figure this shit out for yourself.”
“Rafe,” you sigh, but he shakes his head.
“I need some time, too. This really rattled me, and I need to figure out how I want to proceed.”
You furrow your brows, “How you want to proceed? Like, with us?”
You fear the answer more than anything, but you need to hear it.
“With everything,” he replies, “I just… I need sleep. So do you.”
You nod but don’t say a word, standing there and thinking about the melting ice cream that sits on your bed.
Rafe takes a deep breath and watches as you avoid his eyes, then sighs and steps forward. You think he might reach out to touch you, grab you, kiss you, anything. Instead, he picks up his pillow from his side of the bed and steps back, offering you half a smile.
“I’ll be on the couch,” he mumbles, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” you reply.
He picks up the two ice cream bowls and carries them to the door, turning back and staring at the scene in front of him for a moment. You, still standing on his side of the bed, where you know you’ll sleep tonight.
“Love you,” he whispers.
“Love you, too.”
He nods and then closes the door behind him. Only then do you fall into his side of the bed and inhale his scent on the sheets, allowing your tears to fall right where you lay. You don’t grab a pillow, you don’t cover yourself with a blanket. You just cry until your body grows so tired that it forces you to sleep, with swollen eyes and a regretful heart.
You jolt awake to the sound of the doorknob to your bedroom rattling up and down a few times, which immediately has you sitting up in bed. Your first thought is that it’s Connor trying to get in because he’s sick, and your heart sinks at the thought of him having gotten worse.
Which is why, when Rafe comes rushing into the room, your eyes grow wide. He’s shirtless and his hair is a mess, but more than that, he looks completely terrified. Your heart races as he starts over to you at a fast pace, lips parted like he’s trying to speak, but can’t.
“Rafe, what is it?” you ask softly.
His breaths are shallow and jagged, and when he tries to inhale, it seems like he can’t. You scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and when he rounds the mattress and gets to you, he sinks to his knees in front of you.
“You’re okay,” he whispers in relief, beginning to check you from top to bottom with his eyes and hands, “Fuck, thank God.”
His palms grip your forearms and he flips them over to check for any sort of marking or injury, then moves down your body to your legs. He runs his hands over every square inch of your skin, and you let him.
“Of course I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing one of his hands in yours, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
He lets out a long breath, then shakes his head, but his hands never leave you. He grips you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go for even a moment.
“Nothing, nothing,” he rushes, “Just a bad dream, I guess. Felt real.”
You tense, “Are you having nightmares again?”
He shrugs, but when you cup his cheek with your free hand, he nods.
“Yeah,” he admits shyly, “I, um, I know we’re in a weird place right now, but—”
“Come to bed,” you demand, tugging him in.
He nods, as if that’s exactly what he wanted you to say. You scoot over just enough for him to crawl onto the mattress, then bury yourself in him the moment he’s laying flat. His arms wrap around you and your head presses against his heart; this time racing for a different reason.
Just as you settle and the room falls silent, you debate what to say. If you should ask any questions or just let him be. Rafe speaks, silencing your mind.
“Y/N,” he whispers into the darkness, “I have to tell you something.”
“Tell me,” you encourage, squeezing him slightly.
He takes a long moment to start, but when he does, you can tell by the shakiness in his voice that he’s emotional.
“I think part of the reason I got so upset with you was because I was very aware of the fact that it could’ve been the three of you at that intersection. Even though you let Scott take her against my wishes, you still made the right choice, somehow. Because, I swear, if I had gotten a call that all of you were at the hospital, I think I would’ve had a heart attack right then and there in my office.”
“Rafe,” you whine, cuddling closer.
He shakes his head, “Let me finish, okay, baby?”
“Okay,” you whisper.
“I’m terrified that something will happen one day. That I won’t be there to protect you, or stop it, or fix it, and this whole thing really brought that fear out of me. I know that I seem overprotective with the kids, especially with Scott, but I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to them. To you. You’re my entire world, Y/N. I just need you to understand that.”
“I do understand that,” you answer, heart hammering in your chest, “But, we also can’t live our lives in fear of what could happen. All we can do is take precautions and make informed decisions together. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Rafe. I would never, ever do that on purpose. I love you too much to even consider it.”
He swallows roughly, “I know, sweetheart.”
You want to say more, to spill your guts and tell him every thought you’ve had for the past twenty four hours. Instead, you cuddle deeper into him and inhale his scent, then kiss his cheek.
“You should sleep, handsome,” you whisper against his skin, “I’m right here, and I’m okay. We’ll work it out in the morning.”
He nods, then presses a kiss into your hair, “I’m in love with you.”
“I’m in love with you, too,” you reply, “That means you’re stuck with me.”
He chuckles lightly, “Good.”
You smile against him, then kiss his cheek once more before you resign to laying your head on his chest. Both of you are asleep in seconds, surrounded in the warmth and love of the other.
When you wake up in the morning, your hands are both tangled in Rafe’s. You feel his smooth palms in yours and you smile before you even open your eyes to find him. When you do, he’s laying across from you, already wide awake. When his eyes meet yours, his lips tip up in a smile.
"What are you staring at?” you ask teasingly, shifting closer.
“My wife,” he replies in that morning voice that always seems to get you, “My beautiful, infuriating wife.”
You laugh, even though it shouldn’t be funny. He smiles a real smile then, and you bask in it. Having not seen it in what feels like forever, you want to keep it there for the rest of your life.
“Rafe,” you whisper. “I—”
“I know,” he stops you, tugging you closer, “I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“Really?” you ask hopefully.
“Mhm,” he hums, “Can you just promise that you’ll call me the next time you don’t know what to do? No matter what?”
You nod, “I promise.”
“Thank you,” he says, then takes a breath before saying, “Now, about your brother.”
“I still want him in my life, Rafe. But, I’ll meet up with him and really discuss boundaries and everything. I’ll take the house key from him. I will do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, but I won’t cut him out.”
He nods, “I’m not asking you to cut him out, baby. Not at all. You just need to be more firm with him. You know Scott, you give him an inch, he takes a mile.”
“I know,” you reply, dropping your shoulders at the evident quality your brother possesses, “I’ll work on being more assertive with my boundaries when it comes to him.”
“Good. You deserve to be appreciated and respected. You’re not a doormat for your brother and his issues.”
You know Rafe’s right, but you’re not ready to admit that that might just be what Scott has been doing to you. That he knows you’ll go easy on him, so he comes to you first. You haven’t wanted to see it, so you don’t.
“So, we’re okay?” you ask, biting your lip.
He stares at you for a moment, and you notice how his look of admiration has returned. You smile as he begins to nod, then squeeze his hand.
“We’re okay,” he replies, “Sorry if I scared you last night.”
“You did. Do you think our fight brought it on?”
He shrugs, “The fight. Josie being in the accident. I’m sure it will go away in the next few nights, as I calm down.”
You nod in understanding, then place a few gentle pecks onto his bare chest.
“If there’s anything I can do, tell me,” you murmur, “You’re never alone.”
“Thank you, baby.”
As much as you want to stay and bask in his body heat, you know you should get up to check on Connor and take him more medicine. Rafe can feel you tense as you prepare to move, and his grip tightens.
“Rafe—”
“He’s fine,” Rafe bluffs, “Don’t get up.”
“I have to.”
He laughs gruffly, then releases you. Reluctantly, you climb from the bed in your tank top and short shorts, eliciting a groan from Rafe where he lays. Without being able to contain himself, it seems, he reaches over and swats your backside as you escape from the bed, earning a jaw drop from you.
“Sorry,” he grins mischievously.
“Sure you are,” you mutter, “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I really am, sweetheart. I remind myself every day.”
You know he’s being his silly self, but the words bring butterflies to your stomach. You grin and turn back to look at him as you walk toward your bedroom door, taking a mental picture of him laying in bed with his shirt off and his hair messy. He’s practically begging you to come back to him, and for a moment, you strongly consider it.
“Don’t move,” you command, “I’ll be back in ten.”
He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”
You hurry from the room and up the stairs, already missing Rafe’s heat and the comfort of your bed with him in it. You’re already making plans for when you return to your bedroom, because although fighting with Rafe is one of the worst things in your entire world, making up is your absolute favorite.
*i no longer have a tag list! follow @mackupdates for updates! thank you for reading <3
For @wingardiumlevidonewithlife who asked: Hi!! Can I request a Ben x reader where they have a daughter and she’s like 2, and her and the reader visit ben on set of bohrhap. And Ben’s all like happy cuz he hasn’t seen them in a while and like showing off his girls to the cast and roger and brian amd just everyone and a lot of fluff!!! thank you!!!
Warnings: FLUFF!
Pairing: Ben x Reader
A/N: this was so fun! Requests are open!
Gif - @/lizbidsqueenblog: how I picture Ben in the drumming scene.
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“Hey, Vi… do you want to FaceTime daddy? You can tell him we’re on a road trip but you can’t tell him where we’re going ok? It’s a secret.” You smile, helping your toddler into her car seat before handing her your iPhone ringing Ben. Frankie hops in the passenger seat beside YN as they leave the driveway.
After several rings Ben finally picks up the phone and Violet lets out a blood curdling scream. Looking back in your rear view mirror, your eyes widen at her reaction to seeing her father.
“Baby love, what’s the matter?” YN coos. Instantly tears rush down the toddler’s face.
“Y-you’re not daddy!” Violet cries, handing YN the phone.
Though YN can’t see him, YN knows Ben is probably just as confused on the other end of the phone. Pulling over the car, YN takes the phone from her shaking baby girl. That’s when she sees Ben in full Roger Taylor get up. Though it’s really only a wig, she could see how her 2 year old may not recognize her father.
“Wow… do I look that bad? I thought I looked rather handsome.” Ben laughs as his wife appears on screen.
“Oh, baby, do you ever.” YN smirks, admiring her husband.
“Oh yeah? Maybe they’ll let me keep the wig and I can do things to you while I’m wearing it later.” Ben jokes, raising his eyebrows.
YN laughs, while also trying to comfort their daughter.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, Vi. It really is daddy, he’s just wearing a costume. Here.” YN says, giving the phone back to Violet.
“Hi, Vi. Sweetie, it’s daddy. I’ve just got a wig on, my love. See?” He asks over the phone, pulling off his wig to show his daughter it really is daddy.
“Oh,” she sniffles, wiping her nose on her coat sleeve.
“Hi, dada!” She smiles, blowing Ben a million kisses.
“Hi, baby love. Can uncle Joe have a kiss? He’s here too, see?” Ben says, putting the camera on his costar.
“Hi, Vi! I miss you!” Joe says, blowing the toddler a kiss.
“What are you doing today my love?” Ben asks.
“Mumma, Fwankie and me on woad twip.” Violet cheers.
“Really? Where are you going?” He asks curiously. Not all that convinced that his daughter is telling the truth.
Usually when the family leaves for the day Frankie is fine on her own, their neighbour Ms. Ren just takes her for a walk.
“Oh, dada, can’t tell you. Sshh, secwet.” The baby giggles.
“Oh, it is, is it? Can you pass the phone to mumma, please baby?”
“Hey babe! I really am driving right now, so I can’t take the phone. I’ll call you later okay?” YN yells as her daughter hands the phone to her.
“Oh, okay. Love you baby, be safe!”
“Love you too babes.” YN smiles.
“Whew, Vi. That was a close one, daddy may have almost caught on.”
Violet just giggles as Frankie makes her way from the passenger seat to the back seat beside her and licks her face.
“I wove you too Fwanks.”
—————
Meanwhile on the Bo Rhap set, Ben was in his trailer with Joe and the boys playing FIFA and waiting for craft services to set up lunch. Totally unfocused on the game in front of him, he kept looking at the photos around him instead. One was his and YN’s wedding photo, another was a picture of him and Violet having some skin to skin time on the day she was born and another was a family photo taken by YN’s mother last Christmas. Violet sat in his lap, his arm around YN with her head on his shoulder and Frankie laying across the 2 of them with her head in Violet’s lap.
“Oi, Ben. You good mate?” Gwil asks, pausing the X Box and shaking his friend’s knee.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just miss my girls.” He smiles sadly.
Just then there’s a knock on his trailer door. When he opens it he sees the real Roger Taylor holding his little girl in his arms and his wife holding a pink leash with Frankie on the end of it.
“Supwise, dada! We hewe!” Violet cheers, leaning forward in Roger’s arms in hopes her dad will take her.
Somewhat shocked, but totally excited he reaches for his daughter and leans forward to kiss his wife hello.
“Hi, baby. Surprise!” She giggled into the kiss, at the same time Violet attempts to push their faces apart.
“Sorry, sorry. Let’s go inside.” Ben laughs, pecking Violet’s cheek.
YN let’s Frankie off her leash and she runs straight for Joe and Gwil on the couch.
Ben sees his dog lounging across his friends on his trailer couch and decides to sit on the couch opposite them with his wife and daughter, allowing Roger to squeeze in also.
“You showed up just in time YN. If the boys and I had to listen to him drone on and on about how home sick he is and how much he misses you, I may have slapped him.” Roger laughs, taking Violet from Ben as she asked to be picked up by “uncle Roger.”
“Yeah, he had to forfeit our game of FIFA because he couldn’t stop looking at your photos.” Joe smiles, and Ben kicks him in the shin.
YN just smiles and kisses his cheek.
“You know, baby… it’s only 2 hours from home to set. You could come home more than just on weekends.” YN jokes.
“I want to, but I’ll never know if I’m going to get called in at 3 am or something for a reshoot.” Ben pouts, and YN traces his lips with her finger affectionately.
Soon Violet and Frankie begin to get antsy being cooped up in the trailer.
“Want to tour the set, Vi?” Joe asks, taking her from Roger.
“Yeah! I pway drums, daddy?” She asks, smiling mischievously at Ben.
“Sure, bubba. I think we can manage that.”
Heading to the Rainbow Room set, Ben sits down at his drum kit as Joe sets Violet down to run to her dad.
As she climbs up on her father’s lap the cast stares at the pair lovingly.
“What song should we play Vi?” Ben asks, kissing her head and grabbing the drumsticks.
“Best Fwend!” She cheers. Brian enters the set from backstage and chuckles. Picking up his guitar he offers to help Ben out. Rami comes on stage, kisses Violet hello and picks up his microphone as YN holds Frankie; Roger, Joe, Lucy and Gwil also watch from the table and chairs set up in front of the makeshift set.
“Ready Vi? Uncle Rami is going to sing and every time I count to 3 I want you to tap the cymbal ok?”
After the song is over Violet turns to her father and says,
“Daddy, you no good. I ask Rwog next time.”
Causing the whole audience to burst out laughing and Frankie to bark in agreement.
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