kai! @itsaintmebabe - Tumblr Blog

i. selfish

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ summary: jack finds out that his daughter has a boyfriend which leads him to find out that he’s been absent in her life for far too long.

pairing: jack abbot x teenage daughter! reader

warnings: brief descriptions of a fight, blood, hospital setting, medical terminology and probably inaccurate medical scenes

notes: this fic is based of this request! if you wanna make a request feel free to ask and let me know if i should do a part 2 to this fic!!

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ masterlist / next

This hadn’t been the plan in the slightest.

One minute you were at your boyfriend’s soccer game, sitting on the sidelines with the rest of the sports med team and trying to finish your chemistry homework between water breaks. The next, you were following the ambulance he was in to the emergency department.

Yeah. Definitely not the plan.

It wasn’t like injuries were rare in soccer. Fights weren’t exactly unheard of either, especially during rivalry games. You’d seen sprained ankles, dislocated fingers, concussions, even one really nasty tib-fib fracture during your sophomore year.

But this was the first time you’d watched something happen to your boyfriend. And somehow that made everything feel slower.

One second Noah had been yelling at one of his teammates to back off after a shove near midfield. The next, he was trying to separate two players before things escalated. Then someone from the other team swung.

You still remembered the sound. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just sickeningly solid.

Noah stumbled backward immediately, hands flying to his face as blood started pouring between his fingers almost instantly.

Training took over before your brain did.

By the time you reached him, you already had gloves on and gauze pressed firmly against his nose. Noah was swearing under his breath while blood soaked through the first pad almost immediately.

“Don’t tilt your head back,” you snapped automatically when he tried to lean his head upward.

“I know that,” he muttered, voice thick and congested.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

One of the other sports med girls was already radioing for EMS while the coach tried, and failed, to calm down the screaming players still arguing near midfield.

“Think it’s broken?” Noah asked.

You gave him a look.

His nose was visibly crooked already.

“I think you should stop talking.”

That earned the tiniest laugh from him before he winced hard and spit blood onto the grass.

Okay. Cool. Awesome.

Your stomach turned a little at that.

The paramedics arrived quickly after that, kneeling beside Noah while you gave a rushed report automatically.

“Male, seventeen, punched in the face during an altercation,” you said, still holding pressure to his nose. “Brief dizziness immediately after impact but no loss of consciousness, no vomiting, pupils equal and reactive. Heavy epistaxis initially but slowing with pressure.”

One of the paramedics glanced at you, impressed.

“You planning on med school?”

“My dad works in an ER,” you answered automatically.

That somehow explained everything.

They transferred Noah onto the stretcher mostly because of the amount of blood and the dizziness, though everyone seemed pretty confident it was a nasal fracture more than anything life-threatening. Still, facial injuries could be tricky, and they wanted imaging done to rule out anything worse.

You barely even registered following the stretcher toward the ambulance until one of the paramedics opened the doors.

“Family only, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” You blinked quickly. “Right.”

Noah reached for your wrist before they could close the doors.

“Meet me there?”

“Obviously.”

One of the paramedics told you they were heading to PTMC, and you nodded quickly before jogging toward your car.

The entire drive there, adrenaline buzzed uncomfortably beneath your skin. Not because Noah was dying. Rationally, you knew he wasn’t. But because this was going to become a whole thing the second your dad found out.

So here you were pulling into the staff parking lot, because Jack got tired of hearing you complain about the walk from visitor parking months ago and added your car to the access list, and speed-walking toward the ambulance bay entrance of the ED.

You checked your phone while you moved quickly towards PTMC.

6:34 p.m.

Perfect.

Robby was still here and Jack wasn’t on shift yet. Which meant you could probably explain the situation to him first before having to explain to your father that you’d had a boyfriend for six months and somehow forgot to mention it.

That felt manageable. Slightly humiliating, but manageable.

Before you knew it, you were pushing through the sliding ambulance bay doors, immediately getting hit with the familiar noise of the ED. Phones rang nonstop somewhere near the nurses’ station, monitors beeped in uneven rhythms, and someone down the hall was loudly asking for a psych consult.

None of it really phased you anymore. You’d spent enough time in this department growing up that it almost felt normal. Which was probably concerning.

You moved through the chaos quickly toward the hub, hoping to spot either Dana or Robby. Usually at least one of them was hovering somewhere nearby trying to keep the entire department from collapsing in on itself.

Neither were there.

Great.

You glanced around before looking up toward the patient tracking board overhead, scanning for Noah’s name among the list of room assignments and triage notes.

“Excuse me, you can’t just come back here.”

The voice came from beside you.

You turned to see a tall, lanky guy with shaggy light brown hair and an expression that somehow managed to be both smug and exhausted at the same time. Scrubs. Badge clipped crookedly to his waistband. Probably a med student or resident.

Definitely new.

“Oh, I’m just looking for my boyfriend. He just got brought in by EMS—”

“You still need to get a visitor pass,” he interrupted. “I can show you to the front desk.”

You let out a short breath somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I know where the front desk is, I—”

“Good,” he cut in again, already gesturing toward the waiting room. “So let’s head over there, get you checked in properly, and then you can go find your boyfriend.”

“No,” you said plainly, turning back toward the board. “I’m gonna go see him right now.”

The guy blinked at your tone before letting out an incredulous scoff.

“Look, if you don’t come with me to get a visitor pass, I’m gonna have to call security to—”

“Do what?”

Robby’s voice cut cleanly through the conversation.

You looked over immediately to see him approaching from the sink area near the trauma rooms, still rubbing sanitizer between his hands as he walked over. His expression already carried the exhausted irritation of someone who’d dealt with three separate disasters in the last ten minutes and was prepared for a fourth.

The guy beside you straightened slightly.

“Dr. Robby, this girl just came in through the ambulance bay, and I told her she needs to get a visitor pass, but she’s refusing, so I think we might need security—”

“‘This girl,’” Robby interrupted calmly, “is Dr. Abbot’s daughter.”

You watched the man’s face change instantly.

Robby continued before he could recover. “And she also happens to be my niece.”

The guy’s entire posture shifted into immediate panic.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to help yourself.

Robby finally looked over at you fully now, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

“You came through the ambulance bay again?”

“You gave me the code.”

“That was your takeaway from that sentence?”

You shrugged.

“Where’s Noah?” you asked quickly before he could start lecturing you.

Robby’s expression softened slightly at the genuine concern in your voice.

“South fourteen. Probably getting sent for imaging soon.” He paused, giving you a once-over. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

You nodded once. “I’m fine. He got punched in the face, not hit by a bus.”

“Good,” Robby said. “Because your dad is already having a bad enough day, and if I have to add ‘teenage relationship reveal during shift change’ onto it, I might actually quit medicine.”

You winced.

“Can we maybe… not tell him yet?”

Robby stared at you for a long second.

Then he sighed heavily. “Oh, this is gonna be a disaster.” He motioned with his head toward the hallway. “Come on, I’ll walk you over there.”

“I know where South Fourteen is—” you started.

“I know,” Robby interrupted, softer this time. “But I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The slight sentimentality in his voice caught you off guard enough that you decided not to make fun of him for it.

Barely.

You just nodded and moved over beside him so the two of you could walk together through the department. As you did, Robby glanced back toward the guy from earlier.

“Ogilvie, go check on your patient.”

The man, apparently Ogilvie, immediately pivoted and disappeared toward one of the rooms without another word.

You looked back at Robby. “He’s new?”

Robby let out a long sigh through his nose. “Yeah.”

“That explains a lot.”

“He means well.”

“He threatened to call security on me.”

“He threatens to call security on everybody.”

That actually made you laugh a little.

The two of you continued down the hallway, weaving around nurses, stretchers, and an environmental services cart parked halfway in the middle of the corridor for absolutely no reason. A trauma alert was being called overhead somewhere nearby, and you instinctively stepped closer to the wall to let a team rush past.

It was strange how normal all of this felt to you now. Most people your age would probably find the ED overwhelming. Loud. Chaotic. Maybe even scary. To you, it just smelled like antiseptic wipes and bad coffee.

“So,” Robby said after a moment, “you haven’t told him yet?”

You shot him a look immediately.

“Hey, I’m just asking,” he defended. “You guys have apparently been dating for, what, six months now?”

“About that.”

“And Jack has no idea?”

You exhaled slowly, already annoyed by the conversation. “I mean, it’s not like he’s ever home.”

“That’s not true,” Robby said automatically, instinctively defending him.

You gave him a look. A very pointed look.

Robby sighed.

“Okay,” he admitted. “Maybe not the best argument.”

“Exactly.” You crossed your arms tighter over your chest as you walked. “He’s either picking up extra hours here, doing SWAT stuff, asleep because he worked a night shift, or off doing something with Samira.”

Robby stayed quiet.

“And now that I’m a senior,” you continued, “it’s like he thinks I can just handle everything myself.”

“You can, though,” Robby pointed out carefully, clearly very familiar with your aggressively independent personality.

“I mean, yeah,” you admitted. “But that’s not the point.”

Robby glanced sideways at you but didn’t interrupt this time.

“The only time I see him is if I make time for him,” you said, voice quieter now but sharper somehow. “It’s never him making time for me.”

You shrugged like it didn’t matter. Like you hadn’t clearly been thinking about it for months.

“So honestly,” you finished, “it’s not really his business.”

The bitterness in your voice lingered between you.

Robby was quiet for a few steps. When he finally spoke, his tone had shifted completely.

“You know he loves you, right?”

“That’s not the point,” you shot back almost immediately.

Robby looked over at you for a long moment as the two of you slowed near the South hallway rooms.

“So what is the point?”

The question hit harder than you expected.

You glanced away quickly, eyes drifting around the department instead of looking at him. A nurse pushed a portable monitor past you. Someone laughed loudly from behind the nurses’ station. Overhead, another page echoed through the ED speakers.

Anything was easier to focus on than that question. Because the annoying thing was that you didn’t even fully know the answer yourself. You knew your dad loved you. Objectively, logically, unquestionably.

Jack Abbot wasn’t exactly great at talking about feelings, but he showed up when things mattered. He remembered stupid little details about you even when he forgot to sleep. He made sure your car always had gas in it. He texted you reminders to eat before exams even when he was working fourteen-hour shifts.

But somewhere along the line, it had started feeling less like having a parent and more like having a really overworked roommate who occasionally checked your location. And admitting that out loud felt cruel. Especially because you knew how hard he worked. Especially because everyone else in the hospital constantly reminded you how amazing he was.

“Oh look,” you said suddenly, spotting the room number ahead of you. “It’s South Fourteen.”

Robby narrowed his eyes immediately, recognizing the escape attempt.

“Bye, Robby,” you continued quickly, already stepping away from him toward the room.

“You know you can’t avoid the conversation forever,” he called after you.

You grabbed the door handle, turning back just long enough to flash him a quick smile.

“Bye, Robby!”

Then you slipped inside the room before he could say anything else, letting the door swing shut behind you.

The noise of the department dulled instantly.

Noah was sitting upright on the stretcher with an ice pack balanced awkwardly against his face while dried blood stained the front of his jersey. His nose was swollen enough now that the crookedness was even more obvious.

And somehow, despite all of that, the first thing he said when he saw you was:

“You look stressed.”

You stared at him. “You got punched in the face.”

“Yeah, but you look stressed.”

“I mean this is probably the day my dad is gonna find out about you so,” you said flatly.

Noah’s expression shifted immediately into understanding. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” You dropped into the chair beside the stretcher. “And I’m not exactly sure how it’s gonna go, Robby said it’s gonna be a disaster.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Noah winced slightly, though this time it was probably emotional rather than physical.

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

You snorted despite yourself.

Princess walked in a second later carrying supplies for bloodwork, glancing between the two of you before looking at Noah.

“Radiology should be ready for you soon,” she explained while tying the tourniquet around his arm. “CT maxillofacial without contrast. Dr. Langdon wants to rule out any orbital fractures.”

You relaxed slightly at that, at least Frank was the one working on him.

Standard imaging. Precautionary. Nothing sounding immediately catastrophic.

Noah, meanwhile, looked horrified by the needle now approaching his arm.

You blinked at him. “You literally got punched in the face and this is what scares you?”

“I contain multitudes,” he muttered.

“Uh huh,” you said skeptically, shifting your chair closer so you could take his free hand before the nurse stuck him with the needle.

Noah immediately relaxed a little at that.

“You are such a baby,” you informed him.

“Says the person who almost started a fight with hospital staff ten minutes ago.”

“He started it.”

Princess snorted softly under her breath while labeling the blood tubes.

“Vitals are stable,” she said after glancing at the monitor again. “Dr. Langdon will probably come by after CT.”

“Thanks,” you said automatically.

Princess gave you a quick smile before leaving the room, and Noah immediately looked back at you.

“So,” he said carefully, “how bad is this gonna be with your dad?”

You leaned back in the chair dramatically. “I genuinely don’t know.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I mean, he’s either gonna be weirdly calm about it or become emotionally constipated and avoid the conversation for three months.”

Noah considered that. “The second one sounds worse.”

“It is.”

He squeezed your hand lightly. “For what it’s worth, I’m not scared of him.”

You stared at him for a second.

“He literally works trauma medicine, is a SWAT medic for fun, and was in the army.”

“Okay, I’m a little scared of him.”

“That’s smarter.”

— — — — —

“Well, this is gonna be great.”

Robby sounded deeply unenthused as he approached the hub where Dana had finally returned.

“What is?” Dana asked, looking at him over the top of her glasses while scrolling through something on her tablet.

Robby dropped into the rolling chair behind the counter with the exhaustion of a man who had already worked twelve hours too many.

“Y/n just came in,” he started, rubbing a hand over his face, “with her boyfriend Jack doesn’t know about.”

Dana looked up immediately. “Noah’s here?”

Robby froze mid-spin in his chair. “You know about Noah?”

Dana blinked at him. “Of course I know about Noah.”

Robby looked genuinely offended by that.

“She talks to me,” Dana continued simply. “That girl needs somebody normal to discuss her life with.”

“I thought she only told me,” Robby muttered.

Dana’s mouth twitched. “What? Jealous?”

Robby just stared at her.

Dana laughed quietly to herself before looking back down at the tablet in her hands.

“Why’s he here?”

“I don’t know,” Robby admitted. “Apparently he got punched in the face during a soccer game.”

Dana grimaced sympathetically. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Sounds like probable nasal fracture. Maybe orbital involvement, so they sent him for a CT.”

Dana nodded once, unsurprised. Then her expression shifted slowly into amusement again.

“Oh, Jack is gonna lose his mind.”

Robby pointed at her immediately. “See? That’s what I said.”

“No,” Dana corrected. “You said this was gonna be a disaster. I said it was gonna be entertaining.”

“What’s gonna be entertaining?”

Jack Abbot’s voice cut into the conversation as he walked toward the hub, stopping a few feet away from them. Dark scrubs on, coffee in one hand. Already looking exhausted before his shift had even technically started.

Robby reacted immediately.

“Brother, hey,” he said quickly, standing up so fast his chair rolled backward into a cabinet. “Ready for shift change?”

He moved toward Jack almost aggressively, grabbing onto his shoulder and steering him slightly away from the desk in what was possibly the least subtle distraction attempt in human history.

Jack narrowed his eyes instantly.

“What’s gonna be entertaining?” he repeated.

“Um—”

Robby visibly searched for literally anything else to say.

“Y/n’s here,” Dana answered calmly from behind the desk.

Robby whipped around to stare at her. Dana just shrugged without looking up from her tablet.

“What?” she said. “He was gonna find out eventually.”

Jack’s attention snapped back immediately. “Why is she here?”

The exhaustion disappeared from his face in less than a second, immediately replaced with alertness. Concern. That very specific ER-doctor hyperfocus that made people start answering questions before he even asked them.

“She’s not hurt or anything,” Robby said quickly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the rest of the explanation.

Robby hesitated just a fraction too long. Which, unfortunately, was enough.

Jack’s expression shifted immediately into suspicion. “Robby.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“That sentence has literally never once been true.”

Dana snorted quietly. Robby ignored her.

“She came in with someone,” he admitted carefully.

“With who?”

Another pause.

Jack’s eyes narrowed further.

“With her boyfriend.”

Silence. Complete silence.

Even Dana looked up for this one.

Jack blinked once. Then again. “…Her what?”

“Oh boy,” Dana muttered under her breath.

Robby held both hands up immediately like he was trying to de-escalate an active hostage situation.

“Before you react—”

“How long has she had a boyfriend?”

Robby glanced at Dana briefly like maybe she wanted to take over now.

Dana absolutely did not.

“About six months,” Robby admitted.

Jack stared at him. “Six months.”

“Roughly.”

“And everybody knew except me?”

“Not everybody,” Dana corrected. “Just us.”

“That is not helping, Dana.”

Jack rubbed a hand over his face slowly, looking somewhere between offended and genuinely confused now.

“She has a boyfriend,” he repeated, like he still couldn’t fully process the sentence.

“She’s seventeen,” Dana pointed out reasonably.

“I’m aware of how old my daughter is.”

“Questionable based on how surprised you seem right now,” Dana said.

Robby actually had to bite back a laugh at that.

Jack ignored both of them completely. “Where is she?”

Robby hesitated.

Jack pointed a finger at him immediately. “Don’t do that thing where you hesitate because then I assume it’s worse.”

“She’s in South Fourteen.”

“With the boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to him?”

“Soccer fight,” Robby answered. “Probably broken nose. CT’s pending.”

Jack exhaled sharply through his nose. Then, without another word, he turned and started toward the South hallway.

Robby watched him go.

“…Should we warn her?”

Dana considered it for half a second.

“Nah.” She took a sip of coffee. “This feels educational.”

— — — — —

You had been alone in the room for maybe five minutes.

Noah had just been taken down for his CT scan, leaving you behind with the uncomfortable plastic chair, the faint smell of antiseptic, and hospital Wi-Fi that apparently operated using pure spite.

You frowned down at your phone as Instagram attempted, and failed, to load for the third time.

“How does this place have million-dollar CT scanners but the world’s worst internet connection?” you muttered to yourself.

The loading circle continued spinning mockingly.

You let out a sigh and slumped farther down in the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly against the tile floor. Honestly, now that Noah was gone for imaging and you weren’t actively distracted anymore, your brain had started circling back to the real problem here.

Your dad.

Because there was absolutely no way Robby and Dana had managed to keep this from him for long.

Right as that thought crossed your mind, the door swung open. You glanced up only halfway at first, expecting a nurse or maybe Noah coming back from radiology.

Instead, you nearly launched yourself out of the chair.

“Oh my God—”

Jack stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Not yelling. Which somehow felt more threatening.

“Hey, Dad,” you said quickly, instinctively holding your hands up a little like that would somehow help. “Are you starting your shift in a bit, or—”

“You have a boyfriend?”

Straight to it.

Cool.

You let out an awkward laugh immediately.

“Um… yeah.” You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Surprise?”

Jack just stared at you. You knew that look. It was the exact same expression he used on patients who insisted they “accidentally” fell onto obviously dangerous objects.

“You’ve had a whole relationship for six months and didn’t think to mention it to me?”

“Well, now it sounds bad when you phrase it like that.”

“How else is there to phrase it?”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again.

Fair enough.

Jack looked around the room briefly before looking back at you.

“So where is he?”

“CT.”

“What happened?”

“Soccer game fight,” you answered automatically. “Got punched trying to break it up. Possible nasal fracture, maybe orbital involvement, but he was neurologically intact at the scene. No LOC, no vomiting, pupils equal and reactive—”

Jack held up a hand.

“You gave EMS report?”

You shrugged a little. “I was already there.”

Of course you were.

Jack’s expression softened for exactly half a second at the reminder that you’d probably been helping on the field before it shifted right back into full Dad Mode.

“You should’ve told me,” he said firmly. “At least asked for permission.”

You stared at him.

“Permission?” you repeated incredulously. “Dad, it’s not the eighties anymore. If I want to date someone, I’m gonna date someone.”

The second the sentence left your mouth, you regretted the wording. Because now it sounded way more confrontational than you’d meant it to.

Jack looked irritated immediately. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Really?” you shot back. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you said.”

“I said you should’ve talked to me.”

“And when exactly was I supposed to do that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Between your extra shifts or before you disappeared for another SWAT call?”

Jack’s jaw tightened instantly. “That’s not fair.”

“No, actually, it is.”

“You think I want to miss things?”

“I think you do miss things,” you snapped back. “Constantly.”

Jack looked taken aback for a second before frustration replaced it just as quickly.

“I am working to provide for you.”

“I know that!”

“Then stop acting like I’m choosing not to be around.”

“But you are!” you shot back louder now. “Every single time you pick this place over literally anything else!”

The words echoed harder than you intended in the small exam room. Jack stared at you. Outside in the hallway, a monitor alarm sounded somewhere distant before abruptly shutting off again.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice low and controlled in that way that somehow made it worse.

You laughed sharply. “Oh, I don’t?”

“No.”

“You missed parent night.”

“I was working.”

“You missed Senior awards.”

“I was working.”

“You forgot my interview for college counseling because you picked up someone else’s shift!”

Jack rubbed a hand down his face, visibly trying not to lose his temper now too.

“And you think I don’t feel bad about that?”

“You never even talk about it!” you argued. “You just act like everything’s fine because I’m ‘independent’ or whatever.”

“You are independent.”

“Because I had to be!”

The second that left your mouth, the room went completely still.

Jack looked like you’d slapped him. And honestly, maybe you had.

You were breathing too fast now, adrenaline and anger mixing together in a way that made your chest hurt.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad dad,” you said quickly, though your voice still shook. “But you don’t get to act surprised that I didn’t tell you about Noah when half the time it feels like you’re barely home long enough to know what’s going on with me anyway.”

Jack opened his mouth immediately.

But before he could respond, the door swung open.

“Alright, we’re back from CT—”

Princess stopped mid-sentence as she helped Noah back into the room.

Noah still had the ice pack against his face, dried blood faintly visible near the collar of his shirt, but he looked significantly more alarmed by the tension in the room than by his possible broken nose.

His eyes moved between you and Jack instantly.

“Oh,” he said carefully.

Princess looked between all three of you exactly once.

Then immediately turned to Noah.

“…You did not mention the dad worked here,” Princess said carefully.

“I didn’t know he was here yet,” Noah muttered back.

Jack straightened slightly, visibly trying to pull himself back together now that there were other people in the room. You, meanwhile, looked away immediately, blinking hard a couple times because your eyes suddenly burned in the worst, most embarrassing way possible.

God. Great.

Now you were crying.

Fantastic.

Noah glanced awkwardly between the two of you, immediately noticing both the tension and the noticeable amount of space now between you and your dad.

“Um… hi, Dr. Abbot,” he said carefully.

He stepped forward a little, awkwardly balancing the ice pack against his swollen nose with one hand while sticking the other out for a handshake.

“I’m Noah.”

You let out a shaky breath as one tear slipped down your face.

And then Jack just…

Stared at Noah’s hand. Arms still crossed. Not moving. The silence lasted maybe two seconds. But it felt way longer. And suddenly the anger that had already been building in your chest flared right back up again.

Seriously?

You wiped at your face quickly, glaring at your dad now.

“Are you kidding me?”

Jack looked over at you immediately.

“What?”

“He’s trying to be nice!”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then shake his hand!”

Princess took one very deliberate step backward toward the computer in the corner of the room. Noah still looked horrified, hand awkwardly half-extended between the two of you.

Jack finally uncrossed his arms with a frustrated sigh before giving Noah a quick handshake.

Too quick. Barely even a handshake.

Noah immediately pulled his hand back.

“Sorry,” Noah muttered. “This is probably a bad time.”

“No, apparently this is a great time,” you snapped before Jack could answer.

“Y/n—” Jack warned.

“No, because what is this?” you demanded, gesturing between him and Noah. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say he did.”

“You don’t have to say it!”

Your voice cracked slightly at the end, which only made you angrier. Jack noticed immediately, his expression shifting. But you were too upset now to stop.

“He got punched in the face tonight and still somehow has better manners than you do right now.”

Princess physically turned away at that point, very obviously pretending to check Noah’s blood pressure so she didn’t have to witness the argument directly.

Jack exhaled sharply through his nose.

“I’m not doing this in front of your boyfriend.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed incredulously. “You can barely even say the word.”

“That is not the issue here.”

“Then what is the issue?” you shot back. “That I didn’t tell you? Or that I have a life you don’t know about because you’re never around long enough to actually see it?”

The room went quiet again. Noah looked like he wanted to disappear into another dimension entirely. Jack’s jaw tightened hard enough you could see the muscle move.

“That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not enough,” you said immediately. “You don’t get to walk in here and act like I betrayed you because I didn’t tell you about Noah when you barely know anything going on in my life lately!”

Jack looked genuinely angry now too. “I know plenty about your life.”

“Really?” you challenged. “What colleges did I apply to besides Pitt?”

Jack opened his mouth.

Stopped.

Your chest hurt.

“There it is,” you said quietly, tears falling faster now no matter how quickly you tried wiping them away. “Exactly.”

Jack looked genuinely stunned. Not defensive anymore. Not angry. Just stunned. And somehow that made everything hurt worse. Because it proved your point.

The room had gone painfully quiet around you. Even the usual ED noise felt distant now.

Noah shifted awkwardly near the stretcher, still clutching the ice pack against his face while Princess stood frozen beside the monitor like she was trying to decide whether this counted as a medical emergency.

You laughed once under your breath, shaky and miserable. “You didn’t even know I applied to UCLA until Robby brought it up at dinner.”

Jack finally found his voice again. “That’s not true.”

“It literally is.”

“I knew you were applying out west.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“Y/n—”

“No, because you keep acting like I shut you out for no reason!” you interrupted. “I stopped telling you things because every time I do tell you something, you’re either too tired to listen or halfway out the door.”

Jack’s expression hardened slightly again. “That’s unfair.”

“How?” you demanded. “Tell me how.”

“I am doing my best.”

The words came out sharper this time. More frustrated. More exhausted. And for some reason, hearing that finally snapped something in you.

“I know you are!” you shouted back immediately. “That’s the problem!”

Jack blinked at the sudden volume.

“You think I don’t know why you work this much?” Your voice shook violently now. “You think I don’t get it? Mom died and you buried yourself in work because it was easier than being home!”

The second the words left your mouth, the room went dead silent. Complete silence.

Noah looked absolutely stricken. Princess slowly lowered the blood pressure cuff from her hands.

And Jack went completely still.

You could actually see the moment regret hit you. But you were too upset to stop now.

“You act like I’m supposed to understand everything all the time because you’re helping people,” you continued, crying openly now. “And I do understand it. I understand it all the time.”

Jack’s face had lost all color.

“But sometimes I wanted you to stay home with me instead of picking up another shift!” you admitted, voice breaking completely now. “Sometimes I wanted my dad more than I wanted some amazing trauma doctor everybody else gets to brag about!”

“Y/n,” Jack said quietly.

But you kept going anyway.

“And then you started acting like I didn’t need anything anymore because I got older and handled things myself and—”

“Enough.”

The word cracked through the room hard enough that even you stopped talking immediately. Jack almost never raised his voice at you. Which made it worse when he did.

His chest rose sharply with one uneven breath, eyes glassy now in a way you’d almost never seen before.

“You do not get to stand there,” he said, voice tight with emotion and anger and grief all tangled together, “and act like I stopped loving you because I was trying to survive losing her too.”

Your breath caught instantly.

Jack dragged a hand over his face hard, clearly trying to pull himself back under control.

“You think being at work fixed any of that?” he asked, quieter now but somehow more intense. “It didn’t. It just kept me moving.”

You couldn’t even answer. Because suddenly all the anger had crashed into guilt so hard it made you feel sick. Jack looked at you for another long second before glancing away completely, jaw tight.

Then, finally, he spoke again.

“I need a minute.”

And without another word, Jack Abbott turned and walked out of the room. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click. Silence followed immediately after. Heavy silence.

The kind that pressed against your chest and made everything feel too warm and too tight all at once.

You just stood there staring at the closed door, breathing unevenly while tears continued sliding down your face faster than you could wipe them away.

God. What had you just done?

“I’ll be back in a little while,” Princess said gently after a moment, clearly trying to give you space. “Dr. Langdon should be coming in soon to go over the CT results.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t really answer. You just kept staring at the door like maybe your dad would walk back through it if you looked long enough.

Beside you, Noah gave Princess a small apologetic smile and a nod.

“Thanks.”

Princess squeezed his shoulder lightly before slipping out of the room quietly, leaving the two of you alone.

More silence.

Then:

“It’s okay.”

Noah’s voice was soft, slightly congested from the swelling in his nose as he lowered the ice pack from his face and sat back against the hospital bed. You shook your head immediately at his words.

“No, it’s not.” Your voice cracked completely.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes hard, trying unsuccessfully to stop crying.

“I’m horrible,” you muttered.

“No, hey,” Noah said instantly. “No, you’re not.”

You laughed weakly through your tears.

“I just threw my dead mom into an argument.”

“You were upset.”

“I said horrible things.”

“You said honest things.”

“That doesn’t make them okay.”

Noah watched you quietly for a second before holding his hand out toward you carefully.

“Come here.”

You finally turned to look at him fully.

His nose was bruised purple now beneath the swelling, gauze still tucked loosely beneath one nostril in case the bleeding restarted. He looked exhausted and uncomfortable and probably concussed enough to not even fully be processing what had just happened.

And somehow he was still worried about you.

“Come on,” he said again gently.

This time, you moved. You crossed the small space between you and sat carefully beside him on the edge of the hospital bed. Noah immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side as carefully as he could considering his face was probably in agony.

The second he did, you broke again. You buried your face against his shoulder, crying quietly while Noah held you without saying anything for a minute.

Outside the room, the muffled chaos of the ED continued on like normal. Somebody laughed down the hall. A monitor alarm beeped repeatedly. Overhead paging echoed faintly through the ceiling speakers.

Meanwhile your entire chest felt hollow.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you whispered finally.

“I know.”

“I know he loves me.”

“I know.”

You pulled back just enough to look at Noah.

“He looked so hurt.”

Noah nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

Fresh guilt twisted painfully in your stomach.

“When my mom died,” you said quietly, voice shaky, “everybody kept telling me how hard it was for him. And I remember thinking that I had to make everything easier because he already looked like he was barely surviving.”

Noah stayed quiet, letting you talk.

“So I stopped asking for things,” you admitted. “I stopped complaining when he missed stuff. I stopped crying in front of him because every time I did, somebody would look at me like I was making things harder for him.”

Your throat tightened painfully.

“And I know that sounds selfish—”

“It doesn’t,” Noah interrupted immediately.

You swallowed hard.

“It just felt like everyone gave him grace because he lost his wife,” you continued softly, staring down at your hands now. “Which, obviously they should’ve. I’m not saying they shouldn’t have.”

Noah nodded once.

“But nobody ever really talked about me like that,” you admitted. “People would ask if he was okay. If he was eating. If he was sleeping. And I’d just be standing there.”

Your voice cracked again.

“And I know he was hurting. I know he still is. But I lost my mom too.”

The words came out quieter than everything else. Smaller. Like admitting it still felt wrong somehow.

“I was a kid,” you whispered. “And everybody acted like I was supposed to understand why he disappeared into work all the time because he was grieving, but nobody really stopped to think maybe I was grieving too.”

Noah’s arm tightened around you carefully.

You laughed weakly through the tears slipping down your face again.

“I think after a while I just got really good at being ‘easy,’” you admitted. “Like if I handled everything myself, then nobody had to worry about me.”

Noah looked at you sadly.

“That’s a lot for anybody to carry around.”

You shrugged even though your chest hurt.

“And now whenever I get upset about him missing things or not noticing stuff, I feel guilty immediately because I know why he’s like this.”

“That doesn’t mean your feelings stop mattering.”

You looked away.

“But it feels like they’re supposed to.”

Noah was quiet for a second before speaking carefully.

“You know two things can be true at once, right?”

You frowned slightly.

“He can be a grieving husband who tried his best,” Noah said softly, “and you can still be hurt by the fact that you needed more from him.”

The two of you sat quietly with his words for a moment. The steady beeping of the monitor beside the bed filled the silence while the chaos of the ED carried on outside the room like nothing life-altering had just happened in here.

You wiped at your face again, exhausted now more than anything.

“You guys will be okay,” Noah said gently after a minute.

You nodded slowly against his shoulder, tears still slipping down your face even though they’d finally started slowing.

Because you knew he was right. You and Jack loved each other too much not to be okay eventually. That didn’t magically fix everything. But it mattered.

“But seriously,” Noah added after another beat, “do you think he actually hated me or…?”

You immediately pulled back enough to punch him lightly in the arm.

“Ow—”

“Oh my God, shut up,” you muttered, sniffling. “That is not important right now.”

“I mean,” Noah said, clearly trying to make you laugh now, “I personally think it’s extremely important.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Your father looked at my handshake like it offended him.”

Despite yourself, a tiny laugh escaped you.

Noah pointed immediately. “There it is.”

“Don’t.”

“You laughed.”

“I did not.”

“You literally did.”

You rolled your eyes, scrubbing at the last of the tears on your face.

Noah smiled a little at that, though he winced immediately after because apparently smiling hurt his broken nose.

“Okay, ow,” he muttered, pressing the ice pack back against his face.

“That’s what you get.”

“I’m injured.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I got assaulted protecting the integrity of high school soccer.”

“You got punched because Tyler can’t regulate his emotions.”

Noah gasped weakly. “Way to minimize my trauma.”

You snorted softly, shoulders finally relaxing for the first time in the last twenty minutes. Noah looked disproportionately proud of himself for managing to make you laugh even a little.

Then his expression softened again.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “your dad definitely doesn’t hate me.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“He shook my hand eventually.”

“After staring at it like he was considering putting you back in the ambulance.”

“That’s basically approval from a trauma doctor dad.”

Another laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

Noah smiled again, gentler this time.

“He was scared,” he said quietly. “Not about me. About realizing he missed something important.”

Your expression faltered slightly.

“And honestly?” Noah continued carefully, “you scared him too.”

You frowned. “How?”

“You yelled at him like somebody who’d been holding all that in for years.”

The words hit a little too accurately.

You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“I know.”

“But I did.”

Noah was quiet for a second.

“Sometimes hurting somebody’s feelings and being honest aren’t the same thing.”

You let out a slow breath. “Robby says things like that too.”

“Robby’s emotionally intelligent. It’s upsetting.”

You smiled faintly again. “He’s only emotionally intelligent sometimes, don’t give Robby so much credit.”

Then the room fell quiet once more, though this time it wasn’t suffocating. Just tired.

Eventually Noah nudged your shoulder lightly. “So… hypothetically.”

“Oh no.”

“If your dad does kill me, do you think Dana would testify that I was charming?”

You groaned loudly. “Please stop talking.”

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