“Know I wanna beat it, wanna beat it bad
Oh, everyone looks happy in a photograph
I've crossed the county line, I cannot go back
I'm always on my own.”
-All Them Horses, Noah Kahan
summary: your family is in town for the annual ‘parents berating their kids for their decisions’ get together. jack overhears you talking about how much easier it would be if you had a boyfriend to shove in their face, and offers his services. No strings attached, of course.
wc: 15.7k (steak is too juicy lobster is too buttery)
tags/tropes: jack falls first and harder, reader is an eldest daughter (but not the eldest child) to a large judgmental family who are constantly disappointed in her, jack pretty much uses the fake dating as a chance to show reader what a good boyfriend he COULD be to her if she let herself have nice things, jack 'i'll pay for it' abbot, jack is YEARNING in this one, a teeny bit of mean dom jack as a treat
a/n: how are we all feeling about the latest noah kahan album. Doors is great. i do NOT repeat timestamp 2:14-2:21 of All Them Horses. i’m normal and can be trusted with noah kahan’s discography. this fic was supposed to be crossposted on ao3 at the time of post but ao3 crashed and i lost all of my tagging and uploading process so im saving that. for later. when it is POSTED it will be linked below :)
acknowledgements: thank you @wesandresons for the amazing gif and @saradika-graphics, @chrisssiren, and @uzmacchiato for the dividers! and thank you @leeknowpegger for your work in keeping up morale and being deranged with me
masterlist
“Your family’s in town?”
You’re at the nurses station, tucked into a corner with your head in your hands while Shen, of course, drinks what has to be his third Dunkin coffee of the day. Where he’s getting them is one of the world’s strangest unsolved mysteries.
You can’t see his face, on account of the heels of your hands being pressed into your eyes so hard stars are bursting and swirling behind your eyelids, but you can hear the grimace in his tone.
“Yeah. I moved out here to get away from them, but they decided to host the annual family dinner circuit here in Pittsburgh instead. My mom always complains about how it’s such a huge imposition to have the entire family fly out, but I never asked to do it and offered to just fly to them on multiple occasions. Apparently, my work schedule is too hard to work around.”
“Dinner circuit?”
You wave a hand. “It’s actually a lunch circuit now, since I work nights. Basically, for every single day that they’re here everybody has to attend a lunch, no matter what. Most of the time they’re at different restaurants, but sometimes my mom demands to have them at my place.”
“Yikes,” The attending says, sipping on the last bits of his coffee, “And the whole successful doctor thing doesn’t work on them? It got my parents off my back.”
You shake your head. “I’m the only doctor in the family, but they thought I should’ve been a hospitalist or go into general surgery.”
The sound of ice being shaken in a plastic cup rings in your ears. “There’s money in emergency medicine. Eventually.”
“There’s money in all medicine eventually,” You groan, lifting your head and leaning against the wall, blinking dazedly up at the flickering fluorescent lights. “I’m sure if I'd picked general surgery they would’ve found a problem with that too.”
“So your fucked, basically.”
Your eyes slip shut again. “Yep. Anything short of showing up with a rich boyfriend and a promise of grandkids on the way won’t get my mom off my back.”
Shen clasps you on the shoulder. “Best of luck with that. You’re the only intern the night shift has got, so we’d rather you don’t off yourself via poisoned wine.”
“I wouldn’t do poison. I’d choke on bread so they’d have to live with the guilt of not being able to save me.”
“Jesus fuck, man. I mean, clearly, they suck, but that’s brutal.”
You shrug. “Not as brutal as my mom not coming to my med school graduation.”
He gapes. “What reason could she have possibly had for not showing up?”
“I told her at dinner the night before that I was going into emergency medicine.”
“That’s…” Shen trails off, flabbergasted, “…Wow. Now I'm worried you’re going to kill one of them.”
“Way too much effort. They aren’t worth the jail time.”
The attending tosses his now empty coffee in a nearby trash can. “Well, if you snap and kill them all in a fit of extremely valid rage, please don’t call me. I can’t afford to be implicated.”
“You saying I can’t hide a body myself?”
“I’m saying I can’t hide a body.”
“Who’s hiding bodies?” Jack says, sidling up to the two of you with a tablet and a chart open in his hand.
Shen jams a thumb in your direction. “She’s killing her parents later today.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m not. Honestly, so long as I agree with whatever my mom says and don’t bring up any trigger topics, I’ll be fine.”
Jack snorts. “You’re describing being held hostage by someone mentally unstable.”
“Dr. Intern?” Ellis interrupts, using the stupid nickname Santos picked for you when she found out you’re the only PGY1 on the night shift, “There’s a woman in the lobby here to see you. Says she’s your mom.”
Your stomach drops to your feet and your heart seizes in your chest. “It’s six in the morning. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
Someone behind you says “Holy shit,” but you’re already gone. As you’re speed walking you whip out your phone, checking the dates of their flights that you’d only had a chance to skim and— fuck. They got in an hour ago. Why the fuck would she stop here? At the PTMC?
You practically slam the doors open and make eye contact with your mom across the crowded lobby.
“Mom?”
“There you are sweetie. I was trying to explain that there’s nothing wrong with me and I was here to see you, but they wouldn’t let me. Something about a security issue?”
“It’s not safe. We’ve had incidents in the past—“
She waves a hand, dismissing you. “I’m your mother. Honestly, I wouldn’t have had to come down here if you’d just respond to my texts.”
“I’ve told you mom, I’m really busy here and I don’t get very much time to look at my phone—“
“Your brothers take the time out of their busy schedules to text me back,” She sighs, then continues on, “Did you get time off this week for dinner?”
You frown. “I thought we were having lunch.”
“Well, I figured since we’re all making it easier for your work schedule to come to you, you could manage to take a few days off for your family. But if we need to make an extra effort—“
“It’s fine, mom,” You tell her with a gritted-toothed smile, “I can make something work. Can you just send me the dates again?”
“It’s this Friday and Saturday.”
Before you can even open your mouth to respond, a large, warm hand settles on your shoulder. Accompanied by the hand is a steadying one on your lower back, a familiar, rich scent and a low voice.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
Jack.
Jack fucking Abbot.
Hottest man in the ED. Probably in the world.
Your mom blinks, clearly caught off guard, before regaining her judgy senses and narrowing her eyes at him.
“I’m trying to have a conversation with my daughter. Don’t tell me you’re security.”
You know for a fact that Jack has his stethoscope around his neck and his keycard in his scrub pocket that says ‘DOCTOR’ on it, so your mom’s just being bitchy. Figures.
Jack’s hand in your shoulder gives you a tiny, reassuring squeeze before he speaks.
“I’m Dr. Abbot,” He sticks out a hand for her to shake, the one that was on your shoulder, “I’m an attending here at the ED.”
And my boss, you mentally add. Your mom probably hears it anyway.
“You work with my daughter?”
“Yes ma’am. She’s the most promising intern we have here on the night shift.”
Your lips twitch at his words. He’s joking. Testing your mother— you’re the only PGY1 on the night shift. If your mom remembers that, she’ll pick up on his joke.
She doesn’t. She purses her lips for a moment before giving him one of her big, fake smiles.
“Well that’s good to hear. We’re very proud of her.”
Proud of the money I send home, maybe.
“If you’ll excuse us, I need her working on patients.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Your mom gushes, clearly already charmed by Jack. He has that effect on people. “I didn’t realize she was so important and busy here.“
You would if you’d ever let me talk about work before interrupting me and telling me what I should be doing better.
Jack’s thumb makes tiny sweeping motions on your lower back, little tingling motions that distract you enough to unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.
“I’ll text you as soon as I can, okay mom?”
Your mom sweeps you into a hug, a rare show of affection. Putting on a show for Jack, more than likely.
“No rush. Whenever you get the chance, sweetheart.”
Jack gives her a parting nod, but you wait until your mom’s turned around and walking out of the lobby before allowing Jack to steer you back inside.
The second the doors close behind you and you’re enveloped in the sounds and smells of the heart of the PTMC, you shut your eyes and release a long exhale.
“I,” You start, “Am so sorry. I never thought she’d show up here, I got the flight times mixed up—“
“Hey,” Jack’s voice is low and steady, a much needed anchor. He uses the hand still on your lower back to turn you towards him, “None of that was your fault. We deal with patients like that every day. It is not your job to keep your mother in line.”
“I know. I know. Still, I’m sorry. She can be… difficult.”
He snorts. “Understatement of the year. But seriously. Don’t worry about it. If I didn’t want to get involved with her, I wouldn’t have swooped in there.”
You huff a laugh. “My hero. I’m pretty sure if you’d introduced yourself as my boyfriend she would’ve had an aneurysm. Or a heart attack.”
“Are those desired outcomes?”
“Mostly.”
He slides his hands into his pockets and leans against the opposite wall. “Might be worth a shot, then.”
It’s a very well kept secret that you’ve harbored an embarrassing, ‘think about him while you’re falling asleep at night’ crush on Jack.
So naturally, your response is to laugh. Loudly. And semi-awkwardly. Because he has to be joking. Obviously.
“Yeah, right,” You say, looking down at your feet because eye-contact has never been your forte and Jack’s gaze is too intense, “Could even take you to dinner with me. Maybe my dad would have a heart attack too. Really just wipe out the whole family.”
“You could.”
“Wipe out my entire family?”
“Take me to dinner with you.”
Jack’s body is relaxed and his tone is even. Not light and humor-filled. There’s no mischievous uptick to the corner of his lips. He looks like he’s serious.
“Are you joking?”
He can’t really be serious. He’s probably just fucking with you. He wouldn’t actually—
“No.”
You run a hand over your hair. “Yeah, sure, laugh it up, haha—“
“I’ll go to dinner with you. As your boyfriend.”
What. The. Fuck.
“No.” You gape, incredulous.
“No?” He raises an eyebrow.
“No, I mean— fuck. Dr. Abbot—“
“Jack.”
You purse your lips. “Jack. You can’t just… pretend to be my boyfriend at a family lunch.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” You sputter, “For one, we hardly know each other—“
“You’ve been working here for three months. We’re hardly strangers.”
“You’re my boss, your way older than me, you’re—“ You cut yourself off before you can say something embarrassing like ‘you’re ridiculously fucking hot and I haven’t washed my socks in months’, “It wouldn’t even be believable. How would we even have met?”
“In the ED, obviously.”
“How long have we been together?”
“Month and a half.”
“Why are we even dating?”
“Because you’re a beautiful and intelligent woman, not to mention a good doctor.”
Your mouth goes dry, and your stomach does an entire gymnastics routine.
“Have you… thought about this?”
He makes a noncommittal hum, tilts his head back a bit. “Would it work?”
“Are you rich?”
There’s that devilish, pants dropping smile.
“I’m a senior attending on night shifts in an emergency department. I’m comfortable.”
You worry your lip between your teeth. “I still can’t… I appreciate the offer, but I can’t subject you to my family. No one else should have to suffer through these lunches and dinners.”
“But you do?”
“They’re my family.”
Jack doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t move off the wall and walk away either. Distantly, you really hope a patient isn’t coding somewhere.
You sigh. “Why would you even offer, anyway?”
“You need help, and I’m in a position to give it. Plus life has been kind of boring recently. My therapist told me to pick a new hobby that doesn’t involve people dying or getting shot at.”
“So you thought spending an evening being subjected to backhanded questions, comments, and not very subtle micro-aggressions was a good substitute?”
“Beats drinking beer in the park.”
You can’t say yes. It’s crazy. One, it would make your crush a million times worse and you might never recover on that fact alone, and two, when this inevitably blows up in your face, your family will never let you live it down and bring it up in literally every conversation for the rest of your life.
On the other hand, if it works, it will work. Your mom would probably get off your back for a while. You wouldn’t be a complete and total disappointment. If it works, it would be a much needed win.
“So. We’ve been dating for a month and a half?”
Jack nods, another smile playing at his lips. “I asked you out, of course.”
“Flowers?”
“Naturally.”
“You pay?”
“For every meal.”
“What’s my favorite color?”
“Navy blue. Mine?”
You roll your eyes. “Black. What are we going to tell my mom when she pokes at the age gap?”
Someone rushes by, pager beeping, and you both wordlessly start moseying towards your respective patients.
“Will she really be that upset about it?”
“Probably not, but she’ll definitely ask about it. My dad will probably be angry, but he’s easier to placate than my mom is.”
Jack hums thoughtfully. “When’s the lunch today?”
“Twelve-thirty, at that Italian place that has that mussel dish.”
“How about this,” He starts, apparently not needing anymore clarification on the location, “Lets focus on finishing our shifts right now. Then go home, get some sleep, and I’ll pick you up at eleven so you can pick my brain for every detail that you want to make this work. Deal?”
Last chance to back out. Say hell no, this is a crazy idea, why would you even volunteer for it, I changed my mind.
“Deal.”
—
Holy fucking shit. Jack Abbot is your boyfriend.
Fake boyfriend. But for the next few hours, he’s as good as yours. Kind of.
In a way.
You’re standing in front of your bathroom mirror, dressed in the outfit you picked out for the stupid lunch when your mom texted you the plane ticket details a month ago.
Neither your makeup nor your hair are cooperating and you really need them to because you have to be perfect, so you need your mascara and stop clumping and your hair to stop laying like that and you just don’t want to fucking go.
Before frustration induced tears can ruin your half-done makeup, a knock sounds at the door.
You rush through your apartment, nearly cracking your skull open on the corner of the couch when you trip over a stray shoe.
Shit, he’s here and you’re not ready, god he’s going to be so upset you have to make him wait it’s so rude—
“Hi!” You swing open the door and plaster what you hope is a cute-frazzled smile and not a panicked one. It’s a thin line between the two, “I’m almost ready, I’m so sorry, you can come in and sit down wherever, I promise I won’t take too long to finish up. Sorry.”
You turn, unable to bear the anger or frustration on his face and dart away (an old method— hiding and disappearing is much better for everyone in the long run) but a hand encircles your wrist before you can successfully escape.
“Woah, easy girl. Nobody’s mad at you. We have time, remember?”
Your smile is definitely coming across as panicked.
Your nails wander and find a hangnail to pick at while you talk. “I know, but that was so we’d have time to plan and it’s rude to make you wait and I really need time to plan, but I can’t get my makeup to look right—“
Jack nudges you into the house and you cut yourself off with another apology. Right. Cause he’s just standing in the hallway and you’re rambling on like someone deranged. God. Why can’t your brain just work? Get into gear? Actually function properly?
“First of all,” Jack starts, gently steering you towards your couch, “You look beautiful.”
Why does he have to say these things? Has he no care for what he’s doing to your heart? Is he unaware that Simone Biles would be impressed with the flip routine your stomach is currently doing?
He places a throw pillow in your hands which were previously clenched in your lap. It’s your favorite throw pillow, actually, because the texture is very soothing. You squeeze it and rub your fingers across the grain.
“Secondly, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can go home and go to bed and if you want, I’ll never bring it up again. Not even to Robby.”
You crack a wobbly smile. “Not even to Nurse Evans?”
“She’d probably guess on her own, but I would never confirm her suspicions.”
You tuck your feet under your legs, shrinking into the corner of your couch. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I already texted my mom to add a person to the reservation, and if I show up without a plus one there’ll be hell to pay.”
“You could swap me with someone else?”
“Do you think I would have agreed to let my boss be my fake boyfriend if I had someone else to bring?”
“Touché.”
The corner thread of your throw pillow has begun unraveling, and your wandering fingers pull and tug at it erratically.
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually this neurotic, I swear. My family brings out the worst in me.”
“I ain’t judging, sweetheart,” Jack soothes, “Besides. We’re ER doctors. We’re all a little neurotic.”
Steadfastly avoiding his gaze (again, just a little too knowing, like he can see every insecurity you’re trying to hide) you stand on shaky legs and rush to the bathroom.
“I’ll just. Finish up. Sorry again.”
“I’m gonna start a tally of unnecessary sorry’s. You’re gonna owe me an hour of overtime for each one.”
Oddly enough, getting ready (the rest of the way) feels much more manageable and much less difficult with Jack nearby. He doesn’t critique how long it takes you, the fact that you change earrings three times, or tell you that you look good enough and should just go.
He just hangs out in your living room, on the couch, practically oozing calm and nonchalance. The foolish, romance-starved part of you wants to cancel on your mom and spend the rest of the day curled up next to him on the couch, like a cat. Lazily dozing while Jack watches TV or something sounds like a much better way to spend your time after work than experiencing all five stages of grief over the course of one lunch. Repeatedly.
Finally ready, and with your sanity intact thanks to Jack, you pause by the kitchen and debate the merits of taking a shot to loosen your nerves. Unfortunately, your mom would undoubtedly somehow smell the alcohol on you and no doubt chew you out for a minimum of twenty minutes. Heaven forbid you make the event bearable.
Ever the kind host, you peek your head around the kitchen wall. “Do you want a shot, Jack?”
“You’re aware that I’m fifty?”
Right. That's probably an unhinged question.
“Just thought I’d offer,” You say, meekly tucking the bottle back under the shelf, slightly embarrassed, “Sometimes alcohol is the only way I can survive these things.”
He’s leaned up against the couch, hands in his pockets when you exit the kitchen. “It was very considerate, thank you. But I think the days of vodka and tequila shots are behind me. I’m more of a whiskey man, anyways.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when we end up at a bar afterwards to drink away memories of the lunch.”
Jack raises an eyebrow. “You act like we’re going to be hung, drawn, and quartered after showing up.”
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “Sorry. I just don’t want you to be unprepared, because they’re not always bad but when they’re bad they’re bad, you know? And I just don’t want to scare you off, and ruin the day you could be spending sleeping, and I really am thankful, by the way, I just don’t—“
“Do you always ramble when you’re worried?” Jack interrupts, tilting his head to the side.
“Um. No? I don’t know. I try not to. But like I said. My family brings out the worst in me.”
He searches your face for a moment, then taps the underside of your chin with a crooked finger, raising it slightly.
“We got this, okay? I’m not easy to scare. Combat med vet, remember? Plus, if it really gets that bad, I’ll fake a call from the hospital. Say there was some horrible accident and we’re being called in.”
“Won’t my mom get wise when she never hears it on the news?”
Jack shrugs. “It’s the city. Something horrible is always happening here.”
He holds the front door open for you when you’ve got your shoes on and purse ready, but as you’re sliding past him, he leans down, the angle of his jaw almost brushing the side of your neck, and breathes in deeply.
“You smell good.”
Fuck the gymnastics routine. Your stomach is going for Olympic Gold.
“Oh,” You exhale, a shiver running up your spine and a pleasant tingling sparking where your skin barely brushed his, “Uh— Thanks. Vanilla and spice. I like layering scents.”
“It’s nice. Suits you.”
You manage to squeak out another awkward “Thanks” before hastily locking the door, hoping he can’t tell just how flustered he keeps making you. Judging by the smile playing at his lips, your hopes are in vain.
The car ride to the restaurant is longer than it should be, on account of Pittsburgh traffic, but the time goes by quickly as you pepper Jack with questions to prepare for the million and one that your mother will no doubt ask.
(“What should I say if she asks if we’ve slept together?”
“Do you really, honestly, truly think your mother is going to bring up the topic of sex at the table, in a nice restaurant, with your entire family present?”
“Fair point.”)
By the time you arrive, you’ve picked and torn every single hangnail and loose cuticle around your fingers down to raw flesh and tiny dots of blood. Jack parks the car (parallel parks easily in one go, no repositioning needed, in downtown Pittsburgh. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life) a good distance away from the restaurant, so that your family wouldn’t be able to see you if you decided to flee to his car to escape them.
At least, that’s what he says.
“I want you to hang onto the car keys, okay? If they get too much, you can sneak out through the kitchen and go to the car. I’ll meet you there.”
You can’t help but smile at his efforts. “And what will you be doing while I’m sneaking out?”
“Singing your praises, of course.”
Exhaustion from the shift you worked in what seems like a lifetime ago lines your limbs, but as you step out of the car (through the door Jack insists on opening for you “In case they’re still watching,”) and loop your arm through Jack’s, you feel… almost capable.
The lunch is going to suck. That’s a given. But Jack assured you he’s seen worse (“Probably done worse, sweetheart,”) and will not leave the lunch in a fit of rage and cause a scene. His arm is firm and solid —and fucking huge, how are his biceps that big— under your arm, and his presence is steadying.
As you cross the street and begin your final walk towards the building, he un-loops his arm from yours, but after you make a questioning noise in your throat, worried you’d be completely untethered (how pathetic to already be this reliant on a man, but there’s no time to unpack that now) but instead he wraps his arm around your waist instead, drawing you to his side and effectively grounding you to his body.
The entire left side of your body lights up at the contact, and if this were your apartment, it would be very difficult to refrain from climbing him like a tree or doing something equally embarrassing, like plastering yourself to his side and begging him to never stop touching you.
You’ve almost managed to come off unaffected, but then he leans down, lips almost brushing your ear, and whispers:
“You’ve got this, baby. And if you don’t, I do.”
Forget your family. Jack Abbot is going to be the death of you.
When you walk into the restaurant, hyper-aware of Jack’s grip on your body (your delusional mind has you thinking how… possessive the hand almost feels, if you ignore the fact that this is all fake) your family is waiting in the foyer, talking amongst themselves.
Your mother immediately zeroes in on you. “Honey, we’ve talked about you being on time to these things. You can’t be late to important family—“
You watch in real time as your mother’s gaze finally flicks to Jack, and the shades of recognition, shock, almost disgust, and confusion before settling back into forced pleasantness.
Your father, however, looks downright murderous. Looks like the age gap isn’t going down too well.
If Jack is at all nervous or put off by the several stares and outright glares from your family, he does not show it. He exudes cool confidence, the same unflappable energy he has during chaotic night shifts. The same calm that makes him so alluring to you in the first place.
He sticks out his hand for your mother to shake, a mirror of earlier that day in the PTMC lobby.
“I believe we’ve met before, but I’ll introduce myself again. I’m Dr. Jack Abbot.”
Your mother shakes his hand, but looks between the two of you like you’ve just spilled wine on her Persian rug that she can’t afford in the first place.
“You’re my daughter’s plus one?”
Jack nods. “Her boyfriend, yes.”
Your brother’s gape. Your dad’s glare intensifies. You want to kiss Jack.
“Honey,” Your mother says, gaze darting to you, “You didn’t say—“
“I didn’t want you to meet him at the hospital,” You tell her, hoping the lie doesn’t come across as too rehearsed, since you did rehearse it several times with Jack in the car on the way over, “The lobby of the hospital isn’t the best place to introduce people. And we really did have patients to get back to.”
Your mother purses her lips. “Why the last minute addition? If you’d told me that he was coming before today, it would’ve been easier to make the reservation.”
Jack is quicker to respond than you. “That’s my fault, actually. I didn’t think I was going to be able to come, what with my shifts as a senior attending, but when we met in the lobby I understood how important it was to make the time.”
You have to try hard not to smile at Jack’s not-so-subtle flex. Senior attending.
“Yes, well. My daughter doesn’t always stress the importance of these things.”
Jack’s grip on your waist tightens ever-so-slightly at the backhanded remark, and your mother’s gaze darts to the point of contact. But your father jerks his head towards the tables before she can say anything. “I’m starving.”
Everyone files in behind him, with you and Jack at the back of the line. Again, he leans down to whisper to you.
“How’d I do?”
You elbow him in the side. “We’ll discuss your performance after this is over.”
“Looking forward to it.”
The hostess leads everyone over to a large table near a window (your mother is particularly about seating) and everyone finds a seat. One of your brothers, either as a test or just to be a shit (your money’s on the latter) slides into the open seat next to you before Jack can.
To his credit, Jack doesn’t cause a scene, but he doesn’t back down either. He just stares at your idiot brother for awhile before finally asking:
“Do you really wanna do this right now?”
Your brother must sense that Jack Abbot is not a man to be fucked with (just a man you want to fuck), and scurries to his own seat, tail between his legs.
Once everyone is seated and the food is ordered (you don’t bother ordering anything other than the salad; Jack orders the most expensive thing on their menu. He’s never seemed like one to care for finery and expensive Italian restaurants where you practically have to order in Italian, but again, his unfazed demeanor makes him fit in anywhere) your family immediately begins peppering him with questions. Questions you knew they’d ask and appropriately prepared him for.
“So. Dr. Abbot—”
“Just Jack is fine.”
“—How long have the two of you been dating?”
“A month and a half.”
“Why’d you start dating?”
You take a generous gulp of your wine.
“Because your daughter is an incredible woman and an even better doctor.”
“Do you think she’s pretty?” One of your brothers chimes in.
Jack takes it in stride, despite that not being a question you prepared. “I’d have to be blind and stupid if I didn’t.”
You feel hot from the tips of your ears down to your toes.
That’s going in the mental folder.
“Have you always wanted to be a doctor?”
“Pretty much. Took a bit of a detour as a combat medic first, though.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Honorably discharged after I lost my right leg. Below the knee amputation.”
You drain the rest of your glass and inconspicuously motion to the waiter for more wine.
The table is silent for the customary length of time after someone drops the “got a limb chopped off” bomb. Your family is clearly mildly uncomfortable, but Jack just keeps sipping his drink, his free hand drifting down and brushing the side of your thigh.
Your dad clears his throat. Here we go. Home stretch. Final questions before we’re in the clear.
“Mr. Abbot—“
“Either Doctor or Jack works.”
Ooo. There was some bite in that one.
Your Dad frowns. He does not like to be interrupted or corrected. You’ve been on the receiving end of far too many hour long lectures (read: berating and borderline verbal abuse) to know better.
But Jack isn’t his daughter. Jack is pretty much his equal. Actually, the fact that Jack not only served but is now a doctor places him above your father, by social conventions.
This no doubt infuriates your father. He’s always hated it when he couldn’t tear somebody down to his level. A true coward.
“Jack,” Your dad continues, a trademarked forced smile to save face, “You’re a smart man, yeah? Haven’t you ever considered the age difference between the two of you might be a little much?”
Yikes. Questioning Jack’s competency is not the way to go. Jack is very competent. And smart. And capable. It’s really hot.
Your fake-boyfriend just reaches over and grasps your hand, over the table, and looks at you with such devotion in his eyes that you forget how to breathe.
“War doesn’t really lend to longevity. I’ve learned to hold on tight to things I care about.”
For a moment, it doesn’t feel fake. There’s raw, punched emotion in his voice, and his thumb rubs your hand gently. Like he really does care that much. Like he wants to hold on.
But then your brother fake-gags and your fake boyfriend looks away with that, he’s passed the tests, and the conversation moves onto to different topics. Jack laughs at all the right moments, doesn’t bring up any argument-starting topics, doesn’t rise to bait when it’s thrown his way.
He’s perfect.
Eventually lunch is drawn to a polite close. You have one last glass of wine while Jack settles the bill. Himself. With one card. He doesn’t even look.
Your mom sends a smirk your way after he waves off your father’s attempt at splitting the bill or offering to pay. It’s probably the third time she’s actually looked at you for the entire duration of the lunch, but since it’s positive, you’ll let it slide.
Pretty soon bags are grabbed, hands are shook, and Jack’s hand magically finds its way back to your lower back and you’re being (very gently) escorted out of the restaurant and to the car.
“Wow,” You breathe as you slide into the passenger seat of his car. “I think that’s the smoothest a lunch with my family has ever gone in my entire life. You’re really good at this.”
Jack doesn’t respond though. Doesn’t make any kind of noise that he heard you. His hands are nearly white knuckled on the steering wheel and he’s staring straight ahead.
“Jack?”
“They didn’t even talk to you.”
You blink.
“What?”
“Your family never tried to include you in the conversation. Didn’t even ask you any questions.”
You snort. “Trust me, it’s better that way.”
He hasn’t started the car yet, just keeps staring off into the middle ground. He can’t be old enough to start doing a thousand yard stare already, right?
“You ordered a salad.” He says, a very prominent frown on his lips.
“So? It wasn’t too expensive, was it? I swear, if I knew you were gonna pay for the whole bill I would’ve looked at something cheaper, I don’t know why salads are so expensive—“
“Please don’t apologize for ordering a salad,” Jack says, voice pained, “Especially because I know you hate salads.”
Oh.
“How do you know that?”
“I overheard you talking to Dr. King that time you two were discussing the merits of Olive Garden. You said the salad there was the only kind you like, because of the dressing and the pepperoncinis.”
Your cheeks heat. “I never said I hated all salads. I said I like that one in particular.”
“You hardly ate anything during lunch.”
“My family tends to have that effect on my appetite.”
Jack does not look placated. He doesn’t take the out that your little joke provides. Doesn't so much as huff. He looks upset. Distressed.
Something about what he said goes ding! in your mind.
“…Mel and I had that conversation like, last month. You seriously remembered that?”
He frowns harder, like the answer to your partly rhetorical question should be obvious.
(It’s not. Why would he remember that conversation? Why would he care at all?)
“Of course I remember.”
There isn’t much to say after that. You’re not really sure what in particular has upset Jack, what possibly blunder or error you’ve made to incur him going completely monosyllabic and frowny. Ever eager to appease, you refrain from any attempts to cajole him, make conversation, breathe too loudly, or make any kind of indication that you’re still present.
The tension in the car is thick and uncomfortable. It prickles at your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck, but the only thing you dare to do is scroll through Pinterest, only looking at the safest, basic boards in case Jack glances over (he doesn’t.)
But then he does glance over. He just doesn’t look at your phone.
Jack just keeps looking at you.
He’ll look over, eyes darting over your face like he’s looking for something, and then he’ll look away. Over and over for almost the entire course of the drive. He only stops when you accidentally time your staring (monitoring) of him wrong and make eye contact.
He parks by your place (he once again sexily parallel parks with ease) and then puts the car in park. And then he starts talking.
“You’re so much more than them.”
Jack has the heat on, but the air in the car suddenly feels cold.
“What?”
“Your family,” Jack clarifies, like that was the confusing part “Your parents. I hated watching you… disappear like that. You deserve better than that. You are better than that.”
You try to swallow, almost choking on the sudden lump in your throat.
“Listen,” You start, unaware of how to even begin processing what he said, let alone formulating the best response because your brain is just flashing abort! Abort! Abort! in big neon letters,, “Thank you for today. I really appreciate it. But if this is all just too much, I can handle things from here. Really. I can say that someone called out and you had to cover shifts—“
“No.”
Jack says it with such vehemence, bordering on vitriol, that it startles you, and you flinch backwards ever so slightly.
An old habit.
Something flashes across his face —gone before you can decipher it— and he noticeably forces himself calmer.
“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you go alone again. Ever.”
Your brain starts short-circuiting at his words. “I really can’t ask you to—“
“It’s a good thing you’re not asking me then.”
“Jack—“
“Please.”
You’re stunned silent at the rawness in his tone— the pain.
He said please. He said it like he was begging. He is begging.
“I don’t know how you do it,” He continues, jaw working, “I can see it on you, plain as day. How you hate what they do, how it makes you hurt. But you keep going.”
You shrug uselessly. “Is there another option?”
Jack reaches out for you, then falters, like he thought better. A tiny part of you wishes he’d followed through; bridged the yawning gap between the two of you that’s made up of the center console in his car, a couple decades, and your own unwillingness to try at vulnerability.
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
The walk to your door is a stark contrast to the walk to the restaurant. There’s no mischief on his face now, only a mask of stony distress.
At the doorway to your apartment building, you pause. It seems customary. Appropriate. Necessary.
Really, you just want to look at Jack some more. Try to puzzle out why the lunch that felt like it went so well made him so upset. Where you’re getting signals wrong and crossing wires. Why success to you is failure to him.
(As an ED resident, you’ve seen child abuse cases. You’ve seen foster care children littered with cigarette burns and criss-crossing scars of broken bottles and the corners of coffee tables and haunted eyes.
You know your family isn’t great. But there aren’t any cigarette burns or glass scars or eyes that track fast movement.)
You have this burning inclination to apologize to Jack. Logically, you know you haven’t done something wrong, but you feel like you have because he’s upset so maybe you can make it better?
“You have that look on your face.”
You frown. “What look?”
“The ‘I’m gonna apologize for something stupid’ look.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking about it,” Jack ducks down, catches your eyes, “Hey, listen to me. You cannot fix what I am upset about. It is not your job. My mood is not your responsibility.”
“It’s freaky when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“You always know what I’m thinking.”
Jack just huffs; shoves his hands in his pockets.
Emboldened by his reassurance, you ask: “Why are you upset?”
“Because your family treats you like shit, and I want to fix it, but I can’t.”
“Oh.”
It’s not that bad. It can’t be that bad. You’ve seen bad. This isn’t it. It’s hard, but it’s not bad.
He stays quiet, seemingly sensing the inner turmoil his words have sparked. That, or he really is that good at reading you.
Jack nods towards your door. “We can talk later. Get some sleep. We both have shifts tonight.”
Right. Yeah. All of these events roughly occurred over the course of six hours. Time makes sense.
Despite the fact that you are exhausted and desperately need to sleep if you have any chance of surviving your –quickly approaching– shift, you linger.
“How am I supposed to repay you for all of this?”
The question that’s been burning a hole in your pocket since he said I’ll do it.
He just shakes his head. Like it’s simple. Easy. “This isn’t something I want repayment for. Now go. You’re no good to me as a zombie.”
“I’ll just have some of Shen’s Dunkin.”
“He doesn’t share that shit. Besides, he’s off tomorrow.”
“Maybe I‘ll—“
“Sleep,” He points at your door, “Now.”
You smile at his insistence. He’s sort of like cold coffee with sugar. Seems all bitter but then you get a bit of that sweet crunch, so it balances out. He balances out.
Sometimes it feels like he balances you out.
“Goodnight.”
He gives you a little smile of his own.
“Goodnight.”
—
Jack Abbot does not take his own advice. Mostly because he knows if he doesn’t talk about what happened during that lunch from hell, he’s going to do something that will end in him being thrown in prison and having his medical license revoked. More importantly, if that happens, he won’t be around to take care of you.
So instead he collapses on his couch, works his prosthetic off to give his stump a needed break, and dials the number at the top of his favorites in his contact list.
“This really isn’t a good time—“
“Robby,” Jack starts, “They didn’t even fucking talk to her.”
“Jesus, okay. Whitaker! Cover for me a sec, will you? I gotta deal with this.”
“They just…” Jack continues, genuinely at a loss for words. His vocabulary feels woefully unequipped to relay the depth of anger he feels about the events of the lunch, “…Ignored her. They talked over her, didn’t ask her questions, hardly ever let her finish speaking when she did finally get a chance to speak, and threw jabs at her constantly. It was fucking awful.“
The background noise quiets over the phone, and Jack knows Robby’s moved to either the break room or an empty patient room.
“She fight back at all?”
“No. Just… grinned and beared it. It was fuckin’ unsettling, man. I’ve seen her yell back at rude patients, watched her stand her ground to EMT’s who think they know better. It was like she hollowed herself out to sit at that table.”
“Christ.”
“She flinched away from me. Afterwards, in the car, when I raised my voice on accident.”
“Fuck. Do you think—“
“I don’t know. Maybe when she was younger. They don’t live in state, so if they are, she’s safe.”
Jack scrubs a hand down his face. “God. I don’t know what to do, Robby. It doesn’t seem like she’s got… anybody. She didn’t even understand why I was upset. She doesn’t get why that would be upsetting.”
“She’s friends with Mel and Santos, right?”
“And Whitaker by extension, yeah. But those are recent friends. I’ve never heard her mention anybody from back home. No boyfriend or best friend or anything. She’s just been doing everything on her own.”
Jack can picture Robby nodding. “We’ve done our fair share of that.”
“Yeah, and look where that got us. I can’t just leave her here. Fuck, it was like watching someone kick a puppy, over and over.”
“That bad?”
“Yeah.”
The line goes silent for a bit, both men stewing on the subject at hand.
“She’s always had these habits. I thought they were just personality quirks, you know. I mean, we’re all fucked up, but watching it happen…”
“It’s different.”
“You could say that,” Jack sighs, “She soaks up praise like a fucking sponge. She looks surprised every time I do something nice for her. And she keeps trying to make me happy.”
“You lost me on that last one.”
“It doesn’t… She’s not doing it to make me happy, exactly. She just does everything she can to keep me from getting mad.”
“Is there a difference?”
“There is. Eager to please versus eager to appease.”
“Are you sure you want to get involved?”
“Bit late for that.”
“You could pull back.”
“Fuck no, I can’t. Then I’d be kicking the puppy.”
“She is a grown woman.”
“Who happens to look like a kicked puppy.”
He scrubs a hand down his face, groaning into the microphone.
“You finally realize how ridiculous you sound?”
Jack grunts. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of answering that.”
The line crackles with the staticky sound of Robby chuckling. “That’s an answer in it of itself, and you know that.”
He lets the line go quiet again, briefly debating just hanging up.
“I don’t know, Robby. It’s just…”
“Worse than you expected?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on. You knew that was a possibility. Has it put you off, at all?”
“Fuck no.”
“Exactly. Now please, go to bed so I can get back to saving lives? Whitaker is covering for me and he’s only gone through two pairs of scrubs so far today. I’m not a betting man, but if I were, I’d bet money that he’s moved onto his third during this conversation.”
“I save lives too.”
“You won’t save any if you fall asleep on the drive over and die.”
“I would never fall asleep behind the wheel.”
“That’s what they all say.”
Jack really does hang up after that, plugging his phone in and rushing through everything he needs to do before bed.
But even as exhaustion pulls his body down into deep, dreamless sleep, he can’t stop thinking about that hollow look on your face. And he knows, even half-asleep, that he won’t be able to let it go.
—
The next night at work is weird, because nothing has changed, except now you know what the inside of Jack’s car looks like and how his voice sounded when he begged you to let him help.
It’s jarring, to say the least. Unsteadying and mildly world-rocking if you’re being honest.
But gossip travels fast within the walls of the PTMC, so by the time night shift is halfway over, you’re convinced you’ve heard every variation in existence of the same two questions:
“Did you and Jack go on a date yesterday?”
And:
“What’s Jack like on a date?”
The answer to the first question is complicated and embarrassing, so you don’t answer it or any of it’s variants. The answer to the second question is not complicated but it does, however, stir some very complicated feelings, so you refrain from answering that one too. You just try to refrain from thinking about or seeing him in general.
You’re not avoiding Jack, per se. Just keeping busy. With other stuff. That’s conveniently nowhere near him.
Ellis keeps shooting you entirely too knowing looks, Mckay, who’s pulling a double, pats your shoulder and tells you she’s there if you want to talk, Shen is absent as Jack said he would be, and Jack himself is acting like nothing happened and everything is normal and he’s never been to your apartment smelled your perfume.
(“…I like layering scents.”
“It’s nice. Suits you.”)
It’s all too much.
Hence the avoiding.
You try to curb your own ridiculousness for the sake of your patients, but it’s oddly difficult. You’ve always been amazing at compartmentalizing. If your family gave you any kind of skill, it’s the ability to shove your feelings in a box, and then shove that box in a corner of your mind you won’t access consciously until you end up on public transportation with your headphones. You should be more than capable of gathering up all the loose feelings labeled ‘For: Jack Abbot’ and tucking them all nice and neat in that little box and then shove it in a dark mental corner.
But you can’t. And along with the flurry of Jack Abbot causing a hurricane in your head, there’s a lesser storm that is the result of your family. More specifically, how they look to Jack.
All roads lead back to Rome. Or, in your case, to Jack.
You catch yourself during every spare moment or menial task that doesn’t require 100% of your brain power analyzing every interaction he had with them. Everything they said, everything they did, and how Jack would’ve taken it. And why. Because clearly, the act of dealing with them isn’t the problem. The ease and finesse in which he did so crosses that off the list. So it’s something else.
It’s how they treat you.
You understand, logically, that it would be upsetting, from his point of view. If you were in his place, you’d also probably be upset too.
But this feels different. Jack’s reaction is different. Jack is different.
It’s just never really been something that anyone should be upset over. Your family are who they are. Not great, but not truly bad either. You deal with them sparingly. You don’t even live in the same state anymore. It’s not a big deal.
“Why are you hiding from me in a supply closet?”
You whirl around, a box of gloves clutched in your hands.
“I’m not hiding from you.”
Jack crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. “This is the third time you’ve been here in two hours.”
“So? I just want to be… on top of things. I’m a productive person.”
“You are,” He amends, “But all of your productivity tonight has been pretty strictly nowhere near me. Funny how that works.”
You sigh, placing the gloves back on the rack. “Things are just… weird, okay? I don’t know how you’re being so normal about all this?”
Your fingers wander and find a loose piece of skin on the edge of your cuticle, and you begin absent-mindedly picking at it.
You can’t exactly disagree with him, right here, in the supply closet at the hospital. But you can’t quite bring yourself to agree either– because whether he acknowledges it or not, things have changed. Seeing him outside the hospital, perfectly placating your family into one of the most peaceful get-togethers you’ve had in years isn't just nothing.
It’s everything. And you, for one, can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen.
“Hey,” He calls your name softly, “What’s on your mind? What’s bugging you?”
“Nothing.”
He snorts, pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door behind him, so it’s just the two of you alone. “Liar.”
He doesn’t probe any further, just leans against the now closed door with his hands in his pockets, eyes flitting over you like they’re looking for an answer. An answer you’re too hesitant to give.
“I’m just worried.”
“You? Worried? No.”
You cut him a glare, “There’s a very real chance that this could all go horribly awry, you know.”
“Sure,” Jack dips his head, “But that’s not what you’re really worried about.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because that doesn’t address the fact that you’re avoiding me.”
You sigh, scrubbing a hand across your face.
“Why do you care?”
The question that’s been nagging at you since the beginning. The little itch in the back of your mind that you just can’t seem to get rid of. The puzzle you can’t figure out; the tune you can’t place.
You’re a logic driven person. You like knowing how things works– why they work. Why things do the things they do.
You like having the why. Having the why makes the world make sense.
Nothing about Jack Abbot makes sense.
“Why do I care about what?”
“This,” You gesture vaguely to the air, “Me. I don’t buy that you just didn’t have anything better to do or whatever it was you said. People don’t just… do that. You’re really ruining your life for an entire week for what? So I'm a little less uncomfortable? Me? At the end of the day, we’re just coworkers. I know how important your down time is for you, so I just don’t get why you’re so okay with being miserable just for my sake. I’m not that important. These stupid lunches aren’t that important.”
It’s a stupid confession. Much too vulnerable for a supply closet and a man you’re harboring feelings for.
He doesn’t respond right away. Hums, stares at his shoes for a bit. Re-adjusts so his prosthetic isn’t taking so much weight.
“You are important. You’re important to me, to this hospital, to your patients. And for the record, I am not ‘ruining my week.’ If it was that easy for my week to be ruined, I never would have become a doctor, let alone joined the military.”
“But why?”
“Jesus, you watched a lot of the science channel growing up, didn’t you?”
You snort. “Guilty as charged.”
Now it’s his turn to sigh.
“You… seem to have this misguided belief that caring is reciprocal in nature.”
You frown. “It is.”
“It isn’t. At least it shouldn’t be, but I don’t think anyone ever told you that.”
You scoff. “So this is about my family.”
He shrugs. “Amongst other things.”
“They’re not that bad.”
“They are.”
“Other people have it worse.”
“It’s not a competition.”
You resist the urge to throw your hands in the air. “Why is this such a big deal to you?”
“Because it’s a big deal to you.”
The air gets quiet and tense. Like the supply closet and all the medical supplies in it are holding their breath. If they were alive, if they were holding their breath, you’re convinced they’d all be looking at you.
It’s Jack who speaks first though.
“I can see it. You do everything yourself, get back up even when it’s hard. You look out for other people more than you look out for yourself. You’re selfless and kind and I don’t think very many people give that back to you.”
A reflexive smile pulls at your lips, a habit you never quite managed to kick after years of people telling you ‘smile, look grateful, stop looking so upset, there’s nothing to cry about.’ It feels awkward and clunky on your mouth but you don’t know what else to do. There’s no pre-written protocol for something like this.
“I still don’t really get it.” You murmur, more to yourself than to Jack.
Jack sends you a light grin. “We’ll work on it.”
“We will?”
“Sure,” He shrugs, “Already started anyways.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” He opens the door, “Now get back out there. And bring the gloves too.”
You roll your eyes but comply, snagging the box off the shelf where you’d left it and following him out.
The rest of your shift passes much smoother than before, even with the routine influx of patients as the time inches closer to morning. Jack doesn’t hover, but doesn’t pull the disappearing act that you (totally fairly) pulled on him either. He truly seems unfazed. Like it really, actually doesn’t bother him.
Well. Correction. It does bother him, but not because it’s something he’s doing for you, the part that bothers him (apparently) is how all of this affects you. All this caring makes you feel like a deer in the headlights.
You recall something he said that night. Something that had made you shiver– something that hit the nail right on the head.
“Hey, listen to me. You cannot fix what I am upset about. It is not your job. My mood is not your responsibility.”
He always seems to know exactly what to say to you. How to act, what to do, what specific worry you’re feeling and the best course of action to soothe it. It’s great but it’s also difficult, because there’s a part of you that wants to let him keep doing it, but then there’s the part of you that bristles every time and wants to snap that you’re completely capable of doing things yourself.
That probably wouldn’t even work. He’d just say something infuriating and sexy, like “I know, but I want to do this for you.”
He would. He totally would.
The thought is equal parts haunting and reassuring.
(And maybe, also, a little, kind of really sweet?)
–
The next two lunches go great. Jack is still freakishly incredible at charming your family. And, with his help, you actually manage to hold a (mostly) civil conversation with your parents for the first time in… years.
The lunches are fine, but the part you’ve started looking forward to is the before and after. Before, Jack comes to pick you up, and sometimes he comes early and helps prepare (which mostly involves him either talking you off the ledge, pouring a shot or two, or assuring you that your makeup and outfit look great. Not fine, great) or just to hang out. The hanging out part is nice, because he never comes with any sort of expectation. He’ll sit on your couch and scroll through his phone and entertain all the inane chatter you like to get out of your system beforehand but never had an outlet for before.
The after is even more fun. You run through the highlights of the night and hate on all the annoying things your family said to you. This usually also involves stopping somewhere for food (only for you, Jack’s never hungry because he eats t=at the restaurants but you’re never allowed to order anything that isn’t a salad) and then the two fo you fight over who pays. You always insist since you’re the only one actually eating any of the food, but then Jack usually takes your card, puts it in his pocket, and uses his own.
It’s as frustrating as it is hot.
But for the most part, the lunches and your shifts at work have actually been pretty good– as good as night shifts in a trauma center can be, anyway. Jack’s presence is… steadying, even when he’s not physically there. He’s always present in some way– whether it’s little reminders he leaves at your favorite spot for charting (he only uses blue sticky notes) or a real lunch left for you in the breakroom fridge (you weren’t previously aware he actually knew how to cook, or that he knew how picky you are when it comes to what you’ll actually eat for lunch and how often you get too busy to properly make something.) Sometimes he’s there in your head; in little things he’s told or taught you that you remember in the moment.
It’s nice. To have someone be around. Someone you can relax with, joke with– someone who hasn’t looked down on you for the the way you turned out.
You were pretty ready to declare smooth sailing ahead, but then on the third lunch your mother shows up and is decidedly not in a good mood and the seas turn choppy and the boat smashes into the rocks below.
At least, two peach bellinis in, that’s what it feels like.
“Honestly,” Your mother puffs, “I don’t understand why making some simple appetizers could take so long. This is why I hate going to restaurants during lunch hours, the staff just gets so lazy. The menu is always better at dinner anyways.”
You ignore the thinly veiled dig and instead choose to quietly drain the rest of your third peach bellini. They taste like juice and take a much needed edge (or two) of the evening. Lunch. What-fucking-ever.
Jack, ever aware of the best way to survive these functions (somehow) whilst keeping his sanity, remains silent as your mom huffs and puffs, seeming to understand that trying to placate her when she gets in these moods is a fruitless endeavor that only leads to your mom getting more upset and everyone else more annoyed.
You, made slightly optimistic by the wonderful powers of alcohol, attempt to put her in a better mood.
“I have the next three days off, mom. We’ll be able to do dinners instead.”
Your mother, however, only scoffs. “That’s no good to anyone now. We’ve already spent half this week dealing with poor restaurant service. I mean, no respectable job would have such a ridiculous schedule."
“I’m a doctor, mom. It doesn’t get more respectable than that.”
Jack nudges your leg with his, either a silent laugh, show of support, or quiet question of your sanity. Maybe all three.
Another bellini appears in front of you, this one heavier on the alcohol than the last. Your server is getting a giant tip when this is all over.
“You work in the emergency department, dear. That’s hardly stable, and stable is respectable,” Jack clears his throat, and your mother at least has the manners to look mildly sheepish, “No offense, Jack.”
He smiles thinly. “None taken.”
Conversation from there is stilted at best with even your brothers tip-toeing around your mother. No one wants to be the subject of a nitpicking lecture, even when the version she gives them is a slap on the wrist compared to what you endure.
So you keep drinking your bellini’s and they keep coming. After your fourth, you think you should maybe slow down a little, but then your dad starts grilling Jack about his life (again) and you decide that alcohol is, in fact, necessary.
“Have you ever been in a serious relationship before, Jack?”
That one almost makes you ask the server for a shot of vodka, straight. That’s a question you ask a nineteen year-old pimple-faced boy, not a fucking fifty year old man.
“I have, yes. But, like most things in life, they were learning experiences. I’ve moved on.”
Your dad snorts, then gestures to you. “You could teach her a thing or two about moving on.”
Your blood runs cold.
Jack sets his glass down. “And what do you mean by that?”
It’s your mother who answers. Because one vulture circling your soon-to-be carcass wasn’t enough.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t told you. It was all she ever talked about for years. She’s had exactly one boyfriend before you– what was his name honey?”
“Christopher,” You answer hollowly, stomach churning.
Your dad snaps his fingers. “That’s it. It took ages for her to get her first boyfriend. We were fairly convinced it would never happen, but then one day she came home with Christopher. Whole family wanted to throw a party– finally found someone to put up with all that attitude!”
Your family laughs, but Jack doesn’t.
“Where’s the funny part, in all this?”
Your mother clears her throat, just a tad awkward. “When she broke up with him it was awful. She refused to leave her room for works, cried all the time. Honestly, I would have understood if he had broken up with her, but it was all her decision.”
Your dad nods in agreement. “We had to have a sit-down conversation with her about decisions and consequences before she finally stopped crying and hiding in her room. Christopher was such a nice boy, we hated to see him go.”
Jack opens his mouth, poised to fire something back and defend you, but you beat him to the punch.
“He cheated on me with my best friend.”
At that, your mother frowns. “That’s not what Christopher said. You were in your teen angst era, remember? Always picking fights? He told your brother that you were so distant with him he didn’t know you were still together.”
“I wasn’t distant, I was really busy. I was studying for the MCAT. He knew that. He knew how important medical school was to me.”
Your brother rolls his eyes. “Med school was all you talked about. It’s not like you were putting out.”
Your mother snaps her fingers once. “That is inappropriate talk for public. You know better.”
“Come on, mom. It’s true. Everyone knows–”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack says, not at all sounding sorry, “But the hospital just texted. There’s an emergency, and we’re needed, so we have to go.”
Jack does not wait for your mother or father to excuse him. He just stands, offering you his hand. It turns out that you need it, because there is, apparently, such a thing as too many peach bellinis. Your mom sends you a pointed glare as you stumble once, after which you make a concerted effort to look more sober.
Neither you nor Jack bother saying proper goodbyes. Once he grabs your jacket and purse (and your vision stops swimming so much and you’re sure you can walk in a convincing approximation of a straight line) you’re both gone. You pass your server on the way out, who is slipped a very generous cash tip for the excellent bellini service.
By the time you get to the car, you realize that you’re about to have to save patient lives and you are very, extremely, drunk. There is no way you are capable of doing any life-saving at the moment.
“Jack,” You mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt, “I think I’m too drunk to go in. Did they say how serious the emergency was? Can I just get a banana bag?”
“There is no emergency,” He says calmly, batting your hands away and buckling you in properly, “I made it up. I figured you’d be okay with ducking out of there.”
“Oh. That was nice of you.”
He clicks you in and gives you a wry grin. “Told you I would handle things.”
You nod, the movement exaggerated and lopsided. “I hate it when they bring up Christpher. They always take his side. Like, is there ever a situation where it’s okay to cheat on a girl with her best friend? I was studying for the MCAT. I didn’t even wallow or break up with him when I found out. I waited until after I took the exam so I didn’t fuck up my score.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Christopher was an asshole. He was a real dickhead. The whole situation sucked. I lost the only two people who I thought cared about me at the same time. My family acted like I was the fucking anti-christ for being upset about it, too. It was fucking terrible. I’m so glad I don’t live with them anymore. I mean, I still love them, and I care about them, cause they’re my family, but everything is just so much easier when they’re not around.”
“You’re allowed to hate them, you know.”
“I know,” You say, fiddling with a hangnail. “I know I probably should.”
You sigh, tilting your head back against the headrest. “I always keep holding out hope, you know? That one day they’ll apologize, figure their shit out, care about me in a way that matters. I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.”
You frown. “It’s not? It kinda seems stupid. You’d think by now I would know better.”
“No,” Jack eases the car out of the parking space, “We’re biologically wired to love our families. It’s the reason why they can fuck you up so bad. Your brain can’t compute why the people who are supposed to love you above all else just… don’t. Not in any of the right ways.”
You blow air through your lips. “I think my parents fucked me up. I was so happy when I matched into the Pitt, because it was so far away. But then I got out here it just kind of hit me, all at once, that I was alone. My best friend was gone, my ex boyfriend sucked, and I was too busy in med school taking care of myself and my family to make any friends.”
Shit, that sounds so whiny. “But it turns out it wasn’t so bad. Now I've got Mell, and Santos, and I’m pretty sure I’m friends with Shen too. Mckay is nice too. I like her. She’s cool.”
Jack huffs something that could be a laugh, and you turn to study him; the angles of his face awash in the glow of the red light you’re currently stopped at. From here, you can see the tiny bits of tension he carries in his face— a slight pinch in his brow, the tiniest downturn of his lips. It’s the only evidence that he’s not as unaffected by your family as he pretends to be.
Then the light turns green, and his face isn’t illuminated the same.
“And what about me?”
Oh. Well. That’s a loaded question.
The alcohol emboldens you to answer honestly. “I don’t know what to think about you.”
“Oh really?”
“Mmm. Nope.”
“How come?”
"You're so–” You gesture vaguely, “Confusing. I can’t figure you out. For a while there, I was pretty sure you hated me, but then you offered to help me with this and you keep saying you care so I think I’m wrong.”
“You think you’re wrong?”
“Still can’t figure you out.”
“And how can I show you that I mean it?”
That’s. Hmm.
“I don’t know. I think what you’re doing is working,” You pause, debating the pros and cons of continuing to just say whatever the fuck you want before deciding you’re too tired to care, “It helps that you’re really hot.”
His lips twitch. “Oh, does it now?”
“Mhm. You’ve got this whole… capable thing about you. It’s hot. Competency is in.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. I feel like if I had a problem I could call you or something and you would fix it. You’re so…”
“Competent?”
“That’s the word.”
If he’s at all irritated, annoyed, or otherwise put off by your stupid rambling, he didn’t show it.
“You should call me whenever you have a problem. Chances are, I can fix it.”
“Are you like Bob the Builder?”
“I’m a doctor, so no.”
“You’re kind of like Bob the Builder.”
“Whatever you say,” He pauses at an empty intersection before continuing on, “Before I start heading towards your place, do you want to stop by mine? You didn’t even get to eat your salad, and I have leftovers. You can say no.”
“Are you gonna be mad at me if I say no?”
“No.”
‘Then yes.”
“You sure? I wasn’t lying.”
“I know. But I like your cooking.”
You spend the drive to Jack’s continuing to ramble about nothing and everything, to which he entertains with a seemingly endless amount of patience. The only time he interrupts is to hand you a bottle of Gatorade he procured from his back seat. Apparently, he bought a few to keep in his car after the first lunch. “For any alcohol excursions.”
It’s freaky how prepared he is for every situation.
When you arrive, he unbuckles your seatbelt for you (unbuckling is just as difficult as buckling when you’ve had an unknown amount of peach bellinis) and helps you up the stairs to his apartment.
His gigantic apartment.
“Woah,” You mumble as you shuffle through the doorway, pulled along by your hand in Jacks, “I didn’t know they made apartments this size.”
“Its not that big.”
“I think, like, four of my apartments could fit in here. Your living room is the size of my entire place.”
You stumble once, heel catching on the little rug on the entry way, and he’s immediately motioning for you to sit on the little bench by the door and pats his thigh once. You clumsily raise your leg, barely managing to land your foot on the general area he gestures to. He pulls the first shoe off, then repeats with the second with an air of total calm. Like this is normal and he does this all the time for you. Like you regularly find yourself drunk in his apartment.
You decide to unpack the moment when you’re sober.
“One, it’s not that big, and two, that’s what you get for renting a studio apartment.”
“Like you could afford better when you were an intern.”
He snorts, leading you to his couch and gesturing for you to sit. “If you want to change clothes you can borrow some of mine.”
You chew on your lip. The outfits you choose to look nice for your mother are never exactly comfortable, and when else are you going to get the chance to privately live the scenario you fantasize about several times a week before falling asleep?
“Only if you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn't have offered if I wasn’t. Stay there.”
Jack’s only gone for a few minutes before he reappears with a dark grey sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants in a slightly lighter shade. The sweatshirt is oversized and looks well worn, but the sweatpants are suspiciously new, close to your size, and look eerily similar to a pair you changed into after a shift a few weeks ago.
He hands them to you. Neither of you mention the sweatpants. “You can change in the bathroom. Door locks from the inside. I’m gonna change too, and then I’ll heat up the food.”
Jack shows you the bathroom (you don’t bother unpacking why exactly he felt the need to tell you that the door locks and from the inside, that’s for when you’re significantly more drunk than you are now and when you’re not in his fancy-ass apartment.)
Because he’s a man and men take approximately three seconds to change, he’s already in the kitchen setting stuff on the counter by the time you emerge from the bathroom. His countertops are solid granite, because the apartment is clearly expensive and he’s a man. They’re an inky black color with tiny flecks that sparkle when the light hits them just so.
“What are you doing?” Jack asks when he turns from the fridge to find you tilting your head this way and that.
“Looking at the sparkles.”
“Oookay. Do you want me to heat up the vodka pasta or the chicken?”
“You made vodka pasta?”
He shrugs. “You said you liked it.”
You slide into a seat at the kitchen island, a flush creeping up your neck. “The pasta, please.”
Suddenly exhausted now that you’re in soft, comfortable clothes that smell like Jack, you decide to just rest your head on your arms for a bit. And close your eyes. But you’re not going to fall asleep. You’re not.
“Don’t fall asleep. You need to eat something first.”
“M’ not fallin’ asleep.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
With great effort, you blink your eyes open and watch Jack while he heats up the pasta and prepares something else. A salad maybe?
“What’re’you’ making?”
“Just a little salad. In case the pasta is too heavy for you.”
“Oh. How come?”
“Because I don’t want you to throw up.”
“I promise I won’t throw up on your furniture. I don’t usually throw up when I’m hungover.”
“You drink often?”
“No,” Your head lulls to the side, “I’m too busy. I’m actually not-so-secretly very boring. I don’t really like partying. I much prefer staying at home.”
“Thought you went to that thing with King and Santos?”
“Yeah, but that was ‘cause Trinity really wanted me to come and I felt bad and I didn’t want her to think I was a boring, uptight bitch.”
“I see.”
“Yeah. I kinda had fun, though. I wished you were there.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” You sigh, probably a hint too dreamily, “Makes me feel better when you’re around.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He slides a little bowl with a light salad in it to you across the counter, and it's perfectly refreshing. Not at all heavy like the pasta ends up being.
“Sorry I couldn’t finish it,” You say, forcing down a yawn and resisting the urge to burrow into your arms and go to sleep right there, “I feel bad that you went through the trouble of making it and heating it up.”
“It wasn’t that much effort. Besides, now you can just eat it for lunch tomorrow instead. I’ll send it home with you.”
“Mhm.” You hum, slowly inching your arms forward and down onto the counter, your head quickly following suit.
Jack chuckles, and you can hear the light step of his feet as he rounds the corner of the island and nudges you in the arm.
“Come on, sweetheart. You wanna get home to bed, don’t you?”
“No,” You shake your head, “I wanna sleep right here. It’s comfortable.”
“It won’t be when you wake up.”
You whine, curling away from him.
He just puffs another little laugh. “You can either sleep in your bed, or my bed. You can’t sleep on the kitchen island.”
“Why not?” You finally lift your head, “And why is your bed an option?”
“One,” He lifts up one finger in front of your face and slowly drags it back and forth, “Because the kitchen island is not a bed. Two, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”
“Why? Is your couch uncomfortable?”
“No,” He says, shuffling back over to where the leftovers are and tucking all the food away in the proper places, “It’s just not right to make a woman sleep on the couch.”
“I like sleeping on couches.”
He shoots you a look over his shoulder, “I’m sure you do. But you’re still a little drunk, and my bed is closer to the bathroom than the couch is.”
You prop your head on your hand. “Who said I’m even staying here tonight?”
Jack closes the fridge. “Do you want to? Because I don’t care either way. We both have tomorrow off.”
“It’d be weird to wake up here.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my boss.”
“And I’m faking being your boyfriend so your parents get off your back. Pretty sure we’re past coworkers.”
“What would we even do in the morning?”
“Sleep.”
“I don’t want to kick you out of your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“You’re my guest–”
“You’re already doing so much for me,” You blurt, stomach clenching, “I– You know me. I can only handle so much. Let me do this one thing? Please?”
Jack glowers for a bit, then sighs.
“Only because you asked nicely and I believe in rewarding good behavior. And because I know my couch isn’t uncomfortable. I’ll help you make it up.”
Jack’s apartment is surprisingly tidy for the fact that a man lives in it (Christopher’s room at his parent’s house always looked like shit) and he pulls down a couple options for bedding. You go with the plain black sheet and its matching thick, fluffy comforter. He insists on making up the couch himself (despite the fact that the alcohol has mostly worn off by now) and even sets up a glass of water, a liquid IV packet, and a bucket– “Just in case those bellini’s don’t love you back.”
The sight of it all is almost too much. It’s just so much care. All of it. The fact that he’s helping out with you and your disaster of a family, the way that despite the horribleness of it all he hasn’t judged you at all for how you deal with them. He refuses to let you drive yourself, always pays for every lunch for your entire family and the little snacks you get afterwards. Listens to you rant and he makes you food and gets you blankets and–
“You okay there?”
“Mhm,” You hum, “Just thinkin’.”
He leaves you be for a moment, busies himself with fixing your pillows and and tugging the comforter into its proper place.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn, throwing your arms around Jack’s middle and burying your face in his chest.
“Thank you,” You say, voice muffled by the fabric, “For doing all of this. Thank you for looking out for me.”
Jack is still for a second, just long enough for you to second guess initiating physical contact –a line you were previously too scared to cross– but then his hands come up and it's so, immediately, remarkably over. Because you’re never ever going to draw that line again. You can never go back to your life without having this. Without having him.
Jack’s hands are big and deliciously warm as they slide up, around your waist, lingering to rub a few circles on the mid of your back before moving on. One arm stays, tightening around your waist and drawing you closer while his other glides further up, up, up, his callused palms sliding over the knob at the very base of your neck before his hand settles around your nape, fingers just barely brushing the edge of your hairline.
You barely manage to suppress a whine at how warm and incredible it feels to be fully enveloped by him. You never want him to let go. Goosebumps erupt everywhere he touches, little sparks of electricity lingering under your skin in his wake.
“I will always,” He presses the lightest of kisses to your temple, just a feathering of his lips, “Look out for you, baby. I’m always gonna be right here.”
His arms tighten around you, drawing you in— closer, closer, closer. Wrapped up in everything that is Jack you can’t help but sag, going completely boneless in his grip and allowing yourself to just bask in him.
“You smell good.” You mumble into his shirt, completely lost in the moment.
“Do I?”
“Yeah. Good. Like man.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your cheek. “Thank you sweetheart.”
“Why do you call me sweetheart?”
“Because you’re a sweetheart.”
“I am?”
“Don’t play dumb now,” He pulls back a little, just enough to get a good look at you, fingers curling in the fine hair at your nape and tugging down, angling your chin up so you’re forced to look at him, “You know you are.”
You shrug, eyes darting to the side, your cheeks flushing, “I don’t know. I was just making sure.”
“Mhm.” He hums, tone almost mocking, fingers tightening around your hair just before the precipice of pain.
You stay like that for a few moments of charged silence. Jack’s eyes shamelessly rove over the planes of your face, mapping it out in his mind. He keeps his grip on your hair, not completely forcing eye contact but keeping your head firmly in place.
It’s possessive. Bold. Probably too intimate for two people who (supposedly) are not actually dating
And you love it.
Jack only lets his hand (and your head) drop when your jaw opens in a splitting yawn.
“Okay,” He huffs, taking a step back, “Time for bed. Get going.”
Embarrassment is the only thing keeping you from whining at the loss of contact and impending reality of sleeping on the couch alone. But you made your bed (figuratively) so now you have to lie in it.
The couch does look comfortable. Especially since Jack put all the blankets together.
He waits until you’ve crawled under the comforter to bid you goodnight, followed by a parting reminder to “Wake him up if you start aspirating on vomit.” It’s a very Jack thing to say.
You’re out almost the second Jack turns the lights off. You fall into deep, blissful sleep, dreaming of that final moment in the living room, your eyes boring into each other.
Except in the dream, you tilt your head up those last few inches, and kiss your fake boyfriend as hard as you can.
–
Generally, the annual lecture event ends with a massive blow out argument. Something dramatic and filled with expletives, after which your mother will refuse to answer any texts or calls you send before finally telling you that’s she’s sorry if (always if) something she said offended you, but talking to you is just so hard sometimes so she doesn’t want to unless you’re ready to be more civil. By the time the two of you are on neutral terms again, it’s time for the next annual lunch circuit.
You’re a mess of nerves in the hours before the last one. Like usual, your mom requested that the last dinner be held at your place. “So it can feel like a real family dinner.” While you know that there isn’t any saying no to your mother, you also know that there is no way you’re cramming your entire family in your tiny ass studio apartment. It happened once. It will not happen again.
You originally asked Jack during a last minute shift you both got called in to cover if he would help you move some of the furniture at your place to accommodate them, and then he’d gotten this incredulous look on his face and then told you to tell your mom that you’re having dinner at his place.
“Jack,” You’d gaped at him, “It’s fine. My apartment isn’t that small, and you don’t have to help move the furniture if you don’t want to. I can ask Dennis to give me a hand instead. I really don’t think you want to host my family.”
“Sweetheart, it’s just logic. You’ve seen my place.”
“Okay. No need to rub it in.”
He’d just rolled his eyes and pinned you with a firm look. “Come on. You know this is the best option. If your mom throws a fit, tell her I insisted and give her my number.”
“Do you have a death wish?” You hiss, “That’s asking for torture.”
Jack had just shrugged. “Would having it at my place be easier for you?”
“...Yes?”
“Then we’ll do it there. You’re off in a bit, right?”
You’d nodded.
He fishes something small and shiny out of his pocket and tosses it to you. “That’s my spare key. I’ll be here later than you, so just let yourself in if you want to get there earlier to start setting up. I’ll be home soon.”
Robby shouted his name soon after and Jack was whisked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the ED, holding the fucking spare key to his apartment, gaping like a fish.
The line between real and fake has become so blurred you’re not sure if it ever was there to begin with.
He’s started calling you sweetheart more and more often– sometimes when no one's around. No familial audience to be persuaded into the romantic lie you’re selling. Is it still a lie if it doesn’t feel like one anymore?
The question and accompanying feeling follows you all day. All throughout your harried dinner preparation. Even now, with a solid hour until your family is supposed to start showing up, you can’t help but pace the length of Jack’s kitchen, heeled feet clicking on his floor. Jack himself is similarly dressed up, wearing a pair of dark jeans (“I’m not wearing slacks in my own home, and I’m not old enough to start wearing khakis with everything.”) and a black button down shirt with the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He makes a very nice view and under other circumstances you might take the opportunity to climb him like a tree. But alas. Anxiety.
“Take your shoes off if you’re going to pace. You’re gonna give yourself blisters.”
You ignore him, chewing on an already stinging cuticle.
“Things have been pretty good this far, right? Do you think she’s just waiting until the very end to bring up some secret thing that she’s upset about?”
Jack begins preparing the wine –your mother only likes red– for decanting. “I think if your mother were that upset about something she wouldn’t be able to hide it.”
“True. But what if?”
“I’m not going to help you spiral.”
“Why not?” You whine.
He looks at you with a heavy glare and points to the shoe tray at the door. “Shoes. Off. You can put them back on when they get here.”
You grumble under your breath the entire way but comply. Only because your feet were starting to hurt.
When your family finally does arrive, it ends up being annoyingly anti-climactic. You spend the entire time on the edge of your seat (literally and figuratively) waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for conversation to turn sour, arguments to erupt, someone to choke on a piece of lettuce and die despite professional intervention.
But the argument never starts, conversation remains what it usually is and becomes no worse (or better, unfortunately) and no one passes away due to unevenly chopped vegetables.
The torture is over fairly quickly. Most everyone’s flight back home leaves early the next morning and your dad is paranoid about flight times.
Pretty soon it’s all just… over. They leave, your mother bickering with your father on the way out about something that probably doesn’t matter, and then it’s just you and Jack and the entire scheme is just done. Finished. Just like that.
There won't be anymore knee's brushing under the table, no more shared glances and pecks to the cheek when you make a joke that actually lands. No more excuses just to sit and watch him under the guise of playing the adoring girlfriend. No more late night milkshakes.
You'll just go back to being coworkers-- People who pretend not to know each other intimately. Jack probably won't struggle with it. But to you, right now, the idea of just not having him anymore seems like a another wound, right over top all the others.
You don't want him to become another person who used to know you.
You’ve been staring at the closed door for upwards of five full minutes, clenching and unclenching your fists when Jack comes up next to you. He hands you the same clothes you wore the last time you were there and jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom.
“Why don’t you go and change, huh?”
Your lip wobbles a bit as you answer. “But I want to help you clean up.”
“You can,” He soothes, “After you change.”
“But–”
“Hey,” He interrupts, “No. You’ve been stuck in those clothes for hours. Go change. I’ll wait for you.”
Jack keeps his word. He’s leaned up against the kitchen island when you emerge, rubbing at your –now bare, having had the foresight to bring makeup wipes with you– face.
He looks up when the door opens. “Better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He just hums, heading back over to the kitchen table, stacking plates and cutlery. You follow in silence, and he thankfully doesn’t push for conversation.
Cleaning up doesn’t take long enough. Jack has a fancy dishwasher (and probably doesn’t want to stay standing any more than he has to this late in the day) and there aren’t any leftovers to pack up. Your brothers are bottomless pits when it comes to free food.
It can’t just be over like this. It can't.
When everything is finished and there isn't anything left to do, Jack wordlessly leads you to the couch and puts something quiet and calm on the TV. The white noise washes over you as you attempt to get comfortable, but the knowledge that it's all over proves to be an itch under your skin that you just can't seem to squash.
“So,” You say after the two of you are seated on opposite ends of the couch, “That’s it then.”
“So it is.”
“Guess I owe you big time, huh?”
“I’ve already told you I don’t care about that.”
“Right,” You look down at your lap, “Yeah. Sorry.”
You lapse into silence.
Jack sighs. “Sweetheart–”
“Was it fake to you?” You blurt, jiggling your knee, still staring at your lap, “Were you– did you mean it?”
It never felt fake. It never felt like pretending.
It felt real.
It felt like, for the first time in your life, things could be easy.
Maybe easy isn't the right word. But it life sure as hell didn't feel as hard.
When you look up, uncomfortable in his silence and hoping there’s answers in his face, but instead of finding something like disappointment or irritation, he’s grinning.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
He dips his head once. “Yes you do. You’re a smart girl, I think you can figure it out.”
Your fingers are curled around the hem of his sweatshirt, white-knuckling the fabric as if to stabilize yourself. Like you’re liable to somehow float away if you don’t dig your heels into the couch and hold on tight.
“What if I’m wrong?”
“You won’t be.”
A scoff escapes your lips, “You can’t know for sure.”
He taps his pointer finger on his leg in an unhurried rhythm.
“You do.”
Your stomach is rolling in a combination of leftover anxiety from the dinner that went better than it was supposed to and the weight of Jack’s gaze on you.
“I think…” You pause, worry threatening to overwhelm you, and take a deep breath before continuing, “I think you might like me.”
“You think,” He drawls, “I might.”
“I don’t want to be wrong!” You cry.
Jack huffs, throwing his head back in a good-natured sigh.
“Come here.”
You scoot further down the couch, sitting criss-cross right in front of him. This is not going the way you thought it would. You were almost certain you’d walk away shamed and embarrassed, forced to fake your death and flee the country out of the sheer humiliation of thinking your boss would actually have a crush on you.
Jack does love to prove you wrong.
“Soo,” You start, still hesitant, “You do like me.”
Jack props his head on his hand, his expression something you’re starting to recognize as fond. “Yes.”
“More than a little?”
“Yes.”
“And you weren’t faking anything. You were serious about the— You know.”
“Use your words.”
“The flirting.” You clarify, ears burning.
“All correct,” He nods, “Though I would have said it differently.”
You frown. “And how would you have put it?”
“I would have said,” He reaches out, snagging your arm and tugging until you fall down onto his chest with a little oof, “That you have a hard time believing things that are good, so I had to audition for my role. Like old-fashioned courting.”
You want to be offended, but unfortunately, it did work.
You frown.
Wait.
“Have you known I liked you this whole time?”
Jack snorts. “Overheard you talking to Whitaker about it during your second week.”
He’s known since the second week?
“Oh my god.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone. Except Robby. He’s been hoping you would figure it out for awhile now.”
“Oh my god.”
“I thought it was cute,” He smoothes a hand over your hair, “You were so much more nervous back then. You’ve come a long way.”
You shift uncomfortably at the praise, but Jack’s having none of it. He wraps his arms around you, holding you in place.
“Can you take a compliment?”
“No.”
He re-positions under you, getting more comfortable. “We’ll try again later.”
“Am I– Can I stay here tonight then?”
“Of course,” he murmurs, “My one condition is that you’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“Fine,” You sigh, long and drawn out, “I suppose we can share.”
“How kind of you to share my bed with me.”
“I have been told I’m kind.”
You both smile, and everything just feels so right and so perfect that you can't help but lean up, clearing the last few inches, and pressing a hesitant, gentle kiss to his lips.
It’s just like your dream.
Only this time, it’s real. And Jack is kissing you back.
subby!robby who likes to suck his gf's breast milk until his tummy is full 🥵
UGHHHHHHHHHHHH YESSS!!!! and u know what’s so funny i literally messaged @shoniebalognie yesterday saying we need more robby breastfeeding kink fics sooooo….u need to get out of my head anon!!
and if i made it mommy kink……
subby!robby has a breastfeeding kink (f!reader)
wc: 1.8k
warnings/tags: breastfeeding kink, mommy kink, subby!robby, f!reader, talks of pregnancy and pregnancy related stuff, two mentions of their unnamed daughter (he’s a girl dad sue me), handjob, oral (m!), cum swallowing, mentions of readers postpartum body, obvs breast milk drinking.
it had been another one of those days in the ED, one of those ones where everything and anything that can go wrong does go wrong. one of those days where the weight of robby’s responsibility feels too heavy to bear, where he just wishes for one minute his name wasn’t robby, where he wishes he wasn’t in charge, where he wishes everyone would just leave him alone.
still, at least he had you to come home to, his beautiful postpartum girlfriend. you were truly the only thing getting him through that shift, the thought that in just a few short hours he’d get to come home to his best girls, get to see you sitting on the couch still so swollen and round from having his baby only a month or so ago.
the sound of the door closing and robby’s bag dropping to the floor with a heavy dull thud jolts you out of your sleep. you had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home, robby told you multiple times that you didn’t need to wait up for him, that the bed would be much better for you to sleep in but it just didn’t feel the same without him in it.
“long day?” you ask as robby lets out one of his signature deep sighs. you rub the tired from your eyes and peer over the back of the couch to look at him, he looked exhausted, well and truly burnt out from his terrible day.
robby drags his hands down his face before nodding, “like you wouldn’t believe, how’s she been today?” he’s shuffling over to you now, his feet unable to lift off the floor as he makes his way over. he’s kicking his shoes off before flopping onto the couch beside you, falling into you with his head resting on your full chest.
“aw, my poor baby,” you coo with a frown “my other baby’s been good, she went down about an hour ago.” you wrap your arms around his head and hold him against you, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head. he shifts to bury himself in your clothed tits. nuzzling his face all in their warmth, taking in your familiar calming scent.
immediately you feel robby soften, his shoulders relax and he becomes almost limp as he breathes you in. his hands come up to toy with the hem of your top, the backs of his fingers grazing the bare skin of your soft tummy underneath. “can i?” he asks, peering up at you with those big brown eyes that you could never say no to.
“go ahead, baby” you smile softly at him and nod. robby leans back and pulls your top over your head. your full, swollen breasts bounce against the swell of your postpartum stomach as they’re freed from the too tight top you were wearing.
robby takes them in, his pupils blowing wide open as he devours them with his eyes. it’s not hungry though, it’s something much more gentle, more soft than the look he would’ve given them before you became pregnant. something in robby flipped when you told him you were expecting. before he was ravenous, wanted to be on you all the time, possessive and borderline rough. but now, whenever he saw you all bare like this he just melted into this sweet little puppy who didn’t know the meaning of the word rough.
“have you pumped today?” robby asks, lowering his face so he’s inches away from your hard nipple. he looks up at you and you shake your head, “not since this morning, had a feeling you’d be having one of those days.” you stroke the side of his face, your nails lightly grazing through his greying beard. he smiles back up at you, a content, lazy smile that has your heart hammering in your chest.
your daughter had stopped taking breast milk a week ago so you had been bottle feeding her formula instead. however, your body was still producing milk and a lot of it at that. but it was fine, robby would never let any of that go to waste.
“thank you, mama” he hums before closing the gap, his lips wrapping around your swollen nipple. his tongue darts over it a couple of times before he softly hollows out his cheeks and suckles on your breast. your eyes flutter closed at the same time as his, a satisfied hum reverberating from each of your throats.
robby’s hand comes up to massage your other breast, gently rolling it in his hand to relieve some of the pressure he knows has been building up all day. the mild taste of your milk hits his tongue and suddenly all his worries and stresses wash away. your hand is still caressing the side of his face, stroking and scratching lightly at his moving cheeks.
“mm, there you go. feelin’ better, baby?” you purr, your breathing becomes steadier as you feel yourself relax, the pressure in your breast slowly coming down. robby hums and nods around your breast, just gently sucking on your nipple, swallowing the steady stream of milk that you’d saved up just for him.
when the stream slows to a drip, robby lets go, releasing your breast from his mouth with a wet pop. he looks up at you, his eyes half-lidded with a lopsided smile on his face before he leans up to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his tongue, it’s dizzying.
“taste’s so good. so perfect, love you so much, thank you mama” his voice is so soft and breathless once he pulls away from the kiss, your eyes are blown wide now, dizzy with desire for him.
“s’okay, baby. mama loves you too” you kiss his forehead before he leans down again, this time swirling his tongue around your other breast. you let a soft gasp escape your lips, heats building fast in your stomach, there’s just something about how gentle and submissive robby can be that got you so worked up.
he latches on again, his tongue working your nipple as he sucks gently. his hands are on your naked waist, just holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him there. you slide your hand down his chest over his scrubs, pawing and grabbing at his soft tummy on your way down to his own waist. your fingers clumsily fiddle with the button of his cargo’s before you finally manage to pop it open and unzip them.
you slip your hand in and pull his soft cock out of his pants, lazily pumping it in your hand as he feeds on you. he becomes hard almost instantly and the way he’s groaning around your nipple now has your eyes rolling back from pleasure. you give his cock a gentle squeeze before quickening your pace.
“mmm, y’like that baby? like it when mommy gets you off while you’re being so good f’me? making me feel so good, such a good boy f’mommy” you’re babbling now, completely lost in the moment. robby looks up at you, his deep brown eyes so intoxicating you can help but get lost in them.
“mhmm” he’s moaning around your nipple, sucking harder, faster, not enough to hurt but enough to make you feel it. which you do, deep in your core.
pre leaks from his flushed tip, dripping down your knuckles as his hips buck up to meet your fist desperately. you can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips, “someone’s a little needy today, huh? such a greedy little baby, bet you’re just dying to cum aren’t you? that what you want? want mommy to make you cum in her hand?”
robby releases your breast from his mouth and surges up to kiss you, it’s not forceful, just desperate. your free hand comes up to his shoulder, pushing him back down. “god, you are needy today.” you laugh, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips.
“s-sorry mommy” robby whimpers, his hooded eyes dropping to where your hand is wrapped around his throbbing cock, watching intently as you jerk him off. his hips writhe under your hand, you can tell he’s trying so hard not to thrust up, trying to be a good boy for you.
“s’okay baby, i know you can’t help it. just a greedy little thing aren’t you?” you reach over to kiss his cheek, your hand caressing the side of his face again and he leans into it, nuzzling your palm.
“ye-fuck—yeah, just need you so bad, mommy. want to be inside of you” he whines, his eyes rolling back as he nears closer to his orgasm. his hands fly up to grip your waist, needing to hold onto something, anything to keep him still.
“i know, baby. i know. but the doctor hasn’t cleared me yet, don’t want to hurt mommy do you?” you coo, throwing out your bottom lip. your recovery had been taking a little longer than expected, much to both of yours dismay.
robby shakes his head feverishly, his bottom lip thrown out just like yours. he’s panting now between small whimpers that 6 months ago he would’ve been embarrassed about, but not now. how could he be embarrassed to show the woman who gave him everything how good she makes him feel, how much he loves her?
his veins pulse under your hand, you can tell he’s about to cum and so you get onto your knees and bend down to press a wet kiss to his leaking tip. robby groans then, a guttural groan ripped straight from his chest, groans that don’t stop coming as you wrap your lips around him and start sucking, hollowing out your cheeks while you bob your head in tandem with your hand.
“fuck–mommy, oh fuck. shit–i’m gonna, oh god—” robby groans wildly now, not bothering to stop his hips from thrusting up into your face as his body shakes. his hand flying up to grab a fistful of your hair as he spills into your hot mouth, filling up your cheeks with his thick release.
you swallow around him, making sure not to waste a single drop, just like he had done with you. after a few more sloppy thrusts into your mouth he stills, collapsing backwards onto the couch, his tummy heaving as he tries to catch his breath. you pull off then and crawl over him, lowering yourself onto his chest as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight to him.
“th-fuck–thank you, mommy” he huffs out breathlessly, his hand coming up to stroke the back of your head, patting your head a few times before he lazily presses a kiss to your forehead.
“s’okay baby, i trust you’ll pay me back for all of this when i’m cleared…” you giggle and robby returns the laugh, though it’s half-hearted through his exhaustion.
“oh yeah…and then some”
a robby mommy kink fic has been a long time coming. god, idk where this came from, blacked out and there it was oopsie. hope you enjoyed <3333
want to be added to my robby taglist .ᐣ reply to this post ᝰ.ᐟ (taglist is tagged from another acc)
why would 8 be brought up if it’s EVEN in a post about ODDS??????? the post said “every single ODD number has an ‘e’ in it” not “every single number with an ‘e’ is odd” what the fuck
Brendon Park x wife! reader. 18+ | MDNI | wc : 2.5K
The tupperware is warm in your hands. Brendon mentioned he had to come down to the ER for a consult around noon and your brain went oh perfect I'll bring him food. Like you're some housewife and he’s some guy who can’t feed himself.
But he does forget to eat. You've seen him come home at 8 PM having survived on black coffee, so maybe this isn't completely stupid.
The ER is chaos. It always is but you forgot how much chaos because you haven't been here since before— well. Before your body decided to become a dairy factory. There's someone screaming about their foot, a kid crying, and the white lights are giving you a headache already.
You're about to ask someone where orthopedics might be hanging around when you hear his voice.
"— completely unacceptable. I need those scans now, I have —"
That's your husband. Sharp, cold, probably making some poor resident want to quit medicine entirely. You'd recognize that tone anywhere, the one that means Brendon is two seconds from snapping someone's head off.
He's standing near the nurses station, all six feet of beautiful irritation in his white coat — you didn’t even know he owned one of those, what with always coming home in his scrubs —, dark hair falling across his forehead, he keeps running his hands through it when he's pissed. Which is always.
You walk over before you can think better of it. "Brendon."
As soon as your voice reaches him, his face changes. A complete shift from shark to softness, something that makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with how fucking full your breasts are right now. "Hey." His voice is different too. Quieter. "What are you doing here?"
"Brought you lunch." You hold up the tupperware like an offering. Brendon stares at it, then at you. There's this moment where you're suddenly very aware of how you look. Milk-stained shirt hidden under a cardigan, hair in a messy bun that's more mess than bun, the exhaustion that comes from a six-month-old who thinks sleep is optional.
You hear a crash, when you glance over there's a nurse staring at you. Then another one. A resident you don't recognize has stopped mid-step.
They're all staring.
"Uh."
Brendon's jaw tightens. He's noticed them staring too and he looks about ready to start firing people.
"Come on." His hand finds the small of your back and guides you away from the audience. You catch whispers as you walk past —did Park just —who is that—he has a wife?
Oh. Right. Brendon doesn't exactly share details about his personal life. You knew that, obviously you knew that, but somehow it didn't register that these people have probably never seen any evidence that he has a life outside of yelling at them about bone fractures.
There's a supply closet. Brendon pulls you inside and closes the door, which seems dramatic until you remember your husband thrives on drama as long as he's the one creating it. "You didn't tell me you were coming."
"It was spontaneous."
"Spontaneous." He repeats it like you’re dumb for even saying it. Then he takes the tupperware from your hands and sets it on a shelf next to boxes of gauze. "How's she doing?"
"Asleep when I left. Your sister's watching her."
Brendon nods, hands on your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles through your cardigan. It's such a casual thing, something he does without thinking, but it makes your whole body relax anyway.
A hiss leaves your moth as your breast twinges. It's been doing that for the past hour. Little reminders that you're about twenty minutes past when you should have pumped. The baby's been sleeping longer stretches which is amazing for sleep, terrible for your milk supply regulation. Your body keeps producing like she's still feeding every two hours and now you're engorged and starting to leak, standing in a supply closet with your husband who definitely doesn't need to know about this.
"You okay?" Brendon asks. The man notices everything, it's infuriating.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You made that face."
"What face?"
"The face you make when something hurts but you're pretending it doesn't."
Damn him. Damn his stupid observant doctor brain.
"It's nothing. I just need to —" You stop because how do you finish that sentence? I need to go home and hook myself up to a breast pump like a cow? "I'm fine."
Brendon's eyes drop. Zero subtlety, just straight down to your chest where your breasts are probably visibly larger than they were this morning. The nursing pads you shoved in your bra are doing their best but there's only so much they can absorb. "You need to pump."
You feel your face heat up. This is mortifying. Bad enough that your body has become a milk machine, worse that your husband who spends his days putting people back together has to witness it. "I'll do it when I get home."
"That's an hour drive."
"I'll survive."
"You're in pain."
"Brendon—"
He cuts you off with a kiss. It's brief, barely a press of lips, but it shuts your brain up for a second. When he pulls back his expression is set, he's made a decision and you arguing is irrelevant. "There's a room. On-call room, it has a door that locks."
Your brain is trying to catch up. "I don't have my pump."
"So hand express."
"Into what, my hands? The sink?" The image is horrifying. You're already leaking through your bra, the idea of standing in a hospital bathroom squeezing milk into a drain seems like rock bottom.
Brendon's quiet, looking at you with an expression you can't quite read, dark and focused.
"What?"
"I could help."
The words hang there. You're pretty sure you misheard because there's no way your husband just suggested —
"Help how?"
Brendon's mouth twitches, almost a smile but meaner. "You know how."
Oh. Oh fuck.
Did he just? Did your doctor husband just suggest he put his mouth on your breast and drink from you like —
"We're in your hospital." You say like every other part of the sentence was completely normal.
"That’s fine —"
How is that fine? "Someone could —people will —" You can't finish sentences apparently. Your chest is aching, your pussy suddenly very interested in this conversation. Brendon looking at you like he wants to devour you doesn’t help your cause.
"The room locks," he says again, his voice making your thighs clench. "And I told you, I can help."
This is a bad idea. Terrible idea. The worst idea either of you have ever had and that's including the time Brendon thought he could fix the garbage disposal himself. But your breasts hurt. And the thought of Brendan's mouth on you, his tongue, the heat and pressure and relief —
"Okay." You say it before you can take it back. Brendon's eyes flash, something predatory and hungry. Without missing a beat, his hand goes to your lower back guiding you out of the supply closet.
It’s completely normal for a doctor to take his spouse to an on-call room. They might have to talk, they could just eat. But your brain treats the walk like a death march, hyperaware of every person you pass, convinced they all somehow know what's about to happen. A nurse tracks you, looking above her reading glasses. But your husband doesn’t seem to care.
When he closes the door behind you and locks, he speaks, "sit."
There's a bed, a tiny desk, a chair that's seen better days. You take the bed, legs feeling shaky like they might give out any second.
Brendon moves in front of you, and starts unbuttoning his white coat.
"What are you doing?"
"It's in the way." When the coat comes off, you catch sight of the familiar scrubs. You hate how good he looks. How unfair it is that he can spend twelve hours putting bones back together and still look like that.
Your cardigan is next. Brendon's fingers are gentle when they push it off your shoulders, careful like you might break. The nursing tank underneath is stretched tight across your swollen breasts, wet spots clearly visible where you've been leaking.
"Fuck." Your husband rarely swears, mostly because he can get his point across without having to raise his voice. More so lately after your daughter was born, he’s been all soft words and small smiles. But now he swears. It’s quiet, almost to himself, hand coming up to cup your breast through the fabric and you gasp. The pressure feels good and painful at the same time, relief and torture. "Sensitive?"
"Mhmm."
Brendon's thumb brushes over your nipple and milk leaks out, soaking through the already damp fabric. You can see the wet spreading circle. Your cheeks burn hotter with each second, arousal gathering within you, making you want to hide and also spread your legs.
"I'm gonna —" You reach for the tank but Brendan stops you.
"Let me." He pulls the fabric down himself. Like they’ve been in confines all day, your breast spills out, heavy and swollen, nipple already beading with milk. The air feels cold against your overheated skin.
Brendon stares. You've been together for years, he's seen your breasts more times than you can count, but this feels different. More exposed. Your body is doing something it's supposed to do, natural and maternal, and he's looking at you like you're the hottest thing he's ever seen.
"Bren —"
His mouth closes around your nipple and your words fail. The first pull of suction is intense. Relief floods through you, almost immediately, overwhelming, better than any pump you've used. Milk flows freely and your husband swallows, tongue working against your sensitive flesh, and holy fuck this feels good.
This shouldn't feel good. It's functional, practical, your husband helping you with a medical issue. But you can’t think of practical when his fingers are indented in the flesh of your hips, hard enough to leave marks, mouth spilling groans he can’t quite control.
One of your hands find his hair. The soft dark strands slip through your fingers when you pull, maybe too hard, but Brendon just sucks harder in response. "Oh god—"
You can feel the pressure in your breast easing, a gradual relief, but it's being replaced by a different kind of pressure between your legs. You're wet. Soaking wet, probably leaving a mark on your underwear.
Brendon pulls off with a wet sound, lips shiny with milk, pupils blown wide, looking fucked up in the best way. "Other side."
He doesn't wait for you to respond, pulling the other side of your tank down and takes your breast into his mouth. The relief is immediate again, almost dizzying. Brendon drinks it down like he's been thinking about this for months, not wasting a single drop.
You've caught him staring sometimes when you're feeding the baby, look on his face that you couldn't quite identify. Hunger maybe. Want. You know, the want that makes people do stupid things like suggest sucking their wife's tits in an on-call room.
His free hand slides up your thigh, and under your skirt. In retrospect, you’re happy you chose the skirt instead of those overworn sweats, even though you weren't exactly planning for this. His fingers find the edge of your underwear. Your legs soread themselves immediately , on their own accord.
"You're turned on." Brendon says it against your breast, muffled and matter-of-fact. Like he's diagnosing a condition. As if his fingers aren’t currently making their way to your pussy.
"Shut up."
His fingers slip under the fabric and yeah, okay, there's no denying it. You're drenched, which kind of feels humiliating even though you’ve already known. His fingers slide through your folds easily, collecting wetness. You bite your lip to keep from moaning.
"This turning you on that much?" Brendon's voice is dark, teasing. "Me drinking from you?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" He bites down gently on your nipple and you gasp. "Liar."
Two fingers push inside you. You’re so wet there’s no resistance, and the stretch is perfect, an immediate fullness that makes your walls clench. Brendon's fingers curl, finding that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.
His mouth doesn’t part from your nipple, mil still flowing and coating his tongue, the dual sensation of it is too much, wet sounds filling the small room. "Brendon —"
He doesn’t look up to speak, not willing to part and lose the flow. "What?"
"I'm—fuck—I'm close."
He hums against your breast. The vibration shoots straight to your clit. His thumb finds the swollen bundle of nerves and circles it. "Come for me, honey." Your husband, who spends his days giving orders in operating rooms, is telling you to come and your body obeys.
Your pussy clenches around his fingers, walls fluttering. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. Brendon works you through it, fingers pumping steadily, mouth still on your breast like he can't get enough.
Even though you’re shaking, your chest finally feels lighter, the ache replaced by a pleasant soreness. Brendon's fingers slip out of you and you watch as he brings them to his mouth, licking them clean.
"That’s disgusting."
He doesn’t seem to mind it. You watch his tongue slide between his fingers, cleaning off your wetness, and your spent pussy gives a valiant twitch of interest.
Brendon fixes your tank top, gentle hands pulling the fabric back into place. Your breasts are still visible through the wet fabric but at least they're covered. The cardigan goes back on next. "Better?"
"Yeah." You are better. Lighter. Less like you're about to burst. Of course now you're sitting in an on-call room having just had an orgasm while your husband drank your breast milk, so better is relative.
"I have to get back." Brendon's putting his white coat back on, smoothing down the front. He looks completely composed. Meanwhile you probably look like you've been thoroughly fucked. "You good to drive?"
"I think so."
"Text me when you get home."
"Okay."
He kisses you before you leave. It's soft, careful, and you can taste yourself on his lips. Sweet and tangy, weird but intimate in a way that makes your chest tight. "Thanks for lunch."
"You didn't eat it yet."
"Yeah, just drank it." His hand squeezes your hip. "Tonight when I get home we're doing that again."
Your face burns at his words. "The lactation thing or the orgasm thing?"
"Both."
You leave first. Brendon waits a minute before following, some attempt at discretion that's probably pointless. When you walk past the nurses station every head turns. You can feel their eyes on you, questions forming, gossip already spreading.
Park the Shark has a wife. She's soft and tired and apparently visits him at work. She also looks thoroughly debauched but they probably don't know that part.
Probably.
Your phone buzzes before you even make it to your car.
Jack comes out of his garage gym after a harsh workout session and decides he's gonna reward himself by sneaking up behind you to finger your cunt. He grumbles when he stuffs his hand in your pajama shorts and finds your wearing panties.
His two thick fingers hook the fabric (you bought with his money) aside and press straight into your cunt. He spreads your folds with zero hesitation.
"Fucking...you're at home. What you got panties on for?"
The sudden invasion makes you whine about the sweat soaking into your clothes from his post-workout body, but he just pinches your clit hard between his thumb and finger as a reply to that.
"You love it."
Yes. Yes, you do. You love the smell of Jack when he's exerted himself into a mess of dominance. So, you just fold into him, his other arm snaking around your waist to squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
His exertion hits you full force, musky and gruffly needy, and it only makes your cunt clench tighter around his fingers.
"...Have you been using my dumbbells?"
Jack's question is smothered under the slow, deliberate pumping of your cunt...and your moans that sound out at the way his fingers curl deeper each time.
His mouth finds your neck, tongue dragging hot and wet over your skin, like you're the one sweating droplets. Maybe you are.
"Ask next time...don't want you hurting yourself."
His breath's ragged against you ear as he works you open. His grip on your waist stays firm as his fingers pick up filthy speed, fucking into your cunt with the same force he'd just used with his weights.
You rock your hips back to meet his hands. Your own workout.
Synopsis: Wade Kinsella doesn’t usually have many female friends. Mostly all of them, he’d already slept with. Growing up, he’d had only one. Stuck with him through most of his early childhood, mostly seen for her tomboy-like qualities. Before moving to Los Angeles to be a reporter, she’d developed a crush on her childhood best-friend. Unfortunately for Baby, it never reciprocated. She’d return to Bluebell during the summer, homesick from life events, to hope for someone like Wade to change his perspective. (14k words)
Mature Content 18+
Mentions: Pining, Unrequited love, Friends to lovers, Trust issues, Loser Ex-boyfriends, Cussing, Brief mentions to Mommy Issues, Porn no plot.
(Baby = reader insert)
A/N: Watched Hart of Dixie, immediately felt inspired. This might just be a one shot, unless y'all want more! Enjoy!
“Flight to Alabama, boarding in ten minutes!”
Baby nearly checked her book bags and suitcases for the millionth time, wondering if she had forgotten anything. She knew she didn’t, some part of her felt so nervous to finally be back to her small town in Alabama. Bluebell hasn’t seen her face in nearly six years, it hadn’t even felt that long.
Part of it brought incredible memories. Painting her fingernails with muddened dirt, along with her graphic tees. Playing sports, loving nature, nearly befriending a gator. Would always play pranks, only to those who’d tease her about her tiny glasses. Worse she’d done was plant earth worms in one of her classmates sandwiches, she’d screamed all the way to the principals office.
She’d never been caught, since she’d always have an alibi.
Wade Kinsella, her childhood best friend. Ride or die, so they called it.
They’d call them a dynamic duo, always running into trouble. They were usually the ones causing the trouble, but that never gets brought up as much due to their assumed mastery of never getting caught.
While they took turns, trying to get back at the prestigious football quarterback, Jimmy Praboo.
Usually, it turned out to not work in their favor. Since it would only made Jimmy’s advances that much harsher, mostly to Wade Kinsella and George Tucker. Baby would have her own struggles, which was enough for her to back off with her initial childlike behaviors.
Part of the reason as to why she’d put off going to Alabama for all these years. Going to college late, starting a life in a big city. She never would’ve imagined her life to turn out the way it did, which is why she’d been so hung up with the fact that she’ll see the version of herself she’d held embarrassment towards.
Bringing up old feelings, the ones that brought the initial push to move across the country.
“Last call for Bluebell, Alabama! Last call, boarding will close within five minutes!”
Her daydream nearly distracted her from the flight, noticing that she’d been the only one in the passenger waiting area. Grabbing all her luggage, walking over to scan her boarding ticket.
Hand wrapped around her suitcase handle, head held high. Wearing similar small glasses, paired with a hoodie from a well known fashioned brand. Jeans that are big enough to drag under her sneakers. Bluebell had its ways of bringing out a side of her that she’d love to hide in, distracting herself from the aching heart ache of her six years of pursuing a career.
–
Walking into the bus station, familiarity in the scents in the air, she’d leaned against the window near the seat. An old woman sat beside her, looking over at her with a curious stare.
Feeling the weight of someone staring, Baby decided to look behind her. Flashing a knowing smile, dimples prominent.
The woman’s face lit up, gasping for air, “Oh my goodness. I knew I recognized ya’. Baby, it’s so nice to see your face.”
Giggling, she’d tucked a strand behind her ear, turning bashful, “Wow, can’t believe someone recognized me so soon.”
The older woman let out a puff of air, “Of course I’d recognized ya’ sweetheart. You're hard not to spot, with your boy clothes. You sold it with your dimples. Remember, your mama had the same smile. How is she anyway?”
Baby swallowed her spit, smile falling a bit, “Oh, she’s alright. I’m planning to visit her while I’m in town. Hoping the summer heat doesn’t melt me first.”
She had regretted wearing her sweater, noting the heat’s intensity in the air conditioned bus alone. Sweat glistening her forehead, face flushed.
The older woman, curls sticking to her forehead, letting out a nose of acknowledgement, “It will bring out the worst in everyone, that’s for sure.”
Baby knew what heat waves brought out in people in Bluebell, but since she’d been used to the desert heat of California, she didn’t worry too much. The only thing she hadn’t prepared for was the bugs, nearly hotglued to her hands and face with her sweat.
Definitely not the homecoming she’d been dreaming for, that’s for sure.
The bus came to a stop, turning to the older woman to wish her goodbyes. Sitting up in her seat, where she’d grabbed all of her luggage to make her way to hitch a ride with a truck driver. To no one’s surprise, the truck driver recognized her immediately as well. In a small town, it was easy to recognize faces. Even the ones that had been gone for six years.
Coming to a stop in the center quad of town, the truck driver halted to a stop.
“It’s nice to see you, Baby. Hope to see you around.”
Flashing a knowing smile, she’d thanked him.
Grabbing her luggage, she’d made her way to the Whippoorwill Blossom Bed and Breakfast. The only known place to stay for lodging in the town, which wasn’t exactly ideal. Considering once she made her way to the front desk, the whole town had already spread the word of her arrival. Once she made it to the receptionist desk, the lady’s face lit up like the old woman’s at the bus stop.
Baby definitely felt like a celebrity in that town, knowing that everyone missed her dearly. No one felt that much animosity towards her for leaving, almost entirely forgotten about it. Well, not her mother.
Collapsing on her hotel bed, finally letting out a sigh of relief. Turning to the window, watching couples walking with their dogs and kids children on their bicycles. Bluebell finally brought some comfort, after experiencing the hectic life of a busy city.
–
Changing into a loose band t-shirt, one she’d gotten at a concert at So-fi, she’d been dying to get a sweet tea from The Butter Stick. The heat wasn’t giving her much grace, considering the air conditioning was busted in the hotel room.
Afterwards, she’d been thinking of stopping by the Town Square to catch up with old faces, hopefully nothing too personal.
Until, she’d heard her phone ring.
Grabbing her phone from her pocket, reading the name on the tiny screen. A shiver went down her spine, clicking the answer button on the keypad.
“Hey mom.” She’d let out a shaky greeting.
Her mother, enraged on the other end, spoke with a mocking tone, “‘Hey, mom?’ That’s all I’m gonna’ get from my daughter that I haven’t spoken to for nearly seven years?”
Biting the side of her cheek, Baby let out a shaky breath, “I wanted to come visit. Maybe we can talk, I’d love to visit your new place.”
A pause hung on the other end. One that absolutely shattered Baby’s heart.
“No, I don’t think so, Baby. I think it’s best if you leave to Los Angeles as soon as you can. Once you're done pretending to be my daughter.” Venom etched in her words.
The phone line ended.
A broken sob shook the room. Granting Baby to hunch over, leaning against the ottoman on the end of the bed. Hand around her mouth, to silence her heart break.
Maybe, she’d hold off on her day trip for a sweet tea. Right now she’d been in desperate need for a drink, especially after a phone call like that. Wiping her tears, she’d grabbed her wallet, checking her appearance in the mirror.
Letting out a sigh of confidence, before making her way to the Rammer Jammer.
–
The place definitely hasn’t changed since the last time she’d visited. Since her twenty-first, she’d remembered getting nearly black out drunk on one of the bar stools. Made a fool out of herself, but had friends that covered her recklessness.
Wade sat by her bedside as she’d been puking in a bucket for the remainder of the morning after. Staying beside her throughout the best, worst night of her life.
Now, on her way to the bar, she’d called for the bartender’s attention.
Clearing her throat in dramatic fashion, placing her elbow on the counter while thumping her fingers on the bar.
“Oh, bartender? Hurry up, will you? Or do I have to wait another six years.”
Wade’s head perked up at the sound of her voice, scanning over face like it had been recorded in history. Eyes widened after a long pause of wondering ‘who the hell was talking to him that way’. It was then her face changed from boredom to a humorous grin, which he’d recognized the dimplage anywhere.
He let out a shudder, shocked half to death, “Well, look at that. Baby, is that you?”
She’d let out a giggle, teeth on full display.
Wade made his way around the bar, setting his towel on his shoulder. Almost running towards her, his arms opened for a warm embrace. Getting out of the bar stool, she’d hugged him back. The hug was warm, more than usual. Maybe from the heat wave, she thought.
Leaning back, creating social distance, Baby still held her smile.
She flicked his forehead, causing him to let out a small pained noise.
“I can’t believe you didn’t acknowledge my presence once I’d landed my private jet. Can’t believe you lied about your telekinesis all those years ago, Wade. I’m heart-broken.”
Immediately picking up on the inside joke, he’d played along, “Well it ain’t a lie, since I can sense the presence of a groupie from miles away.” He’d stared down to her shirt, recognizing the band on its graphic.
Her mouth opened in shock, “I’ll have you know, my taste in music had evolved. It just so happened to be during my time in the L.A.. Not the fact that the lead singer is a dreamboat or anything.” Hints of sarcasm laced her tone.
Wade, smiling, pinched her cheek, stating, “Okay, Dirty Diana, it’s good to have you back. I was wondering when the famous reporter would come back to showcase her mansions in the town square.”
Humor slowly dying, remembering the phone call with her mother, she’d ushered towards the bar.
“Not yet, I can only afford a small condo at the moment. Getting somewhere, though.”
Sitting back in the bar stool, Wade made his way behind the bar to stand in front of her. Grabbing a glass from under him, placing it down on the counter. Reaching for a whiskey bottle, once that brought a smile to Baby’s face.
Wade poured the contents into the glass, ushering it over to her.
Sadness gleamed in his eyes, lowering them a bit, “As much as it’s a blessin’ to see your face again. I’m still a bit mad at ya’ for leavin’ all those years ago.”
The lack of a farewell in the town of Bluebell wasn’t exactly what Baby had in mind during her journey to California, but she thought it would be best. Bluebell was comforting, knowing her, she’d probably never leave considering it had been the only home she’d known her entire life.
So that meant she left her best friend, never even left a note. She’d written one for him, but never had the chance to actually give it to him. Well, a better interpretation would be that she was too scared to give it to him.
Taking a swig of the glass, she answered hesitantly, “Look, Wade, I’m so sorry about not sayin’ goodbye all those years ago. I just thought it would put more burden on Bluebell if I did. It was selfish, but I knew everyone here would convince me to stay. I would've never been happy if I didn't take that step.”
Wade swallowed his own spit, nodding, “Yeah, I hear ya’. I don’t blame you. I just missed my best pal’. Hurt to see you go without a goodbye.”
Tapping his hand with comfort, smiling at him, she’d tried to lighten the mood.
“Well, I’m here now! Since it’s been so long, I’d love to stop by your house to catch up. How’s the old pops’ doing?”
Wade sent a knowing smile, backing up to focus on other drinks, “You know, Crazy Earl. Always givin’ me a scare whenever the tides calm. Surprised it hasn’t happened yet considering the heat wave.”
Baby knocked on the bar wood, hoping to break his word so it wouldn’t come back to haunt him.
“Don’t jinx it now. I’d love to see em’ if you're comfortable.”
Kinsella held a hesitant glance, looking over at the opposite end of the bar. Looking over to see his glance, she’d met with the eyes of another woman. Brunette, petite, and absolutely stunning. Her under eyeliner complimenting her eyes, along with her unique fashion sense. The woman stood out like a sore thumb in a town like Bluebell, something Baby knew all too well.
Baby turned back to Kinsella, then back to the woman. They shared a known stare, like they’d exchanged a conversation with their eyes. One that indicated they've known each other for some time, which knotted her stomach.
Deciding it was best to push it down, like she’d always done. Cutting the tension and deciding to be casual about the obvious hesitancy in his answer.
Smiling, masking her secret jealousy, she’d teased Kinsella, “It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable, Wade. At least introduce me to your new girlfriend.”
This caused his head to jump up, absolutely horrified with her bold statement.
“She is- Dr. Hart is not my girlfriend.”
So she was the new doctor, she thought.
Getting up from her bar stool, mocking his statement.
“Well, since I haven’t been here in some time, I’ll introduce myself anyway. Besides, she’s the only face I haven’t recognized for the six hours of being back here. I’ll just ask her myself.”
Reaching out on the other end, he’d tried to stop her, “Baby, no-”
Already at the opposite end of the bar, she’d called the attention of Dr. Hart sitting with her wine glass in front of her. She’d looked up with settled annoyance, wondering who was standing beside her.
Sending her a welcoming smile, she’d introduced herself, “You’re probably wondering who Kinsella called ‘Baby’ just now. Happens’ more than ya’ think. My name is Baby, it’s nice to meet you.”
The woman raised her brow, unamused, "Your name is Baby?”
Not exactly showing surprise, hating the name as much as she did. She decided to make a joke out of it to cut the obvious tension arising.
“B-A-B-Y. That’s my name. My parents didn’t care too much about picking one, so they decided to state the first thing they saw when my mama pushed me out and just stuck with it.”
A slight pause settled, then sudden laughter. The doctor had laughed at her joke while reaching out her hand, introducing herself as well.
“Dr. Zoe Hart, I’m new here. Sorry for earlier. Just thought I would have to deal with another one of Wade’s crazy ex-girlfriends. Glad to see I was wrong…I hope.”
A bit of insecurity reached her stomach, knowing it would've never been like her to be associated with Wade as more than a best friend. She boiled it down, giving Dr. Hart a smile of reassurance.
Waving her hands in front of her, dismissing the label, “No no, Wade and I are nothing like that. We grew up together, we’d been friends for some time. I haven’t been back to Bluebell in about six years, so I thought of visiting. Got homesick.”
Motioning her to sit, Dr. Hart gave her a knowing smile, “Wanna talk about it?”
Baby gave her a warm smile in response, sitting comfortably in the bar stool next to her.
–
Walking home from the Rammer Jammer to the lodging was a struggle, hoping she didn’t twist her ankle with the amount of times she’d taken a shot that afternoon. Still a light weight at heart, which was ironic considering she’d been on par with the doctor.
Dr. Zoe Hart was an incredible woman to say the least. Wanting to be a cardio-thoracic surgeon, moving to Bluebell to take after her previously unknown father’s legacy. Dr. Ethan Hart was the doctor who helped deliver Baby, which definitely made her feel sentimental to know he’d had a daughter of his own.
Zoe grew up in New York City, which had been why she’d felt so out of place in the town. Everyone seemingly stuck to the same agendas, which was a culture shock to see Dr. Hart’s impression on the town’s new found openness to change.
Envious, Baby decided to keep the feeling so low it wouldn’t show once on her face. It was hard for her to acknowledge the fact that it was no one else’s fault but her own that she didn’t have the courage to break the norm. So she ran, like she always did.
Stumbling to find her footing, hoping she didn’t faceplant in the middle of town square. She hardly noticed the car that pulled beside her, recognizing its red exterior.
“Baby, get in the car. I’ll take you to your room.” Wade rolled the window on the passenger side door.
Eyes barely open, she’d looked to her side, giving her friend a toothy grin, “Hey, Wade. Thought you’d be home by now.”
Wade, having no humor in his tone, gets out of the car to make his way towards Baby.
“Youre still used to city life to understand that it’s dangerous this late. A gator could've eaten ya’ for all we know.” He’d made his way to her side, holding his hand on her lower back to usher her inside of his car.
She blew a raspberry, shuffling a bit, “A gator? Nah, hopefully a bear.”
Body flushed against Wade, hearing the sound of his breathing. Snapping out of her drunken daze, now well aware of her surroundings.
Suddenly flustered, she shooed his hand away, “I know how to walk, Kinsella. I’ve been able to do it for twenty-seven years.”
He laughed at her, ushering her into the car anyway, “Well by the looks of it you might need to take lessons from your mama again. You're stumbling like a newborn fawn.”
Rolling her eyes while sitting in the car, she’d snipped back, “Fuck you, Wade.”
He giggles, closing the door while saying, “That’s my girl.”
–
On the drive to the lodging, it had been a relatively silent car ride. Whether it had been the exhaustion of the jet lag, or her inability to spark a conversation with the one man that made her weak in the knees.
Wade Kinsella, a man who’d never known about his best friend’s unrequited fantasy.
She’d been pining for him for nearly thirteen years of her life, but never succeeded. Always met with the comfortability of the friend-zone, which she’d been fine with in order to still talk to her best friend. Seeing him go through girlfriends obviously made her hold back from confessing her love to the man, knowing it wouldn’t have been received the way she wanted.
By the looks of it, it seemed like he hadn’t changed a bit.
The letter from the night she’d left Bluebell, still crumpled from age, had been sitting in her suitcase for some time. It confessed everything she couldn’t say with words, hoping it covered all of it with every pen stroke.
Her vulnerabilities, something that she had the hardest time expressing.
Especially when she’d feared the perception of the town, judging her little girl fantasy with the town’s womanizer. It had been some time since the day she moved from Bluebell, but she hasn’t forgotten her love for the man sitting beside her.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to break out of her crush. Dating in Los Angeles had its perks, gaining experience while also getting over someone that she hadn’t even kissed. It might’ve been seen as pathetic, but she never shamed herself for it.
Well, until Roberts came along.
“I told Tucker to back off the woman. Always leading her on, but he’d been planning to marry Lemon by the end of the year.” Wade had been going on a tangent about current events during the whole drive. Which internally she’d been grateful for, but she’d been focused on other things in the moment.
“Mhmm, sounds like a nasty situation indeed.” She’d been facing the window, still calming down from the dizziness of her head.
Wade noticed her sudden lack of amusement, smiling to himself, “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you? Has the city life reduced your attention span to mush already?”
Gasping, turning to him with an appalled expression, she responded, “Excuse me? Don’t blame my dull city life with your boring stories of a couple from high school, Wade.”
His eyes still on the road, he reached over to shove his finger to the side of her forehead. Causing her to let out a frustrated noise, which made him laugh.
“It’s not about old high school drama, Ms. B. It’s about my life, which you’d clearly have shown mighty investment in. Thought it would be appropriate to keep you well informed of what’s happening in it, that's all.”
Noticing the passive undertones of his comment, jabbing back, “Well, I’m sure the investment is mutual since you haven’t once asked about me during this whole car ride.”
He’d nearly stopped the car, but he let out a scoff to suffice.
“Excuse me, woman? I don’t know if your brain is all scrambled, due to the fact that you're a raging light weight, but you paraded your whole life in front of Dr. Hart back there. Enough for the whole bar to hear you. So, I don’t exactly have to ask.”
She’d held a confused look, embarrassed suddenly, “Everything? I said everything?”
He blew a raspberry, shaking his head, “Your relationship with your mama, your aspirations as a reporter, getting laid off about a week ago, and how you want to make things right with Bluebell before you’d take off again.”
Ignoring his previous statement, her anxiety bubbling in her chest, she’d questioned, “What about Roberts? Did I mention him?”
Shock in his face, he turned to her side, “I’m sorry, who?”
A ring from her pocket caused her to jump in her seat, quickly pulling it out of her jeans. Speaking of the devil, she thought to herself. Answering the phone with an annoyed sigh, greeting the man on the other end with an unamused welcome.
“What the hell do you want?”
The greeting caused Kinsella to hold a grimace, not wanting to get involved. He couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, since she’d been having it in his car. He’d only assumed the person on the other end was her mother, knowing they ended on bad terms.
Baby, how’s it going? The other end asked her.
“How’s it going? That’s all you got for me, Roberts?”
Wade looked towards his side, suddenly curious of the mysterious man that she’d referred to as ‘Roberts’ while holding this murderous look on her face. He’d only seen her like this occasionally, usually when she’d been teased in primary school.
It was different this time. Baby looked heart broken, lower lip quivering a bit when she spoke.
I know you're upset, Baby. Please, can we talk in person? The other man comforted.
Letting out a sigh, Baby thought about it for a moment. Realizing that she’d spent this whole time running from her issues, even if one of the biggest ones was sitting right next to her. She wasn’t going to succumb to poor coping mechanisms, not anymore.
“Fine, meet me here. At Bluebell.” Eyes rolling in annoyance.
I’ll be there in a day. Take care, Baby. The line ended at that moment.
Wade held a consoling look on his face, truly unsure whether or not he should get involved with his friend’s secret affairs. He’d never seen her so emotionally invested. Not in anyone, which irked him. He was convinced she’d truly cared for this person, which made an unknown feeling settle in his stomach.
“Is- uh- Is everything alright, Baby?”
Wiping a tear that threatened to escape, ridding the evidence, she answered, “I’m fine, Wade. Just the heat gettin’ to me, that's all. You were tellin’ me about Lemon and George, they gettin’ engaged?”
Her swift change in subject unsettled something in Wade’s mind. Not wanting to cross the boundaries she’d clearly set, he’d thought to just keep driving. Talking about the engagement, while his fist balled on the steering wheel a bit too tight.
–
Waking up after a night full of the unknown, well temporary unknown, Baby woke up with a slight headache. Heat caking her sweat, making it stick to her hair to her forehead, wishing for some relief when she’d made her way to the bathroom. She’d gulped down some water from the faucet.
Pouring some of it in her hands, wiping her face with the cold liquid. Sighing in relief, hoping the pounding of her head would ease. She’d jumped from her spot in front of the sink, hearing the ringtone of her cellphone increase the pains of her hangover.
Walking to the nightstand, while grabbing the phone, her eyes widened with shock.
Her ex-boyfriend was calling her. On her damn cellphone?
Panicked, she answered it. Concerned she might've done something she’d regretted the night prior when she’d gotten too carried away.
Hey Baby, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Bluebell in the evening. Finding a flight was quite difficult. You already know what the schedule is, but anything for you darling. See you soon.
“But-” The line ended without a word escaping her lips.
Shaking her arms, stomping like a child, she’d let out an aggravated groan. She didn’t want to see her shitty ex-boyfriend. It was the whole reason she wanted to have this getaway, to forget her responsibilities back at home.
It was too late to cancel, since he’d already been on the way here. It was almost noon, she’d already slept in way too late. She had no idea what to do, since her mind hadn’t settled from the last time she’d seen the man.
“God dammit!” She rushed to get ready. Putting on sweats with a loose white t-shirt, stumbling to put on her sneakers.
Leaving her lodging in a flash, rushing over to the Rammer Jammer.
–
Wade had been cleaning the bar countertop, swooning over the brunette that sat on the opposite end of the tables. Wine glass in hand, talking with Levon Hayes, the town mayor who she'd been friends with.
As he’d scanned to see who’d arrived at the door, he’d held a staple smirk in her direction.
“You feelin’ alright, Baby? Need me to help ya’ to your seat?”
Baby ignored the man talking, rushing to Dr. Hart with assumed confidence in her step. It was truly unmistakable fear, her face painted with immense dread. Baby made her way to where Levon and her sat, immediately out of breath.
“Dr. Hart, I need your help with something.”
Levon turned around, a smile spreading across his face, “Oh, hey Baby! I heard you were back in town. It’s nice to see you.”
His clear lack of reading the room made it a bit awkward.
Baby gave him a smile, trying to settle her panic, “Hey, Levon, how's it going?”
Just as he’d opened his mouth to answer, it was cut short. Noticing the woman in front of him looked as though she’d run a mile to get there.
Dr. Hart sprung out of her seat, ushering over to her new patient, “What’s wrong, Baby? Are you alright?”
Eyebrows contorting into the middle of her forehead, she’d let out a whine when saying, “It’s so much worse than you think, doc.”
Zoe, like it had been an unspoken rule, she’d immediately understood Baby’s panic. It had been about a boy, one she didn’t want to be caught alive with.
“Oh, boy.” Zoe ushered her to an open table. Sitting beside her as they motioned to sit.
Leaning forward, not wanting to speak above a whisper, she’d asked, “So, is this about a man?”
Baby nodded, gulping on nothing. Pushing her glasses up, sweat accumulating on her forehead from the heat.
“My ex-boyfriend, he’s on his way here. To Bluebell.”
Dr. Hart, shocked to hear the news, wanted to clarify, “Is he flying from L.A. to fix a mistake he’d made? How romantic. Why is this a bad thing?”
Hesitating, looking over at the two men looking over from the bar. Like they’d tried to attain the skill of mouth-reading at that moment.
“What do you think those ladies are talkin’ about?” Wade asked the man in front of him.
Levon cleared his throat, looking back at the bar away from the girls, “If I had to guess, Baby is havin’ some trouble with a guy.”
Wade, eyes popping out of his skull, denied the statement, “Baby? Havin’ boy trouble? Like she’d ever.”
Whether it was an insult or a word of sentiment, they both shot their heads back at the ladies’ table once Zoe stood up in her seat in dramatic fashion.
“He what!?” She’d shouted so loud for the whole bar to hear.
Their gazes shifted to the woman now holding her head down on the table, embarrassed. Zoe, enraged from the statement her new friend uttered in her ear moments prior.
Levon smiled, turning his way back to the bar while clarifying his previous assumption, “Yup, she’s having boy trouble.”
Baby’s head perked up from where she’d just had her head down, tears brimming her eyes. Zoe, embarrassed of her outburst, placed her hand on Baby’s. Determination written on her face, assurance with her tone.
“He will regret ever letting go of such a wonderful woman once he sees you tonight.”
Baby’s shock was apparent, it was like she’d heard a different dialect come out of Zoe’s mouth.
“What are you talkin’ about?” Turning her head to the side.
Zoe grabbed Baby’s arm, ushering her to get up. Telling her to wait by the entrance as she rushed to make a call, one calling her office to let them know she’d be showing up a bit late after her lunch. Chugging down her wine, immediately regretting it with a hackle.
Wade, giggling at the act, teased her, “Woah, what’s the rush, doc? Is Baby havin’ a heart failure she has to seek immediate medical attention for?”
Zoe, determined in her glare, indicated no sense of humor when saying, “You could say that.”
They rushed out of the Rammer Jammer, hoping to make it to the nearest shopping square with immediate attention.
Levon watched as they left, elongating his verbiage once he said, “Boyyyy troubleeee.”
Wade smacked Levon’s arm with humorous annoyance, causing the man to let out a slight chuckle at his correct assumption. While Wade turned to the bar, he couldn’t erase the picture of Baby’s face in his mind. Seeing her so heart broken, always at the cusp of crying. He’d felt a twinge in his heart, not wanting to know the answer to the bodily reaction.
–
“Dr. Hart, I don’t think this is the look I’m goin’ for.”
Tits out on display, nearly an entire open back. It was like she’d been a different woman, granted her modesty had been a very well known attribute of hers. There had been times during her journey as a reporter where she had to step out of her comfort zone, like it had been a uniform for work.
It was never out of her own comfort, which had been an entirely new playing field for her.
“Come on, Baby. You look amazing! How else is anyone going to see that gorgeous back tattoo if you don’t flaunt it?”
Baby did have a back tattoo. Not exactly seeing a reason for getting it; she thought it would be a good way to express her own independence at the moment. Roberts definitely liked looking at it, which made her stomach tie up in knots.
“It’s not doing too much? What if it’s too slutty?” Noticing the curvature of her waist, extenuating her hips beautifully.
Laughing, Zoe assured, “Oh trust me. City guys dive deep into slutty. He’d be an idiot to call you anything but a catch tonight.”
Smiling, feeling a sudden burst of confidence, she turned to the fitting room to change back into her regular clothes. Walking out with the dress in her hands, grabbing the pair of shoes to go with it, she’d paused at the lingerie section.
Heat rising in her flesh, she’d scanned over the variety of different laced panties. Not wanting to get too carried away, noting that this whole dinner was to get back at her ex-boyfriend for his shitty actions. Make him regret it all, while ultimately leaving him in the dark.
“I would go with those. Maybe you’d bring home another guy on the way to your room? Make sure to rub it in his face.” Zoe grabbed a white bralette to pair with the laced undies that complimented the dress she’d worn. Definitely something Baby wasn’t usually caught wearing, other than the comfort of her own home.
Well, Roberts had seen way more than a pair of lingerie, which still rose a familiar heat in her face. Not wanting to remember the effect he had on her within all their intimate moments.
While they ushered to pay, the woman behind the counter looked at Dr. Hart.
“All these for the night out, Dr Hart? Make sure you're not making a mistake you're gonna regret when this heat wave breaks.”
Zoe ushered her hands out, denying the implications, “No these aren’t for me. It’s Baby’s special night tonight.”
The cashier’s eyes popped out of her skull, looking over at the woman beside her. With her tiny glasses, tomboy-ish clothes, and worn out sneakers. The cashier wanted to see if there'd been another woman behind her, but to no avail it was true. It was all, Baby.
With her mouth hung open, she placed the clothing in a bag. Giving it to Baby, not saying a word as they both ushered out of the store.
As they made their way to the entrance, Zoe made a comment, “It looks like she’s not the only one to be stoked for the new look.”
They both giggled, making their way back towards the mayor's plantation, where Dr. Hart’s carriage house resided.
–
Looking in the mirror, she couldn't believe who she'd even seen on the other end. Doing her make-up, Zoe had assisted with the basics. Granted, all the skill came from Baby herself, which ultimately surprised her. She’d acquired monthly contacts, which she’d only used on rare occasions. She’d been grateful to pack them, since the tiny glasses weren’t the exact chic look she’d been trying to achieve.
“Holy moly. Girl you look so good, I’d even kiss you. Is that weird?”
Laughing, she’d turned to face Zoe, giving her a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, but I’m weirder.”
They both laughed, settling once they heard the front door open.
Kinsella, motioning over to the main room where they both stood. Looking over at Zoe first, hoping she’d solve the current bleed on his stomach that oozed into his shirt.
“Yo, doc. I nicked myself trying to fix my car, hoping for your magic touch.” He’d smiled flirtatiously at her.
Noticing she hadn’t been alone, he gazed over to a seemingly unknown person beside her.
“Oh, my bad. Didn’t know you had company. I’ll meet you back at the office.”
His flirtatious gleam stopped a moment, noticing a familiarity in the woman beside Dr. Hart. Nearly broke his jaw with the immediate identification he’d noticed once those familiar dimples were apparent.
“Well I should get goin’ anyway. He should be here within the next half hour. Feel better, Wade.”
Heels clinking every time she stepped, moving her way past the man with astute confidence. Hips swaying like an enchantress, like she’d been made to be a trap for any man or woman that looked her way. She’d outdone herself and she knew that. It only provided that much more confidence in her stride.
She’d touched his shoulder, granting him a comforting smile. It set off something so deep within him that immediately wanted to pull away from the woman in front of him.
She didn’t notice him tense, since she’d turned behind her to give Dr. Hart a wave, “Thanks for this, Dr. Hart. Bluebell would be lost without cha’.”
Zoe giggled, watching her friend walk out of the carriage house. Looking over at visually stunned Wade, noticing the cut across his stomach. He’d still hadn’t said anything, not even when Zoe ushered him outside of the carriage house.
–
“What do you mean the reservation is canceled?!” Baby yelled at her telephone in frustration.
The reservations for Francies’, a well known place for dates in the city. It had been the only place in Bluebell that had catering, which she’d known that her bougie ex-boyfriend would've had a preference for. Mobile haven been a couple hours away, she knew Francie’s was the only place to have the conversation.
The only other place was the Rammer Jammer, which definitely wasn’t accustomed to the attire she wore.
Hanging up the phone, leaving the hostess on the other end from speaking their formalities, she’d wanted to rush to her room to change. She knew this idea was a poor judgement on her part, wanting to seek comfort with what she’d known best.
That was until a fancied vehicle pulled up, parking nearby. A gentleman got out of the car, one that screamed entitled. He had a slick back, loose hairs complimenting his chiseled jawline. He’d been tall, posture straight. Everything on him was clean, from his nice dress shirt, tanned slacks to his shiny loafers. Roberts was a well known reporter in Los Angeles, one prestigious in class and title.
He’d not only been her ex-boyfriend, but he was also her old boss. He’d been the same man to lay her off a week prior.
Even with that being said, that’s not even the worst part about the man.
Him holding a panty dropping smile, he’d made his way to her direction, “Baby, it’s so nice to see you.”
Trying not to throw up in her mouth, she’d sighed, “Hi, Roberts.”
Holding her chin up, causing her to swat it away, he’d smiled at her defiance, “Don’t be like that, honey. I know you're still mad at me, but you don't want to go into dramatics.”
Almost gritting her teeth, she’d replied with frustration, “Mad doesn’t even scratch the surface, honey.” Venom etched into the last word as she spoke.
Laughing at her ferocity, he’d let out a click of his tongue, “Still as spicy as ever. Perfect foreplay.”
Letting out a breath of obvious disgust, she replied, "You're disgusting.”
Looking at his watch, he’d ignored her comment, asking, “So where are we taking this sexual tension for tonight? A restaurant, or are we skipping straight to the bedroom? Hopefully not one with a gator.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, knowing the man had only one intention of making it up to the woman in front of him. Fucking the resentment out of her was something that her ex-boyfriend did quite frequently, which never truly gotten rid of it. No matter how many times he’d push to outdo her expectations, nothing ever stuck.
“Reseverations cancelled when you got here. So, we will have to make due with the only place that serves enough booze to refrain me from ripping your throat out with my teeth.” She hadn’t been joking.
Smiling at her statement,taking what she said as flirting, he’d given her a once over, “Well, lets get going. I don’t know how much longer I can go on without wanting to rip something of my own with my teeth.”
Anger bubbling in her skull, she’d walked ahead of Roberts. Motioning him to follow.
She only had one place she’d known would crush his ego, which was the only place that she’d known to keep her mind off his clear flirtatious advances. One that she’d known was her childhood crush as the bartender.
–
Walking into the Rammer Jammer, it was nothing short of a surprise for the whole crowd that sat within to witness. Baby, the presumed tom-boy, had looked like she’d been pulled out of a fashioned magazine. While a fancied, handsome young man stood beside her, giving the establishment a disgusted once over.
“Are we staying here? If I’d known I would’ve brought a roll of wipes. Maybe even bleach. Nope, bleach isn’t strong enough.”
Pulling his arm, pushing him forward, she’d let out an annoyed grumble.
“Youre trying to make it up to me, remember? Sit your ass down.” She let out an annoyed grumble of curses to herself.
Sitting down, it felt as though the whole establishment had their eyes on her. Which suddenly made her feel insecure, arms crossing over her chest to hide within herself. She hurried herself into the chair, looking at the man’s disgust at the cutlery and tabletops.
He’d reached to get his phone out of his pocket, looking over at Baby, “This is ridiculous. I’ll just see if a place in Mobile has an open table for us. We can’t stay here-”
“Welcome, folks. I’m Wade, I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
Looking up at him, she’d seen his eyes shooting lasers at the man in front of her. Jaw clenched, veins popping out of his forehead. He hadn’t once looked over at the woman sitting so close to where he stood, he could practically feel the heat off of her.
Roberts, stopping his actions, looked up at Wade like he’d been a familiar face. Looking over at Baby with an expression that only was presumed ill-intent.
He’d reached his hand out, “So, you're the Wade that my Baby keeps talking about.”
She wanted to crawl into her own body and escape. Not wanting to be a part of whatever crazy conversation this was about to start.
Wade shook his hand, giving it a firm squeeze, maybe a bit too firm.
“Yeah, guess that would be me.” Wade still bore eyes with the man.
Roberts let out a taunting laugh, retreating his hand to rest it on the table in front of him, “Why so uptight, man? Is it the heat?”
Wade sends a laughter, lacking humor, in return. Stating, “You know those Alabama heat waves, man. Bring out the worst in folks’ around here.”
“Ah, I see. Won’t take it personally then. Since you clearly want my head gone with the way you're starin’ at me.” Roberts' jaw clenched with the last word he spoke.
Trying to ease the tension, she’d tried to gently divert the conversation, “How’s the cut, Wade? Did Dr. Hart patch you up already?”
Looking over at her for the first time since Zoe’s carriage house, he had anger glossed over his eyes. Trying to mask it with a flirtatious smile, shining his whites at Baby.
“Nothing you gotta worry about, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? She internally repeated to herself.
It caused Baby to internally jump in her seat, hearing him call her a name so endearing. It made her whole face flush, goosies travel up her skin.
Roberts’ blew a raspberry, expressing clear boredom, “Alright, are you guys secretly fuckin’ now or what? Did you move on that quick, Baby?”
The statement that was heard caused Baby to snap out of the trance she’d caught up in. Making the bile traveling up her throat so putrid.
“Thanks for your hospitality, Wade. I got it covered from here.” She managed to utter out.
Wade had looked over at her face, trying to contain the rage within him. It hadn’t been helpful since the man on the other end wouldn’t stop talking.
Roberts, egging Wade on, kept going with his taunts, “That’s right. Be a good boy and go catch some fish for us to eat. This menu itself is a health code violation."
Wade dropped his towel that rested on his shoulder, walking over to his side of the table, “Keep talkin’, Romeo.”
Roberts’ smirked, getting up in his seat now, “Romeo, huh? Only wish you’d been something of the sort yourself. Since I’d have your precious Juliet bent over for me and not you.”
“Keep runnin’ your mouth, asshole.” Wade grabbed the collar of Roberts’ dress shirt, clearly wanting to use his other hand to punch the lights out of him. A fight, Baby knew, Roberts’ would lose.
One thing about her ex-boyfriend was that he was all talk. Wade knew how to fight, he’d leave him in a state that even Dr. Hart wouldn’t be able to resuscitate him.
Standing up in her chair, tired of the conflict, shouting, “Children!”
Both of them stopped, looking over at her direction.
Holding clear exhaustion in her tone, motioning them both to stop with her hands, “Wade, get your hands off of him. Roberts’, within’ the kindness of my soul, shut your fuckin’ mouth.”
The boys let go, motioning themselves to provide distance. Wade gave him a death stare, moving to the end of the table where Baby stood.
Husky voice whispering in her ear, “I’ll have your whiskey in a moment, baby.”
Wade gave her a look, indicating he’d implied the name with a different meaning. She’d tried to ignore the heat that traveled up her neck, giving him an awkward lined smile. Nodding her head, as he’d motioned to the bar.
Roberts’, sighing in relief, fixed his collar, “Really, Baby? Him? I’d presumed maybe he’d be a lot less dirty lookin’, but he looks like he showers in grease.”
Looking at him now, biting the urge to scream, she spat out, “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Don’t tell me you're offended now. Look at this place, Baby. I understand why you wanted to leave so badly. You would've never made it far here.” Opening his arms to grant attention to the space around them.
Tears brimming her eyes, biting back at his insult to her home, “You have no right to be judging where the hell I’d started my life, comparing it to your privileges.”
“Like it matters anyway. You just want to go back to Los Angeles. I can see it in your face.”
She’d started shouting, not because she didn’t care, but she was tired of the world demeaning her life like it had been theirs to judge. Letting out a pained noise, tears now escaping as she spoke.
“How could you even say that? Knowing what the hell you’ve done to me? To us?”
The whole establishment turned to face them. Baby didn’t care, she kept going.
“How could I want to go to a place like that, knowing any semblance of anything reminds me of you? We built a home, but that wasn’t even enough for you.”
Roberts’ chuckled, not taking her words seriously, “Like it had been entirely my fault, Baby. You were gone. Like you’d disappeared no matter how many times I’d tried to bring you back. Your mind was somewhere else, or on someone else.”
Baby bit the side of her cheek, trying to bite back sobs, “You don’t get to do that.”
Roberts’, tilting his head to taunt her, “Oh, so I assume you haven’t told him yet.”
Slamming her fist on the table, causing everyone in the vicinity to jump.
“Did we forget why you even are here, Roberts’? Need I remind you, our relationship was gone as soon as you brought another woman into our bed. Our bed. That was before you laid me off of a job because I stopped having sex with you.”
Roberts’ charisma died, settling with a masked embarrassment. Swaying side to side, while side-eyeing the man behind the bar. Wade had held a shocked expression, one that expressed as much heartbreak as Baby had been pouring out. Same with everyone else in that room.
“Baby, I-”
She’d walked over to the bar, grabbing the drink that had been placed on the counter. Not even making eye contact with Kinsella. Now standing in front of Roberts’, pouring the contents of the glass on top of him. He didn’t even motion for her to stop, he’d just occasionally mess with his eyes due to the sting of the alcohol.
Placing the glass on the table, holding a tight expression of distaste, the last tear escaped her eye that ruined her pretty makeup.
“I know why you're here, Roberts’. You got a call earlier that a job opening from our competitors hired me to take their open position, so you wanted me back.”
Leaning towards him, now taunting him, “Now, I may not be all tits like that skank was, but I’m a goddamn good reporter. You know as well as anyone, so you flew all the way here to try to cover your careless mistake.”
Roberts’ looked around, noticing everyone's eyes on him. Knowing she’d been bashing on his reputation to a bunch of residents in Bluebell, Alabama.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I know I messed up. Please, let me make it up to you.” He grazed her cheek to try to wipe the tears staining them.
She flinched, moving away from his touch like it burned her.
“You can’t fuck your way out of this one, Roberts. Good talk.” Baby grabbed her belongings out of her chair, walking over to the entrance with intent. Not once looking back to see the reaction of the establishment to the now lone businessman that stood with whiskey staining his designer shirt.
–
Sobbing into her lap, leaning against the ottoman of her lodging, she’d desperately tried to stop the heartache corrupting her. She wished to have chugged the whiskey instead of pouring it on him, not wanting to waste the only thing that would help ease the pain. Haven threw her heels by the bed, already taking out her contacts to put on her tiny glasses. Wiping off her makeup - feeling every vulnerability.
She heard a knock on her hotel door. Causing her to jump, shooting her head up.
Annoyed, assuming it had been Roberts’ again, stated, “Go away, Roberts’. Haven’t you humiliated yourself enough?”
A voice on the other end replied, “I don’t think he has. Maybe we could put worms in his designer shoes?”
The voice familiar, caused her to spring up from where she sat and opened the door. The blonde hair, chestnut hazel blue eyes, chiseled jawline with the white beater with a chain; a persona only befitting Wade Kinsella.
“Oh god, Wade. Sorry you had to see that.”
He gave a comforting smile, holding a bottle in his hands, “Not here to make you feel bad about it. Can I come in?”
Smiling, she ushered him inside. Closing the door behind her.
“And as much as I’d love to see his reaction, it would only feel right to only do that to Lemon.” She giggled.
Wade smiled, placing the bottle on the hotel side table, “She hasn’t forgotten about that by the way. No matter how many times I tried tellin’ er it wasn’t you. Ever since you'd shown up, she can’t stop talkin’ about it.” Lemon was the woman that kept teasing Baby in primary school. She’d been the victim to the worm-sandwich, which immediately stopped her rullish teasing then on.
Grabbing the styrofoam cups by the hotel coffee machine, giving it to Wade to pour the contents into the cup. Thanking him once he’d filled her glass, sitting at the end of the ottoman where she’d found comfort.
Wade went to the opposite side of the room, sitting on the floor across from her, leaning against the wall. Sipping his glass, holding a hesitant look on his face.
Smiling at him, reading his intent like it'd been the back of her hand, “What is it, Kinsella? I know you want to tell me somethin’.”
Taking another swig of his cup, he cleared his throat, “Everything okay with you?”
Giving him a lined smile, indicating his question was obviously answered from the night she’d just showcased, he apologized.
Not wanting to come off as harsh, she reassured, “I appreciate your concern, Wade. I’m doin’ alright. I wasn’t the one who embarrassed themself tonight.”
Wade laughed, taking another swig, poking fun, “Yeah, it was obviously the guy that had a last name as their first name. What a dreamboat.”
The joke made Baby spit out the drink she just tried sipping, noting that Kinsella’s statement had totally been true. Making them both bust out with gentle laughter, belly fluttering with olden joy of the past. They’d shared moments of the past in the moment while sharing the bottle, memories when they were both younger.
As they drank more, the more the room spun. Causing Baby to lay down on the hotel floor, eyes staring at the ceiling as the world swirled in her vision. Wade was no better, laying beside her as they both stared at the ceiling.
A chuckle caught her attention, making her look over at his face.
“Was’ so funny, Kinsella?” Slight slurs of her verbiage apparent.
He giggled, looking at the ceiling, “Last time I’d seen you this drunk, it was your twenty-first. All stumbly and mumbly. It was cute.”
Maybe it was the alcohol making him a lot more forward with his feelings, but it made a heat creep up in her lower belly. Causing her to look at the ceiling again, hiding her sudden flush of emotion.
Wade, not noticing, went on, “It was also the day after, when you left.”
The statement brought her mood down immediately, causing a wave of guilt and sadness to course through her. She thought to listen, not hearing Wade open up about his feelings often unless it was about his family.
He turned to face her, eyes full of vulnerability, “Why’d you have to go, Baby?”
She turned to face him this time, feeling the weight of his stare on her cheek. Stumbling to find an answer, she thought of the first thing that came to her head.
“It was my mother.” stating with hesitancy, which had been a half-truth.
Not fully believing it, he turned to the ceiling, “I’ve known you for a good fifteen-years of my life back then. You didn’t care what people thought of you, let alone your mother. Now you're telling me it was because of her you never said goodbye to anyone?”
Sighing, feeling the conversation turning into conflict, “Wade, you're drunk. Maybe we should have this conversation tomorrow.”
Chuckling to himself, he shook his head, “How do I know if I got enough time to do so, Baby? What would stop you from leavin’ tomorrow mornin’ with that hope in my head?”
Emotion bubbling in her throat, already exhausted from the day’s endeavors, “Wade, I’m sorry for leavin’. I told you already. If I never left that night I would've never left at all. You know my aspirations were always a reach in this town, so I thought you’d understand.”
Nodding his head, now getting up from where he laid, turning to her gaze, “I woulda’ supported you. You just made it seem like it never mattered. Our friendship, or this town never mattered to you.”
The statement left her shocked, watching Wade get up to his feet to grab the empty bottle from the table. Baby sat up from where she laid, still feeling slightly dizzy.
Stumbling her words, trying to find logic from the drunken emotion, “You do matter to me, Wade. You have always been so important to me. Along with the people here. How could you say that to me?”
Tears brimming her eyes, sudden bile reaching her throat. Wade made his way to the front door, looking at her get up from where she sat with a slight wobble of her legs.
“This whole time, I’d thought maybe it had been a selfish decision. You’d want a better life outside the city that raised you, like everyone else did. Forgettin’ what was built here; connections. Now, you come home. Everyone realized tonight that you’d just pushed them away for your own benefit. To push them away from letting them see how miserable you are.”
Eyes, raw from crying, only pained when they started once more.
Baby, desperately trying to build those walls again, snapped back, “Like you have any right to tell me that, Kinsella.”
He made his way to her, pushing past his placement near the front door, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Continuing, she pushed towards him, “Wade Kinsella, the town's womanizer. Who hasn’t slept with this guy? Hope he settles down soon, before it’s too late. Sound familiar?”
Chuckling, he let out a breath, “I’d least expected that coming out of your mouth, Baby. Real classy.”
Motioning forward, nearly within six feet from him, she continued, “We are grown, Kinsella. Maybe some of that should be a wake up call! Have you told Dr. Hart about your feelings for her yet?”
He stepped forward a bit, “Wouldn’t you like to know, reporter? Would you like that on the record?"
Huffing, she turned around with annoyance, “Unbelievable.”
“What’s unbelievable is your sudden taste for the privilege. Did it feel nice while it lasted?”
Mouth agape, she stepped in front of Wade to be close to his face, “Watch it, Kinsella.”
He leaned in close, to where their noses touched, “You threatening me with a worm-sandwich? Not like you have enough whiskey to pour on my head, Baby.”
Breath coming out in long drags, feeling the anger pool in her face, “You want to know why I left, Kinsella? Huh?”
His face, anguished, asked, “Why is that?”
She leaned in close, enough to be within inches of his lips, “It was because of you.”
He’d been stunned, stepping back within a moment. Processing her words, eyebrows contorting in confusion.
“I don’t understand.” He’d tilted his head.
Baby, holding a tight grimace, motioned forward, “You are truly oblivious, Wade.”
He’d paused for a moment, before it hit him. No, before it absolutely destroyed him. The one person he’d thought of to be his only support system, had left because of him. She loved him so much, it pained to see him walk all over it without a care. Like it was with Roberts’ that night, wanting more but receiving false promises.
That night, during her twenty-first, she’d been alone that morning. Comforted by her best friend, hearing his blabbering aspirations in life. Wanting more than to just leave town, join the army like his brother did. Not wanting to carry the responsibilities of taking care of his pops’, holding the burden of starting his life later. Hoping she’d hear this with drunken ears, not knowing it would change her perspective forever.
Her childhood, she’d spent yearning for the man in front of her. Wanting nothing more than to provide the comfort he’d needed, someone who’d understood his situation. Not realizing, she’d just turned out to be the same as him.
Longing for a future, wanting to make something of herself. Baby made a decision that day, wanting to leave Bluebell for the sake of her future. Her mother wanted something more for her. To be the perfect daughter, taking care of her needs like she’d been tasked with a job. Baby never wanted a life of longing anymore, she’d wanted to be someone.
Yet, she’d landed with the short end of it. Moving to Los Angeles, meeting a guy at the company she’d applied to. Ended up finding out he’d been an executive, decided to date the man anyway. Always longed for his attention, always met short. She’d pushed through, ended up scoring a spot with another agency.
Yet, she’d never felt so lonely.
Standing in front of Wade, she’d only been reminded of her naive hopes. Wanting to make something of herself, but he's honestly right. She was miserable, maybe that’s why it had pushed her to come back to rekindle what had been broken.
Baby, walking over to her suitcase, grabbed a small letter that was crumpled with age. Handing it to Wade, hoping he’d take it.
“What is this?” Hesitant with taking the letter, still holding it within his hand.
She sighed, answering, “A letter I was supposed to give to you when I’d left Bluebell after my twenty-first.”
His breath shook, looking down at the letter in his hand.
Baby stepped back, motioning him to the door, “Read it, yourself. Outside this door. Depending on what you decide, I’ll be here. I’ll be fine with whatever decision you make, Wade.”
He let out a breath, slightly nervous, “What is that supposed to mean, Baby?”
She smiled, reassuring him, “You’ll see.”
As he made his way out the door, it shut within a moment. His eyes scanned hers, until the very last moment the door intercepted their eye contact.
–
Dear Wade,
I’d hope this is received well. Knowing the panic happening about now. I can imagine the fright my sudden absence is bringing to Bluebell. I know this was a sudden change, not expecting it myself.
I at least wanted to be honest with you, Wade. Not sure where to start with it, since I hadn’t really been this honest with anyone. It helps writing this drunk, which you’d clearly made sure to take care of the mess the night prior.
I guess I could start with that. You’re a good friend, Wade. Always sticking with those you care about, defending people of this community like it’s family. Going out of your way to make people feel heard - appreciated like it’s home. That’s why it was so easy to talk to you, knowing someone with just as much chaos as I would understand where it came from.
Being there when my parents fought, letting me stay in your dad’s house. Always ushering me to ignore the messes, even if it made me feel safe knowing I’d have a home to run to. When I'd get teased, you’d help get the spray cans and the smelly socks to get them back. Like I’d done to help you and George Tucker get back at Jimmy Praboo, even if it bit you in the ass afterwards.
You’d shown me courage. Especially the courage to get me out of this town. I know, probably not what you want to hear right now. Just listen and don’t rip the paper yet.
I know you’d probably not been aware, but I’d heard everything you’d said to me this morning. I know, I know. You're definitely fighting the urge to throw this paper out. It brought a new perspective within myself, to want to move past these responsibilities. Yeah, it may be a naive way of living, but you inspired me to be unapologetic about my dreams. My drive to be a better person, to be there for myself. You’d always done that, Wade. Always so damn good at it too. God has favorites.
I don’t want to leave this town, knowing the man that showed me what love felt like would still be here. It brings me comfort knowing the man will always be unapologetically himself, helping those without a worry of his own.
I just hope you celebrate this with people who love you, Wade. With those who care just as much as you do for others. Please take care of yourself. Who else is supposed to be my biggest fan when I fly my private jets? Also, say bye to everyone for me, I’d only had time to write you one, haha.
See you in L.A. in my mansion,
Ms. B
P.S. Actually, don’t call me, I’m a busy lady.
–
Waiting on the other side of the ominous looking door, she’d felt like the world was on her shoulders at that moment. Pacing back and forth, looking at the clock every now and then. Seeing that thirty-minutes had passed, it was about the time she'd felt was enough to stop avoiding the obvious rejection.
He hadn’t knocked once, which she’d only assumed he’d left.
Baby remembered the letter being quite cheesy, not really knowing how to express her feelings without sounding like a little girl at heart.
Walking over to the front door, waiting to see an empty hallway on the other side. What she didn't expect was Wade hovering his fist over the door, standing in the motion. Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she didn't know if this had been a hallucination that protected herself from the obvious rejection.
“Wade?” She questioned. Wanting to make sure his presence was tangible.
He’d moved inside the room, causing her to back up with every step he took. Trying to read his face, not sure what clouded his mind. He’d looked conflicted, unsure what to do with himself. It was unlike Kinsella to do, since he’d exuded confidence with every action he took. Unapologetically himself.
Not now. Not with her.
She’d started to get nervous, stumbling with words, “Are you alright?”
Still nothing out of the man in front of her. The baby walked behind her, grabbing her phone from her night side table.
“Look, I can call Dr. Hart if this is stress induced. Even if it’s late, maybe she’d answer-”
Once she looked up, Wade was standing in front of her. He’d grabbed her phone from her hands, throwing it on the hotel side table with a thud. Assuming his reaction was out of frustration, Baby immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry for what I said about Dr. Hart. It was out of place. Let’s just talk about this, Wade.”
A hand cupped her cheek, causing a shudder to escape her mouth. The hand moved upward, its warmth trailing to take the glasses off of her face. Blurred vision, occupied every slow motion Wade made with his hand.
The intensity of his stare was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Unsure what it meant.
“Wade..”
He placed her glasses where her phone was, still looking at her face with conflicting emotions behind them. Hand grazing back to her cheek, trailing down to her chin, tilting her head up.
“No need for a doctor, Baby. I know exactly what I need.”
Heart thumping out of her chest, practically ramming into her skull. Still in denial of the present, she’d do anything to escape the moment.
“You don’t…You don’t know what you're saying, Wade.” He made a flirtatious smile, enough to make Baby’s knees weak. Always had and always will.
Swiping his thumb on her bottom lip, saying, “Weren’t you the one sayin’ we are grown?”
He’d inched closer, making it nearly impossible for the woman in front of him to breathe. All she could do is nod her head, dazed from the touch the man had been giving her.
“So since I’m grown. I can make my own decisions, right?” His other hand snaked to her waist, pulling it forward to bring her lips closer to his.
“Is this a decision that you're making with the right head, Kinsella?” She managed to tease.
He let out a shuddered breath at the comment, moving them over to the side table where the bottle rattled with the sudden movement. Still hovering lips, just enough to feel their breath against them.
“Oh, Baby…you have no idea.” His left hand trailed to the back of her neck, lips barely touching, but enough to feel the heat on them.
Breathing short, still finding it hard to move, she clenched her hands against the edge of the table. Not motioning to touch him back, not wanting to commit until she’d been sure.
“Feelin’ a little historic, Wade? You gettin’ all worked up once I've shown the ankle now, huh?”
He’d grabbed her chin, gently moving it to gain access to her neck. Bending down, breathing in her scent. The act made her shiver, as he traveled up her nape to her ear. Breath heavy, like he’d been trying to restrain himself from absolutely losing it.
Whispering sweetness in her ear, right hand holding her jaw in place, “I’ve always known you’d been beautiful, Baby. I don’t know why it took you so long to realize that.” The statement absolutely shattered her, reducing herself to mush. Trying to save her dignity, she tried her last and final attempt to restrain herself.
“The heat, this will pass. Right?”
Growing slightly frustrated, he’d finally taken action. His tongue swipes a spot underneath her ear lobe, granting a shallow breath to escape her. Wet heat soddening her laced panties, which she’d pathetically tried chasing a release. Noticing her restlessness in the sudden jut of her hips, he moved his right hand from her jaw to her waist.
Mouth swiping over neck, sucking gently, even leaving small bites in his wake. Kissing the bruising, motioning back to her earlobe, whispering in her ear.
“Your Romeo said he tried his hardest to get you outta’ that old noggin of yours? Right?” He used his left hand, wrapping it to the back of hers. She’d confusingly nodded, wondering why he’d mentioned Roberts’ at an intimate moment like this.
“Maybe he didn’t try hard enough.” He leaned forward, laying Baby down fully on the table.
“Wade-” She’d panicked in the moment.
“Trust me, Baby. I’m not going anywhere. Not like I’d ever want to.” He caressed her right thigh with his right hand, riding it up her leg.
He’d lowered himself to his knees, table tall enough to meet him where his head met her heated cunt. Reaching his right hand to push her waist forward in order to meet his head at the edge of the table.
He spoke as he got rid of her dress, exposing her laced panties, “You wondered where my head's at, sweetheart?”
Baby’s vocabulary reduced to ‘yes’s and shuddered breaths, since her soddened pussy had spoken for herself. Wade’s pupils blew out wide, shaking a breath of desperation with every word he spoke.
“Let me show you, baby.” The last word was let out in a desperate breath. Altering the meaning of the name to a more intimate pet name, which made her internally squeal.
Breaking her defiance, giving into her overwhelming pleasure, she nodded her head.
“Words for me, baby. I know that mouth works.”
His fingers swiped a line down her slit, causing a whine to escape her mouth as she answered, “Yes, Wade.”
He smirked, feeling the effect he’d had on her with just a few words. Swiping his finger once over, causing her to shudder her breath in the moment. Propping herself on her elbows, watching his hand work on her laced panties with light teases.
A light tease grazed over her sensitive clit with a swipe, causing her to jut her hips out of desperation. He’d lightly laughed, noticing her sudden clinginess to his touches.
“Quit laughin’, Kinsella. Actually do something about it.”
Smiling, he leaned forward, enough for her to feel his breath on her panties, “Yes, ma'am."
Taking a lick for experimentation, it immediately clouded his better judgment. He’d fully started making out with her laced cunt, lapping up the wetness that pooled out with intensity. The shudders of breaths caught in her throat, trying her best to conceal her noises to not appear needy.
Noticing, he’d moved her panties to the side, her pussy on full display. Looking up at her expression, not once breaking eye contact as he began licking her labia. Causing her to hiss, not breaking the sexual staring contest he’d set.
His tongue moved forward from the labia, reaching her clitorous. Causing her to bite the inside of her cheek, bracing for impact. Like it's been a challenge, he’s started making out with her clit, switching from flicking with his tongue to lapping the labia. Moving up again to give her clit love again, swirling his tongue like an olympian at eating pussy.
Whines break from her throat, causing her to jut her hips with every swirl of his tongue. Instinctively reaching to his hair, fingers running through his blonde mane. Tugging him closer, applying more pressure to his descent on her clit. It caused him to groan, moving his hands to the sides of her waist to apply impossibly more pressure.
Moaning, she’d broken the staring contest by laying her head back on the table. Back arching, Wade’s descent only increased its ferocity. One of his hands, moving from her waist, met his mouth to spread open her folds.
“Wade- mffphh- fuck.”
He’d pushed two of his thick fingers in her pussy, ushering them in out with the rhythm of his tongue on her clit. Motioning his fingers in an arched movement, causing more obscenities to escape her mouth. Feeling the bundling of intense hot pleasure rest in her lower belly, causing tears to brim her eyes.
“Sh- shit. Wade, I’m comin’ soo- fuck.”
Groaning into her pussy, his fingers retreated back to holding her waist. Feeling the absence for only a split moment, until he’d been fully tongue fucking her, nose nudging her clit with every movement.
The bottle on the table rutted with every motion of his head. The feeling makes Baby grab the edge of the table with one of her hands, using the other to squeeze his hair. Legs nearly suffocating the man, only egging him further. White, hot pleasure gathered behind her eyes, causing her to only say the man’s name before coming all over his mouth.
Lapping every drop gathering on his mouth, wetness from the endeavor painting his chin. He’d helped her ride her orgasm, until the moment she’d dig her heel in his back. Ushering to stop his descent on her clit, making her nearly scream.
“Wade!” She had to nearly kick him off of her.
Leaning back, eyes completely dazed, he assured, “Sorry, got a bit carried away. Maybe it's the heat.” He teased with a shit eating grin.
Chin still glistening with her wetness, moving over to meet her now annoyed glare. She’d leaned forward, meeting his face halfway.
Grinning back at him, shaking her head, “You’re unbelievable.”
He bragged, jokingly, “So I’ve been told.”
Feeling the confidence bloom in her belly, she’d finally been the one to break the initial hesitancy of kissing. Grabbing his chin, she placed her hand on his cheek. Placing a finger on his lower lip, motioning him to open his mouth slightly. He’d done it with a quiet breath, feeling her tongue pool into his mouth. Experienced, intentional. Sensual with the amount of passion behind it. He’d initially expected a couple of small ones as a warm up. She’d lapped his tongue with hers, moaning once she’d tasted herself.
Her arms grabbed around his neck, deepening the kiss. Nearly swooned in the moment, his knees shook a bit from the intensity. Breaking the kiss suddenly, he’d let out a shallow breath. Both of them are short of oxygen, looking at each other.
“You were sayin?” She gave him a shit eating grin in return.
He couldn’t believe this was the same woman who looked like a typical a-typical tomboy, inexperienced with dating. She’d nearly had him weak in the knees from just a kiss, which rarely occurred with many women in his experience.
“You’re drivin’ me crazy, woman.” He reached to get her off the table. Reaching behind her to zip down her dress, pushing it down to reveal her matching laced set from her adventures that afternoon.
Grabbing her chin now, deepening a kiss as he lifted her from where she stood. Wrapping her legs around his waist as they made their way to the bed. Dropping her in dramatic fashion, he’d motioned to take off her panties. Once he had ridden them, throwing them to an unknown place in the room.
She’d leaned forward, motioning him to take off his shirt. He’d happily obliged with a huge grin, helping her to stretch the fabric over his abs and pectorals. It was a drooling sight, for sure. Blonde chest hairs decorated his pecs, her hands trailing down his abdomen.
Pulling him by the waist band, she looked at him with every movement of loosening his belt. Watching his eyes blow out with an intensity he’d never experienced, watching no hesitancy with every movement of her hands.
“Is this the same Baby that tackled boys in rugby? What happened to you? Whatcha’ do to her?”
Palming the obvious bulge in his boxers, he hissed, biting back a groan.
She moved her hand, squeezing slightly, “All grown up, remember?”
He laughed, grabbing her torso to move upward from the bed to the pillows. He’d stayed knelt backwards, standing at the edge of the bed. Stepping out of his jeans, leaving the obvious bulge in his boxers apparent. Pre-cum staining a tiny pool in them.
Moving his hands to the waistband of his boxers, he finally pulled them down. Eyes glued on his length, noticing the immediate intimidation she’d felt in the moment. Roberts was average, usually got the job done when needed. Wade was beyond that, with size and girth. No wonder women were all over him, the sight alone is enough to get the job done.
“You wanna’ picture, Baby?” She shot up to his gaze, realizing she’d been staring for an embarrassingly long time.
She teased back at him, “Only if it’s not all for show.”
Motioning up slowly to meet her face, she’d spread her legs to have him rest between them. Lining his cock to her entrance, teasing the tip within her folds to gather its wetness.
He’d whispered in her ear, before slowly pushing inside of her, “I don’t know. You tell me, sweetheart.” The stretch made her eyebrows contort, mouth hang loose as he began pushing further until he’d just nearly kissed her cervix.
A shudder of breath exchanged them both. Trying to adjust to this profound pleasure they’d never experienced before. It’s like their first times all over again, shattering their skin and bones with immense intensity.
“Fuck-” Wade readjusted his position. Noticing the sudden squeeze of her cunt was suddening jolts of pleasure down his spine.
“Maybe it was all for show, Kinsella.” Baby teased, whispering in his ear with a steamed breath.
That did it. It was enough to break any semblance of self-restraint that he’d had. Not knowing where this profound eagerness came from, it promoted the sudden jut of his hips. Causing the woman to gasp, feeling the tip kiss a spot deep within her that made her see stars. Not saying anything back, Kinsella kept rocking his hips with the brutal pace he’d set.
Lapping his tongue against the nape of her neck. Hands traveling down to her waist, holding them there as he’d rocked the bedframe with brutal thuds. Moans escaped her mouth every time he’d touch the spongy spot inside of her with his cock.
“Wade- s’ too much.”
Relentless, he’d never quit his brutal pace. Snaking one of his hands, grabbing her jaw for her to open. Placing his thumb there, watching her take it in her mouth. Swirling the tip of his appendage, looking at him with every movement.
“Never thought to be hearing your sweet voice, Baby. Truly is a blessin’.’” He jut his hips forward, causing her to let out a whine. Not being able to moan, from his thumb padding the center of her tongue.
“Been pining for me all those years. All you coulda just said is you needed some lovin’, I’m sorry for making this pussy wait for so long.” He used his wet thumb to move past her abdomen, all the way down to her bundle of nerves.
A strangled moan escaped her lips, loud enough for any person next door to make fair judgement of what's happening in that room. Well, the loud banging of the bedframe should've been clear enough.
Finding the urge to bite back on his flirtatious taunts, she’d spoken in broken moans, “Mphh- you're full of it. Fuc- Woulda’ left me alone- mphfff. You know it.”
He chuckled, circling her clit to have her near spasming, “You're still thinking that you don’t drive me crazy girl? Woulda fucked ya’ like I am now in that band t-shirt. Make you sound like the damn opera.”
“Youre a– mphh- damn liar, Kinsella.” Holding a shit eating grin, dimples engraved in her cheeks, making the fire within him deepen.
He leaned back on his hind legs, shifting his position to drive into her impossibly deeper. Lifting her waist like it was feather light, driving into her with the arch of her back. The new position made her shout with intensity, no man ever granting her the same level of satisfaction Wade had been rutting into her.
“M’ close.” Another intense orgasm building in her lower belly, Kinsella still showing no mercy on her bundle of nerves. Rutting into the same spongy spot that had her seeing white flashes, making her eyes roll back in her skull.
“Let loose, baby. I got cha’.”
His praise drove her impossibly near the edge, afraid to let go out of fear. Desperately clinging onto anything, she’d needed his body on him. To hold her as she rode this intense orgasm building, tears brimming her eyes. Grabbing one of his hands on her clit, motioning him to fall forward. Shifting his position to lean down to face level, still holding his charisma. Even if sweat accumulated on his forehead, damn near out of breath.
“So needy-”
Shutting him up, she’d pulled his head down with her arms into a deepened kiss. Tongue dominating him, causing his head to spin. Nerves shooting all the way down to his own building climax. Moaning in her mouth, he grabbed one of her legs, lifting it to drive into her cunt deeper.
In the moment, they’d stayed in the motion. Until Baby’s legs shook, finally letting loose for the second orgasm she’d received that night. Causing her to desperately hold onto his shoulders, scratching them. She’d leaned down, leaving marks across his neck with desperation.
The sensitivity caused Wade to grab the base of her neck, driving into her sensitive cunt until he’s reached his climax. Moaning her name in her ear - milking himself dry.
Wade collapsed to her side, both out of breath from the whole ordeal. Trying to process how the hell they went from him walking in with a bottle of whiskey to them tearing each other apart. Baby, hair sticking to her forehead, trying to catch her breath.
Wade smiled to himself, laughing weakly.
“Was’ so funny, Wade?” She turned to face him.
He looked over at her, smiling like a dork, “You got a back tattoo without me? Knowing it’s been something we’d do together? I’m heartbroken, Baby.”
She sat up, unclasping her laced bralette, “Well,”
Her perky nipples on display, his eyes never breaking from them.
“I have a few ways to make it up to you.” She’d motioned to get on top of him.
“Oh, do tell..” He held the grin as he placed his hands on her hips.
The whole night carried on with intertwined pleasure, echoing voices, loud bangs, and maybe a few noise complaints. Knowing the town of Bluebell, the word would've gotten out by the time they’d sat foot into the Town Square.
Not having a care in the world, it only fed into their pleasure more. Knowing they’d been unapologetically obsessed with each other, forever seeking each other's soft touches.
–
A/N: Zoe fr had dressed her up for her to take her man, it's okay I love her too. Had fun writing this, thank you for reading!
Synopsis: Wade Kinsella doesn’t usually have many female friends. Mostly all of them, he’d already slept with. Growing up, he’d had only one. Stuck with him through most of his early childhood, mostly seen for her tomboy-like qualities. Before moving to Los Angeles to be a reporter, she’d developed a crush on her childhood best-friend. Unfortunately for Baby, it never reciprocated. She’d return to Bluebell during the summer, homesick from life events, to hope for someone like Wade to change his perspective. (14k words)
Mature Content 18+
Mentions: Pining, Unrequited love, Friends to lovers, Trust issues, Loser Ex-boyfriends, Cussing, Brief mentions to Mommy Issues, Porn no plot.
(Baby = reader insert)
A/N: Watched Hart of Dixie, immediately felt inspired. This might just be a one shot, unless y'all want more! Enjoy!
“Flight to Alabama, boarding in ten minutes!”
Baby nearly checked her book bags and suitcases for the millionth time, wondering if she had forgotten anything. She knew she didn’t, some part of her felt so nervous to finally be back to her small town in Alabama. Bluebell hasn’t seen her face in nearly six years, it hadn’t even felt that long.
Part of it brought incredible memories. Painting her fingernails with muddened dirt, along with her graphic tees. Playing sports, loving nature, nearly befriending a gator. Would always play pranks, only to those who’d tease her about her tiny glasses. Worse she’d done was plant earth worms in one of her classmates sandwiches, she’d screamed all the way to the principals office.
She’d never been caught, since she’d always have an alibi.
Wade Kinsella, her childhood best friend. Ride or die, so they called it.
They’d call them a dynamic duo, always running into trouble. They were usually the ones causing the trouble, but that never gets brought up as much due to their assumed mastery of never getting caught.
While they took turns, trying to get back at the prestigious football quarterback, Jimmy Praboo.
Usually, it turned out to not work in their favor. Since it would only made Jimmy’s advances that much harsher, mostly to Wade Kinsella and George Tucker. Baby would have her own struggles, which was enough for her to back off with her initial childlike behaviors.
Part of the reason as to why she’d put off going to Alabama for all these years. Going to college late, starting a life in a big city. She never would’ve imagined her life to turn out the way it did, which is why she’d been so hung up with the fact that she’ll see the version of herself she’d held embarrassment towards.
Bringing up old feelings, the ones that brought the initial push to move across the country.
“Last call for Bluebell, Alabama! Last call, boarding will close within five minutes!”
Her daydream nearly distracted her from the flight, noticing that she’d been the only one in the passenger waiting area. Grabbing all her luggage, walking over to scan her boarding ticket.
Hand wrapped around her suitcase handle, head held high. Wearing similar small glasses, paired with a hoodie from a well known fashioned brand. Jeans that are big enough to drag under her sneakers. Bluebell had its ways of bringing out a side of her that she’d love to hide in, distracting herself from the aching heart ache of her six years of pursuing a career.
–
Walking into the bus station, familiarity in the scents in the air, she’d leaned against the window near the seat. An old woman sat beside her, looking over at her with a curious stare.
Feeling the weight of someone staring, Baby decided to look behind her. Flashing a knowing smile, dimples prominent.
The woman’s face lit up, gasping for air, “Oh my goodness. I knew I recognized ya’. Baby, it’s so nice to see your face.”
Giggling, she’d tucked a strand behind her ear, turning bashful, “Wow, can’t believe someone recognized me so soon.”
The older woman let out a puff of air, “Of course I’d recognized ya’ sweetheart. You're hard not to spot, with your boy clothes. You sold it with your dimples. Remember, your mama had the same smile. How is she anyway?”
Baby swallowed her spit, smile falling a bit, “Oh, she’s alright. I’m planning to visit her while I’m in town. Hoping the summer heat doesn’t melt me first.”
She had regretted wearing her sweater, noting the heat’s intensity in the air conditioned bus alone. Sweat glistening her forehead, face flushed.
The older woman, curls sticking to her forehead, letting out a nose of acknowledgement, “It will bring out the worst in everyone, that’s for sure.”
Baby knew what heat waves brought out in people in Bluebell, but since she’d been used to the desert heat of California, she didn’t worry too much. The only thing she hadn’t prepared for was the bugs, nearly hotglued to her hands and face with her sweat.
Definitely not the homecoming she’d been dreaming for, that’s for sure.
The bus came to a stop, turning to the older woman to wish her goodbyes. Sitting up in her seat, where she’d grabbed all of her luggage to make her way to hitch a ride with a truck driver. To no one’s surprise, the truck driver recognized her immediately as well. In a small town, it was easy to recognize faces. Even the ones that had been gone for six years.
Coming to a stop in the center quad of town, the truck driver halted to a stop.
“It’s nice to see you, Baby. Hope to see you around.”
Flashing a knowing smile, she’d thanked him.
Grabbing her luggage, she’d made her way to the Whippoorwill Blossom Bed and Breakfast. The only known place to stay for lodging in the town, which wasn’t exactly ideal. Considering once she made her way to the front desk, the whole town had already spread the word of her arrival. Once she made it to the receptionist desk, the lady’s face lit up like the old woman’s at the bus stop.
Baby definitely felt like a celebrity in that town, knowing that everyone missed her dearly. No one felt that much animosity towards her for leaving, almost entirely forgotten about it. Well, not her mother.
Collapsing on her hotel bed, finally letting out a sigh of relief. Turning to the window, watching couples walking with their dogs and kids children on their bicycles. Bluebell finally brought some comfort, after experiencing the hectic life of a busy city.
–
Changing into a loose band t-shirt, one she’d gotten at a concert at So-fi, she’d been dying to get a sweet tea from The Butter Stick. The heat wasn’t giving her much grace, considering the air conditioning was busted in the hotel room.
Afterwards, she’d been thinking of stopping by the Town Square to catch up with old faces, hopefully nothing too personal.
Until, she’d heard her phone ring.
Grabbing her phone from her pocket, reading the name on the tiny screen. A shiver went down her spine, clicking the answer button on the keypad.
“Hey mom.” She’d let out a shaky greeting.
Her mother, enraged on the other end, spoke with a mocking tone, “‘Hey, mom?’ That’s all I’m gonna’ get from my daughter that I haven’t spoken to for nearly seven years?”
Biting the side of her cheek, Baby let out a shaky breath, “I wanted to come visit. Maybe we can talk, I’d love to visit your new place.”
A pause hung on the other end. One that absolutely shattered Baby’s heart.
“No, I don’t think so, Baby. I think it’s best if you leave to Los Angeles as soon as you can. Once you're done pretending to be my daughter.” Venom etched in her words.
The phone line ended.
A broken sob shook the room. Granting Baby to hunch over, leaning against the ottoman on the end of the bed. Hand around her mouth, to silence her heart break.
Maybe, she’d hold off on her day trip for a sweet tea. Right now she’d been in desperate need for a drink, especially after a phone call like that. Wiping her tears, she’d grabbed her wallet, checking her appearance in the mirror.
Letting out a sigh of confidence, before making her way to the Rammer Jammer.
–
The place definitely hasn’t changed since the last time she’d visited. Since her twenty-first, she’d remembered getting nearly black out drunk on one of the bar stools. Made a fool out of herself, but had friends that covered her recklessness.
Wade sat by her bedside as she’d been puking in a bucket for the remainder of the morning after. Staying beside her throughout the best, worst night of her life.
Now, on her way to the bar, she’d called for the bartender’s attention.
Clearing her throat in dramatic fashion, placing her elbow on the counter while thumping her fingers on the bar.
“Oh, bartender? Hurry up, will you? Or do I have to wait another six years.”
Wade’s head perked up at the sound of her voice, scanning over face like it had been recorded in history. Eyes widened after a long pause of wondering ‘who the hell was talking to him that way’. It was then her face changed from boredom to a humorous grin, which he’d recognized the dimplage anywhere.
He let out a shudder, shocked half to death, “Well, look at that. Baby, is that you?”
She’d let out a giggle, teeth on full display.
Wade made his way around the bar, setting his towel on his shoulder. Almost running towards her, his arms opened for a warm embrace. Getting out of the bar stool, she’d hugged him back. The hug was warm, more than usual. Maybe from the heat wave, she thought.
Leaning back, creating social distance, Baby still held her smile.
She flicked his forehead, causing him to let out a small pained noise.
“I can’t believe you didn’t acknowledge my presence once I’d landed my private jet. Can’t believe you lied about your telekinesis all those years ago, Wade. I’m heart-broken.”
Immediately picking up on the inside joke, he’d played along, “Well it ain’t a lie, since I can sense the presence of a groupie from miles away.” He’d stared down to her shirt, recognizing the band on its graphic.
Her mouth opened in shock, “I’ll have you know, my taste in music had evolved. It just so happened to be during my time in the L.A.. Not the fact that the lead singer is a dreamboat or anything.” Hints of sarcasm laced her tone.
Wade, smiling, pinched her cheek, stating, “Okay, Dirty Diana, it’s good to have you back. I was wondering when the famous reporter would come back to showcase her mansions in the town square.”
Humor slowly dying, remembering the phone call with her mother, she’d ushered towards the bar.
“Not yet, I can only afford a small condo at the moment. Getting somewhere, though.”
Sitting back in the bar stool, Wade made his way behind the bar to stand in front of her. Grabbing a glass from under him, placing it down on the counter. Reaching for a whiskey bottle, once that brought a smile to Baby’s face.
Wade poured the contents into the glass, ushering it over to her.
Sadness gleamed in his eyes, lowering them a bit, “As much as it’s a blessin’ to see your face again. I’m still a bit mad at ya’ for leavin’ all those years ago.”
The lack of a farewell in the town of Bluebell wasn’t exactly what Baby had in mind during her journey to California, but she thought it would be best. Bluebell was comforting, knowing her, she’d probably never leave considering it had been the only home she’d known her entire life.
So that meant she left her best friend, never even left a note. She’d written one for him, but never had the chance to actually give it to him. Well, a better interpretation would be that she was too scared to give it to him.
Taking a swig of the glass, she answered hesitantly, “Look, Wade, I’m so sorry about not sayin’ goodbye all those years ago. I just thought it would put more burden on Bluebell if I did. It was selfish, but I knew everyone here would convince me to stay. I would've never been happy if I didn't take that step.”
Wade swallowed his own spit, nodding, “Yeah, I hear ya’. I don’t blame you. I just missed my best pal’. Hurt to see you go without a goodbye.”
Tapping his hand with comfort, smiling at him, she’d tried to lighten the mood.
“Well, I’m here now! Since it’s been so long, I’d love to stop by your house to catch up. How’s the old pops’ doing?”
Wade sent a knowing smile, backing up to focus on other drinks, “You know, Crazy Earl. Always givin’ me a scare whenever the tides calm. Surprised it hasn’t happened yet considering the heat wave.”
Baby knocked on the bar wood, hoping to break his word so it wouldn’t come back to haunt him.
“Don’t jinx it now. I’d love to see em’ if you're comfortable.”
Kinsella held a hesitant glance, looking over at the opposite end of the bar. Looking over to see his glance, she’d met with the eyes of another woman. Brunette, petite, and absolutely stunning. Her under eyeliner complimenting her eyes, along with her unique fashion sense. The woman stood out like a sore thumb in a town like Bluebell, something Baby knew all too well.
Baby turned back to Kinsella, then back to the woman. They shared a known stare, like they’d exchanged a conversation with their eyes. One that indicated they've known each other for some time, which knotted her stomach.
Deciding it was best to push it down, like she’d always done. Cutting the tension and deciding to be casual about the obvious hesitancy in his answer.
Smiling, masking her secret jealousy, she’d teased Kinsella, “It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable, Wade. At least introduce me to your new girlfriend.”
This caused his head to jump up, absolutely horrified with her bold statement.
“She is- Dr. Hart is not my girlfriend.”
So she was the new doctor, she thought.
Getting up from her bar stool, mocking his statement.
“Well, since I haven’t been here in some time, I’ll introduce myself anyway. Besides, she’s the only face I haven’t recognized for the six hours of being back here. I’ll just ask her myself.”
Reaching out on the other end, he’d tried to stop her, “Baby, no-”
Already at the opposite end of the bar, she’d called the attention of Dr. Hart sitting with her wine glass in front of her. She’d looked up with settled annoyance, wondering who was standing beside her.
Sending her a welcoming smile, she’d introduced herself, “You’re probably wondering who Kinsella called ‘Baby’ just now. Happens’ more than ya’ think. My name is Baby, it’s nice to meet you.”
The woman raised her brow, unamused, "Your name is Baby?”
Not exactly showing surprise, hating the name as much as she did. She decided to make a joke out of it to cut the obvious tension arising.
“B-A-B-Y. That’s my name. My parents didn’t care too much about picking one, so they decided to state the first thing they saw when my mama pushed me out and just stuck with it.”
A slight pause settled, then sudden laughter. The doctor had laughed at her joke while reaching out her hand, introducing herself as well.
“Dr. Zoe Hart, I’m new here. Sorry for earlier. Just thought I would have to deal with another one of Wade’s crazy ex-girlfriends. Glad to see I was wrong…I hope.”
A bit of insecurity reached her stomach, knowing it would've never been like her to be associated with Wade as more than a best friend. She boiled it down, giving Dr. Hart a smile of reassurance.
Waving her hands in front of her, dismissing the label, “No no, Wade and I are nothing like that. We grew up together, we’d been friends for some time. I haven’t been back to Bluebell in about six years, so I thought of visiting. Got homesick.”
Motioning her to sit, Dr. Hart gave her a knowing smile, “Wanna talk about it?”
Baby gave her a warm smile in response, sitting comfortably in the bar stool next to her.
–
Walking home from the Rammer Jammer to the lodging was a struggle, hoping she didn’t twist her ankle with the amount of times she’d taken a shot that afternoon. Still a light weight at heart, which was ironic considering she’d been on par with the doctor.
Dr. Zoe Hart was an incredible woman to say the least. Wanting to be a cardio-thoracic surgeon, moving to Bluebell to take after her previously unknown father’s legacy. Dr. Ethan Hart was the doctor who helped deliver Baby, which definitely made her feel sentimental to know he’d had a daughter of his own.
Zoe grew up in New York City, which had been why she’d felt so out of place in the town. Everyone seemingly stuck to the same agendas, which was a culture shock to see Dr. Hart’s impression on the town’s new found openness to change.
Envious, Baby decided to keep the feeling so low it wouldn’t show once on her face. It was hard for her to acknowledge the fact that it was no one else’s fault but her own that she didn’t have the courage to break the norm. So she ran, like she always did.
Stumbling to find her footing, hoping she didn’t faceplant in the middle of town square. She hardly noticed the car that pulled beside her, recognizing its red exterior.
“Baby, get in the car. I’ll take you to your room.” Wade rolled the window on the passenger side door.
Eyes barely open, she’d looked to her side, giving her friend a toothy grin, “Hey, Wade. Thought you’d be home by now.”
Wade, having no humor in his tone, gets out of the car to make his way towards Baby.
“Youre still used to city life to understand that it’s dangerous this late. A gator could've eaten ya’ for all we know.” He’d made his way to her side, holding his hand on her lower back to usher her inside of his car.
She blew a raspberry, shuffling a bit, “A gator? Nah, hopefully a bear.”
Body flushed against Wade, hearing the sound of his breathing. Snapping out of her drunken daze, now well aware of her surroundings.
Suddenly flustered, she shooed his hand away, “I know how to walk, Kinsella. I’ve been able to do it for twenty-seven years.”
He laughed at her, ushering her into the car anyway, “Well by the looks of it you might need to take lessons from your mama again. You're stumbling like a newborn fawn.”
Rolling her eyes while sitting in the car, she’d snipped back, “Fuck you, Wade.”
He giggles, closing the door while saying, “That’s my girl.”
–
On the drive to the lodging, it had been a relatively silent car ride. Whether it had been the exhaustion of the jet lag, or her inability to spark a conversation with the one man that made her weak in the knees.
Wade Kinsella, a man who’d never known about his best friend’s unrequited fantasy.
She’d been pining for him for nearly thirteen years of her life, but never succeeded. Always met with the comfortability of the friend-zone, which she’d been fine with in order to still talk to her best friend. Seeing him go through girlfriends obviously made her hold back from confessing her love to the man, knowing it wouldn’t have been received the way she wanted.
By the looks of it, it seemed like he hadn’t changed a bit.
The letter from the night she’d left Bluebell, still crumpled from age, had been sitting in her suitcase for some time. It confessed everything she couldn’t say with words, hoping it covered all of it with every pen stroke.
Her vulnerabilities, something that she had the hardest time expressing.
Especially when she’d feared the perception of the town, judging her little girl fantasy with the town’s womanizer. It had been some time since the day she moved from Bluebell, but she hasn’t forgotten her love for the man sitting beside her.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to break out of her crush. Dating in Los Angeles had its perks, gaining experience while also getting over someone that she hadn’t even kissed. It might’ve been seen as pathetic, but she never shamed herself for it.
Well, until Roberts came along.
“I told Tucker to back off the woman. Always leading her on, but he’d been planning to marry Lemon by the end of the year.” Wade had been going on a tangent about current events during the whole drive. Which internally she’d been grateful for, but she’d been focused on other things in the moment.
“Mhmm, sounds like a nasty situation indeed.” She’d been facing the window, still calming down from the dizziness of her head.
Wade noticed her sudden lack of amusement, smiling to himself, “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you? Has the city life reduced your attention span to mush already?”
Gasping, turning to him with an appalled expression, she responded, “Excuse me? Don’t blame my dull city life with your boring stories of a couple from high school, Wade.”
His eyes still on the road, he reached over to shove his finger to the side of her forehead. Causing her to let out a frustrated noise, which made him laugh.
“It’s not about old high school drama, Ms. B. It’s about my life, which you’d clearly have shown mighty investment in. Thought it would be appropriate to keep you well informed of what’s happening in it, that's all.”
Noticing the passive undertones of his comment, jabbing back, “Well, I’m sure the investment is mutual since you haven’t once asked about me during this whole car ride.”
He’d nearly stopped the car, but he let out a scoff to suffice.
“Excuse me, woman? I don’t know if your brain is all scrambled, due to the fact that you're a raging light weight, but you paraded your whole life in front of Dr. Hart back there. Enough for the whole bar to hear you. So, I don’t exactly have to ask.”
She’d held a confused look, embarrassed suddenly, “Everything? I said everything?”
He blew a raspberry, shaking his head, “Your relationship with your mama, your aspirations as a reporter, getting laid off about a week ago, and how you want to make things right with Bluebell before you’d take off again.”
Ignoring his previous statement, her anxiety bubbling in her chest, she’d questioned, “What about Roberts? Did I mention him?”
Shock in his face, he turned to her side, “I’m sorry, who?”
A ring from her pocket caused her to jump in her seat, quickly pulling it out of her jeans. Speaking of the devil, she thought to herself. Answering the phone with an annoyed sigh, greeting the man on the other end with an unamused welcome.
“What the hell do you want?”
The greeting caused Kinsella to hold a grimace, not wanting to get involved. He couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, since she’d been having it in his car. He’d only assumed the person on the other end was her mother, knowing they ended on bad terms.
Baby, how’s it going? The other end asked her.
“How’s it going? That’s all you got for me, Roberts?”
Wade looked towards his side, suddenly curious of the mysterious man that she’d referred to as ‘Roberts’ while holding this murderous look on her face. He’d only seen her like this occasionally, usually when she’d been teased in primary school.
It was different this time. Baby looked heart broken, lower lip quivering a bit when she spoke.
I know you're upset, Baby. Please, can we talk in person? The other man comforted.
Letting out a sigh, Baby thought about it for a moment. Realizing that she’d spent this whole time running from her issues, even if one of the biggest ones was sitting right next to her. She wasn’t going to succumb to poor coping mechanisms, not anymore.
“Fine, meet me here. At Bluebell.” Eyes rolling in annoyance.
I’ll be there in a day. Take care, Baby. The line ended at that moment.
Wade held a consoling look on his face, truly unsure whether or not he should get involved with his friend’s secret affairs. He’d never seen her so emotionally invested. Not in anyone, which irked him. He was convinced she’d truly cared for this person, which made an unknown feeling settle in his stomach.
“Is- uh- Is everything alright, Baby?”
Wiping a tear that threatened to escape, ridding the evidence, she answered, “I’m fine, Wade. Just the heat gettin’ to me, that's all. You were tellin’ me about Lemon and George, they gettin’ engaged?”
Her swift change in subject unsettled something in Wade’s mind. Not wanting to cross the boundaries she’d clearly set, he’d thought to just keep driving. Talking about the engagement, while his fist balled on the steering wheel a bit too tight.
–
Waking up after a night full of the unknown, well temporary unknown, Baby woke up with a slight headache. Heat caking her sweat, making it stick to her hair to her forehead, wishing for some relief when she’d made her way to the bathroom. She’d gulped down some water from the faucet.
Pouring some of it in her hands, wiping her face with the cold liquid. Sighing in relief, hoping the pounding of her head would ease. She’d jumped from her spot in front of the sink, hearing the ringtone of her cellphone increase the pains of her hangover.
Walking to the nightstand, while grabbing the phone, her eyes widened with shock.
Her ex-boyfriend was calling her. On her damn cellphone?
Panicked, she answered it. Concerned she might've done something she’d regretted the night prior when she’d gotten too carried away.
Hey Baby, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Bluebell in the evening. Finding a flight was quite difficult. You already know what the schedule is, but anything for you darling. See you soon.
“But-” The line ended without a word escaping her lips.
Shaking her arms, stomping like a child, she’d let out an aggravated groan. She didn’t want to see her shitty ex-boyfriend. It was the whole reason she wanted to have this getaway, to forget her responsibilities back at home.
It was too late to cancel, since he’d already been on the way here. It was almost noon, she’d already slept in way too late. She had no idea what to do, since her mind hadn’t settled from the last time she’d seen the man.
“God dammit!” She rushed to get ready. Putting on sweats with a loose white t-shirt, stumbling to put on her sneakers.
Leaving her lodging in a flash, rushing over to the Rammer Jammer.
–
Wade had been cleaning the bar countertop, swooning over the brunette that sat on the opposite end of the tables. Wine glass in hand, talking with Levon Hayes, the town mayor who she'd been friends with.
As he’d scanned to see who’d arrived at the door, he’d held a staple smirk in her direction.
“You feelin’ alright, Baby? Need me to help ya’ to your seat?”
Baby ignored the man talking, rushing to Dr. Hart with assumed confidence in her step. It was truly unmistakable fear, her face painted with immense dread. Baby made her way to where Levon and her sat, immediately out of breath.
“Dr. Hart, I need your help with something.”
Levon turned around, a smile spreading across his face, “Oh, hey Baby! I heard you were back in town. It’s nice to see you.”
His clear lack of reading the room made it a bit awkward.
Baby gave him a smile, trying to settle her panic, “Hey, Levon, how's it going?”
Just as he’d opened his mouth to answer, it was cut short. Noticing the woman in front of him looked as though she’d run a mile to get there.
Dr. Hart sprung out of her seat, ushering over to her new patient, “What’s wrong, Baby? Are you alright?”
Eyebrows contorting into the middle of her forehead, she’d let out a whine when saying, “It’s so much worse than you think, doc.”
Zoe, like it had been an unspoken rule, she’d immediately understood Baby’s panic. It had been about a boy, one she didn’t want to be caught alive with.
“Oh, boy.” Zoe ushered her to an open table. Sitting beside her as they motioned to sit.
Leaning forward, not wanting to speak above a whisper, she’d asked, “So, is this about a man?”
Baby nodded, gulping on nothing. Pushing her glasses up, sweat accumulating on her forehead from the heat.
“My ex-boyfriend, he’s on his way here. To Bluebell.”
Dr. Hart, shocked to hear the news, wanted to clarify, “Is he flying from L.A. to fix a mistake he’d made? How romantic. Why is this a bad thing?”
Hesitating, looking over at the two men looking over from the bar. Like they’d tried to attain the skill of mouth-reading at that moment.
“What do you think those ladies are talkin’ about?” Wade asked the man in front of him.
Levon cleared his throat, looking back at the bar away from the girls, “If I had to guess, Baby is havin’ some trouble with a guy.”
Wade, eyes popping out of his skull, denied the statement, “Baby? Havin’ boy trouble? Like she’d ever.”
Whether it was an insult or a word of sentiment, they both shot their heads back at the ladies’ table once Zoe stood up in her seat in dramatic fashion.
“He what!?” She’d shouted so loud for the whole bar to hear.
Their gazes shifted to the woman now holding her head down on the table, embarrassed. Zoe, enraged from the statement her new friend uttered in her ear moments prior.
Levon smiled, turning his way back to the bar while clarifying his previous assumption, “Yup, she’s having boy trouble.”
Baby’s head perked up from where she’d just had her head down, tears brimming her eyes. Zoe, embarrassed of her outburst, placed her hand on Baby’s. Determination written on her face, assurance with her tone.
“He will regret ever letting go of such a wonderful woman once he sees you tonight.”
Baby’s shock was apparent, it was like she’d heard a different dialect come out of Zoe’s mouth.
“What are you talkin’ about?” Turning her head to the side.
Zoe grabbed Baby’s arm, ushering her to get up. Telling her to wait by the entrance as she rushed to make a call, one calling her office to let them know she’d be showing up a bit late after her lunch. Chugging down her wine, immediately regretting it with a hackle.
Wade, giggling at the act, teased her, “Woah, what’s the rush, doc? Is Baby havin’ a heart failure she has to seek immediate medical attention for?”
Zoe, determined in her glare, indicated no sense of humor when saying, “You could say that.”
They rushed out of the Rammer Jammer, hoping to make it to the nearest shopping square with immediate attention.
Levon watched as they left, elongating his verbiage once he said, “Boyyyy troubleeee.”
Wade smacked Levon’s arm with humorous annoyance, causing the man to let out a slight chuckle at his correct assumption. While Wade turned to the bar, he couldn’t erase the picture of Baby’s face in his mind. Seeing her so heart broken, always at the cusp of crying. He’d felt a twinge in his heart, not wanting to know the answer to the bodily reaction.
–
“Dr. Hart, I don’t think this is the look I’m goin’ for.”
Tits out on display, nearly an entire open back. It was like she’d been a different woman, granted her modesty had been a very well known attribute of hers. There had been times during her journey as a reporter where she had to step out of her comfort zone, like it had been a uniform for work.
It was never out of her own comfort, which had been an entirely new playing field for her.
“Come on, Baby. You look amazing! How else is anyone going to see that gorgeous back tattoo if you don’t flaunt it?”
Baby did have a back tattoo. Not exactly seeing a reason for getting it; she thought it would be a good way to express her own independence at the moment. Roberts definitely liked looking at it, which made her stomach tie up in knots.
“It’s not doing too much? What if it’s too slutty?” Noticing the curvature of her waist, extenuating her hips beautifully.
Laughing, Zoe assured, “Oh trust me. City guys dive deep into slutty. He’d be an idiot to call you anything but a catch tonight.”
Smiling, feeling a sudden burst of confidence, she turned to the fitting room to change back into her regular clothes. Walking out with the dress in her hands, grabbing the pair of shoes to go with it, she’d paused at the lingerie section.
Heat rising in her flesh, she’d scanned over the variety of different laced panties. Not wanting to get too carried away, noting that this whole dinner was to get back at her ex-boyfriend for his shitty actions. Make him regret it all, while ultimately leaving him in the dark.
“I would go with those. Maybe you’d bring home another guy on the way to your room? Make sure to rub it in his face.” Zoe grabbed a white bralette to pair with the laced undies that complimented the dress she’d worn. Definitely something Baby wasn’t usually caught wearing, other than the comfort of her own home.
Well, Roberts had seen way more than a pair of lingerie, which still rose a familiar heat in her face. Not wanting to remember the effect he had on her within all their intimate moments.
While they ushered to pay, the woman behind the counter looked at Dr. Hart.
“All these for the night out, Dr Hart? Make sure you're not making a mistake you're gonna regret when this heat wave breaks.”
Zoe ushered her hands out, denying the implications, “No these aren’t for me. It’s Baby’s special night tonight.”
The cashier’s eyes popped out of her skull, looking over at the woman beside her. With her tiny glasses, tomboy-ish clothes, and worn out sneakers. The cashier wanted to see if there'd been another woman behind her, but to no avail it was true. It was all, Baby.
With her mouth hung open, she placed the clothing in a bag. Giving it to Baby, not saying a word as they both ushered out of the store.
As they made their way to the entrance, Zoe made a comment, “It looks like she’s not the only one to be stoked for the new look.”
They both giggled, making their way back towards the mayor's plantation, where Dr. Hart’s carriage house resided.
–
Looking in the mirror, she couldn't believe who she'd even seen on the other end. Doing her make-up, Zoe had assisted with the basics. Granted, all the skill came from Baby herself, which ultimately surprised her. She’d acquired monthly contacts, which she’d only used on rare occasions. She’d been grateful to pack them, since the tiny glasses weren’t the exact chic look she’d been trying to achieve.
“Holy moly. Girl you look so good, I’d even kiss you. Is that weird?”
Laughing, she’d turned to face Zoe, giving her a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, but I’m weirder.”
They both laughed, settling once they heard the front door open.
Kinsella, motioning over to the main room where they both stood. Looking over at Zoe first, hoping she’d solve the current bleed on his stomach that oozed into his shirt.
“Yo, doc. I nicked myself trying to fix my car, hoping for your magic touch.” He’d smiled flirtatiously at her.
Noticing she hadn’t been alone, he gazed over to a seemingly unknown person beside her.
“Oh, my bad. Didn’t know you had company. I’ll meet you back at the office.”
His flirtatious gleam stopped a moment, noticing a familiarity in the woman beside Dr. Hart. Nearly broke his jaw with the immediate identification he’d noticed once those familiar dimples were apparent.
“Well I should get goin’ anyway. He should be here within the next half hour. Feel better, Wade.”
Heels clinking every time she stepped, moving her way past the man with astute confidence. Hips swaying like an enchantress, like she’d been made to be a trap for any man or woman that looked her way. She’d outdone herself and she knew that. It only provided that much more confidence in her stride.
She’d touched his shoulder, granting him a comforting smile. It set off something so deep within him that immediately wanted to pull away from the woman in front of him.
She didn’t notice him tense, since she’d turned behind her to give Dr. Hart a wave, “Thanks for this, Dr. Hart. Bluebell would be lost without cha’.”
Zoe giggled, watching her friend walk out of the carriage house. Looking over at visually stunned Wade, noticing the cut across his stomach. He’d still hadn’t said anything, not even when Zoe ushered him outside of the carriage house.
–
“What do you mean the reservation is canceled?!” Baby yelled at her telephone in frustration.
The reservations for Francies’, a well known place for dates in the city. It had been the only place in Bluebell that had catering, which she’d known that her bougie ex-boyfriend would've had a preference for. Mobile haven been a couple hours away, she knew Francie’s was the only place to have the conversation.
The only other place was the Rammer Jammer, which definitely wasn’t accustomed to the attire she wore.
Hanging up the phone, leaving the hostess on the other end from speaking their formalities, she’d wanted to rush to her room to change. She knew this idea was a poor judgement on her part, wanting to seek comfort with what she’d known best.
That was until a fancied vehicle pulled up, parking nearby. A gentleman got out of the car, one that screamed entitled. He had a slick back, loose hairs complimenting his chiseled jawline. He’d been tall, posture straight. Everything on him was clean, from his nice dress shirt, tanned slacks to his shiny loafers. Roberts was a well known reporter in Los Angeles, one prestigious in class and title.
He’d not only been her ex-boyfriend, but he was also her old boss. He’d been the same man to lay her off a week prior.
Even with that being said, that’s not even the worst part about the man.
Him holding a panty dropping smile, he’d made his way to her direction, “Baby, it’s so nice to see you.”
Trying not to throw up in her mouth, she’d sighed, “Hi, Roberts.”
Holding her chin up, causing her to swat it away, he’d smiled at her defiance, “Don’t be like that, honey. I know you're still mad at me, but you don't want to go into dramatics.”
Almost gritting her teeth, she’d replied with frustration, “Mad doesn’t even scratch the surface, honey.” Venom etched into the last word as she spoke.
Laughing at her ferocity, he’d let out a click of his tongue, “Still as spicy as ever. Perfect foreplay.”
Letting out a breath of obvious disgust, she replied, "You're disgusting.”
Looking at his watch, he’d ignored her comment, asking, “So where are we taking this sexual tension for tonight? A restaurant, or are we skipping straight to the bedroom? Hopefully not one with a gator.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, knowing the man had only one intention of making it up to the woman in front of him. Fucking the resentment out of her was something that her ex-boyfriend did quite frequently, which never truly gotten rid of it. No matter how many times he’d push to outdo her expectations, nothing ever stuck.
“Reseverations cancelled when you got here. So, we will have to make due with the only place that serves enough booze to refrain me from ripping your throat out with my teeth.” She hadn’t been joking.
Smiling at her statement,taking what she said as flirting, he’d given her a once over, “Well, lets get going. I don’t know how much longer I can go on without wanting to rip something of my own with my teeth.”
Anger bubbling in her skull, she’d walked ahead of Roberts. Motioning him to follow.
She only had one place she’d known would crush his ego, which was the only place that she’d known to keep her mind off his clear flirtatious advances. One that she’d known was her childhood crush as the bartender.
–
Walking into the Rammer Jammer, it was nothing short of a surprise for the whole crowd that sat within to witness. Baby, the presumed tom-boy, had looked like she’d been pulled out of a fashioned magazine. While a fancied, handsome young man stood beside her, giving the establishment a disgusted once over.
“Are we staying here? If I’d known I would’ve brought a roll of wipes. Maybe even bleach. Nope, bleach isn’t strong enough.”
Pulling his arm, pushing him forward, she’d let out an annoyed grumble.
“Youre trying to make it up to me, remember? Sit your ass down.” She let out an annoyed grumble of curses to herself.
Sitting down, it felt as though the whole establishment had their eyes on her. Which suddenly made her feel insecure, arms crossing over her chest to hide within herself. She hurried herself into the chair, looking at the man’s disgust at the cutlery and tabletops.
He’d reached to get his phone out of his pocket, looking over at Baby, “This is ridiculous. I’ll just see if a place in Mobile has an open table for us. We can’t stay here-”
“Welcome, folks. I’m Wade, I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
Looking up at him, she’d seen his eyes shooting lasers at the man in front of her. Jaw clenched, veins popping out of his forehead. He hadn’t once looked over at the woman sitting so close to where he stood, he could practically feel the heat off of her.
Roberts, stopping his actions, looked up at Wade like he’d been a familiar face. Looking over at Baby with an expression that only was presumed ill-intent.
He’d reached his hand out, “So, you're the Wade that my Baby keeps talking about.”
She wanted to crawl into her own body and escape. Not wanting to be a part of whatever crazy conversation this was about to start.
Wade shook his hand, giving it a firm squeeze, maybe a bit too firm.
“Yeah, guess that would be me.” Wade still bore eyes with the man.
Roberts let out a taunting laugh, retreating his hand to rest it on the table in front of him, “Why so uptight, man? Is it the heat?”
Wade sends a laughter, lacking humor, in return. Stating, “You know those Alabama heat waves, man. Bring out the worst in folks’ around here.”
“Ah, I see. Won’t take it personally then. Since you clearly want my head gone with the way you're starin’ at me.” Roberts' jaw clenched with the last word he spoke.
Trying to ease the tension, she’d tried to gently divert the conversation, “How’s the cut, Wade? Did Dr. Hart patch you up already?”
Looking over at her for the first time since Zoe’s carriage house, he had anger glossed over his eyes. Trying to mask it with a flirtatious smile, shining his whites at Baby.
“Nothing you gotta worry about, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? She internally repeated to herself.
It caused Baby to internally jump in her seat, hearing him call her a name so endearing. It made her whole face flush, goosies travel up her skin.
Roberts’ blew a raspberry, expressing clear boredom, “Alright, are you guys secretly fuckin’ now or what? Did you move on that quick, Baby?”
The statement that was heard caused Baby to snap out of the trance she’d caught up in. Making the bile traveling up her throat so putrid.
“Thanks for your hospitality, Wade. I got it covered from here.” She managed to utter out.
Wade had looked over at her face, trying to contain the rage within him. It hadn’t been helpful since the man on the other end wouldn’t stop talking.
Roberts, egging Wade on, kept going with his taunts, “That’s right. Be a good boy and go catch some fish for us to eat. This menu itself is a health code violation."
Wade dropped his towel that rested on his shoulder, walking over to his side of the table, “Keep talkin’, Romeo.”
Roberts’ smirked, getting up in his seat now, “Romeo, huh? Only wish you’d been something of the sort yourself. Since I’d have your precious Juliet bent over for me and not you.”
“Keep runnin’ your mouth, asshole.” Wade grabbed the collar of Roberts’ dress shirt, clearly wanting to use his other hand to punch the lights out of him. A fight, Baby knew, Roberts’ would lose.
One thing about her ex-boyfriend was that he was all talk. Wade knew how to fight, he’d leave him in a state that even Dr. Hart wouldn’t be able to resuscitate him.
Standing up in her chair, tired of the conflict, shouting, “Children!”
Both of them stopped, looking over at her direction.
Holding clear exhaustion in her tone, motioning them both to stop with her hands, “Wade, get your hands off of him. Roberts’, within’ the kindness of my soul, shut your fuckin’ mouth.”
The boys let go, motioning themselves to provide distance. Wade gave him a death stare, moving to the end of the table where Baby stood.
Husky voice whispering in her ear, “I’ll have your whiskey in a moment, baby.”
Wade gave her a look, indicating he’d implied the name with a different meaning. She’d tried to ignore the heat that traveled up her neck, giving him an awkward lined smile. Nodding her head, as he’d motioned to the bar.
Roberts’, sighing in relief, fixed his collar, “Really, Baby? Him? I’d presumed maybe he’d be a lot less dirty lookin’, but he looks like he showers in grease.”
Looking at him now, biting the urge to scream, she spat out, “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Don’t tell me you're offended now. Look at this place, Baby. I understand why you wanted to leave so badly. You would've never made it far here.” Opening his arms to grant attention to the space around them.
Tears brimming her eyes, biting back at his insult to her home, “You have no right to be judging where the hell I’d started my life, comparing it to your privileges.”
“Like it matters anyway. You just want to go back to Los Angeles. I can see it in your face.”
She’d started shouting, not because she didn’t care, but she was tired of the world demeaning her life like it had been theirs to judge. Letting out a pained noise, tears now escaping as she spoke.
“How could you even say that? Knowing what the hell you’ve done to me? To us?”
The whole establishment turned to face them. Baby didn’t care, she kept going.
“How could I want to go to a place like that, knowing any semblance of anything reminds me of you? We built a home, but that wasn’t even enough for you.”
Roberts’ chuckled, not taking her words seriously, “Like it had been entirely my fault, Baby. You were gone. Like you’d disappeared no matter how many times I’d tried to bring you back. Your mind was somewhere else, or on someone else.”
Baby bit the side of her cheek, trying to bite back sobs, “You don’t get to do that.”
Roberts’, tilting his head to taunt her, “Oh, so I assume you haven’t told him yet.”
Slamming her fist on the table, causing everyone in the vicinity to jump.
“Did we forget why you even are here, Roberts’? Need I remind you, our relationship was gone as soon as you brought another woman into our bed. Our bed. That was before you laid me off of a job because I stopped having sex with you.”
Roberts’ charisma died, settling with a masked embarrassment. Swaying side to side, while side-eyeing the man behind the bar. Wade had held a shocked expression, one that expressed as much heartbreak as Baby had been pouring out. Same with everyone else in that room.
“Baby, I-”
She’d walked over to the bar, grabbing the drink that had been placed on the counter. Not even making eye contact with Kinsella. Now standing in front of Roberts’, pouring the contents of the glass on top of him. He didn’t even motion for her to stop, he’d just occasionally mess with his eyes due to the sting of the alcohol.
Placing the glass on the table, holding a tight expression of distaste, the last tear escaped her eye that ruined her pretty makeup.
“I know why you're here, Roberts’. You got a call earlier that a job opening from our competitors hired me to take their open position, so you wanted me back.”
Leaning towards him, now taunting him, “Now, I may not be all tits like that skank was, but I’m a goddamn good reporter. You know as well as anyone, so you flew all the way here to try to cover your careless mistake.”
Roberts’ looked around, noticing everyone's eyes on him. Knowing she’d been bashing on his reputation to a bunch of residents in Bluebell, Alabama.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I know I messed up. Please, let me make it up to you.” He grazed her cheek to try to wipe the tears staining them.
She flinched, moving away from his touch like it burned her.
“You can’t fuck your way out of this one, Roberts. Good talk.” Baby grabbed her belongings out of her chair, walking over to the entrance with intent. Not once looking back to see the reaction of the establishment to the now lone businessman that stood with whiskey staining his designer shirt.
–
Sobbing into her lap, leaning against the ottoman of her lodging, she’d desperately tried to stop the heartache corrupting her. She wished to have chugged the whiskey instead of pouring it on him, not wanting to waste the only thing that would help ease the pain. Haven threw her heels by the bed, already taking out her contacts to put on her tiny glasses. Wiping off her makeup - feeling every vulnerability.
She heard a knock on her hotel door. Causing her to jump, shooting her head up.
Annoyed, assuming it had been Roberts’ again, stated, “Go away, Roberts’. Haven’t you humiliated yourself enough?”
A voice on the other end replied, “I don’t think he has. Maybe we could put worms in his designer shoes?”
The voice familiar, caused her to spring up from where she sat and opened the door. The blonde hair, chestnut hazel blue eyes, chiseled jawline with the white beater with a chain; a persona only befitting Wade Kinsella.
“Oh god, Wade. Sorry you had to see that.”
He gave a comforting smile, holding a bottle in his hands, “Not here to make you feel bad about it. Can I come in?”
Smiling, she ushered him inside. Closing the door behind her.
“And as much as I’d love to see his reaction, it would only feel right to only do that to Lemon.” She giggled.
Wade smiled, placing the bottle on the hotel side table, “She hasn’t forgotten about that by the way. No matter how many times I tried tellin’ er it wasn’t you. Ever since you'd shown up, she can’t stop talkin’ about it.” Lemon was the woman that kept teasing Baby in primary school. She’d been the victim to the worm-sandwich, which immediately stopped her rullish teasing then on.
Grabbing the styrofoam cups by the hotel coffee machine, giving it to Wade to pour the contents into the cup. Thanking him once he’d filled her glass, sitting at the end of the ottoman where she’d found comfort.
Wade went to the opposite side of the room, sitting on the floor across from her, leaning against the wall. Sipping his glass, holding a hesitant look on his face.
Smiling at him, reading his intent like it'd been the back of her hand, “What is it, Kinsella? I know you want to tell me somethin’.”
Taking another swig of his cup, he cleared his throat, “Everything okay with you?”
Giving him a lined smile, indicating his question was obviously answered from the night she’d just showcased, he apologized.
Not wanting to come off as harsh, she reassured, “I appreciate your concern, Wade. I’m doin’ alright. I wasn’t the one who embarrassed themself tonight.”
Wade laughed, taking another swig, poking fun, “Yeah, it was obviously the guy that had a last name as their first name. What a dreamboat.”
The joke made Baby spit out the drink she just tried sipping, noting that Kinsella’s statement had totally been true. Making them both bust out with gentle laughter, belly fluttering with olden joy of the past. They’d shared moments of the past in the moment while sharing the bottle, memories when they were both younger.
As they drank more, the more the room spun. Causing Baby to lay down on the hotel floor, eyes staring at the ceiling as the world swirled in her vision. Wade was no better, laying beside her as they both stared at the ceiling.
A chuckle caught her attention, making her look over at his face.
“Was’ so funny, Kinsella?” Slight slurs of her verbiage apparent.
He giggled, looking at the ceiling, “Last time I’d seen you this drunk, it was your twenty-first. All stumbly and mumbly. It was cute.”
Maybe it was the alcohol making him a lot more forward with his feelings, but it made a heat creep up in her lower belly. Causing her to look at the ceiling again, hiding her sudden flush of emotion.
Wade, not noticing, went on, “It was also the day after, when you left.”
The statement brought her mood down immediately, causing a wave of guilt and sadness to course through her. She thought to listen, not hearing Wade open up about his feelings often unless it was about his family.
He turned to face her, eyes full of vulnerability, “Why’d you have to go, Baby?”
She turned to face him this time, feeling the weight of his stare on her cheek. Stumbling to find an answer, she thought of the first thing that came to her head.
“It was my mother.” stating with hesitancy, which had been a half-truth.
Not fully believing it, he turned to the ceiling, “I’ve known you for a good fifteen-years of my life back then. You didn’t care what people thought of you, let alone your mother. Now you're telling me it was because of her you never said goodbye to anyone?”
Sighing, feeling the conversation turning into conflict, “Wade, you're drunk. Maybe we should have this conversation tomorrow.”
Chuckling to himself, he shook his head, “How do I know if I got enough time to do so, Baby? What would stop you from leavin’ tomorrow mornin’ with that hope in my head?”
Emotion bubbling in her throat, already exhausted from the day’s endeavors, “Wade, I’m sorry for leavin’. I told you already. If I never left that night I would've never left at all. You know my aspirations were always a reach in this town, so I thought you’d understand.”
Nodding his head, now getting up from where he laid, turning to her gaze, “I woulda’ supported you. You just made it seem like it never mattered. Our friendship, or this town never mattered to you.”
The statement left her shocked, watching Wade get up to his feet to grab the empty bottle from the table. Baby sat up from where she laid, still feeling slightly dizzy.
Stumbling her words, trying to find logic from the drunken emotion, “You do matter to me, Wade. You have always been so important to me. Along with the people here. How could you say that to me?”
Tears brimming her eyes, sudden bile reaching her throat. Wade made his way to the front door, looking at her get up from where she sat with a slight wobble of her legs.
“This whole time, I’d thought maybe it had been a selfish decision. You’d want a better life outside the city that raised you, like everyone else did. Forgettin’ what was built here; connections. Now, you come home. Everyone realized tonight that you’d just pushed them away for your own benefit. To push them away from letting them see how miserable you are.”
Eyes, raw from crying, only pained when they started once more.
Baby, desperately trying to build those walls again, snapped back, “Like you have any right to tell me that, Kinsella.”
He made his way to her, pushing past his placement near the front door, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Continuing, she pushed towards him, “Wade Kinsella, the town's womanizer. Who hasn’t slept with this guy? Hope he settles down soon, before it’s too late. Sound familiar?”
Chuckling, he let out a breath, “I’d least expected that coming out of your mouth, Baby. Real classy.”
Motioning forward, nearly within six feet from him, she continued, “We are grown, Kinsella. Maybe some of that should be a wake up call! Have you told Dr. Hart about your feelings for her yet?”
He stepped forward a bit, “Wouldn’t you like to know, reporter? Would you like that on the record?"
Huffing, she turned around with annoyance, “Unbelievable.”
“What’s unbelievable is your sudden taste for the privilege. Did it feel nice while it lasted?”
Mouth agape, she stepped in front of Wade to be close to his face, “Watch it, Kinsella.”
He leaned in close, to where their noses touched, “You threatening me with a worm-sandwich? Not like you have enough whiskey to pour on my head, Baby.”
Breath coming out in long drags, feeling the anger pool in her face, “You want to know why I left, Kinsella? Huh?”
His face, anguished, asked, “Why is that?”
She leaned in close, enough to be within inches of his lips, “It was because of you.”
He’d been stunned, stepping back within a moment. Processing her words, eyebrows contorting in confusion.
“I don’t understand.” He’d tilted his head.
Baby, holding a tight grimace, motioned forward, “You are truly oblivious, Wade.”
He’d paused for a moment, before it hit him. No, before it absolutely destroyed him. The one person he’d thought of to be his only support system, had left because of him. She loved him so much, it pained to see him walk all over it without a care. Like it was with Roberts’ that night, wanting more but receiving false promises.
That night, during her twenty-first, she’d been alone that morning. Comforted by her best friend, hearing his blabbering aspirations in life. Wanting more than to just leave town, join the army like his brother did. Not wanting to carry the responsibilities of taking care of his pops’, holding the burden of starting his life later. Hoping she’d hear this with drunken ears, not knowing it would change her perspective forever.
Her childhood, she’d spent yearning for the man in front of her. Wanting nothing more than to provide the comfort he’d needed, someone who’d understood his situation. Not realizing, she’d just turned out to be the same as him.
Longing for a future, wanting to make something of herself. Baby made a decision that day, wanting to leave Bluebell for the sake of her future. Her mother wanted something more for her. To be the perfect daughter, taking care of her needs like she’d been tasked with a job. Baby never wanted a life of longing anymore, she’d wanted to be someone.
Yet, she’d landed with the short end of it. Moving to Los Angeles, meeting a guy at the company she’d applied to. Ended up finding out he’d been an executive, decided to date the man anyway. Always longed for his attention, always met short. She’d pushed through, ended up scoring a spot with another agency.
Yet, she’d never felt so lonely.
Standing in front of Wade, she’d only been reminded of her naive hopes. Wanting to make something of herself, but he's honestly right. She was miserable, maybe that’s why it had pushed her to come back to rekindle what had been broken.
Baby, walking over to her suitcase, grabbed a small letter that was crumpled with age. Handing it to Wade, hoping he’d take it.
“What is this?” Hesitant with taking the letter, still holding it within his hand.
She sighed, answering, “A letter I was supposed to give to you when I’d left Bluebell after my twenty-first.”
His breath shook, looking down at the letter in his hand.
Baby stepped back, motioning him to the door, “Read it, yourself. Outside this door. Depending on what you decide, I’ll be here. I’ll be fine with whatever decision you make, Wade.”
He let out a breath, slightly nervous, “What is that supposed to mean, Baby?”
She smiled, reassuring him, “You’ll see.”
As he made his way out the door, it shut within a moment. His eyes scanned hers, until the very last moment the door intercepted their eye contact.
–
Dear Wade,
I’d hope this is received well. Knowing the panic happening about now. I can imagine the fright my sudden absence is bringing to Bluebell. I know this was a sudden change, not expecting it myself.
I at least wanted to be honest with you, Wade. Not sure where to start with it, since I hadn’t really been this honest with anyone. It helps writing this drunk, which you’d clearly made sure to take care of the mess the night prior.
I guess I could start with that. You’re a good friend, Wade. Always sticking with those you care about, defending people of this community like it’s family. Going out of your way to make people feel heard - appreciated like it’s home. That’s why it was so easy to talk to you, knowing someone with just as much chaos as I would understand where it came from.
Being there when my parents fought, letting me stay in your dad’s house. Always ushering me to ignore the messes, even if it made me feel safe knowing I’d have a home to run to. When I'd get teased, you’d help get the spray cans and the smelly socks to get them back. Like I’d done to help you and George Tucker get back at Jimmy Praboo, even if it bit you in the ass afterwards.
You’d shown me courage. Especially the courage to get me out of this town. I know, probably not what you want to hear right now. Just listen and don’t rip the paper yet.
I know you’d probably not been aware, but I’d heard everything you’d said to me this morning. I know, I know. You're definitely fighting the urge to throw this paper out. It brought a new perspective within myself, to want to move past these responsibilities. Yeah, it may be a naive way of living, but you inspired me to be unapologetic about my dreams. My drive to be a better person, to be there for myself. You’d always done that, Wade. Always so damn good at it too. God has favorites.
I don’t want to leave this town, knowing the man that showed me what love felt like would still be here. It brings me comfort knowing the man will always be unapologetically himself, helping those without a worry of his own.
I just hope you celebrate this with people who love you, Wade. With those who care just as much as you do for others. Please take care of yourself. Who else is supposed to be my biggest fan when I fly my private jets? Also, say bye to everyone for me, I’d only had time to write you one, haha.
See you in L.A. in my mansion,
Ms. B
P.S. Actually, don’t call me, I’m a busy lady.
–
Waiting on the other side of the ominous looking door, she’d felt like the world was on her shoulders at that moment. Pacing back and forth, looking at the clock every now and then. Seeing that thirty-minutes had passed, it was about the time she'd felt was enough to stop avoiding the obvious rejection.
He hadn’t knocked once, which she’d only assumed he’d left.
Baby remembered the letter being quite cheesy, not really knowing how to express her feelings without sounding like a little girl at heart.
Walking over to the front door, waiting to see an empty hallway on the other side. What she didn't expect was Wade hovering his fist over the door, standing in the motion. Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she didn't know if this had been a hallucination that protected herself from the obvious rejection.
“Wade?” She questioned. Wanting to make sure his presence was tangible.
He’d moved inside the room, causing her to back up with every step he took. Trying to read his face, not sure what clouded his mind. He’d looked conflicted, unsure what to do with himself. It was unlike Kinsella to do, since he’d exuded confidence with every action he took. Unapologetically himself.
Not now. Not with her.
She’d started to get nervous, stumbling with words, “Are you alright?”
Still nothing out of the man in front of her. The baby walked behind her, grabbing her phone from her night side table.
“Look, I can call Dr. Hart if this is stress induced. Even if it’s late, maybe she’d answer-”
Once she looked up, Wade was standing in front of her. He’d grabbed her phone from her hands, throwing it on the hotel side table with a thud. Assuming his reaction was out of frustration, Baby immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry for what I said about Dr. Hart. It was out of place. Let’s just talk about this, Wade.”
A hand cupped her cheek, causing a shudder to escape her mouth. The hand moved upward, its warmth trailing to take the glasses off of her face. Blurred vision, occupied every slow motion Wade made with his hand.
The intensity of his stare was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Unsure what it meant.
“Wade..”
He placed her glasses where her phone was, still looking at her face with conflicting emotions behind them. Hand grazing back to her cheek, trailing down to her chin, tilting her head up.
“No need for a doctor, Baby. I know exactly what I need.”
Heart thumping out of her chest, practically ramming into her skull. Still in denial of the present, she’d do anything to escape the moment.
“You don’t…You don’t know what you're saying, Wade.” He made a flirtatious smile, enough to make Baby’s knees weak. Always had and always will.
Swiping his thumb on her bottom lip, saying, “Weren’t you the one sayin’ we are grown?”
He’d inched closer, making it nearly impossible for the woman in front of him to breathe. All she could do is nod her head, dazed from the touch the man had been giving her.
“So since I’m grown. I can make my own decisions, right?” His other hand snaked to her waist, pulling it forward to bring her lips closer to his.
“Is this a decision that you're making with the right head, Kinsella?” She managed to tease.
He let out a shuddered breath at the comment, moving them over to the side table where the bottle rattled with the sudden movement. Still hovering lips, just enough to feel their breath against them.
“Oh, Baby…you have no idea.” His left hand trailed to the back of her neck, lips barely touching, but enough to feel the heat on them.
Breathing short, still finding it hard to move, she clenched her hands against the edge of the table. Not motioning to touch him back, not wanting to commit until she’d been sure.
“Feelin’ a little historic, Wade? You gettin’ all worked up once I've shown the ankle now, huh?”
He’d grabbed her chin, gently moving it to gain access to her neck. Bending down, breathing in her scent. The act made her shiver, as he traveled up her nape to her ear. Breath heavy, like he’d been trying to restrain himself from absolutely losing it.
Whispering sweetness in her ear, right hand holding her jaw in place, “I’ve always known you’d been beautiful, Baby. I don’t know why it took you so long to realize that.” The statement absolutely shattered her, reducing herself to mush. Trying to save her dignity, she tried her last and final attempt to restrain herself.
“The heat, this will pass. Right?”
Growing slightly frustrated, he’d finally taken action. His tongue swipes a spot underneath her ear lobe, granting a shallow breath to escape her. Wet heat soddening her laced panties, which she’d pathetically tried chasing a release. Noticing her restlessness in the sudden jut of her hips, he moved his right hand from her jaw to her waist.
Mouth swiping over neck, sucking gently, even leaving small bites in his wake. Kissing the bruising, motioning back to her earlobe, whispering in her ear.
“Your Romeo said he tried his hardest to get you outta’ that old noggin of yours? Right?” He used his left hand, wrapping it to the back of hers. She’d confusingly nodded, wondering why he’d mentioned Roberts’ at an intimate moment like this.
“Maybe he didn’t try hard enough.” He leaned forward, laying Baby down fully on the table.
“Wade-” She’d panicked in the moment.
“Trust me, Baby. I’m not going anywhere. Not like I’d ever want to.” He caressed her right thigh with his right hand, riding it up her leg.
He’d lowered himself to his knees, table tall enough to meet him where his head met her heated cunt. Reaching his right hand to push her waist forward in order to meet his head at the edge of the table.
He spoke as he got rid of her dress, exposing her laced panties, “You wondered where my head's at, sweetheart?”
Baby’s vocabulary reduced to ‘yes’s and shuddered breaths, since her soddened pussy had spoken for herself. Wade’s pupils blew out wide, shaking a breath of desperation with every word he spoke.
“Let me show you, baby.” The last word was let out in a desperate breath. Altering the meaning of the name to a more intimate pet name, which made her internally squeal.
Breaking her defiance, giving into her overwhelming pleasure, she nodded her head.
“Words for me, baby. I know that mouth works.”
His fingers swiped a line down her slit, causing a whine to escape her mouth as she answered, “Yes, Wade.”
He smirked, feeling the effect he’d had on her with just a few words. Swiping his finger once over, causing her to shudder her breath in the moment. Propping herself on her elbows, watching his hand work on her laced panties with light teases.
A light tease grazed over her sensitive clit with a swipe, causing her to jut her hips out of desperation. He’d lightly laughed, noticing her sudden clinginess to his touches.
“Quit laughin’, Kinsella. Actually do something about it.”
Smiling, he leaned forward, enough for her to feel his breath on her panties, “Yes, ma'am."
Taking a lick for experimentation, it immediately clouded his better judgment. He’d fully started making out with her laced cunt, lapping up the wetness that pooled out with intensity. The shudders of breaths caught in her throat, trying her best to conceal her noises to not appear needy.
Noticing, he’d moved her panties to the side, her pussy on full display. Looking up at her expression, not once breaking eye contact as he began licking her labia. Causing her to hiss, not breaking the sexual staring contest he’d set.
His tongue moved forward from the labia, reaching her clitorous. Causing her to bite the inside of her cheek, bracing for impact. Like it's been a challenge, he’s started making out with her clit, switching from flicking with his tongue to lapping the labia. Moving up again to give her clit love again, swirling his tongue like an olympian at eating pussy.
Whines break from her throat, causing her to jut her hips with every swirl of his tongue. Instinctively reaching to his hair, fingers running through his blonde mane. Tugging him closer, applying more pressure to his descent on her clit. It caused him to groan, moving his hands to the sides of her waist to apply impossibly more pressure.
Moaning, she’d broken the staring contest by laying her head back on the table. Back arching, Wade’s descent only increased its ferocity. One of his hands, moving from her waist, met his mouth to spread open her folds.
“Wade- mffphh- fuck.”
He’d pushed two of his thick fingers in her pussy, ushering them in out with the rhythm of his tongue on her clit. Motioning his fingers in an arched movement, causing more obscenities to escape her mouth. Feeling the bundling of intense hot pleasure rest in her lower belly, causing tears to brim her eyes.
“Sh- shit. Wade, I’m comin’ soo- fuck.”
Groaning into her pussy, his fingers retreated back to holding her waist. Feeling the absence for only a split moment, until he’d been fully tongue fucking her, nose nudging her clit with every movement.
The bottle on the table rutted with every motion of his head. The feeling makes Baby grab the edge of the table with one of her hands, using the other to squeeze his hair. Legs nearly suffocating the man, only egging him further. White, hot pleasure gathered behind her eyes, causing her to only say the man’s name before coming all over his mouth.
Lapping every drop gathering on his mouth, wetness from the endeavor painting his chin. He’d helped her ride her orgasm, until the moment she’d dig her heel in his back. Ushering to stop his descent on her clit, making her nearly scream.
“Wade!” She had to nearly kick him off of her.
Leaning back, eyes completely dazed, he assured, “Sorry, got a bit carried away. Maybe it's the heat.” He teased with a shit eating grin.
Chin still glistening with her wetness, moving over to meet her now annoyed glare. She’d leaned forward, meeting his face halfway.
Grinning back at him, shaking her head, “You’re unbelievable.”
He bragged, jokingly, “So I’ve been told.”
Feeling the confidence bloom in her belly, she’d finally been the one to break the initial hesitancy of kissing. Grabbing his chin, she placed her hand on his cheek. Placing a finger on his lower lip, motioning him to open his mouth slightly. He’d done it with a quiet breath, feeling her tongue pool into his mouth. Experienced, intentional. Sensual with the amount of passion behind it. He’d initially expected a couple of small ones as a warm up. She’d lapped his tongue with hers, moaning once she’d tasted herself.
Her arms grabbed around his neck, deepening the kiss. Nearly swooned in the moment, his knees shook a bit from the intensity. Breaking the kiss suddenly, he’d let out a shallow breath. Both of them are short of oxygen, looking at each other.
“You were sayin?” She gave him a shit eating grin in return.
He couldn’t believe this was the same woman who looked like a typical a-typical tomboy, inexperienced with dating. She’d nearly had him weak in the knees from just a kiss, which rarely occurred with many women in his experience.
“You’re drivin’ me crazy, woman.” He reached to get her off the table. Reaching behind her to zip down her dress, pushing it down to reveal her matching laced set from her adventures that afternoon.
Grabbing her chin now, deepening a kiss as he lifted her from where she stood. Wrapping her legs around his waist as they made their way to the bed. Dropping her in dramatic fashion, he’d motioned to take off her panties. Once he had ridden them, throwing them to an unknown place in the room.
She’d leaned forward, motioning him to take off his shirt. He’d happily obliged with a huge grin, helping her to stretch the fabric over his abs and pectorals. It was a drooling sight, for sure. Blonde chest hairs decorated his pecs, her hands trailing down his abdomen.
Pulling him by the waist band, she looked at him with every movement of loosening his belt. Watching his eyes blow out with an intensity he’d never experienced, watching no hesitancy with every movement of her hands.
“Is this the same Baby that tackled boys in rugby? What happened to you? Whatcha’ do to her?”
Palming the obvious bulge in his boxers, he hissed, biting back a groan.
She moved her hand, squeezing slightly, “All grown up, remember?”
He laughed, grabbing her torso to move upward from the bed to the pillows. He’d stayed knelt backwards, standing at the edge of the bed. Stepping out of his jeans, leaving the obvious bulge in his boxers apparent. Pre-cum staining a tiny pool in them.
Moving his hands to the waistband of his boxers, he finally pulled them down. Eyes glued on his length, noticing the immediate intimidation she’d felt in the moment. Roberts was average, usually got the job done when needed. Wade was beyond that, with size and girth. No wonder women were all over him, the sight alone is enough to get the job done.
“You wanna’ picture, Baby?” She shot up to his gaze, realizing she’d been staring for an embarrassingly long time.
She teased back at him, “Only if it’s not all for show.”
Motioning up slowly to meet her face, she’d spread her legs to have him rest between them. Lining his cock to her entrance, teasing the tip within her folds to gather its wetness.
He’d whispered in her ear, before slowly pushing inside of her, “I don’t know. You tell me, sweetheart.” The stretch made her eyebrows contort, mouth hang loose as he began pushing further until he’d just nearly kissed her cervix.
A shudder of breath exchanged them both. Trying to adjust to this profound pleasure they’d never experienced before. It’s like their first times all over again, shattering their skin and bones with immense intensity.
“Fuck-” Wade readjusted his position. Noticing the sudden squeeze of her cunt was suddening jolts of pleasure down his spine.
“Maybe it was all for show, Kinsella.” Baby teased, whispering in his ear with a steamed breath.
That did it. It was enough to break any semblance of self-restraint that he’d had. Not knowing where this profound eagerness came from, it promoted the sudden jut of his hips. Causing the woman to gasp, feeling the tip kiss a spot deep within her that made her see stars. Not saying anything back, Kinsella kept rocking his hips with the brutal pace he’d set.
Lapping his tongue against the nape of her neck. Hands traveling down to her waist, holding them there as he’d rocked the bedframe with brutal thuds. Moans escaped her mouth every time he’d touch the spongy spot inside of her with his cock.
“Wade- s’ too much.”
Relentless, he’d never quit his brutal pace. Snaking one of his hands, grabbing her jaw for her to open. Placing his thumb there, watching her take it in her mouth. Swirling the tip of his appendage, looking at him with every movement.
“Never thought to be hearing your sweet voice, Baby. Truly is a blessin’.’” He jut his hips forward, causing her to let out a whine. Not being able to moan, from his thumb padding the center of her tongue.
“Been pining for me all those years. All you coulda just said is you needed some lovin’, I’m sorry for making this pussy wait for so long.” He used his wet thumb to move past her abdomen, all the way down to her bundle of nerves.
A strangled moan escaped her lips, loud enough for any person next door to make fair judgement of what's happening in that room. Well, the loud banging of the bedframe should've been clear enough.
Finding the urge to bite back on his flirtatious taunts, she’d spoken in broken moans, “Mphh- you're full of it. Fuc- Woulda’ left me alone- mphfff. You know it.”
He chuckled, circling her clit to have her near spasming, “You're still thinking that you don’t drive me crazy girl? Woulda fucked ya’ like I am now in that band t-shirt. Make you sound like the damn opera.”
“Youre a– mphh- damn liar, Kinsella.” Holding a shit eating grin, dimples engraved in her cheeks, making the fire within him deepen.
He leaned back on his hind legs, shifting his position to drive into her impossibly deeper. Lifting her waist like it was feather light, driving into her with the arch of her back. The new position made her shout with intensity, no man ever granting her the same level of satisfaction Wade had been rutting into her.
“M’ close.” Another intense orgasm building in her lower belly, Kinsella still showing no mercy on her bundle of nerves. Rutting into the same spongy spot that had her seeing white flashes, making her eyes roll back in her skull.
“Let loose, baby. I got cha’.”
His praise drove her impossibly near the edge, afraid to let go out of fear. Desperately clinging onto anything, she’d needed his body on him. To hold her as she rode this intense orgasm building, tears brimming her eyes. Grabbing one of his hands on her clit, motioning him to fall forward. Shifting his position to lean down to face level, still holding his charisma. Even if sweat accumulated on his forehead, damn near out of breath.
“So needy-”
Shutting him up, she’d pulled his head down with her arms into a deepened kiss. Tongue dominating him, causing his head to spin. Nerves shooting all the way down to his own building climax. Moaning in her mouth, he grabbed one of her legs, lifting it to drive into her cunt deeper.
In the moment, they’d stayed in the motion. Until Baby’s legs shook, finally letting loose for the second orgasm she’d received that night. Causing her to desperately hold onto his shoulders, scratching them. She’d leaned down, leaving marks across his neck with desperation.
The sensitivity caused Wade to grab the base of her neck, driving into her sensitive cunt until he’s reached his climax. Moaning her name in her ear - milking himself dry.
Wade collapsed to her side, both out of breath from the whole ordeal. Trying to process how the hell they went from him walking in with a bottle of whiskey to them tearing each other apart. Baby, hair sticking to her forehead, trying to catch her breath.
Wade smiled to himself, laughing weakly.
“Was’ so funny, Wade?” She turned to face him.
He looked over at her, smiling like a dork, “You got a back tattoo without me? Knowing it’s been something we’d do together? I’m heartbroken, Baby.”
She sat up, unclasping her laced bralette, “Well,”
Her perky nipples on display, his eyes never breaking from them.
“I have a few ways to make it up to you.” She’d motioned to get on top of him.
“Oh, do tell..” He held the grin as he placed his hands on her hips.
The whole night carried on with intertwined pleasure, echoing voices, loud bangs, and maybe a few noise complaints. Knowing the town of Bluebell, the word would've gotten out by the time they’d sat foot into the Town Square.
Not having a care in the world, it only fed into their pleasure more. Knowing they’d been unapologetically obsessed with each other, forever seeking each other's soft touches.
–
A/N: Zoe fr had dressed her up for her to take her man, it's okay I love her too. Had fun writing this, thank you for reading!
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