so, we've seen dad's best friend jack abbot, but may i present to you best friends brother jack abbot! (this is obvi older brother jack bc he's old asf.)
You knew you shouldn’t have even come.
You felt it deep in your bones—you should have canceled the date the moment his name was missing from your notifications this morning.
No reassuring ping, no confirmation, just a blank screen and a growing sense of dread.
You knew it.
And yet here you were.
You stood outside the glowing windows of a cozy Italian place, shifting your weight from heel to heel in a short black dress that brushed over your thighs with every nervous movement.
The cold gnawed at your bare skin, and you could feel mascara clumped beneath your lashes— evidence of tears you’d tried to blink away after another failed date with another forgettable stranger.
You felt ridiculous.
Crying over some asshole who couldn’t even be bothered to send a five-word text. You hated how much it got to you, but the sting was impossible to ignore.
Every time a date went sideways, you convinced yourself it was your fault—like maybe you talked too much, or not enough, or wore the wrong perfume.
Maybe if you were nicer or more attentive, they would have stayed.
You knew it was stupid, but that didn’t stop the feeling from digging in its heels.
You finally decide to sit on a bench in front of the restaurant.
It wasn’t completely dark yet; the last stubborn streaks of sunlight clung to the horizon.
Foot traffic was mercifully sparse, which made the whole scene feel slightly less humiliating.
At least there weren’t witnesses to your embarrassing tears over a guy who’d probably already forgotten your name.
You sink back against the backrest, letting your head rest against the window behind you.
All you can hear is the faint whoosh of the wind and a siren that blares in the distance.
Your hand fumbles through your purse, pushing past sticky lip gloss and the cold metal of your pepper spray until you find your phone, its screen lighting up your face.
Your fingers moved on autopilot, swiping through your contacts and stopping on one name. Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed call, your heart thudding rapidly in your chest.
You bring your phone to your ear, and the line doesn’t ring for long before you hear it connect.
“Hey.” His gruff voice flows through into your ear, familiar and a little rough around the edges.
You can feel a fresh wave of shame course through your veins.
Jack Abbot.
An accomplished doctor and ex-war vet.
Your best friend's older brother.
And the guy you’ve been secretly pining over for years.
For a split second, your thoughts scatter like startled birds, leaving your mind blank before you manage a barely-there, “Hi.” Your voice cracks with a heaviness you can’t disguise, and you know he hears it.
“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice laced with that quiet, steady sincerity you’ve relied on for so long.
A bitter tang crawls up your throat, nausea swirling with embarrassment.
You feel like an idiot.
Dialing him, desperate and impulsive, what did you expect? For him to swoop in and fix what’s broken?
You tip your head back, swallowing hard against the burn in your throat. “Yeah. And you?” The words come out thinner than you’d like.
He says your name so softly that your eyelids flutter shut, the sound of it coaxing something raw and aching from your chest.
For the briefest moment, you almost forget you’re standing on a chilly sidewalk with mascara smudged under your eyes and your heart in your hands.
Almost.
But not quite.
Reality creeps back in, sharp and cold.
“Yeah?” you manage to choke out through a tight throat.
“Why’d you call me?” he asks, voice light.
“I… um…” You sniff, swiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “Are you… are you busy right now?”
“Are you crying?” Jack asks, not unkind, just baffled—like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.
You straighten your spine, as if he could see you through the phone. “What? No. Shut up,” you snap, voice wobbly and exposed. It’s a useless lie and you both know it.
“I’m not gonna give you shit for it,” he says earnestly. “That would just be heartless.”
A dry, humorless laugh scrapes out of you as you tip your head back. “Yeah… I, um… I actually got stood up.” The words taste sour, shame tangled in every syllable.
Jack sighs. “Oh, man. I’m really sorry. That’s shitty.”
You close your eyes, shaking your head, tears slipping past your lashes. “Yeah. I don’t… I don’t even know why I called you,” you mumble, voice catching again. “I should probably just go.”
“Where are you?” His tone sharpens—suddenly all business, the version of Jack who always takes charge when you’re falling apart.
“No. It’s… it’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t need to come here,” you assure him.
“I’m being nice by asking,” he counters.
You hesitate, then give in. “That Italian place on Fifth,” you say quietly, skipping the pretense. No point in circling around it now.
“Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be right there.” You hear the unmistakable jingle of his car keys through the phone, and for a split second, relief and panic collide in your chest.
“Jack. You really don’t have to,” you assure him.
“I know I don’t. I’ll see you in ten.” His words come out muffled—he’s probably wedged the phone between his shoulder and his ear, already halfway out the door. You end the call, nerves prickling up your spine and shivering across your skin.
You’re not afraid of Jack—not even a little bit.
You’re scared of how he makes you feel—how easily he slips past your defenses, how he sees you even when you’re trying to disappear.
And most of all, you’re scared because he shouldn’t be making you feel anything at all.
You can hear Jack's truck before you even see it—just a mess of clanks and sputters rattling down the street.
His sister jokes that it should’ve been towed to the scrapyard years ago, but Jack digs in his heels, swearing it’s got a few more lives left in it.
There’s something weirdly endearing about loving a thing just because it’s yours, even when everyone else thinks it’s just a hunk of junk.
That ridiculous, stubborn loyalty.
He hands out that loyalty like it’s nothing, even to stuff with rusted fenders and busted headlights.
The rumble of Jack’s truck shakes you out of your thoughts, headlights splashing across the sidewalk as he pulls up to the curb with a familiar squeal of brakes.
You swipe at your cheeks, trying to erase the evidence of your runny mascara and watery eyes, just as Jack climbs out of the truck and heads your way, his boots thumping against the pavement.
He gives you a quick once-over, his concern obvious. “Christ, you must be freezing.” Without a second thought, he shrugs off his jacket and settles it around your shoulders—warm, heavy, and smelling faintly of his cologne and antiseptic.
“Should’ve worn something longer, huh?” you joke, your voice wobbly but trying for lightness. Jack just shakes his head and guides you to the passenger side, opening the creaky door like he’s done it a hundred times.
Once you’re in the seat, Jack leans over, close enough for you to count the freckles on his nose, and pulls the seatbelt across your lap, clicking it in with practiced care.
“You know I can buckle myself, right?” you tease, your laughter a little shaky as you watch him fuss.
He grins, eyes crinkling. “Yeah, but you don’t have to tonight.” He lingers a beat before closing the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.
Jack slides in beside you, buckles up, and throws the truck into gear with a practiced flick of his wrist. He glances over his shoulder, then pulls smoothly away from the curb, one hand steady on the wheel.
The only sounds are the truck’s heater whirring and the tires humming against the road. Then Jack breaks the silence. “How long did you wait out there before you called me?”
You watch the city slide by outside your window, hands twisted together in your lap. “I don’t know. Half an hour? Maybe forty minutes.”
Jack lets out a long sigh. “You should’ve called me sooner. It’s freezing. Next time, just text me, okay? I don’t want you getting sick.”
You can’t help but smile, a half-laugh slipping out before you can stop it.
Jack glances over, eyebrows raised. “What’s funny?”
You shake your head, finally looking at him. “Nothing. Just… Do you ever stop? You’re always trying to take care of someone. That’s literally your job, but I guess you don’t just turn off the doctor thing, even when you’re off the clock.”
Jack shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
You can’t help but let out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
Jack grins at your reaction. “You’re cute when you laugh, you know,” he teases, eyes crinkling at the corners again.
“Cute? What am I, six?” you shoot back, shaking your head but still grinning.
He shrugs, smile spreading as he keeps his eyes on the road. “You know what I mean.”
You sit up, energy sparking in your chest. “Remember that night at the bar downtown when your sister and I got so wasted you and Robby had to haul us out?” You watch the city slip past the windshield, nostalgia softening your voice.
“Yeah, she was pissed at you and then spent half the night sulking,” Jack says, laughing under his breath as he drums his fingers absentmindedly on the wheel.
“She lost it because I told her I thought you were kind of hot,” you say, almost to yourself, the words floating out before you can snatch them back.
Jack’s fingers freeze mid-tap. “You think I’m attractive?”
Your smile drops. You whip your head to look at him. “No, I—That’s not what I said.”
Jack grins, all smug now. “Oh, I definitely heard that.”
Heat creeps up your neck and you turn to stare out the window, hoping he can’t see your embarrassment.
“You like me,” he accuses, voice annoyingly smug. You grit your teeth, wishing he wasn’t so good at reading you.
You suck in a shaky breath and finally let it out. “Okay, fine—yes, I like you.” The words tumble out, and suddenly you can’t stop. “Oh my God, your sister is going to kill us. She’ll never understand, Jack, she just won’t. I’m so fucked.” Panic rises up, pressing you back into the seat.
Jack starts to reassure you, but you barrel right over him, words coming faster now.
“She’ll never forgive me. I get it—you’re her brother, but I still just can’t lose her, Jack. We live together. How would that even work?” Your heart is pounding, palms slick with sweat.
“Stop talking,” Jack says, gentle but firm.
“What if she moves out? What if she hates me? She’s totally going to hate me, Jack. Why wouldn’t she?”
You’re so lost in your own panic you barely notice the truck slowing down, pulling onto the shoulder. Suddenly, Jack unclips his seatbelt, leans over, and catches your jaw in his hand—his lips crash into yours, silencing your spiral.
You’re breathless when you finally pull apart. “Why’d you do that?” you whisper, your lips still tingling.
He grins, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You wouldn’t stop talking,” he teases, but his voice softens. “Stop worrying so much. I promise, everything’s going to be okay.” And somehow, you start to believe it.
You search his face, barely above a whisper. “How do you know?”
“Do you trust me?” he asks, tilting his head, eyes steady on yours.
You hesitate, but then your fingers find his hand. “Yeah. I do.”
MINI AUTHOR'S NOTE: i know you guys have heard about or read that brendon park x emma nolan fic on ao3... it's quite literally a masterpiece. i read it and somehow ended up spam texting @popeabbot about how obsessed i was with the ship and somehow stumbled to my google docs and started concocting a yummy fic. all that to say, you can expect a brendon park x emma nolan fic on my page in the near future...