a hangman-made disaster — jake seresin (part three)
gif credits: @samcarpenters word count: 11,133 words pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x f!reader synopsis: things come to a head when you and jake finally talk, and it’s not easy. with emotions running high and the truth hanging in the air, nothing feels simple anymore. feelings are said, tears are shed, and suddenly everything between you two starts to shift. but now that everything’s out in the open, what happens next? content warnings: angst, unresolved tension, emotional confessions, pregnancy discussions, strong language, light physical altercation, crying characters, mutual pining, emotionally vulnerable jake seresin, protective bradley bradshaw, hospital setting, mentions of vomiting and fainting, intense feelings, slow-burn dynamic, subtle humor, complicated squad dynamics. author's note: writer’s block really got to me this week and i couldn’t, for the life of me, find the right gif to match this part, so i guess this tyler owens gif will have to do. see the comment below for the full author’s notes!! kofi︱request︱masterlist
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A baby?
A literal human being growing inside of you?
A baby.
Jake took a long breath, forcing it through his nose like that could somehow fix the fact that his hands were still shaking. He closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the cool clinic wall, then scrubbed his palms down his face.
The adrenaline had long since worn off, but his heart hadn’t gotten the memo. It still thumped heavy in his chest, loud and obnoxious, like it was trying to match the chaos in his brain.
This wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.
But there you were, lying on that narrow medical bed, hooked up to a couple monitors with a plastic bracelet around your wrist. Your face was calm for once, slack with sleep, not even a trace of the usual scowl you wore like it was part of your uniform.
Your arms were curled up, tucked close to your chest like a kid napping after recess. You looked smaller like that. Softer, weaker, and that was the part that really rattled him. You were never weak.
The clinic’s lighting wasn’t exactly kind, but it didn’t lie either. Your cheeks were a little paler than usual. There were bags under your eyes, like you hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in weeks.
Your collarbones looked a little more prominent, like you’d lost weight, and Jake’s jaw clenched at that because he hadn’t noticed. He should’ve noticed.
Then, his eyes dropped lower, and there it was.
Subtle, barely a curve pressing through the fabric of that light-blue gown. Most people probably wouldn’t even give it a second glance.
But Jake was a pilot. Trained to notice the smallest shift, the tiniest abnormality on radar or during a maneuver. So yeah, he noticed. And now that he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it. That wasn’t just you breathing. That wasn’t nothing.
That was a baby.
Inside of you.
A baby.
His brain kept trying to restart that sentence like it couldn’t process the full gravity of it. Not in this sterile little clinic with its humming fluorescent lights and distant footsteps echoing down the hall.
Not when his flight suit was still sticking to his back from all the running. Not when his hands still smelled faintly like jet fuel and sweat and you.
Jake blinked hard and looked at you again.
You shifted a little in your sleep, brow twitching like you were fighting off a dream. Then you let out a small sigh and turned your face toward the other side, curling further into yourself. And that damn curve in your abdomen shifted with you.
It was real.
There was a baby in there.
Jake swallowed. He didn’t know what the hell was going to happen next, but for now, he couldn’t stop looking.
He then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, still watching you like if he blinked, you'd disappear and the whole thing would reset. He hadn’t asked the doctor how far along you were. He could have, and he probably should have, but something about that felt like stepping over a line. Like peeling through something that wasn’t his to touch.
Still, the question echoed, looping back again and again like a stuck altimeter.
When did it start?
He started thinking back, eyes narrowing slightly. You’d been more… tired, lately. Maybe even quiet. Not in the good way.
Not in the "thank God she’s not yelling at me" kind of way. Just… off. And if he thought about it, like really thought about it, there were other things. Subtle things.
You were never exactly a graceful eater, but you'd barely touched your food last week when they had pasta night, and it wasn't even the weird navy kind.
Then, there was that time you walked out halfway through the sim briefing because “you forgot something,” but came back looking like you’d stuck your head in a wind tunnel and sprayed breath spray like it was mouthwash.
He thought it was stress. He thought maybe you were just being a dramatic asshole, as usual.
But then, there was Rooster.
The memory hit him like the hard pull of G-force. The way Bradley had suddenly attached himself to your hip, orbiting you like some protective, mustached satellite.
Jake had chalked it up to their messy little history, those two had always been off and on, always acting like they weren’t fooling around when literally everyone knew they were.
Hell, he wasn’t even mad. He just figured it would burn out again like it always did.
But maybe it didn’t.
Jake leaned back again, this time slower, settling into the hard chair with a sudden weight in his chest that had nothing to do with gravity. His fingers curled against the edge of the seat, and he stared at you with something that felt sour. Something tight.
Was it Bradley?
He didn’t want to ask. Not the doctor, not you, and especially not even himself.
Because if it was... if it was Bradley’s baby growing in your belly, then Jake didn’t know why the hell it felt like someone had just pulled the floor out from under him.
Suddenly, the door slammed open so hard it rattled on its hinges, and Jake nearly leapt out of his skin. His head whipped toward the entrance just in time to see the entire squad crowding the doorway, eyes wide, breaths heavy, like they had sprinted across the entire damn base.
Before he could even open his mouth to tell them to back off, Bradley stormed forward with fire in his eyes and fury in his fists. Jake had just enough time to register the rage on Rooster’s face before he was slammed against the wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of it. Pain shot down his spine and he winced, head knocking hard enough that stars blinked in his vision.
“What the hell did you do to her?” Rooster hissed, voice low and threatening.
Jake opened his mouth, but the rest of the squad was already pulling Bradley back, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mess of protest and confusion.
“Rooster, stop!”
“Jesus, man, not in here!”
“Calm down!”
“Bradley!”
Bradley struggled against their grip, still spitting mad, but it was Fanboy who anchored him with a hard grip and a stern look. Coyote had a hand pressed against Jake’s chest, not to hurt him, but to keep him steady just in case he lunged back.
Jake didn’t, not because he couldn’t, but because he had never seen Rooster look like that before. Not even in their worst dogfights.
Just then, the doctor strolled back in, completely unbothered by the growing storm. “Outside. All of you! If you want to throw fists like toddlers, do it somewhere else. She’s resting.”
The scolding was enough to make everyone pause, and eventually the group began dragging Rooster and Jake toward the door, still glaring, still breathing heavily.
Coyote muttered something about cooling off. Yale shoved Jake once more for good measure. Payback promised they’d “settle this later.” The entire group left with tension clinging to the air like fog.
But not everyone.
Phoenix crossed the room in two strides, brushing past the chaos, and settled herself quietly beside your bed. Halo followed suit, her expression unreadable as she pulled up a chair on the other side. Neither said a word. They just watched you for a moment, then exchanged a look before turning their attention fully to you again.
Outside the med bay, all hell broke loose.
The second the door clicked shut behind them, Bradley shoved Jake again, this time harder, forcing him back a few steps. Jake barely caught himself before he stumbled, but the smirk curling on his face said he was asking for more.
“Don’t touch me,” Jake snapped, his voice low but crackling with warning.
“Don’t give me a reason to,” Bradley shot back, practically vibrating with restrained fury. “What the hell were you thinking, Seresin? Running her like that? In this heat?”
Jake barked a laugh, tilting his head just slightly. “Oh, now you care?”
“I always care about her!”
The tension snapped tight like a pulled wire. Bradley surged forward again, only stopped by Fanboy and Payback grabbing his arms.
Coyote stepped in front of Jake just in time, palm flat on his chest as if that would actually do anything if fists started flying.
Jake’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, it turned smug. “I mean, it makes sense now,” he said loudly, eyes still locked on Bradley. “Why you’ve been so protective lately. Always hovering, always covering for her. Thought it was just your mommy issues, but no. There’s more to it, isn’t there, Bradshaw?”
Bradley lunged so hard it took three people to hold him back. “Say that again.”
“Thought so,” Jake muttered with a shake of his head, jaw tight but eyes blazing. “You think you can play the hero in her life just because you’ve got history. That doesn’t make you important. You don’t get to decide what happens next.”
The curse Bradley hurled in his direction was primal, venomous, the kind you don’t say unless you mean it, and Jake flinched like it hit, but that smirk? Still there.
“Stop!” Payback yelled, trying to wedge himself between the two men. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to get someone hurt!”
“Good,” Bradley seethed, still fighting against the hands restraining him. “Let me knock his smug teeth in.”
“You can try,” Jake growled, chest rising and falling sharply. “Let’s go, Bradshaw. Right here. Let’s see what all that righteousness gets you.”
The hallway was spinning with shouting voices and stomping feet, and no one seemed to notice the two men were about one shove away from full-on brawling right there in the corridor. It didn’t matter that they were trained officers, it didn’t matter that there were ranks and consequences and rules.
Right now, none of them existed. There was only anger, only heat, only the complete unraveling of two men who had been holding onto far too much for far too long.
Then Maverick’s voice rang through like a shot.
“Enough!”
Everyone turned at once. Hondo was behind him, arms crossed, but Maverick stepped right between Bradley and Jake, hands out on either side.
Bradley was still breathing like he’d run a marathon, face flushed and eyes wild, but he stopped moving. Jake backed off a half step, jaw clenching and unclenching, the smirk slipping just slightly under Maverick’s sharp, unreadable glare.
“This isn’t the time,” Maverick said quietly, firmly, scanning both of them. “I don’t care what’s going on between you two, you’re not going to turn this hallway into a goddamn high school parking lot. You’re better than that. Act like it!”
Bradley didn’t speak. His fists were still clenched at his sides, eyes darting toward the med bay door. Jake, meanwhile, didn’t look at anyone. He was still staring at the wall like he could burn a hole in it.
“You alright?” Maverick asked, a quieter tone now as he turned slightly toward Bradley.
But Bradley didn’t answer him either. He was still staring at Jake. He looked like he wanted to tear him apart with his bare hands.
And Jake? He finally said something. His voice was low, almost quiet, but with just enough venom behind it.
“You know, I was wondering what all the overprotective bullshit was about. Now, I get it. You’ve got your reasons.” He paused, tilting his head just slightly. “I’ve got mine, too.”
Bradley’s entire body tensed again, like that last remark pushed him straight to the edge. And the fight wasn’t over. Not even close.
Jake didn’t back down. His hands stayed at his sides, clenched into fists, jaw tight, like he had something else to say and he was just waiting for the right moment to drop it.
The silence outside the med bay crackled with tension, the kind that made even seasoned pilots fidget and glance at one another for what came next.
Bradley took a step forward, but Maverick’s voice cut through it all with the precision of a scalpel. “Enough,” he said, sharp and loud enough to freeze everyone. “Both of you, stand down.”
Hondo muttered something about grown men acting like toddlers as he moved between them, one hand going to Bradley’s shoulder. Jake didn’t move, but the smirk had faded into something tighter, something harder to place.
There was a flicker in his eyes, the kind of look that said whatever this was, it wasn’t just about pride or ego anymore.
“You know what?” Bradley said through clenched teeth. “Why are you even here, Jake? You don’t get to act like you care about her now. You’re the reason she’s here in the first place.”
Jake’s head tilted slightly, lips pressing into a firm line, and for a second, he didn’t say anything. Then, he looked straight at Bradley, something dangerous swimming behind his eyes. “You don’t know a damn thing,” he said quietly. “Not about me. Not about her. So maybe stop playing the hero when you’ve been just as clueless as the rest of us.”
Bradley’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, he just stared at Jake like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His voice, when it finally came, was low but sharp, each word deliberate.
“Are you serious right now?”
He took a step closer, his expression darkening.
“You think I’ve been clueless? You think I’m playing some hero?” Bradley shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping under his breath. “You’re the one who did this. You’re the one who ran your mouth, who pushed her away every chance you got, and now you want to stand here and act like everyone else is the problem?”
Before either of them could lunge, the door to the med bay swung open. The doctor stepped out with a clipboard in hand, eyes narrowing the moment he saw the two of them squared up again.
“You want to keep throwing punches, take it off base,” he said flatly. “Otherwise, I’m writing both your names up for conduct violations. Do I make myself clear?”
Jake stepped back first, rubbing his hands over his face with a long breath. Bradley didn’t move at first, still wired tight like a coiled spring, but eventually he exhaled and looked away.
Maverick stepped forward, tone a notch softer. “How is she?”
The doctor took his time flipping the clipboard, mostly for show. He didn’t answer right away, which made Jake glance up again.
“She’s stable for now,” the doctor said finally. “She fainted from a mix of stress and physical overexertion. Her body’s been running on fumes, and I don’t know what she’s been pushing through, but it was too much. She’s resting now.”
There was a collective breath released from the squad, even the ones who hadn’t said a word. Jake’s hands dropped to his sides again, and something inside him shifted, something that twisted in his gut and crawled up his spine.
The doctor continued, clearly not finished. “And let me be very clear. I don’t care if you’re her superior officer, her wingman, or her childhood nemesis. If any of you push her again while she’s in this condition, you’re out of my med bay and grounded until I say otherwise. Understood?”
Everyone nodded.
Jake didn’t. Not right away. He just stared at the closed door behind the doctor and swallowed hard.
Because if she had been running on fumes, if she had been dragging herself across the line every single day, what did that say about him?
What did that say about what he had done?
And why, now that he finally heard the truth, did it feel so much worse than he expected?
───────
It was dark when you woke up. Not pitch-black, but that quiet kind of dim, the one that only comes from bedside lamps and the hum of machines meant to reassure rather than alarm. For a moment, you weren’t sure where you were.
The air smelled like antiseptic, the sheets felt too crisp, and everything was far too peaceful to be your apartment.
You blinked slowly, your body still heavy with sleep, limbs reluctant to move. It took another full breath before the reality settled in. You were in the clinic.
And not the usual one either. This was smaller, quieter. Tucked somewhere in the base, probably the one barely anyone used unless the others were full. You hadn’t been here before, but it felt safe enough.
Your mouth was dry, throat scratchy. Your body felt... off. Like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to cry, throw up, or both.
Then it hit you. That gnawing, almost painful emptiness in your stomach.
The baby.
Oh, God. Your baby.
They were probably screaming at you in silent baby rage right now, kicking around your insides, demanding to know why you hadn’t eaten for God knows how long. You had no idea what time it was or how long you’d been out.
The only thing you could remember before everything went dark was the burn of the sun on your back, the rough sting of the ground scraping your knees, and the shape of a shadow cutting across the light.
Then arms. Warm, strong arms lifting you like you weighed nothing. You remembered your head pressing against a chest, the rise and fall of steady breathing that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could rest for a second. Just a second.
Now, the guilt punched you right in the gut.
You swallowed the tightness in your throat and let your hand drift down to your stomach, fingertips brushing the soft cotton of the gown.
You hadn’t looked yet, but when your hand pressed gently over the lower swell of your belly, a shaky breath escaped. There. Barely there, but enough.
Enough to remind you that someone else existed now. Someone small. Someone who didn’t ask for this chaos but was getting dragged into it anyway.
“Hey,” you whispered, voice hoarse, not sure if you were talking to yourself or to them. “You still in there?”
The silence answered for you, but your hand didn’t move.
You were about to shift into a sitting position when you noticed something. Someone.
Bradley.
He was in the chair beside your bed, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hands. His flight suit jacket was draped over the arm of the chair, and his undershirt clung to him in a way that made it very clear he hadn’t changed.
He was asleep, barely, in that awful kind of posture that promised a sore neck and bad dreams.
Your heart twisted.
You thought he was the one who brought you here. It made sense. Of course it would’ve been him. He’d been playing mother hen for weeks, hovering like some overbearing guardian angel with a mustache.
He’d yell at Jake, check your food, force you to drink water, and stand way too close anytime you so much as looked tired. Of course he would’ve carried you off the tarmac. Of course he would’ve stayed until you woke up.
You shifted slightly, adjusting your legs under the blanket, trying not to make any noise. The last thing you wanted was to wake him. Not when he looked that wrecked.
You must have shifted too loudly, because Bradley stirred, then blinked himself awake with a soft grunt. His head lifted, eyes bleary and a little unfocused at first, but when they landed on you, upright, breathing, and very much conscious, relief flooded his face so hard it looked like he forgot how to breathe for a second.
“You’re awake,” he said, sitting up straighter in the chair. “Jesus. You scared the hell out of me.”
He leaned forward, reaching instinctively like he was about to touch your arm but paused just short of it, eyes scanning your face, your body, your hands on your bump.
“How are you feeling? Do you need water? Food? You should probably eat, or—wait, should I ask the nurse? You want crackers or soup or something? They said you were dehydrated, so maybe—”
“I’m okay,” you cut in gently, offering the smallest smile. “I swear. I feel… better. A little like roadkill, but I’ll live.”
Bradley chuckled softly, but then his mouth pressed into a tight line. He stared at you for a few seconds longer than necessary, clearly debating something, jaw working like he was chewing on every word before he said it.
You narrowed your eyes. “What?”
He groaned, rubbing his hand down his face before finally muttering, “I think Jake knows.”
You sat up so fast the monitor next to you practically screamed.
“What?!”
The beeping spiked in rhythm with your heart rate, loud enough that it made Bradley flinch. He bolted out of his chair and hovered by the edge of the bed, hands up like you were some feral cat about to bolt.
“Hey—hey, calm down!” he urged. “Breathe, okay? Just—don’t go zero to a hundred. Deep breaths.”
You ignored him completely.
“What do you mean he knows? What did he say? Who told him? Was it Bob? God, was it Mav? Did he say anything about the baby? About me? Was it just a guess or—”
“Breathe!” Bradley said again, louder this time, reaching out to press the call button. “You’re gonna set the alarm off at this rate.”
“The alarm’s already going off!” you snapped.
Bradley winced. “Yeah, no kidding.”
The heart monitor beeped like it was personally offended. You could feel your pulse in your teeth.
You closed your eyes, inhaled slowly through your nose, then exhaled through your mouth, even though everything inside of you wanted to scream.
Bradley stayed next to you, hands hovering close but not touching. Waiting, ready, and annoyingly calm for someone who just told you that Jake Seresin might know you’re pregnant.
Finally, once the monitor began to settle again, you opened your eyes and muttered, “Okay,I’m calm.”
“Liar,” Bradley mumbled, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You glared at him. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Please wait until you’re discharged,” Bradley said. “Or at least until the nurse brings you a snack.”
Your pulse was starting to level, but Bradley’s face remained tense. That faint smile he wore just moments ago had vanished, replaced with something heavier, something he clearly didn’t want to unpack yet. His eyes flicked to the monitors, then back to you.
“How did he even find out?” you asked, voice softer now, laced with caution instead of panic. The initial shock had worn off, leaving you simmering in confusion.
Bradley sighed, fingers raking through his curls as he leaned his elbows on the bed's edge. “The doctor must’ve said something.”
Your brows furrowed, a slow dread rising in your chest. “Why would the doctor say anything to Jake?”
Bradley hesitated.
That alone was enough to send your heart crawling back up your throat. Silence like that never came with good news. Your stomach twisted, and the monitor beside you beeped a little faster.
“Well,” he finally said, dragging the word out like it hurt to admit, “he was the one who got you here.”
The sentence sat between you for a moment, untouched and dense. You stared at him, confused. “What… do you mean he got me here?”
“He was the first one to get to you,” Bradley explained, a little more gently now. “After you collapsed. I was still running behind, but Jake, he got there first. He picked you up and just… ran.”
The room went quiet except for the faint hum of the overhead light and the soft beeping of your heart monitor.
You blinked once. Then, again. “I—what?”
Bradley glanced away, suddenly focused on a spot on the wall, avoiding your eyes. “He carried you all the way to one of the smaller clinics. Not the main one. The quieter one near the west gate. The rest of us didn’t even know where he took you until the doctor called it in.”
You felt like someone had kicked the breath out of your lungs.
Jake Seresin.
That cocky, irritating, impossible man, and the father of your child.
He carried you? He didn’t leave you behind? He didn’t shout for someone else to handle it? No, apparently, he had picked you up with those arms of his and ran you across the base.
Why did that make your chest feel weird?
Your fingers curled into the blanket resting over your lap. You stared at the wall, mind spiraling. You remembered the heat of the tarmac, the sting of sunlight in your eyes, the burn in your lungs.
And then, just before the dark had taken you fully, you remembered the feeling of arms beneath your knees and back, holding you like you mattered. Like something fragile worth protecting.
That had been him?
Jake?
Your brain didn’t know how to process it. It refused to reconcile the memory of someone warm and gentle with the Jake you knew, the sarcastic, loud-mouthed, permanently smug. It didn’t compute.
Bradley was still watching you, eyes soft now. “I didn’t want to tell you while you were still out of it.”
Your mouth opened and closed again. You had no idea what part to react to first.
The collapsing? The carrying? The Jake Seresin possibly being decent for once in his life part?
You pressed a hand to your temple and let out a weak groan. “I think I’m gonna be sick again.”
Bradley wordlessly handed you the small pink bin from the bedside table. You clutched it to your chest like a lifeline, though your stomach had mostly settled into a tight knot now. No puke, just pressure.
You weren’t even sure what the hell you were feeling. Gratitude? Embarrassment? Suspicion? All of the above?
And the worst part? The tiniest part? You felt… safe.
You felt safe when you had no business feeling that way. Not when it was him. Not when he had done the one thing that made your guard slip, even just for a moment.
The memory of being held that way, of being protected, wrapped itself around your thoughts like a vine, refusing to let go.
Jake Seresin had carried you here, and you hated that part of you didn’t hate that.
God. Of course he did. Of course this mess wasn’t done twisting.
You stared for a second, then looked up like the sky might offer answers, because clearly someone out there was writing your life like a bad drama. If there was an author pulling the strings, you wanted a word.
No, you wanted a fight.
You hoped their pen snapped in half. You hoped their coffee went cold. You hoped they got stuck rewriting this scene forever, trapped in the same exhausting spiral, watching everything go wrong no matter how many times they tried to fix it.
Your stomach then let out another painful grumble, the kind that felt like it echoed in your bones, and you actually winced.
Bradley’s face split into a grin, brow cocking. “Well. Someone’s officially awake now.”
You covered your face with a groan. “That wasn’t a stomach. That was a warning siren.”
He laughed softly, the sound a little too proud. “What do you want to eat, demon host?”
You peeked through your fingers, glaring. “First of all, rude. Second of all… my weird combo. Third of all, there's no third.”
His whole body jolted with a fake shudder. “You mean the war crime of a meal involving peanut butter, pickles, mashed potatoes and… what was it? Hot fries?”
You nodded like it was the most sacred list in the world. “You forgot the garlic rice!”
Bradley made a gagging sound and waved a hand in surrender. “I’m going to need hazard pay just to walk into that cafeteria.”
You stuck out your tongue and pouted, because if there was ever a time you earned the right to demand weird food combinations, it was now. “You’re just jealous you can’t eat like a queen.”
“A queen possessed by something unholy,” he muttered as he stood and stretched his arms above his head.
You watched him for a second, the way his shoulders cracked and the stiffness in his back betrayed just how long he’d been sitting there.
Your eyes flicked to the crease on the chair where he’d clearly fallen asleep earlier, head tucked into his hand like he’d tried to stay alert but eventually lost the fight. There was something in your chest that tugged painfully at the sight.
Guilt? Gratitude? A mess of both.
He was halfway to the door, ready to make the trek, when the handle turned.
And then, the door opened.
Your heart stopped.
There he was.
Jake Seresin.
Frozen in the doorway like he’d walked into the wrong damn dimension. His hair was windswept, the collar of his shirt wrinkled, and there were paper bags in his hands. His fingers tightened around them like maybe they were the only reason he didn’t bolt.
The smells hit you first; greasy, hot, mouthwatering in the worst way. You sat a little straighter, which immediately made your back hurt, but you didn’t care.
Bradley noticed him two seconds later.
“What do you want?” he snapped, the shift in tone so fast it made your neck twitch.
Jake didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at Bradley. His eyes were on you, and that was what shook you.
There wasn’t an ounce of smirk or arrogance in his expression. Just something complicated. Too layered to read, like he’d slammed too many thoughts into one expression and couldn’t commit to any of them.
You caught a flicker of relief in his gaze, but it was gone before you could be sure.
“I just wanted to see how she’s doing,” Jake said, and even his voice sounded tired.
Bradley stepped forward, planting himself between you and the door like a wall. “She’s fine. As you can see, there’s no reason for you to be here.”
You flinched at his tone and muttered, “Bradley, don’t.”
Jake finally blinked, as if your voice pulled him back into the moment. He looked at Bradley and offered a small smile, one that showed teeth but carried no warmth at all.
“I just came to check on her,” Jake said, his tone quiet but pointed. “Not that I need your permission.”
Your pulse was speeding up again. You could feel it in your neck, in your stomach. There was no physical space for this kind of emotional mess anymore, not with your body being taken over by something that demanded all your energy.
The two of them were circling each other like dogs, both ready to bite.
“I think we’re good here,” Bradley growled.
Jake tilted his head like he was humoring him. “You sure? You’ve been playing nurse for a while. Might be time someone else steps in.”
That was it.
“Jake,” you said sharply. Your voice cracked a little, which made it worse, but it was enough.
They both looked at you.
Jake’s posture changed slightly, his expression softening just enough to make your throat tighten. God, you didn’t want this. Not this war. Not this unbearable weight of standing between two men you cared about for two wildly different reasons.
“Just wanted to see if you were okay,” Jake said again, quieter now.
Bradley’s laugh was sharp, but Jake ignored him.
Then, Jake looked at you, really looked. “Can we talk?”
The room stilled again.
Bradley was already shaking his head. “No, not without me here.”
“I’m not asking her to fight me in a cage,” Jake muttered. “Just talk.”
“I don’t trust you.”
Jake didn’t even blink. “I wouldn’t either.”
That silenced even Bradley.
You breathed slowly through your nose, trying to steady the way your heart thudded against your ribs. “Bradley,” you said gently, reaching out to him.
He turned to you, jaw clenched so hard it could’ve snapped.
“I’m fine,” you said. “Please, just give us a minute.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers curled into fists and released again. He looked like he wanted to argue, like every instinct in him was screaming no, but instead, he nodded once and stepped toward you.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, staying there for a beat longer than usual. Jake then rolled his eyes.
When he pulled away, he didn’t look at Jake. “You screw this up, I swear to God—”
“I know,” Jake cut in. “You’ll rearrange my teeth. Heard it before.”
With one last look at you, Bradley stepped out and shut the door behind him. The lock clicked into place, and now the air felt too quiet.
Jake stood awkwardly by the edge of your bed. He didn’t move closer, and he didn’t speak yet.
You glanced at the food. “Is that what I think it is?”
He blinked, then held the bag up like an offering. “Flamin’ hot fries, peanut butter, mashed potatoes, and garlic rice. I don’t even want to know.”
Your mouth watered. Goddamn it.
This was humiliating. Utterly and completely unfair.
Your child was their father’s child, and that was the worst part. Of course they were. Of course the universe would saddle you with a baby who already had the same smug taste buds and the same damn ability to emotionally hijack you with one greasy, golden smell.
You stared at the paper bag sitting on the table beside your bed like it had descended from the heavens. Fries. You could smell fries. Possibly a burger. Definitely something with cheese. It should not have been that serious, and yet here you were, seconds away from tears over fast food.
You glanced at Jake, narrowing your eyes like he had just cursed you with a witch’s spell.
He was trying to look casual, hands in his pockets, eyes on anything but you. Like he hadn’t just walked in here with a bag full of cravings and guilt.
Unbelievable.
How dare he come in here with the exact thing your body had been begging for all week. How dare your stomach betray you like this.
You hated him.
Really?
You squinted suspiciously. “How the hell did you even know I wanted this?”
Jake blinked, then leaned back slightly in the chair Bradley had been occupying before. He looked a little too pleased with himself, arms folded, like he’d just won some cosmic guessing game.
“I didn’t,” he said casually. “That just happens to be my go-to. Didn’t know what you liked, so I figured I’d just order what I wanted and hope for the best.”
You blinked, and then blinked again.
“You bought this… for you?” you asked flatly, already reaching for the bag.
He shrugged, not even trying to look sheepish. “More or less.”
You deadpanned at him. “You’re an actual menace.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, resting his ankle over his knee and watching you with that smug Seresin smirk that made you want to both punch and high-five him. “Say that while you’re eating my food.”
You scowled, then carefully adjusted the pillows behind your back, scooting up enough to sit comfortably. The gown crinkled against the sheets, the hospital-grade starch unforgiving, but it didn’t matter.
You propped the food in your lap like it was some sacred offering and peeled the top open with reverent fingers. The scent hit full force, and your stomach snarled loud enough to make Jake chuckle.
You glanced at him. “If you laugh one more time, I’ll throw this at your face.”
“You’d never waste it,” he said, utterly confident. He wasn’t wrong though.
You stabbed your fork into the mash, making sure to scoop some hot fries and drag it through the peanut butter before you popped it into your mouth.
The moment it hit your tongue, you actually moaned.
It was involuntary. Guttural. Embarrassingly real.
Jake's eyebrows lifted.
“Oh, my God,” you muttered, already going for another bite. “This shouldn’t taste that good. This tastes like…” You paused, chewing furiously. “Like an apology from the universe.”
Jake leaned forward slightly, clearly enjoying this far too much. “I’m flattered. Do all your cravings sound like fast food with a vengeance?”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t dignify him with an answer. Your mouth was too busy experiencing actual bliss. It was like the baby inside you finally unclenched its tiny fists and decided to let you live for a moment.
Jake just sat there, watching. And weirdly… didn’t say anything more.
No teasing. No jokes. He just… observed you, like he was taking you in for real this time. The silence didn’t feel awkward, though. It felt charged, but in a quiet, unsure kind of way.
You didn’t look at him again. You just kept eating.
Because for the first time in what felt like days, your body wasn’t fighting you. And as much as you hated to admit it… that was because of him.
Jake cleared his throat, breaking the quiet in a way that made you pause mid-bite. You didn’t look up at first, just kept chewing, because frankly, you weren’t sure if you were ready for whatever version of Jake Seresin was about to open his mouth.
“I uh… I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said, voice surprisingly low.
You raised your head slowly, fork still half-raised, and narrowed your eyes. “Wait, hold on.” You tilted your head dramatically, tone dry. “Am I dreaming? Or is this some kind of fever nightmare where Jake Seresin, the Hangman, is apologizing to me? AM I DYING?!”
He sighed, already regretting this, probably. “I’m being serious.”
You kept going. “Like, is this your clone? A long-lost twin? Did someone knock your head on the way in here and reset your personality?”
Jake gave you a flat look, but there was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, I’m really trying to be decent here.”
You nodded solemnly, popping another fry into your mouth. “Wow. That’s a first.”
He took a breath like he was going to respond to that, but let it go. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I pushed too hard. I was being an asshole. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were…”
He trailed off.
The room shifted, or maybe it was the silence that did. The air that had felt light just seconds ago suddenly stretched thin between you. You didn’t look at him.
Instead, you set your fork down slowly, eyes on the blanket over your lap. You reached for the glass on the tray beside the bed and took a slow sip, trying to buy yourself a few more seconds before you had to deal with… this.
Your condition.
Your child, and his child.
The very real, very exhausting truth sitting in your uterus, taking up both physical and emotional space, and now suddenly known by the one man you had least prepared to face with it.
You didn’t know what to say, and Jake didn’t rush to fill the silence either.
“You know, it makes sense now,” Jake said, his voice quieter than usual but tinged with something sharper, something dangerous. He wasn’t even looking at you, just fiddling with the paper bag from earlier, eyes cast somewhere near the wall.
“All the hovering. The way he looks at you like you’re gonna shatter. The way you look at him like he’s your damn lifeline.”
You glanced up mid-bite, fork pausing near your mouth. “What are you even talking about?”
Jake finally looked at you, jaw tight. “Bradshaw.”
A sigh punched out of your chest before you even realized it. “He’s my friend, Jake. He cares, so what?”
“He cares because you two are all over each other,” Jake said, tossing the paper bag aside like it had personally offended him. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. Everyone sees it.”
“You mean how we’ve been close since we were kids?” you asked, your tone clipped, pointed. “How has he always been there for me? Wow, shocking.”
Jake laughed once, bitter. “Right. Friends. That’s what you call it?”
You narrowed your eyes. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” he echoed. “My problem is you two acting like you're not practically in each other’s beds every other week.”
Your stomach twisted, not just from the bite you had barely chewed but from the way he said it. As if he had the right.
You set your fork down slowly. “I am not a slut.”
That shut him up. His face froze, eyes flickering. “I never said that.”
“But you implied it,” you snapped. “Don’t act like you didn’t. Just say it, Seresin. Say what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t—” He stopped, dragging a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what the hell did you mean?” you asked, voice rising now. “What, that because Bradley and I have history, I’m not allowed to lean on him when I’m going through hell? That because we’ve slept together before, it must mean I’m screwing him now too?”
Jake stood up so fast the chair behind him scraped against the floor. “Please don't twist my words.”
“No?” You leaned forward, heart racing, breath picking up. “Because you’re doing a damn good job twisting everything else.”
Jake was pacing now. “It’s just—he’s always there. You never used to be like this with him. And now you’re all...attached.”
You blinked, stunned. “What do you even care?”
His mouth opened, then closed. Something flickered in his expression; regret maybe, or the realization that he’d already said too much.
Silence thickened the space between you.
You swallowed, hard, your chest rising and falling as you tried to gather air around the invisible pressure building inside it.
“I’ve had a shit week. I passed out in the middle of a fucking tarmac. My body is a mess, I haven’t kept food down for days, and now you’re sitting here accusing me of being what, too close to someone who’s actually helping me stay sane?”
Jake didn’t answer right away. He looked like he wanted to yell back, or storm out, or maybe even apologize, but couldn’t decide which.
Your voice dropped lower, hoarser. “You don’t get to talk like that to me. Not right now.”
You were trembling again, slightly. You felt it in your fingers and in the way your heart pounded against your ribs like it was trying to break out.
Jake exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t’ve said that.”
“No,” you replied, your voice tight and clipped, holding back the weight you were really feeling. “You shouldn’t have.”
You looked away first, not because you were ashamed, but because if you kept looking at him, you might actually say it. You might finally let the words slip, and that terrified you more than anything.
The quiet hum of the monitor beside you seemed louder now, the sterile, too-clean scent of the clinic pressing in around you. Everything felt still, but inside your chest, your heart was pounding like it was trying to climb its way out.
Because he didn’t know yet.
And maybe, after all this, he should.
You sank further into the thin pillows behind your back, pulling the blanket tighter around your body, as if that could shield you from the truth sitting heavy between you both. Your fingers dug into the edge of the mattress, gripping like you were bracing for impact.
The urge to blurt it out, to just say it already, pressed against your ribs like a scream, but you couldn’t. Not when the fear of what came next was so loud in your head.
You had replayed this moment countless times already, each one more painful than the last. Sometimes, you pictured him angry. Other times, he laughed it off. Once or twice, in a desperate dream you didn’t want to admit to having, he simply sat beside you and told you it would be okay.
But no matter how many times you imagined it, none of those versions felt right, because the real Jake Seresin was unpredictable, messy, and prone to reacting before thinking. That was what scared you most.
How were you even supposed to say it?
How did you look someone in the eyes and tell them that your life was now irreversibly tied to theirs?
Hey, surprise, remember that one night we both promised never to bring up again? Yeah. It turns out we made a whole human.
You wanted to laugh. You almost did, but it would’ve sounded hysterical, and you were already on thin ice with your own sanity.
You looked at Jake again, sitting quietly now with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched, staring at nothing in particular. There was a heaviness around him that made you wonder if maybe he already knew, or maybe he just didn’t want to know.
Either way, the silence stretched and the truth ached against your chest.
So maybe it was time. Maybe the right moment didn’t exist, and maybe it didn’t matter if your voice cracked or if you cried or if it broke him a little, too.
Because it was his child. And no matter how badly you wanted to carry this alone, you couldn’t anymore.
You owed him the truth, right? Even if it shattered whatever was left of this moment.
Jake’s voice broke the silence again, quiet this time, careful in a way that didn’t suit him. “When did you find out you were…?”
You didn’t answer immediately. The question sat there between you, heavy and too sharp around the edges. Your eyes dropped to your lap, watching your fingers twist into the fabric of the blanket like it could ground you.
You focused on the motion, the pressure of your knuckles going white, anything to steady the noise in your chest. It took a few breaths before you could get the words out.
“A few weeks ago,” you said finally, your voice quiet but clear. The tone was measured, but the burn in your throat betrayed the effort it took to keep it there.
Jake didn’t respond. He stayed where he was, still and quiet, like he’d forgotten how to move. It was rare to see him like that. Usually he filled silence with something, even if it was just noise or bravado, but now he seemed unsure if he was even allowed to speak.
You glanced at him briefly. His expression was unreadable as his mouth drawn tight, his eyes locked on something across the room that you couldn’t see.
He wasn’t fidgeting. He wasn’t smirking. He just looked tired, like he’d been carrying too much and only now realized it.
Then he shifted, just slightly, and spoke again. “Is it… is it Bradley’s?”
His voice didn’t hold accusation. It wasn’t laced with anger or jealousy. It was just… uncertain. Maybe even afraid.
Your head snapped toward him instinctively. The answer came before you had time to doubt yourself. “No. Bradley isn’t the father.”
You watched the breath leave him slowly, like the weight of that possibility had been pressing on his lungs. You let out a breath of your own. It was shaky and shallow, but it was the first real one you’d taken since this conversation started.
He stood slowly, using the arm of the chair to push himself up. You didn’t look at him right away, but you felt the shift in the room. He wasn’t looming or moving closer, just standing there, caught between thought and instinct.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, the pressure against your ribs offering a poor excuse for comfort. Sitting still felt unbearable, so you stood too, without even meaning to. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even steady, but it was something.
Jake looked at you, and this time his eyes didn’t move away. His voice came out quieter now. “Is it mine?”
There was a tremble in his jaw. His fists were clenched at his sides, like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. His whole body looked tense, like he was bracing himself for impact.
And his eyes, God, they looked different. Glossy, unsure, like something behind them was threatening to break open.
You didn’t speak at first. There was a lump in your throat, and the silence stretched until it hurt, but there was no escaping the moment anymore. You had delayed it long enough.
“Yes,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s yours.”
The word hung there for a second, then crashed down between you like a wave.
Jake’s face went blank. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and let his head drop slightly. He brought a hand to his face and dragged it down slowly, like he needed something physical to tether him. When he looked at you again, you could see it clearly; how deeply that answer had hit him. The disbelief, realization, and the ache.
“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect this, and I didn’t mean for it to happen like this—”
Jake stepped forward, only a little, but it was enough to make your pulse jump again. “You’re sure?”
You nodded. “There’s no one else. It was that night.”
That night. The one you had both buried, even if neither of you had really let it go.
The air shifted around you. Something settled, something else frayed. Jake didn’t move again.
His arms were stiff at his sides, like they couldn’t decide if they should reach for you or dig themselves into his pockets or punch a wall.
You couldn’t breathe properly, not with the way your heart was pounding. You couldn’t stop shaking either.
The two of you stood there, still and uncertain, in the middle of a moment that neither of you could undo.
Before you knew it, a wrecked sob escaped your mouth. It came without warning, ripping from your chest and breaking open the last bit of composure you had been clinging to.
Your hands shook as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, trying to keep the pieces of yourself together, but it was too late. You couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“I... didn’t know how to say it,” you blurted, your voice cracking through every word. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I kept thinking maybe it would just go away, or that maybe I’d wake up one day and it wouldn’t be real. I didn’t even know for sure at first, and then I did, and suddenly everything felt so loud, and I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do.”
Your breath hitched again, and you felt hot tears rolling down your cheeks, but you didn’t wipe them away.
“You’re Jake Seresin. And I’m me. And this was supposed to be nothing, just a stupid one night thing, but it wasn’t, not really, and now it’s not just us anymore. It’s never going to be just us again. There’s a baby, and it’s yours, and I didn’t know how to tell you because I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing.”
Jake still hadn’t moved. He was standing a few feet away, frozen like his body had locked up on him.
His jaw was tight, like he was biting something back, and his hands, God, his hands, were trembling at his sides. His eyes were glassy now, green and raw and wide, and still he didn’t say a word.
“I tried,” you whispered. “I tried to find the right moment. But there was never a right one, and every time I looked at you, I couldn’t breathe. I was scared, Jake. I’ve been scared this whole time.”
You looked at him again, chest heaving, voice strained from the sobs still pushing at your throat. “Say something,” you pleaded, stepping forward without even thinking. “Please, Jake, just—say anything.”
Your voice cracked hard on that last word. It came out smaller than you meant, like your ribs couldn’t make space for the sound. The silence he gave you in return only made it worse. It stretched between you like a wound.
Jake blinked, slowly. And still, he said nothing.
“Jake, say something… please?”
Jake’s voice, when it finally came, was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. It wasn’t angry or harsh, just low. Almost… hollow.
“Who knows?”
The question stunned you for a second. Your lips parted, but no words came out at first, and when they did, they came soft and small, like you were trying not to make them worse than they already were.
“Maverick,” you said. “And Bradley.”
Jake’s eyes didn’t move, but you saw it anyway, the way his face shifted just slightly, like the ground beneath him had tilted.
His breath caught, and then he gave the smallest shake of his head, barely there. You watched him blink slowly, like he was trying to piece together something he hadn’t expected to break.
“You told them,” he said, not as an accusation, but more like he was trying to understand it out loud. “You told them before me.”
You took a sharp breath, the sting behind your eyes building all over again, because you hadn’t meant for it to hurt like that, but of course it did.
“Jake,” you said, voice trembling, “I didn’t know how to come to you. I didn’t even know if I could.”
His expression twisted, not angry, not fully sad either, just… shattered. Like the question had come from a deeper place, one he wasn’t even sure you were supposed to see. “But why not me first?” he asked again. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because you’re you,” you snapped, and the words tumbled out so fast you didn’t even try to stop them. “And I’m me. And we’re not—we’re not a thing, Jake. We never were. We were always just bickering and pushing and seeing who could get under the other’s skin first. It was always a game with you. It’s always been like that.”
You were pacing now, or half-pacing, rubbing your arms like that could calm your nerves down. Jake didn’t interrupt. He didn’t even look away from you.
“We weren’t supposed to care,” you went on, bitter and breathless. “We were supposed to hate each other, remember? That’s how it works with us. We argue. We flirt a little. We sleep together like idiots. Then we pretend it never happened and move on. That’s what we do, Jake.”
You turned toward him fully then, your chest rising and falling too fast, and your voice broke again, quieter this time. “You weren’t supposed to matter this much. None of this was supposed to matter this much.”
Jake’s face crumpled at that. Not completely, but enough for the mask to slip. Enough to show that something in your words struck somewhere deep, sharp, and real.
His voice came out thick, lower than before, and edged with something that sounded like it had been festering in his chest for weeks. “You could’ve told me.”
He didn’t wait for your response. He took a step forward, then another, his arms gesturing wide as if he needed to make room for all the words he couldn’t keep in anymore.
“I thought about that night every fucking day,” he said, breath uneven. “I thought about how you didn’t say anything the next morning, just got dressed like it didn’t mean anything. And I—I let you, because what else was I supposed to do? We’re not the kind of people who do feelings, right? That’s what I told myself. That you didn’t care, so I had to pretend I didn’t either.”
You couldn’t breathe. The words were loud, but your own heart was louder, thundering behind your ribs like it was trying to get out.
Jake’s voice cracked again, rougher this time. “But God, I hated it. Every second of it. Seeing you act like we hadn’t shared the best damn night of my life, like it didn’t touch you.”
“Why?” Your voice came out sharp, fragile beneath it all. “Why would it matter to you?”
Jake stared at you like you’d just asked if the sun still rose in the east.
“Because it’s you.”
And then, he cracked.
His hands flew to his hair, dragging through the strands before he dropped them to his sides, clenching them into fists.
“Every damn time you walk into a room, I forget how to fucking breathe. It’s like my whole chest tightens up and I don’t get relief until you say something. Anything. You could insult me. You could ignore me. You could fucking laugh at me, and I’d take it. I’d take anything just to have your eyes on me!”
You blinked. He was pacing now. Rambling. Ranting.
“I’ve made a damn fool of myself for years, and you don’t even see it. I say dumb shit just to get your attention. I push every button you have because it’s the only thing I know how to do that works. And yeah, I joke and I flirt and I act like I don’t care, but you—you always listen to me. Even when I say the stupidest things, you always listen. You always look at me like I matter.”
He stopped in the middle of the room, breath catching again. “But then there’s Bradley. Always Bradley. He’s been there for you forever. You two have history. You two make sense. And me? I’m just the asshole who pisses you off for fun. I don’t get to be anything more.”
You couldn’t speak, because something inside of you was splitting open. Something that had been sealed tight since the morning after that night, since the moment you chose not to let it mean more than what it was… even though you’d felt it too.
Even though it had never stopped mattering. Not for one second.
Jake let out a short, bitter laugh, one that didn’t hold any humor, just disbelief and pain and something tangled behind his eyes.
He brought both hands to his face, wiped at it roughly like he could force the tears back, but it was no use. His shoulders were shaking now, and his voice was wrecked.
“You’re pregnant with my baby,” he whispered, like he still couldn’t believe it even though the truth had been handed to him like a loaded gun. “You’re walking around with, God, you’re carrying a piece of me, and I didn’t even know.”
His voice cracked at that last part. You felt it like a fracture inside your own chest.
He blinked, hard. His whole body shifted like the weight was finally dragging him under, but he stood through it, didn’t move from the center of the room, didn’t move from where he could look at you, fully and honestly, like he didn’t want to miss a second of this truth he never got to prepare for.
“You could’ve told me,” he said again, breath catching on every syllable now. “I don’t care if I was halfway across the damn world, I would’ve come to you.”
His hands dropped uselessly to his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them, like he wanted to reach for you and didn’t know if he was allowed. His voice got softer, raw, aching, and steady only because he forced it to be.
“I would’ve held your hair back while you puked, even if it was at three a.m. and you were cursing me out the whole time. I would’ve gone to every single appointment with you, even the boring ones. I’d sit in the waiting room for hours if I had to, just so you didn’t have to do this alone.”
His eyes were red now, glassy and bright with every unshed word still sitting on his tongue.
“I would’ve memorized all the weird cravings you will have, I would’ve brought whatever disgusting food you wanted and I wouldn’t have made a single joke about it. I would’ve rubbed your back, a-and your feet when it hurt. I would’ve read every fucking book on what to expect. I would’ve been there.”
His voice broke again, completely this time. He swore under his breath and turned just slightly, like the weight of the truth might drop him to his knees.
But then he faced you again, eyes desperate and filled with something that looked like grief and love and something else too big to name.
“I didn’t get to be there for any of it,” he said, almost a whisper now. “You kept this to yourself, and I don’t know how the hell you did that. How you walked around every day with this secret and still managed to look me in the eye.”
You didn’t have a reply yet. Your throat was tight. Your eyes were already brimming, and your arms were still wrapped around your waist, like maybe if you held on tight enough, you could hold everything inside from shattering.
But Jake wasn’t done. His voice cracked again, so quietly it was like hearing him speak through the sound of your own heartbeat.
“I could’ve been there, sweetheart. All this time, I could’ve held your hand.”
You had to look away. It was too much. The way his words lingered in the air, the way they wrapped around your ribs and pressed in felt like a weight you were not ready to carry.
Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your nails biting into your palms, and you took a sharp breath that did not seem to reach your lungs.
You stared at the wall. You stared hard, as if focusing on the pale beige paint long enough could make everything else disappear. His voice, the way he looked at you, and the baby growing inside you were all too much to face.
But nothing disappeared. Everything only grew louder.
“I can’t believe you’re saying all this now,” you whispered, and the crack in your voice felt like something splitting open inside you. “You weren’t supposed to say any of it. I wasn’t supposed to hear it.”
This was not how things were meant to happen.
You were meant to stay angry with each other forever. You were meant to keep throwing insults until one of you got reassigned. You were supposed to have one stupid, chaotic night, and then wake up and pretend it had never happened.
You were supposed to move on like nothing had ever shifted between you. You were not supposed to carry his child. You were not supposed to cry over him. And he was not supposed to care.
Your laugh came out low, bitter, and frayed. “Are you doing this out of guilt, or is it pity?” you asked, your voice rising as the emotion began to catch in your throat like barbed wire.
“Because if that’s what this is, if that’s why you’re here, then just say it. Don’t make it worse. Don’t look at me like that and act like it means something more.”
You turned to face him, and the moment your eyes met his, your heart pulled painfully in your chest.
“Don’t pity me, Jake,” you said, your voice softer now. “I don’t need it. I can do this on my own. I already have been.”
And maybe that was the worst part of it all, saying it out loud and realising how true it was. You had done it alone. You had skipped every doctor’s appointment. Hell, you have not gone to one.
You had thrown up and blamed it on the heat. You had spent every second terrified of this new version of your life, your body, and what it would mean if you told him the truth.
Jake did not respond immediately.
Instead, he stepped toward you, fast and steady, and before you could take a step back, his hands were already on your face. They were warm, trembling slightly, and grounding.
You froze, your breath catching in your throat like a sob that refused to surface.
His palms held your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing over the drying trails of your tears, and his touch was so careful that something deep inside you began to loosen.
You blinked up at him, your eyes wide, and he was already there, closer than he had ever been in a silence like this. It was the kind of quiet where nothing else in the world seemed to exist.
And then, there were his eyes. His green eyes. They're beautiful and tragic at the same time. You had never seen them look this way before.
They were always sharp and smug, always two seconds away from a smirk or a sarcastic comment. Now, they were glassy and red at the edges, shining like he was about to cry, or maybe like he already had.
“No,” Jake said at last, his voice rough and quiet. “Don’t you ever say that. Don’t ever think I could pity you.”
You began to tremble, your knees weakening beneath you, though his hands kept you grounded.
“I wasn’t there,” he said, his voice catching. “I didn’t know. And I should have. I should have seen it, but not once did I ever stop thinking about that night, or about you, or what it meant.”
Your breath hitched. He was too close, and he was being too honest.
“Since that night,” Jake continued, “I’ve tried to go back to how things used to be. I kept running my mouth, trying to act like none of it mattered, but it never worked, because you’re always there.”
He stepped even closer, resting his forehead gently against yours, and you could feel the slow, heavy rise and fall of his chest against your own.
“You’re always there,” he said again, softer this time. “In every room I walk into. In every dumb joke I think of. You’re the first person I look for when I land, and the last one I want to talk to before I crash.”
Your fingers twitched at your sides.
“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” Jake said. “I don’t want to keep hurting you, and I don’t want to make you go through this on your own. I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I need to be.”
He swallowed hard, the words almost too full to carry.
“Because I have never needed anything in my life the way I need you.”