Two Families | D Whitaker
summary: dennis has been living a double life, but when it all catches to him, he learns some hard truths and almost loses his daughter.
part of the ladybug series!
—
The call goes straight to voicemail.
Again.
You stare at your phone for half a second longer than you should.
Then hang up.
“Okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than anything. “Okay, it’s fine.”
It’s not fine.
Delilah is too warm and too quiet.
Curled against your chest in a way that doesn’t feel like comfort, it feels like something’s wrong.
“Hey, bug,” you murmur, pressing your lips to her head. “Stay with me, okay? Mommy’s got you.”
She whimpers softly.
Your heart drops.
You grab your keys.
The ER doors feel louder today. Maybe it’s Dennis who drowns it all out when you come pick him up, maybe it’s always this loud, but today is his day off and today is the day you’re not here to pick him up but to bring your daughter in complete panic.
“I need someone,” you say quickly, already moving. “She’s burning up, she won’t wake properly, I’ve tried, I’ve tried calling-“
“We’ve got her,” a nurse says, already reaching for Delilah. “What’s her name?”
“Delilah Whitaker.”
They move fast.
Taking her gently, laying her down, checking her over.
You hover.
“Hey,” you murmur, brushing her tiny hand. “Mommy’s right here.”
“Has she had a fever long?” someone asks.
“A few hours, but it spiked really fast,” you say. “She won’t stay awake.”
“Okay.”
You grab your phone again.
Call him.
Voicemail.
“Dennis, please,” you say when it beeps. “Pick up your phone. Something’s wrong with her. I’m at the hospital, I need you-“
Your voice breaks.
You hang up.
Try again.
Nothing.
“Hey.” Youu look up.
It’s Mel. There’s a sense of relief, a familiar face.
“Where’s Dennis?” she asks quietly.
“I can’t get him.”
“Okay,” she says. “Okay, we’ll find him.”
It takes longer than it should. Loads of people are trying to call him people are discussing what did he say? He was gonna do with his day off.
“Can someone just call him?” you say, sharper now. “I don’t care where he is, just-“
“We are,” Mel reassures. “We’re trying.”
You nod.
But your hands are shaking now.
Because your baby is lying there, small and flushed and not right and her dad isn’t here.
By the time someone finally gets through, you’re pacing.
Back and forth.
Eyes never leaving Lilah.
“Got him,” Trinity says from across the room, phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah, where the fuck are you?”
“Get your ass here. Now.”
She hangs up and looks at you.
“He’s on his way.”
You nod. “Thanks, T.”
He comes in fast.
Doors swinging open, breath uneven, hair a mess like he’s been running.
“Where is she?”
“Hey, bug,” he says immediately, voice dropping as he reaches her bedside. “Hey, I’m here.”
His hands are already on her.
Checking. Like if he touches her, she’ll be okay.
“Talk to me,” he says to the team, sharp now. “What’s going on?”
“High fever, lethargy, we’re running tests-”
“Temp?”
“102.”
His jaw tightens. “Okay,” he mutters. “Okay.”
He brushes her hair back.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, ladybug.”
And that’s when you break.
“Do you?” Your voice cuts through everything.
He freezes and looks up at you.
Then he sees it.
The fear. The anger. The hurt sitting right underneath.
“What?” he says.
“You’ve got her?” you repeat, stepping closer. “That’s funny, because I couldn’t get you on the phone for over an hour.”
“I was-”
“At the farm,” you cut in.
Silence. Because he was.
“I didn’t have my phone on me-”
“Of course you didn’t,” you say, a hollow laugh slipping out. “Why would you?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Not fair?” your voice shakes now. “Dennis, I was here by myself with her not waking up properly, not knowing what was wrong, and I couldn’t get a hold of you!”
“I came as soon as-“
“When someone else called you,” you snap.
“You didn’t come when I needed you,” you say, quieter now.
“I didn’t know-“
“Yeah well, you should’ve been reachable.”
Silence.
“I’m her father,” he says.
“And you weren’t here,” you fire back.
The room goes still.
“You were out there playing house,” you continue, voice breaking now, “while I was here thinking something was seriously wrong with our baby, which there might be!”
“That’s not what I was doing,” he says, sharper now.
“Then what were you doing, Dennis?” you ask. “Because from where I’m standing, it really looks like you’ve got two families and you’re just… picking which one you feel like showing up for.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did I have to go through that alone?”
He doesn’t have an answer.
So he just stands there. Looking at you and looking at her.
Delilah stirs slightly.
A small, weak sound.
Both of you turn immediately.
Everything else falls away for a second.
“Hey, ladybug,” Dennis murmurs, softer now, leaning closer. “We’re here.”
Your hand finds hers at the same time his does.
Your fingers brush.
Tense.
“Mommy’s here,” you whisper.
She settles again.
Dennis doesn’t look at you when he says it.
“I didn’t choose them.”
“You didn’t choose us either,” you reply quietly.
Silence stretches between you.
And for the first time since you were 18, it doesn’t feel like the two of you against the world.
All you can do is stand there.
On opposite sides of your baby.
Hoping she’s okay.
And wondering where that leaves the two of you.
Delilah stabilises.
The fever starts to come down. Her breathing evens out. The panic that had been sitting in your chest since you walked through those doors loosens just slightly.
You don’t leave her side.
Dennis doesn’t either.
But it doesn’t feel like before. You’re both there. Both touching her, both watching her.
Just not together.
“Vitals are improving,” Mel says gently, stepping in beside you. “She’s responding to the meds.”
You nod, eyes still on Delilah.
“Okay.”
“You did everything right,” Mel adds softly.
You didn’t feel like you were doing anything right.
You glance at her, “Thank you, Mel. You’ve been great”
She gives you a small, reassuring smile.
“Whitaker.”
Robby’s voice cuts through from the doorway.
Dennis looks up and Robby gestures with his head.
“Outside. Now.”
It’s not a suggestion.
Dennis hesitates, he looks at you and then at Delilah.
Then nods once and steps out.
The ambulance bay is quieter now, cold air hitting his face.
Robby doesn’t waste time.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Dennis exhales. “I was helping-“
“No,” Robby cuts in. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me the nice version.”
Dennis’s jaw tightens.
“I was helping Amy-“
“And you left your wife alone with your sick kid,” Robby fires back.
“I didn’t know she was sick.”
“You didn’t know because you weren’t reachable.”
Dennis looks away.
Because yeah, that part he can’t argue.
“You’ve got a whole life out there,” Robby continues, calmer now but no less sharp. “That’s fine. You want to help people, be a good guy, I get it.”
“But not at the expense of your own family.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?”
Silence, because he doesn’t have a clean answer.
“I love my family,” he says.
Robby nods. “I believe you. But you’re not acting like it.”
Trinity doesn’t wait her turn with him.
She catches him the second he steps back inside.
“Oh, good, you’re back,” she says, arms folded. “Because I’m not done with you.”
“Trin-“
“No,” she cuts in. “You don’t get to be the good guy everywhere else and then drop the ball here.”
“I didn’t-“
“You did,” she says. “She was scared, Whitaker, so fucking scared.”
His chest tightens.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” she replies. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here trying to explain it instead of fixing it.”
He exhales sharply. “I’m here now.”
“Yeah,” she nods. “After she had to go through it alone.”
“And don’t even start with the Amy thing,” she adds. “No one thinks you’re cheating. That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“You’re giving parts of yourself away everywhere,” she says. “And expecting your wife to just… wait for whatever’s left.”
Frank finds him later and sits down beside him without asking.
For a minute, neither of them speak.
“I used to think I had time too.”
Dennis glances at him.
Frank stares ahead.
“Thought I could fix things later,” he continues. “Show up later. Be better later.”
A small, bitter huff.
“Later doesn’t come the way you think it does.”
Dennis swallows.
“I’m not-“
“I know you’re not me,” Frank says. “But the end result feels the same if you’re not careful.”
Silence.
“You don’t lose people all at once,” Frank adds. “You lose them in moments like this.”
“You’ve still got her,” Frank says, nodding toward the room. “Both of them.”
“Question is… what are you gonna do about it?”
You’re still at Lilah’s side when Dennis comes back.
Exactly where he left you.
He stands there for a second.
Then steps closer.
“She’s doing better,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
“I should’ve been here.”
You nod.
“I didn’t realise-“
“That’s the problem,” you say softly.
That stops him.
You finally look at him and there’s no anger now.
That’s almost worse. Just hurt.
“I didn’t think I had to compete for you,” you admit.
His chest tightens.
“You’re not competing-“
“It feels like I am,” you say. “With your job, with the farm, with… everything.”
“And I always thought we were your constant.”
He exhales slowly. “You are, sweetheart.”
“But I didn’t feel like it tonight.”
He’s quiet, because he can’t argue with how you felt.
“I love you,” he says.
“I know,” you reply.
And you mean it.
“That’s not what’s scaring me.”
He frowns slightly. “Then what is?”
“The idea that you think loving us is enough,” you say quietly. “When what we actually need is for you to show up.”
“I thought I was,” he admits.
“You weren’t, you aren’t.” you say.
Not cruel. Just honest.
Delilah shifts slightly between you.
Both of your hands move instinctively.
Meeting again. Neither of you pull away this time.
“We can’t keep doing this,” you say softly. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says.
“Then don’t,” you reply.
Simple.
“Because I won’t stay somewhere I feel like I come second,” you add.
He understands what’s actually at stake.
Not just your feelings.
Not just one bad night.
Everything.
You.
Delilah.
The life you built together from nothing.
From Nebraska.
From being eighteen and stupid and in love and determined to make it work.
And suddenly, It doesn’t feel unshakable anymore.
Delilah is asleep when you say it.
Curled up between you both, little chest rising and falling steadily, fever broken enough that the panic has eased.
The room is dimmer now.
And for a second, it almost feels like normal.
Dennis is sitting beside the bed, one hand resting lightly against Delilah’s back.
You’re on the other side.
Watching them both.
“Den?”
He looks up immediately. “Yeah?”
Your voice is steady.
“I think… me and Lilah should go back to Nebraska for a while.”
Everything in him stops.
“…what?”
You keep your eyes on Delilah.
“It would make sense,” you say quietly. “My parents are there. Yours are there. We’d have help.”
“That’s not-” he shakes his head. “Why would you- no.”
“It’s just for a bit.”
“No.”
You’ve never heard him say it like that.
“I’ve got things here,” you continue, softer. “You’ve got the farm, Amy needs help, Theo-”
“That has nothing to do with this,” he cuts in.
“It kind of does,” you reply. “Because clearly you’re needed in more places than just here right now.”
“I’m needed here,” he says.
“Then be here.”
“I am here.”
“You weren’t,” you say.
“And I can’t do that again,” you add. “I can’t sit in that kind of fear and not be able to reach you.”
“So we go somewhere we have more support,” you continue. “Somewhere I’m not doing it alone if something like that happens again.”
“You’re not alone,” he says.
You look at him.
“I was.”
“I don’t want to leave,” you admit. “But I also don’t want to feel like that again.”
Delilah shifts slightly.
Both of you glance down. Your hands hover near hers.
“Just until things settle,” you say. “Until you figure out what you need to figure out here.”
He stares at you annd now it’s sinking in.
“You’re taking her away from me.”
Your chest tightens. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” he says, voice rough now. “You’re leaving.”
“I said for a while-“
“I don’t care if it’s a week,” he cuts in. “I don’t care if it’s a month. You’re leaving with my daughter.”
His hand tightens slightly against Delilah’s back.
Like he needs to feel her there with him.
“I’m not losing you both because I messed up one night.”
Your throat tightens. “It wasn’t one night, Dennis.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, we’re not doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“This,” he gestures between you. “Running.”
“I’m not running.”
“It feels like it.”
“I’m protecting us,” you say.
“From me?” The hurt in his voice is immediate.
“I love you,” he says, stepping closer now, like if he doesn’t close the space you’ll disappear. “I love you. I love her. I’m not choosing anything over you.”
“But you are,” you whisper.
“I’m not.”
“You are when you’re not here.”
“I didn’t realise how bad it felt for you,” he admits. “I didn’t realise you felt like you were doing this alone.”
Your eyes sting slightly. “Because you weren’t there to see it.”
“I can fix that,” he says quickly. “I can be better. I can-”
“I need more than ‘I can,’ Dennis,” you say. “I need to feel like I’m not an afterthought.”
“You’re not.”
“But I felt like one.”
“I’m asking you not to go,” he says.
You’ve never seen him like this.
“I don’t want to come home to an empty house,” he adds, voice lower now. “I don’t want to wake up and you’re not there. I don’t want to miss anything with her because I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I messed up,” he says. “I know I did. But don’t… don’t take everything from me while I’m trying to fix it.”
“I’m not trying to punish you,” you say softly. “But I need to feel safe too.”
Silence stretches between you.
Delilah lets out a small, sleepy sound.
Both of you glance down instinctively. Your hands finally meet over her. This time neither of you pull away.
“I don’t want to go,” you admit quietly.
“Then don’t.”
“But I can’t stay like this.”
“I won’t let it stay like this,” he says.
“I need you to choose us,” you say.
“I do,” he replies immediately.
“No,” you shake your head slightly. “Not just say it. Do it.”
He doesn’t fix it with one conversation.
He just starts showing up.
The first change is small. His phone is never out of reach.
Not on the counter. Not in another room. Not face down on silent. On him.
Always.
You notice it two days later when you call him from the kitchen.
Just a quick “can you grab something on your way home?”
He picks up on the first ring.
“Hey.”
You pause. “…hi.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I just, I was calling about-“
“I’m listening.” And he is.
The second change is harder for him.
“Hey,” Amy says one afternoon, shifting Theo on her hip. “You coming out later?”
Dennis hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to help. Because he knows what it costs now.
“I can come tomorrow,” he says instead.
Amy frowns slightly. “You sure? I could use-”
“I know,” he says gently. “And I will. Just… not today.”
Something clicks for her. “Oh,” she says softly. “Yeah. Of course.”
You notice because he’s in the house when he usually wouldn’t be.
Delilah tucked against his chest, tiny fingers curled into his shirt.
“Hey, ladybug,” he murmurs, brushing her hair back as she fusses.
She settles instantly.
You hover in the doorway for a second, watching.
He looks up. Sees you.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“She good?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Just wanted you.”
“Did you-” you start, then stop.
“Did I what?”
“…nothing.”
He studies you for a second.
Then, quieter, “I told Amy I’d come out tomorrow instead.”
“Okay,” you say.
The third change, It’s not about the farm. It’s not about his phone.
It’s about you.
You’re feeding Delilah late one night, the house quiet, everything slowed down.
He comes in. Leans against the doorframe. Watches you.
Doesn’t interrupt.
You feel it.
“Something on your mind?” you ask softly.
“Yeah.”
You glance up.
He looks nervous. Actually nervous.
“I haven’t been choosing you properly,” he says.
The honesty of it knocks the air out of you a little.
“I thought I was,” he continues. “But I wasn’t. Not in the way that matters.”
He steps closer.
“I kept thinking love was enough,” he adds. “That if you knew how I felt, everything else would just… fall into place.”
You look back down at Lilah for a second.
“I see now that it doesn’t work like that,” he says. “Not for you. Not for us.”
Silence.
“I don’t want you to have to ask for me to show up,” he continues. “I want you to expect it. Every time.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Not to Nebraska. Not away from you. Not… half in and half out like I’ve been.”
Your eyes sting slightly. “I don’t need perfect,” you whisper.
“I know.”
“I just need to know I’m not doing this alone.”
“You’re not,” he says immediately.
You don’t fall back into him right away.
He doesn’t rush it.
Doesn’t push. Just keeps showing up.
Late one night, Delilah finally asleep between you, the house quiet again, you shift slightly closer to him without thinking.
It’s small, barely anything, but he feels it.
His hand finds yours slowly.
You let your fingers lace with his.
He squeezes your hand gently.
“I meant it,” he murmurs.
“I know,” you reply.
And beside you, your daughter sleeps, safe and warm and completely unaware of how close everything came to breaking.
Dennis presses a soft kiss to your temple.
Stays there for a second longer than he needs to.
This isn’t something he gets to almost lose again.
Not if he can help it.
