franklangdon replied: he remembered your favorite flowers...
The party was already in full swing.
Music echoed through your apartment, mixing with bursts of laughter from every room. Empty bottles had started collecting on the kitchen counter, someone had claimed control of the speaker, and Frank was somehow already losing a drinking game he'd insisted on teaching everyone.
Against all odds, the entirety of the Sexy Six had made it.
Twelve-hour shifts hadn't stopped any of them.
Mel looked effortlessly gorgeous, Trinity had shown up in heels she would undoubtedly regret in an hour, Dennis and Victoria were already arguing over the playlist, and Mateo had somehow convinced everyone to take shots before you'd even cut your cake.
Frank had surprised you by showing up nearly two hours early to "help set up."
Helping, however, turned out to mean following Mel around the apartment while offering deeply unneeded help.
So really,
He'd just come early to flirt.
Not that Mel seemed to mind.
You smiled to yourself as you wandered through the apartment, making sure everyone had a drink and enough food.
Despite everything your eyes kept drifting toward the front door.
Jack still wasn't here.
You knew he was working.
You knew he couldn't just leave the emergency department because it was your birthday.
But that didn't stop you from checking your phone every few minutes.
A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.
Your heart immediately leapt.
You smoothed a hand over your skirt, fluffed your hair in the reflection of the hallway mirror, and tried very hard to look like you hadn't been waiting for him all night.
You opened the door with a grin already forming.
"Robby?"
Michael Robinavitch stood on your doorstep holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and a gift bag in the other.
The grin on your face faltered just enough for him to notice.
"Ouch" he said, placing a hand over his chest. "You couldn't even pretend to be happy to see me?"
You laughed sheepishly.
"Sorry."
"You thought I was someone else."
"I...maybe."
Robby shook his head, laughing under his breath.
"Sorry to disappoint."
He held up the bottle of vodka.
"I come bearing gifts."
"And good news."
Your disappointment vanished almost instantly.
"What good news?"
He stepped inside, handing you the vodka.
"Jack just called."
You looked up so quickly it almost gave you whiplash.
"He managed to get out a little early."
A smile spread across your face before you could stop it.
"Really?"
Robby nodded.
"He's heading home to change first."
Then he smirked.
"And before you ask—"
"I wasn't going to ask."
"Sure."
"He specifically said he'd be here."
You bit back a smile that was threatening to become embarrassingly obvious.
"Good."
Robby raised an eyebrow.
"'Good?'"
You cleared your throat.
"I mean... cool."
"Mhm."
He looked entirely too amused.
"You've been checking that front door all night, haven't you?"
"I have not."
"Y/N."
"I've been greeting my guests."
"You almost looked disappointed enough to shut the door in my face."
"I would never."
"You considered it."
"Briefly."
Robby laughed, draping an arm over your shoulders as he steered you farther into the apartment.
"I'll forgive you."
"You should."
"Only because it's your birthday."
As the two of you disappeared into the party, you found yourself glancing at the door one more time.
Now you knew.
Jack was coming.
Somehow, that made waiting even harder.
You slipped out onto the balcony, grateful for the cool night air.
Your apartment had gotten warm hours ago.
Too many people.
Too much dancing.
Too much alcohol.
You needed a minute.
You leaned against the railing, fishing a cigarette from the nearly empty pack tucked into your purse.
You lit it with practiced ease, taking a slow drag before exhaling toward the city below.
Cars drifted through the streets beneath you, headlights cutting through the darkness.
A smile tugged at your lips.
Everyone had come.
Despite impossible schedules and twelve-hour shifts, every person you cared about had found time to celebrate with you.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe birthdays just made people sentimental.
Either way...
Your chest felt unusually full.
The balcony door slid open behind you.
"What's the birthday girl doing out here all by herself?"
You turned at the sound of the familiar voice.
Jack.
He'd changed out of his scrubs, his hair still slightly damp like he'd rushed through a shower before coming over. He looked a little out of breath, like he'd hurried from the parking lot.
"You made it."
The words came out softer than you'd intended.
His smile was just as warm.
"Told you I would."
Without thinking, you crossed the balcony and wrapped your arms around him.
The hug caught him by surprise.
You felt him freeze for the briefest moment before his arms settled carefully around your waist.
"Happy birthday." he murmured.
You smiled against his shoulder.
"I wasn't sure you were going to make it."
"I wasn't either."
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
"Busy shift?"
He let out a tired laugh.
"When isn't it?"
You nodded knowingly.
Neither of you let go right away.
For a second, the noise from the party faded into the background.
It was just the two of you, standing under the string lights on your tiny balcony.
Jack glanced down at the cigarette between your fingers before raising an eyebrow.
"So... this is where you've been hiding."
You followed his gaze and gave a guilty little shrug.
"I needed some air."
"And?"
"Maybe one bad habit."
Jack sighed, though there wasn't much annoyance behind it.
"You know those things will kill you."
A grin spread across your face.
"Kinda the point."
You took another drag before shrugging.
"I'm just speeding up the process."
The smile disappeared from his face.
Completely.
"Don't joke about that."
You blinked.
"It was a joke."
"I know."
His voice was quieter now.
"I just don't like hearing you say things like that."
You studied him for a moment.
He wasn't teasing.
He wasn't lecturing.
He looked... genuinely bothered.
"Jack..."
He looked out over the street instead of at you.
"I don't like the idea of you not being around."
The words landed somewhere deep in your chest.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
You looked down at the cigarette in your hand.
Then, with a quiet sigh, you stubbed it out in the ashtray sitting on the railing.
Jack looked back at you.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know."
You offered him a small smile.
"But I'd rather spend my birthday with you than with a cigarette."
For the first time since he'd stepped onto the balcony, he smiled again.
A real one.
And somehow...
That felt like the best birthday gift you could've asked for.
"So" Jack said, nodding toward your apartment "everyone's still upright in there?"
You smiled, leaning against the balcony railing.
"Somehow."
You laughed to yourself.
"But I'm pretty sure Mateo or Trinity are about to tap out. They decided that, as my closest friends, they needed to keep up with me."
Jack huffed a quiet laugh.
"That sounds like a terrible idea."
"It was."
"And yet they committed to it."
"They're loyal."
"They're idiots."
"They can be both."
Jack shook his head, smiling.
His eyes lingered on you for a second before he asked,
"Does that mean you're tapping out soon?"
You immediately shook your head.
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"You just got here."
You shrugged.
"And Robby actually showed up."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"I have to make it worth your guys' time."
His expression softened.
"You don't have to entertain everyone."
"I know."
"But I want to."
A comfortable silence settled between you.
The music from inside drifted out onto the balcony, muffled by the closed door.
Without really thinking about it, Jack rested a hand lightly against the small of your back.
It was subtle.
Barely there.
But enough to send an unexpected warmth through you.
"You've already done enough." he said quietly.
You looked up at him.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
The corner of your mouth lifted.
"Well..."
You nudged him gently with your shoulder.
"I guess we should get back before Frank starts another drinking game."
Jack laughed.
"Too late."
You could already hear Frank yelling triumphantly through the glass.
"I think he's teaching Dana flip cup."
You winced.
"Oh no."
Jack smiled, giving your back one last gentle pat before letting his hand fall away.
"C'mon."
He nodded toward the apartment.
"It's your birthday."
You smiled.
"Lead the way."
Jack held the balcony door open for you.
"Come on birthday girl."
He followed you inside.
The warmth of your apartment immediately swallowed you both whole.
Music blasted from the speaker.
Someone cheered loud enough to shake the walls.
Frank was standing on your coffee table, passionately explaining the rules of a drinking game that had very clearly gone off the rails.
"I'm telling you, that's not what the card says!"
"It doesn't have to!" he argued.
Mateo was doubled over laughing while Mel tried—and failed—to pull Frank off the table.
Even Robby was shaking his head, laughing into his drink with Dana in the corner.
The entire apartment was loud.
Chaotic.
Completely out of control.
Exactly how you'd hoped your birthday would be.
The moment everyone spotted you walking back in, the room erupted.
"There she is!"
"Birthday shot!"
"No, absolutely not" you laughed, immediately backing away.
Mateo pointed dramatically.
"Get her!"
You barely had time to react before half the room descended on you.
Dennis shoved a birthday hat back onto your head.
Victoria thrust a drink into your hand.
Frank had somehow acquired a kazoo.
You didn't ask.
You didn't want to know.
Through the chaos, your eyes found Jack.
He hadn't joined in.
Instead, he stood just off to the side, nursing a beer with the smallest smile on his face as he watched your friends swarm you.
You caught him looking.
He lifted his bottle in a quiet little toast.
You smiled back.
Just for a second.
Then Trinity was dragging you into another round of birthday shots before you could think too much about it.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe it was another year older.
Whatever the reason...
As laughter echoed through your apartment you couldn't help but smile.
For the first time in a long time...
You couldn't imagine celebrating your birthday anywhere else.
Or with anyone else.
its.y/n im probably getting evicted...
mateodiaz please apologies to your downstairs neighbors for me cuz I threw up off your balcony
franklangdon you are not allowed to throw parties anymore cause I can't remember everything
No social media aspect in this chapter just wanted to write this...
Morning came to the ED the way it always did, too bright, too loud, and completely indifferent to the “peace” of the night shift.
The shift settled into that familiar end-of-night haze. Charts were wrapped up, monitors reset, and conversations that had been all business for twelve hours softened into tired murmurs. The kind of exhaustion that settled deep in your bones and didn't fully leave until you were home.
You were finishing your last note at the nurses' station when Jack appeared beside you.
No announcement.
No hesitation.
"Ready?" he asked.
You leaned back in your chair.
"Define ready."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Ready to leave."
That one was easy.
"Yeah." You logged off the computer and pushed your chair in. "I'm ready."
The two of you crossed the department together without thinking about it. It was becoming a problem how naturally you fell into step with each other. How neither of you ever seemed to reach for the same supply at the same time anymore because you already knew what the other was grabbing. How the space between you had quietly disappeared.
Outside, the cold morning air hit like a slap.
You instinctively folded your arms across your chest.
Jack noticed instantly.
Without saying a word, he shrugged out of his jacket and held it toward you.
You looked at it.
Then at him.
"I'm not stealing your jacket."
"You're borrowing it." he corrected.
"That's just stealing with permission."
"Put it on."
You sighed dramatically but slipped it over your shoulders anyway.
It was still warm.
And it smelled like him.
Fresh laundry, coffee, and whatever soap he used.
Annoyingly comforting and familiar.
Jack watched you for half a second longer than he probably meant to before looking away.
You stopped beside the passenger door.
"So..." you said carefully. "I assume I'm actually going home this time?"
Jack unlocked the doors with a click.
"I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"Unless you had somewhere else you wanted to be."
You stared at him.
"No."
A beat.
"Home is good."
Another beat.
"Home is very good."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"It's on my way."
You narrowed your eyes.
"I don't believe you."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"If it was on the way, why didn’t I get to go home after the bar?"
Jack gave you a flat look.
"Traffic.”
You laughed.
"It was almost one in the morning."
"Get in the truck."
You climbed into the passenger seat, still smiling.
Warm air blasted from the vents almost immediately.
You let out a quiet sigh without realizing it.
Jack noticed.
"Told you."
"I didn't say anything."
"You sighed."
"I was appreciating modern engineering."
"You were cold."
"No, I just really appreciate heating and cooling systems."
Jack shook his head, amused, as he pulled out of the parking lot.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
The city slipped by outside the windows, washed in pale morning light. Rush hour hadn't quite started yet. The roads were mostly empty, the silence inside the truck comfortable in a way that only seemed to exist between the two of you.
Eventually, Jack glanced over.
"Are you okay being home?"
You looked out the window.
The question was simple.
But it felt heavier than that.
You leaned back against the seat.
"Yeah."
A beat.
"It was a pretty easy shift."
Jack nodded once.
He accepted the answer.
Or at least pretended to.
Silence settled between you again.
Not awkward.
Never awkward.
Just...
Comfortable.
The kind of quiet that didn't ask to be filled.
Eventually, the truck slowed to a stop outside your apartment building.
You stared out the windshield for a second longer than necessary.
Because getting out meant ending whatever this was.
The comfortable quiet.
The easy conversation.
Being with Jack without twelve patients demanding your attention.
He shifted the truck into park but left the engine running.
"Are you planning on sitting there all morning?" he asked.
You looked over at him.
"I'm thinking."
"That’s dangerous." He chuckled.
"It usually is."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"What're you thinking about?"
You hesitated.
Then tugged his jacket a little tighter around yourself.
"Nothing important."
Jack studied you.
Long enough that you knew he didn't believe you.
But he didn't push.
He never pushed.
Instead, he climbed out of the truck.
You blinked.
"What are you doing?"
He rounded the front of the truck and opened your door before answering.
"I'm walking you up."
"Jack."
"It isn't a big deal."
"It kind of is."
He shrugged.
"I want to."
Three words.
Simple.
Matter-of-fact.
Yet somehow they landed harder than any grand romantic gesture ever could.
You climbed out of the truck.
"You're ridiculous."
"So I've been told."
Side by side, the two of you walked toward your building.
The city was only just waking up.
People hurried to work with coffees in hand while the two of you shuffled along in wrinkled scrubs, running almost entirely on stubbornness.
Neither of you spoke.
You didn't need to.
At your apartment door, you unlocked the deadbolt before glancing over your shoulder.
Jack already had his hands shoved into his pockets.
Like he was preparing to tell you goodbye.
"Well..." he said. "I'll see you tonight."
Something in your chest tightened.
You opened the door.
Then looked back at him.
"Do you want to come in?"
Jack blinked.
"What?"
You immediately started talking faster.
"Before you say no—this is me making up for breakfast."
He frowned.
"You made me breakfast." You explained.
"I know."
"So how are you making up for it?"
"I'm making you second breakfast."
Jack laughed.
"Second breakfast?"
"We just worked twelve hours."
"So?"
"So you should get some rest."
You shook your head.
“I want to do this.”
“Let me correct myself, let me do this.”
Jack couldn't argue with that.
A reluctant smile spread across his face.
"Alright."
You stepped aside dramatically.
"Excellent decision, Doctor."
The apartment was warm.
Comfortably cluttered.
A lived-in sort of cozy.
Your shoes were kicked off almost immediately.
Jack lingered by the door.
"Don't judge me."
"I haven't said anything."
"I can feel you evaluating my decorating choices."
Jack looked around.
Your apartment was made up of all his favorite parts of you.
Jack let his eyes wonder over every picture, trinket, and memory scattered around the living room.
A solid thump echoed somewhere deeper in the apartment.
Jack's attention was directed towards the noise.
"What was that?"
"Snoopy."
Then the unmistakable sound of tiny paws sprinting across hardwood.
"Oh boy."
A black-and-white blur rounded the corner at full speed.
Snoopy didn't hesitate.
Didn't stop to inspect the stranger.
Didn't even acknowledge you.
He launched himself directly at Jack.
"Woah.”
Jack barely managed to catch him before the cat scrambled up his chest, climbed onto his shoulder, and immediately began purring loud enough to shake the room.
You stared.
Then burst out laughing.
"Oh."
Jack looked between you and the cat now draped around his shoulders like a scarf.
"He likes you."
"I noticed."
Snoopy rubbed his face against Jack's jaw.
Aggressively.
Jack stood completely still.
"Am I being mugged?"
"Basically."
"I thought cats were supposed to be cautious."
"Snoopy has terrible stranger danger."
The cat headbutted Jack again.
Hard.
Jack looked genuinely bewildered.
"We've never met."
"He doesn’t care."
"He seems very confident."
"He usually is." You nodded.
Jack carefully shifted Snoopy into his arms like a baby.
The cat settled immediately.
Perfectly content.
Like he'd found exactly where he belonged.
Jack looked down at him.
"I think your cat just adopted me."
You smiled.
"Congratulations."
"I didn't apply."
"He doesn't care."
Jack scratched behind Snoopy's ears without thinking.
The purring somehow got louder.
You pointed accusingly.
"Oh, don't encourage him."
"I don't think I have a choice."
"No."
You grinned.
"You really don't."
You disappeared into the kitchen.
"I'll cook."
Jack followed a few steps behind, Snoopy still occupying his arms.
"You sure?" He asked.
"You made me breakfast."
"I only made pancakes."
"You also made eggs."
"They were overcooked."
"They were edible." You argued.
"Barely."
"I appreciated the effort."
Jack leaned against the counter.
"I think you're grading on a curve."
"I might be biased."
You opened the refrigerator.
"What are you in the mood for?"
"Food."
"Very specific."
"I've been awake for almost twenty hours."
"Fair."
You started pulling ingredients onto the counter.
Eggs.
Cheese.
Spinach.
Bacon.
Jack watched you work.
Comfortable.
Efficient.
Like you'd done this a hundred times.
"You cook a lot?"
You shrugged.
"Sometimes but cooking for one is kind of boring.”
He blinked.
"Either I cook a lot or I eat cereal for four consecutive dinners."
Jack laughed.
"There is no middle ground?"
"None."
"I believe that."
Snoopy finally climbed out of Jack's lap to supervise from a nearby stool.
Which mostly consisted of staring hopefully at the bacon.
Jack watched the two of you.
You humming quietly while you cooked.
Your cat weaving around your legs.
Morning sunlight spilling through the kitchen windows.
It didn't feel like visiting.
It felt...
Dangerously domestic.
Comfortable in a way Jack wasn't prepared for.
He found himself wondering what it would be like if this was normal.
If coming here after a shift wasn't unusual.
If this was simply where he ended every morning.
The thought settled somewhere deep in his chest.
Heavy.
Hopeful.
And more than a little terrifying.
He looked over just as you glanced back at him.
"What?"
He realized he'd been staring.
"Nothing."
You smiled knowingly.
"Liar."
Jack smiled to himself.
Maybe.
The bacon hissed in the pan.
Coffee brewed in the background.
Snoopy had promoted himself from Jack's lap to the kitchen island, where he sat supervising with the authority of a tiny manager.
You pointed a spatula at him.
"I swear to God, if you steal my bacon..."
Snoopy blinked.
Jack looked between the two of you.
"Better make him a plate.”
You rolled your eyes.
“He’s spoiled rotten.”
You plated everything onto two oversized plates before sliding one across the counter toward him.
"Bon appétit."
Jack looked down.
"This looks much better than what I made.”
“Like I said I really wanted to do this.”
The two of you settled across from each other at your tiny kitchen table.
For a few minutes, neither of you spoke.
Just ate.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It rarely was anymore.
Finally, Jack looked up.
"So."
You pointed your fork at him.
"I don't like that tone."
"I haven't said anything."
"You were about to."
He smiled into his coffee.
"People are acting strange."
You snorted.
"When have they not?"
"They've gotten worse."
"Worse how?"
Jack hesitated.
"Frank."
You groaned immediately.
"Of course."
"He asked if I'd 'finally caved.'"
You nearly choked on your coffee.
"He said what?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Oh, he knows exactly what it means."
"I figured."
You shook your head.
"I am going to fight that man."
"I think you'd win."
"I absolutely would."
Jack laughed.
"You threatened to throw a chair at him last month."
"He deserved it." You shrugged.
"He corrected your grammar."
"He corrected it wrong."
Jack couldn't argue with that.
"He also asked if we'd picked out baby names."
You closed your eyes.
"I'm going to kill him."
"He seemed sincere."
"That's the worst part."
Jack smiled to himself before taking another bite.
Then his expression grew thoughtful.
"And Trinity..."
"Oh no."
"Keeps looking at me."
You laughed.
"She looks at everyone like she knows something."
"I think she does."
"She doesn't."
"You sound very confident."
"I'm confident because I know her that's my girl."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"So that's just her face?"
"That's just her face."
A beat.
"She absolutely thinks we're dating though."
You froze halfway through lifting your fork.
"She what?"
Jack nodded.
"I'm pretty sure."
"Why?"
He gave you a look.
"Really?"
"What?"
"We showed up to work together."
"Because you kidnapped me."
"I gave you a place to sleep."
"Exactly."
"You wore my sweatshirt."
"You gave it to me."
"I drove you home."
"Because you insisted."
Jack smiled.
"We disappeared after shift together."
"I needed a ride back home." You countered.
"I walked you upstairs."
"You were being nice."
"You invited me in."
"To repay you."
"You cooked."
"I owed you."
Jack spread his hands.
"You see how this looks?"
You opened your mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"No." You lied.
He noticed.
He laughed.
"You're impossible."
"I just don't think it's weird."
"You don't?"
"No."
You stabbed a piece of bacon.
"We're friends."
Jack nodded slowly.
"Right."
"You don't believe me."
"I didn't say that."
"You thought it."
"I might've thought it."
You pointed your fork at him.
"See? This is the problem."
"What problem?"
"Everyone keeps acting like men and women can't be friends."
Jack hummed.
"They can."
"They absolutely can."
"They usually don't spend every waking hour together."
"We work together."
"They don't usually call each other drunk."
Your face heated immediately.
"That happened once."
"You called me."
"I was intoxicated."
"You asked for me."
"I was emotional."
"You told me you missed me."
"I don't recall saying that." You lied again.
"You absolutely said that."
"I'd like to plead the fifth."
Jack laughed.
"It was very sweet."
"It was deeply embarrassing."
"It was both."
You groaned and buried your face in your hands.
"I hate alcohol."
"No, you hate that your friends will never let you live it down."
"Maybe."
Jack watched you over the rim of his coffee mug.
Quietly.
Comfortably.
Then,
"I didn't mind."
You looked up.
"What?"
"The phone call."
His voice was softer now.
"I didn't mind."
Something warm settled in your chest.
"Oh."
He shrugged.
"I would've come either way."
"I know."
The answer came too quickly.
Too honestly.
Jack held your gaze.
"You knew?"
You nodded.
"I knew."
"How?"
You smiled.
"Because you're you."
He frowned slightly.
"That's your explanation?"
"It's the only one I need."
"You have an incredible amount of faith in me."
You looked genuinely confused.
"Shouldn't I?"
Jack didn't answer.
Because that wasn't really the question.
It wasn't about faith.
It was about the fact that you'd never doubted he'd show up.
Not for a second.
Not even drunk.
Not even at almost two in the morning.
You'd called him because somewhere, deep down, you already knew the answer.
He'd come.
Of course he would.
The realization seemed to hit both of you at the same time.
Neither of you said anything.
Snoopy broke the silence by hopping into Jack's lap again.
Jack absently scratched behind his ears.
You smiled.
"He likes you."
"I'm starting to think he's just hungry."
"No."
You rested your chin in your hand.
"He doesn't do this."
Jack looked down at the cat.
"No?"
"He barely tolerated Patrick."
Jack looked back up.
"Really?"
"He hissed at my landlord once."
Jack snorted.
"Good instincts."
"He only cuddles people he trusts."
Jack looked down at Snoopy again.
The cat had already made himself comfortable.
Eyes closed.
Purring like a tiny engine.
Jack smiled despite himself.
"I think he's confused."
"No."
You smiled softly.
"I think he just knows good people."
Jack looked back at you.
The teasing had disappeared from your voice.
For a second, neither of you looked away.
Then you stood abruptly.
"Okay!"
Your chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"I'm cleaning before this gets weird."
Jack blinked.
"It was already weird."
"I know." Your voice wavered.
"You panicked."
"I absolutely panicked."
Jack laughed.
"You really did."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You yelled 'okay' like the building was on fire."
"It was an emotional emergency."
Jack couldn't stop smiling.
Neither could you.
Neither of you noticed that, somewhere between breakfast, sharing coffee, and a cat asleep in Jack's lap...
Being "just friends" had started requiring an awful lot of explaining.
its.y/n I will always show up for you Mel king :))
mateodiaz thanks for the invite
its.y/n read the caption and then think about that again
trinsantos my babies
victoria.j sneak me in the bar with you next time
its.y/n as a medical professional I should say no as your friend OKAY
j.abbot stay safe girls
⋆⋆⋆
You were drunk.
Piss drunk.
Long past buzzed.
Long past tipsy.
The kind of drunk where every story was hilarious and every decision felt like a good one.
Which was exactly why your phone was currently in your hands.
Trinity noticed immediately.
“Oh no.”
You looked up.
“What?”
She pointed at your screen.
“Who are you calling?”
You glanced down.
Jack Abbot.
A perfectly reasonable person to call.
Who doesn't call their boss from a crowded bar.
“Nobody.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I smile all the time.”
“You absolutely do not.”
Mel leaned across the table.
“Who is it?”
“Nobody.”
“You just said nobody twice.”
“Because it’s nobody.”
Before you could react, Trinity snatched your phone.
Her eyes widened immediately.
Then she started cackling.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“OH MY GOD.”
You lunged for the phone.
She held it above her head.
“Trinity.” You huffed.
“You are drunk dialing Jack.”
Mel nearly spit out her drink.
“No.”
“YES.”
“Give me that.”
The two of them were laughing so hard they were becoming a spectacle.
You finally managed to grab your phone back.
“It’s not a drunk dial.”
“It is literally a drunk dial.”
“No.”
“Who else have you called tonight?”
You paused.
“No one.”
Mel pointed dramatically.
“Case closed.”
You rolled your eyes.
“I just miss him.”
The second the words left your mouth, both women froze.
Then looked at each other.
Then back at you.
Then immediately burst into laughter again.
“Oh, she’s gone.” Trinity said.
“Absolutely gone.” Mel agreed.
“You guys are awful.”
An embarrassed heat taking over your whole body.
You looked back down at your phone.
Jack’s contact stared back at you.
Your thumb hovered over the call button.
Trinity noticed.
“Do it.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You absolutely were.”
Mel leaned forward.
“Call him.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Why are you encouraging this?”
You had hoped, no prayed that Mel out of the three of you would keep some sort of morale compass.
“Because it’ll be interesting.”
“You’re a terrible friend.”
“I know.” Mel nodded.
“Call him.”
With a dramatic sigh, you hit the button.
The phone started ringing.
Immediately, panic set in.
“Oh my God.”
Trinity slapped a hand over her mouth.
Mel was practically vibrating with excitement.
“Abort mission.”
“Too late.” You frowned.
The phone rang again.
Then—
“Hello?”
Your entire face lit up.
“Jack.”
There was a pause.
A very long pause.
“How drunk are you?”
Trinity folded in half laughing.
Mel buried her face in her hands.
Jack sighed.
The sound somehow made you smile wider.
“Where are you?”
“At a bar.”
“Helpful.”
“There are people.”
“I’m sure there are.”
“And music.”
“Unbelievable.”
You laughed.
Jack immediately sounded suspicious.
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“How much have you had to drink?”
You looked at Trinity.
She held up seven fingers.
You looked at Mel.
She held up both hands.
Traitors.
“A normal amount.”
Jack groaned.
“A number.” He deadpanned.
“A lady never tells.”
“A doctor should.”
You laughed so hard you nearly slipped off your stool.
Jack immediately noticed the noise through the phone.
“Did you almost fall?”
“No.”
“That wasn’t convincing.”
Jack sighed again.
You could practically picture him rubbing a hand over his face.
“Are you with anybody?”
“Trinity and Mel.”
“Good.”
The concern in his voice softened something in your chest.
“Jack?”
“What?”
You smiled.
“I miss you.”
Mel smacked the bar.
Trinity nearly slid out of her chair.
On the phone, silence.
Then—
“You’re drunk.”
“I know.”
“You only say things like that when you’re drunk.”
“Not true.”
“It is absolutely true.”
You thought about it.
“You don't know how I feel.”
A laugh escaped him.
And suddenly the teasing from your friends didn’t matter anymore.
Because you got what you wanted.
You got Jack.
His voice.
His attention.
His laugh.
The familiar comfort of him.
“Which bar are you at?”
You told him.
The line went quiet.
Then—
“Stay there.”
You blinked.
“What?”
“Stay where you are.”
“Why?”
“I’m coming to get you.”
Your stomach did a weird little flip.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Jack, you don’t have to—”
“I’m already grabbing my keys.”
The words came so naturally.
Like there had never been another option.
Like of course he’d come.
You swallowed.
“Oh.”
His voice softened.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
“And Y/N?”
“Hm?”
“No more drinks.”
You looked at the fresh drink Mel had just slid toward you.
Then slowly pushed it away.
Mel looked personally offended.
“Oh, that’s crazy.”
“What?”
“You’ve never listened to me that fast.”
You pointed at your phone.
“That’s because Jack said it.”
Jack laughed.
Actually laughed.
And somehow that made your entire night.
⋆⋆⋆
Twenty minutes later the doors to the bar opened.
Mel spotted him first.
“Oh, wow.”
“What?”
“He got here fast.”
Trinity looked over and immediately started grinning.
“Oh, that’s bad.”
You followed their gaze.
And there he was.
Scanning the crowd.
Looking tired.
Slightly annoyed.
And very concerned.
His eyes landed on you.
He visibly relaxed.
Mel caught it immediately.
“So we’re all seeing that, right?”
“Seeing what?” you asked.
“The way he looked relieved the second he found you.”
Your face warmed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Absolutely yes.”
Jack finally made it to the bar.
His eyes immediately landed on you.
“Hi.”
A dopey smile spread across your face.
“There you are.”
His expression softened despite himself.
“Hi.”
Mel looked between the two of you.
Then at Trinity.
Then back at the two of you.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” you asked.
“You two are exhausting.”
Jack frowned.
“What did I do?”
“You showed up.”
“I—”
“And she looks like Christmas morning because you did.”
You dropped your face into your hands.
Trinity was laughing too hard to be helpful.
Jack looked suspiciously interested in the floor.
Which only made Mel laugh harder.
“Okay, I’m leaving before I have to watch this anymore.”
“You are the worst.”
“I know.”
Trinity grabbed Mel and her purse and pointed at Jack.
“Get her home.”
Jack nodded immediately.
“That’s the plan.”
Trinity pointed at you.
“And you.”
“What?”
“Text me tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I need to know if you’re embarrassed.”
You groaned.
Mel cackled.
A few minutes later, Jack’s hand settled lightly against your lower back as he guided you toward the door.
Comforting.
Protective.
Warm.
And despite the alcohol clouding your brain, one thought still managed to break through.
You had called him.
And he’d come.
Just like you hoped he would.
The second the car doors shut, silence settled around you.
Comfortable silence.
The kind that only existed between two people who spent twelve hours at a time together.
Jack pulled out of the parking lot while you immediately melted into the passenger seat.
“Seatbelt.”
You groaned.
“I’m an adult."
“And drunk.”
“That’s unrelated.”
Jack simply waited.
You rolled your eyes before clicking the seatbelt into place.
“There.”
“Thank you.”
The city lights blurred together outside your window.
Your head felt pleasantly fuzzy.
For a while neither of you spoke.
The radio played quietly.
Jack drove.
You fought a losing battle against sleep.
Eventually, something felt off.
You squinted through the windshield.
“Jack.”
“Hm?”
“This isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“It is not.”
You blinked.
Then blinked again.
“Why?”
Jack kept his eyes on the road.
“Because I live closer.”
Your brain took a second to catch up.
“Oh.”
“You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“I absolutely can.”
You punctuated the statement with a yawn.
Jack didn’t even bother responding.
“You’re sleeping at my place tonight.”
You sat up straighter.
“A sleepover?”
Jack laughed.
“No.”
“It sounds like a sleepover.”
“It isn’t.”
“It kind of is.”
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“Please don’t call it a sleepover.”
That only made you grin.
“You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”
Jack rubbed a hand over his face.
“This is exactly why.”
You laughed and settled back into your seat.
The truth was, even through the alcohol, you weren’t worried.
Not even a little.
If anything, the idea of crashing at Jack’s felt safe.
Comfortable even.
You trusted him completely.
Which was probably why you didn’t think twice about it.
By the time he pulled into the parking garage beneath his building, you were half asleep.
“Come on.”
You groaned dramatically.
“No.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“Carry me.”
Jack snorted.
“Absolutely not.”
You held your arms out anyway.
A beat passed.
Then another.
Finally, Jack sighed.
“You’re impossible.”
The next thing you knew, an arm was around your shoulders guiding you toward the elevator.
Close enough.
You accepted the compromise.
The elevator ride was quiet.
You were leaning heavily against the wall.
Jack looked annoyingly unaffected by the fact that it was nearly two in the morning.
“Do you always kidnap drunk women from bars?”
“You called me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”
The elevator doors opened.
A few moments later, Jack was unlocking his apartment.
You’d never been there before.
The apartment was exactly what you’d expected.
Neat.
Organized.
Everything in its place.
Very Jack.
You stepped inside and looked around.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“You live here.”
Jack stared at you.
“I do.”
“This is weird.”
“You’ve been here for three seconds.”
“Still weird.”
A laugh escaped him.
He tossed his keys into a bowl by the door.
“Bathroom’s down the hall.”
You nodded.
Then immediately wandered in the opposite direction.
“Not that way.”
You turned around.
“Right.”
Jack pointed again.
You saluted him.
He looked exhausted already.
By the time you emerged a few minutes later, he’d disappeared into his bedroom.
You heard drawers opening.
Then he reappeared carrying an oversized Pittsburgh sweatshirt.
“Here.”
You looked down at it.
Then up at him.
Then back at the sweatshirt.
“You want me to wear your clothes?”
Jack immediately regretted his decision.
You could see it on his face.
“Oh no.”
“Jack.”
“Just change into something comfortable.”
You held the sweatshirt dramatically against your chest.
“Jack gave me his sweatshirt.” You sang.
“Y/N.”
“I’m never taking it off.”
You grinned.
A faint blush crept up the back of his neck.
And suddenly that was far more entertaining than anything happening at the bar.
⋆⋆⋆
A little while later you emerged from the bathroom drowning in his smell.
“How do i look?”
You spun in the doorway.
Jack looked up from where he was sitting on the couch.
And froze.
For just a second.
Long enough for you to catch it.
Long enough for something warm to settle in your stomach.
Then he cleared his throat.
“Great”
Very smooth, Abbot.
You smiled to yourself.
“Where am I sleeping?”
“The couch.”
Your smile disappeared.
“What?”
“The couch.”
“You invited me to a sleepover and now you’re making me sleep on the couch?”
Jack dropped his head into his hands.
“It is not a sleepover.”
“It feels like a sleepover.”
“It isn’t.”
You laughed.
Jack pointed toward the couch.
“Blankets are in the basket.”
“Fine.”
You dramatically flopped onto the cushions.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
“Jack?”
He was already halfway down the hall.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
His expression softened.
The teasing disappeared.
The exhaustion stayed.
But underneath it was something warmer.
Something that made your chest hurt a little.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.”
“No.”
You smiled.
“Still.”
For a moment neither of you moved.
Then Jack nodded once.
“Get some sleep.”
You watched him disappear into his bedroom.
A minute later the apartment went quiet.
And as you curled deeper into his sweatshirt, surrounded by the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric, one sleepy thought crossed your mind.
Jack sure took awfully good care of you.
That reassurance let you fall right asleep.
Jack lasted all of twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of lying in bed staring at his ceiling.
Twenty minutes of telling himself you were fine.
You were asleep.
Safe.
A few feet away.
There was absolutely no reason for him to get up and check on you.
And yet.
With a quiet sigh, Jack pushed himself out of bed and grabbed his crutches.
Just one look.
Then he’d go back to sleep.
The apartment was dark when he stepped into the living room.
Only the glow from a streetlight filtered through the windows.
At first, he thought the couch was empty.
Then he saw you.
Curled awkwardly on your side.
One arm hanging off the couch.
Still wearing his sweatshirt.
Fast asleep.
And somehow…
You hadn’t touched a single blanket.
Jack stared.
The blankets sat exactly where he’d left them.
Folded neatly in the basket.
Unused.
Of course.
He should have known.
You were the same person who could fall asleep in the break room sitting upright.
The fact that you’d ignored every blanket in the apartment was honestly the least surprising thing about tonight.
A fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Unbelievable.”
You didn’t stir.
Jack crossed the room quietly.
Careful not to wake you.
Up close he could see how deeply asleep you were.
Your hair was a mess.
One cheek squished into the couch cushion.
Mouth slightly open.
Completely defenseless.
Completely comfortable.
Because you trusted him.
The thought settled heavily in his chest.
Jack reached down and carefully pulled one of the blankets over you.
The second it touched you, you instinctively burrowed deeper into it.
He nearly laughed.
Even asleep you were dramatic.
For a moment he just stood there.
Watching.
Taking in the sight.
The blanket tucked around your shoulders.
The peaceful expression on your face.
You looked softer when you slept.
The reality hit him harder than usual in the quiet of the apartment.
So much life ahead of you.
So many things you still wanted.
Jack swallowed hard.
The familiar insecurity settled into his chest.
The one he tried not to think about.
The one that never seemed to go away.
His eyes drifted over your face.
Then quickly away again.
Dangerous.
This was dangerous.
Because somewhere along the way he’d stopped looking forward to seeing you at work.
He expected it.
Needed it.
Because somewhere along the way your laugh had become his favorite sound.
And because somewhere along the way he’d fallen completely and utterly in love with you.
You shifted suddenly.
Mumbling something unintelligible.
Jack froze.
A sleepy frown crossed your face.
Then—
“Jack.”
His heart nearly stopped.
You were still asleep.
Barely conscious.
Just dreaming.
Yet somehow you’d still said his name.
Your frown disappeared.
You settled deeper into the couch.
Comfortable again.
Jack let out a slow breath.
A helpless smile finding its way onto his face.
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Soft.
Affectionate.
Dangerously honest.
You didn’t hear it.
Didn’t react.
Just continued sleeping.
Probably for the best.
After another moment, Jack carefully brushed a piece of hair away from your face.
A simple gesture.
One he’d never be brave enough to do while you were awake.
Then he stepped back.
Giving himself some distance before he did something stupid.
Like stay.
Like keep watching you sleep.
Like start imagining things he had no business imagining.
“Goodnight, little lamb.”
The old nickname felt different now.
Heavier.
Not quite innocent anymore.
Not after tonight.
Not after the way his chest tightened every time you smiled at him.
Not after the way he’d dropped everything to come get you.
Not after the way you’d called him first.
Jack lingered for one final second.
Completely unaware that if he’d stayed another thirty seconds, he would’ve heard your sleepy voice drift through the darkness.
Being paged to the emergency department was never a good feeling.
You only got called down there for a very specific set of problems.
Usually the kind that left everyone involved i. tears in one way or another.
“Can you fill me in?” you asked, taking the chart from Robby.
The two of you stood outside the room.
Through the glass door, you caught a glimpse of a woman sitting rigid in a chair beside the bed. A little girl pressed against her side. Neither of them were crying.
That was somehow worse.
In the bed, a man lay unconscious beneath too-white sheets.
Robby kept his voice low.
“Wife found him unresponsive in their bathroom. Suspected heroin overdose.”
Your eyes dropped to the chart.
Thirty-six.
Married.
No previous admissions.
You exhaled quietly.
“What’re his chances?”
Robby didn’t hesitate.
“Low. Extremely low.”
One thing you respected about him was he never softened things because they were painful. You respected honesty no matter how painful.
You nodded once.
“I’ll go upstairs and pull together resources. Family support, treatment information… whatever they might need.”
Robby glanced through the window.
“We’re keeping him comfortable for now.”
That wording.
Not stabilizing.
Not observation.
You knew what it meant.
“Just get it to them before they leave.”
You swallowed and nodded.
Across the station Cassie caught your eye.
You walked over.
“What’s the story?” she asked quietly, motioning toward the room.
“Suspected heroin overdose. Wife found him. Daughter’s here.”
Cassie looked through the glass.
Her face tightened for half a second before she looked away.
“That’s brutal.”
You nodded.
For a second neither of you said anything.
Then Cassie said quietly.
“Thank god we figured our shit out before we had kids.”
You looked at her.
There wasn’t judgment in it.
Just understanding.
You both knew people who never got the chance.
You looked back toward the room.
“Yeah.”
Cassie glanced at you and that was enough.
You cleared your throat.
“I’m gonna grab resources for her. I’ll catch you before I’m off.”
She nodded.
You turned and nearly walked directly into someone coming the opposite direction.
Solid shoulder.
Chart in hand.
“Oh shit.”
The man stepped back immediately.
“No, sorry. That was me.”
You adjusted your grip on the folder.
“You’re okay.”
You gave a quick apologetic smile before continuing down the hallway.
You were already making a mental list.
Family packet.
Information for children impacted by substance use.
Bereavement resources.
Local support groups.
Something kind for the daughter.
You didn’t notice the man glance back once before turning toward the nurses station.
Frank leaned against the counter.
“Who was that?”
Cassie looked up from her charting.
“Y/n?”
Frank nodded.
“She’s one of the addiction counselors upstairs.”
Cassie clicked through another screen.
“She consults down here now.”
Frank nodded.
Cassie kept typing.
Then, casually,
“She’s also a friend.”
Frank looked over.
Cassie shrugged.
“We go way back.”
He nodded once.
“That’s cool.”
Cassie looked at him for a second.
Not because he asked.
People asked about people all the time.
But Frank usually didn’t.
She looked back at her screen.
After a second she added—
“She’s good people.”
Frank hummed quietly and pushed off the counter.
Cassie watched him walk away.
Interesting.
When you came back down to the ED, the folder in your hand felt heavier than paper should.
Your mind was still half upstairs, back in your office.
Specifically haunted by a picture frame on the corner of your desk.
A first day of school picture that almost cost you an arm and a leg.
You pushed it aside as you stepped fully into the department.
No Cassie.
You checked the trauma rooms.
Nothing.
Someone was asking for supplies. Someone else was getting a report. A monitor started alarming somewhere down the hall.
Normal for them foreign for you.
You spotted Cassie across the department for half a second before someone stopped her. She looked over, saw you, then the folder, and pointed vaguely toward the nurses station before disappearing into a room.
Helpful.
You stood there for a second.
Then,
“Need something?”
You looked over.
The guy from earlier.
Same scrubs. Same chart.
A name tag that read Frank.
You lifted the folder slightly.
“I was looking for Cassie.”
He glanced toward where she’d gone.
“Just got pulled to room six.”
Of course.
You nodded.
“Just needed to get these to the family.”
His eyes dropped to the folder.
He understood immediately.
Looked toward the room.
Then back to you.
“You want someone medical in there?”
You blinked.
“What?”
He shrugged.
“Families usually ask questions.”
Not pressure.
Just practical.
You looked at him for a second.
Then nodded once.
“Yeah.”
He pushed off the counter.
The two of you walked down the hall.
Neither of you said anything.
Outside the room you stopped.
Through the glass the little girl was asleep curled against her mother’s side. The wife stared forward, unmoving.
Frank looked in for a moment.
“Robby talked to her already.”
You nodded.
Your grip tightened slightly on the folder.
Frank glanced at you.
“You okay?”
You looked at him.
A beat.
Not defensive.
Just registering the question.
Then you looked back through the glass.
“Yeah.”
Another beat.
“Just hate when kids are involved.”
Something shifted in his expression. Not sympathy. Something quieter. More contained.
“Yeah,” he said.
No follow-up.
No attempt to pull anything out of you.
After a second he reached for the door.
Paused.
Looked at you.
“You ready?”
It wasn’t performative.
Just the same tone he’d used the entire time—practical, steady.
You hesitated only briefly.
Then nodded.
“Yeah.”
He opened the door.
You went in together.
Frank got straight to it.
Your husband is dying and there is nothing we can do.
The wife didn’t look surprised when Frank said it.
That was the first thing you noticed.
Not shock.
Not denial.
Just a slow acceptance, like she’d already been standing at the edge of it and was waiting for someone to confirm her fears..
Frank stayed steady beside you.
The monitor behind the curtain kept its rhythm. Too slow for anyone's liking.
The wife looked at him first.
“Okay.” she said quietly.
Then, after a beat that stretched too long to be comfortable,
“Can I ask… how long?”
Frank didn’t sugarcoat it.
“We don’t know exactly. But it’s not going to be days.”
Her breath caught, but she held it together. Barely.
Her eyes shifted away from the bed to the floor.
Then to her daughter still asleep against her shoulder.
That was where it changed.
Not for her husband.
For her.
“I don’t know what to do with her.” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
It was the first thing she’d said that wasn’t about him.
You stepped in slightly, careful not to crowd Frank’s space but closing the distance enough that she could hear you clearly.
“We can help with that.” you said.
Her eyes flicked to you.
Sharp for a second. Protective.
“She doesn’t know what’s happening.” the wife said quickly. “She thinks he’s just… sleeping.”
Frank spoke gently, but directly.
“She will need to know.” he said. “Just not all at once.”
A pause.
The wife shook her head slightly.
“I can’t say it right.”
You nodded once.
“That’s okay.”
That made her look at you again.
Not because it solved anything.
Because you didn’t correct her.
You leaned slightly against the counter, keeping your voice low.
“You don’t have to explain it perfectly. Just enough that she understands he isn’t waking up. And that she’s not in trouble or at fault for being here.”
The wife’s face tightened at that last part.
Frank’s gaze shifted briefly to the sleeping girl.
Then back to the chart.
The wife swallowed.
“She’s going to ask to see him.”
Frank nodded once.
“She should.” he said.
Simple. No hesitation.
The wife’s eyes filled, but the tears didn’t fall yet.
“Is that… is that going to be bad for her?”
You answered that one.
“No.” you said. “Not if she’s prepared. Not if she’s not alone.”
Silence again.
This one heavier.
The wife looked down at her daughter’s hand curled into her shirt.
“I don’t want her last memory of him to be…” she stopped, unable to finish it.
Frank spoke quietly.
“It won’t be.”
That landed.
Not comforting exactly.
But solid.
You watched the wife breathe through it, trying to decide what kind of strength she had left.
Finally, she nodded once.
“I need a minute.” she said.
You guys gave her the minute without saying anything else.
Frank stepped out first, you following close behind.
The door clicked shut behind you, soft but final in a way that stuck.
Out in the hallway, the noise of the ED came back immediately, too bright, too fast, too alive for what was happening in the room behind you.
Neither of you moved right away.
Frank leaned lightly against the cart outside the room, rolling his pen between his fingers without really looking at it.
You set the empty folder down on the workstation.
A pause settled between you.
Not uncomfortable.
Just unclaimed.
Frank exhaled once.
“They’re gonna need follow-up.” he said.
“Yeah.” you replied. “I made sure to leave my info with everything else.”
He nodded like he expected nothing less.
Another beat.
A nurse passed behind you, asking for a set of vitals. Somewhere down the hall a monitor started chirping and was immediately shut down by a reset.
Normal life resuming around a room that wasn’t.
Frank glanced toward the door.
“She’s more worried about the kid than anything else.” he said.
You nodded.
“Yeah. That’s usually how it goes.”
You didn’t say it like a statement about families.
Just something you’d seen too many times to dress up.
Frank looked at you then, properly.
Not long.
Just enough to register you.
“You’re good at that.” he said.
You huffed quietly, almost a laugh.
“Oh please.”
“I’m serious.”
You didn’t respond to that.
Instead, you picked the empty folder back up, straightened it on instinct, trying to keep your hands busy.
A beat passed.
Frank pushed off the counter.
“I’ll swing by later if they have questions.” he said.
“Yeah.” you replied. “I’ll probably still be up there if you need anything.”
He nodded once.
Then, like the conversation had reached its natural end rather than a forced stop, he started to turn away.
You shifted your weight, already mentally moving back to your next thing.
“Alright,” you said lightly. “See you around.”
You didn’t think much of it.
Just something people said in hallways like this.
Frank paused for half a step.
Then nodded.
“Yeah.” he said. “See you around.”
And then he was gone into the flow of the department, like he had never stopped moving in the first place.
You stood there a second longer and headed back upstairs.
How to sit with discomfort. How to ask for help. How to keep moving forward even when it would’ve been easier not to.
If you’d asked ten years ago where you’d end up, this wouldn’t have made the list.
You certainly wouldn’t have guessed you’d be sober, raising a daughter on your own, and working as an addiction counselor at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. These days your world revolved around school pickups, forgotten lunchboxes, and long shifts talking people through the worst moments of their lives.
It wasn’t always easy, but it was yours.
Stable. Predictable, even.
Then there was Cassie McKay.
You’d met Cassie years ago in NA, long before either of you worked at Pittsburgh Trauma. She was one of the few people who remembered the version of you from before sobriety, before stability, before you figured out how to build something resembling a life.
Unfortunately, that also meant she thought she knew exactly what was best for you.
Which was how you’d somehow ended up agreeing to a date with Frank Langdon.
A man you’d met exactly twice. A man who seemed perpetually exhausted. A man who, according to Cassie, was “perfect for you.”
You were still trying to figure out how she’d convinced you to believe her.
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