Chapter Text
Jack Abbot wasn’t a superstitious man. He didn’t have a rabbit’s foot on his keychain or a lucky pair of socks he wore when he favorite teams played. There were no lucky numbers or rituals that made fate smile more fondly upon you. That being said, even he knew better than to ever say things were quiet in the emergency department. Knew better than to even think it. But that’s exactly what he did just before 0300 on a Saturday morning.
Less than five minutes passed before Lena called his name and waved him over to the hub.
“What’s up?” he asked as he approached.
She looked between him and the door. “Someone in chairs is asking for you by name.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Patient?”
“Says she’s your son’s girlfriend.”
His brows snapped together as a furrow formed on his forehead. Daniel’s girlfriend. You. Here at his hospital at three in the morning.
“Daniel?” The name came out rougher than he’d intended. “Is he—”
Lena shook her head. “Just her. Nick says she’s upset.”
Jack nodded, processing this information while his mind raced through scenarios, none of them good. People didn’t show up at hospitals in the middle of the night with good news. Especially not to find their boyfriend’s father who they’d met exactly twice.
“Thanks. I’ll handle it.” His professional mask slid back into place even as concern churned in his gut.
As he walked toward the waiting area, Jack’s thoughts turned to Daniel, the son he hadn’t known existed until the boy was sixteen. The results of prom night with a high school girlfriend that had disappeared without a trace right after graduation. The memories came in fragments. The stunned disbelief of the first email. The awkward first meeting and the years of stilted interactions that followed. Daniel had his height, his eyes, but little else Jack recognized as himself.
The relationship remained strained even years later. Daniel carried a chip on his shoulder, though Jack couldn’t entirely blame him. Still, there was something about his character that bothered Jack. A selfish, casual cruelty Jack witnessed in small moments. The way Daniel spoke to servers at restaurants. How he looked at women when he thought no one was watching. The lies he’d use to cancel plans.
Jack tried anyway. Made an effort. Called on birthdays. Tried to make dinner plans when their schedules aligned. It was an obligation, yes, but also a need to rectify a wrong. He had missed his son’s childhood through no fault of his own, but that didn’t lessen the weight of his guilt.
And then there was you. Daniel’s girlfriend of a year and a half that had moved to Pittsburgh with him eight months ago. Jack has met you only twice. Once at a dinner that Daniel spent mostly on his phone and again briefly when he’d run into you both at the grocery store. Two encounters, less than three hours total, yet Jack found himself oddly drawn to your quick wit and genuine smile. You’d asked about his work with actual interest, laughed at his dry jokes and redirected the conversation when Daniel was being self absorbed.
Jack had liked you immediately, more than he probably should have considering you were his son’s girlfriend. There had been a moment, just a fleeting second, when your eyes had met his across the table and he’d felt something shift in the air between you. He’d dismissed it instantly. Inappropriate. Imagined. Impossible.
Yet here you were, seeking him out specifically.
Jack paused before opening the door to the waiting area, gathering himself. Whatever had brought you here couldn’t be good and he needed to be Dr. Abbot now. He couldn’t afford to be the man that had lain awake after that dinner, wondering what might have happened if he’d met you first, in another life.
He pushed open the door and froze. There you were, leaning against the wall, almost unrecognizable from the vibrant woman he’d met at dinner two months ago. Your body seemed to curl in on itself. An oversized hoodie swallowed your frame while your arms were wrapped protectively around your middle like you were holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Your head was down, but he could see the wet tracks glistening on your cheeks.
“Hey,” he said, your name following softly after.
Your head jerked up at the sound of his voice and Jack felt something dark and primal surge through his veins. A bruise was forming on your left cheekbone, the skin already darkening to an angry purple. Your eyes, wide and red rimmed locked onto his with a mix of relief and shame that made his chest tighten.
He crossed the room in four quick strides. “What the fuck happened to you?” The words came out rough with emotion he couldn’t fully contain.
The question seemed to break something in you as your face crumpled, shoulders shaking as fresh tears spilled over. Jack immediately regretted his bluntness, mentally cursing himself for not being more gentle with you.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” His voice softened. “It’s okay. Let’s get you back here so we can talk, okay?”
You nodded, swiping your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie. Jack hesitated only a fraction of a second before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. He could feel you trembling, your body heat seeping through the fabric between you.
“This way,” he murmured, guiding you through the doors that led into the heart of the ED. He kept his pace slow, matching your uneven steps, his arm a steady presence across your shoulders.
As you passed the hub, Parker Ellis looked up from her charting, eyes widening slightly at the sight of her attending with his arm around a crying woman. Her expression shifted to concern, a silent question in her raised eyebrow.
Jack gave her a small dismissive wave with his free hand. Not now. Not a medical emergency. I’ve got this. Years of working together let him communicate all this with the single gesture. Parker nodded once, returning to her work though Jack could feel her curious gaze following him down the hallway.
He steered you into a small exam room at the end of the corridor. It was one of the quieter rooms, away from the activity at the hub. He helped you settle on the exam bed, noting that you winced slightly as you sat, suggesting other injuries beyond the visible bruise on your face. His mind began cataloguing possibilities, the doctor in him running through assessments even as the man in him struggled to keep his emotions in check.
He pulled over a rolling stool and sat directly in front of you, your knees nearly touching. He needed to get you calmed down so he could find out what the hell happened. “Try to match my breathing,” Jack said, voice dropping into the steady measured tone he used with panicking patients. He inhaled deeply though his noise, held it for a count of three, then exhaled slowly through his lips. “Like this. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” He demonstrated again, watching as you struggled to follow his lead, your breath catching on a sob. “That’s it. Again. With me, sweetheart.”
The endearment slipped out without thought. Jack kept his eyes on yours as your breathing gradually synchronized with his. Your breathing had steadied somewhat though your hands still trembled in your lap where your fingers twisted together.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, the small motion causing a tear to break free and trace a path down your cheek.
“I need you to tell me what happened so I can help. Can you do that for me?”
You looked up at him and then away. “I’m sorry, Jack. I shouldn’t have come here. I just…” Your voice broke, and you took a shuddering breath, shoulders hunching forward as if expecting a blow.
The posture sent another wave of cold fury through him. He placed his hand on your knee, his touch light but grounding as he moved his thumb in small, reassuring circles. “Yes, you absolutely should have,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Talk to me.”
You kept your eyes fixed on the hands in your lap. “Dan went out tonight with his work friends. He said it was a ‘no partners’ thing. Just the team letting off steam.” You cleared your throat. “Around midnight I got a text from the girlfriend of one of his coworkers, she sent me pictures of Dan sitting at the table with everyone, making out with some woman from his office. She said it had been going on for some time and she was sorry but she thought I should know.”
Jack’s hand tightened slightly on your knee when you paused. He forced himself to relax, a deliberate exercise in control. Your story confirmed what the bruise on your face had already told him, but he needed to hear the details. Not just as someone who cared about you, but as a doctor assessing potential injuries. The distinction was becoming harder to maintain with each passing minute.
“I texted Dan. Told him I knew and that I hoped she was worth throwing away eighteen months together. He didn’t respond.”
Jack nodded, encouraging without interrupting.
“When he came home, I was sitting on the couch waiting.” You swallowed hard. “He slammed the door so hard a picture fell off the wall. Started screaming about how I embarrassed him in front of his friends.
A dull throb started at Jack’s temple. The behavior wasn’t surprising, he’d witnessed his son’s quick temper before, but hearing the details made something cold settle in the pit of his stomach.
“I stood up to confront him. Told him that he embarrassed himself, he didn’t need my help to do it.”
“That when he hit you?” His voice cracked toward the end.
You nodded, fingers absently brushing the bruise on your skin.
“How?” Jack asked.
You looked up, confused. “What?”
“How did he hit you? Closed fist, slap?” he clarified. “I need to know the potential for injury.”
“Oh. He backhanded me.”
Jack’s teeth clenched, a muscle working in his jaw. “I have more questions, but I’ll ask them later. Finish your story.”
You drew a shaky breath. “After he hit me, I stumbled backward. He just…stood there for a second, looking surprised, like he couldn’t believe what he’d done.”
Jack could imagine the scene with painful clarity. You stunned and hurt. Daniel suddenly confronted with the reality of his actions. “Then what happened?”
Your eyes dropped to your lap again. “It was like something switched in him. He started talking in this cold, calm voice. Started stalking across the apartment toward me.”
He noted the word choice. Stalking. Predatory. His son was a predator and you were the prey. The image burned itself into his brain, impossible to dismiss.
“I backed up, trying to put space between us and he grabbed my wrist.” You extended your arm, revealing the reddened skin circling your wrist. “He jerked me around, hard enough that I felt something pop in my shoulder.”
Jack catalogued the new information. Possible rotator cuff injury, sprained wrist, soft tissue damage. His hand moved from your knee to gently take your arm, fingers probing the area with clinical precision despite the fury building in his chest.
“He kept hold of me…” Your voice wavered slightly. “He told me he’d been cheating for months. Said I was too stupid to notice, too trusting. Said I was boring in bed, that his coworker knew how to take care of a man better than I did.”
His exam paused for a fraction of a second while he processed the words. The calculated cruelty.
“Then he shoved me. Hard. I hit the wall. Not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to scare me.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“No,” you assured him. Something flashed in your gaze, a spark of fire beneath the hurt. “Then I kneed him in the groin.”
Jack couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face. “Good for you.”
“I shoved past him while he was distracted and grabbed my bag. I just ran. Didn’t even take my phone. Left it charging on the counter.” Your hands twisted together. “I just needed to get out of there. I drove around for a while trying to figure out where to go. Found myself in the parking lot.”
The smile had vanished from Jack’s face, replaced by a frown. “I don’t mind you coming here, honey, but don’t you have any friends you could have gone to?”
You shook your head. “I don’t really know anyone except Dan’s friends and I couldn’t…”
“No of course not,” Jack agreed, cutting you off. Not only would they likely take his side, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t call Daniel to tell him you were there.
“I thought about a hotel but I don’t have that much money and I don’t want to start running up my cards until I have to…” You trailed off, looking embarrassed.
His frown deepened. “What do you mean you don’t have money? What about your job?” Last Jack knew you worked as a receptionist at a family care clinic.
“Oh, uh…” You scratched at the back of your neck. “Dan didn’t like me working there. Said he didn’t like the way the doctors looked at me.”
Jack felt another layer of anger stack on top of the existing foundation. Isolation. Financial dependence. Classic techniques of controlling partners. Whether Daniel had done it consciously or not, the result was the same. You were alone in a city with limited resources, dependent on the very person who had harmed you.
His fingers flexed, curling into a loose fist before he deliberately relaxed them. The fact that his own son would treat any woman this way was infuriating enough. That it was you, made something protective and possessive twist in his chest.
“You did the right thing coming here,” Jack said firmly as he stood to his feet. “Let me take a closer look at your injuries.”
You nodded, sitting straighter on the exam table as Jack shifted into full doctor mode. He examined your cheek first, fingers gentle as they probed the bruised flesh.
“Any difficulty seeing? Double vision? Ringing in your ears?”
“No. Nothing like that. It just hurts.”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Maybe a three? Four when I touch it?”
Jack nodded, moving to examine your wrist next. He rotated the joint carefully, watching your face for signs of pain.
“Was this the first time Daniel has been violent with you?” The question was delivered in the same matter of fact tone as the medical inquiries but the muscle working in his jaw betrayed his tension.
“Yes,” you said immediately then hesitated. “I mean, he’s thrown things before. Not at me. Just around when he’s angry. He punched a wall once. But he never hit me before tonight.”
Jack absorbed the information silently.
“I know you quit your job because he wanted you to. Has he isolated you in other ways? Controlled who you talk to, where you go?” He kept his tone neutral but his eyes were intent on your face.
“He doesn’t like my friends. Says they’re a bad influence.” You looked down, fingers twisting together. “He checks my phone sometimes. Says it’s just because he’s worried about me.”
Jack continued his examination, moving to check your shoulder. “And financially? Do you have your own accounts?”
You shook your head. “He said it was easier to have a joint account when we moved here. I closed my credit card and he added me to his account—Shit. He probably cancelled my card.” You winced at the thought. “I shouldn’t have confronted him. He’s just been stressed with the promotion and—”
“Stop,” Jack’s voice was sharp, his eyes flashing as they met yours. “Don’t make excuses for him.”
You fell silent, shoulders hunching in that defensive posture again. His chest tightened in anger.
“I’ve seen this more times than I can count, sweetheart,” Jack said, more gently. “This pattern. Controlling behavior that escalates to violence. I noticed things at dinner that night. I should have pressed then.”
“Things?” Your voice was small.
“The way he spoke over you, checked your reaction to things he or I said. The firm grip on your leg like he was keeping you in place.”
He saw the recognition in your eyes. You had noticed these things too, perhaps dismissed the wrongness in them.
“You are not stupid,” he said firmly. “You are not boring. And you sure as hell do not deserve to be cheated on or struck. None of this is your fault.”
A tear slipped down your cheek and you wiped it away quickly. “Thank you.”
He finished his exam and stepped back slightly. “Good news is you’re just bruised. Your wrist and shoulder should both be fine with ice, rest and anti-inflammatories.”
You nodded. “Thank you for checking.”
Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Now. What’s your plan?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not going back to him.” It was a statement not a question.
“I don’t want to but I don’t have—”
“This is what’s going to happen,” he cut you off before you could spiral over something you didn’t need to worry about. “I’m going to set you up here in the lounge. When I get off, you’ll come home with me. After I get some sleep, we will go to your apartment and get your things. Do you have any furniture or anything big to move?”
You shook your head, eyes wide, obviously a little stunned but what he was saying. “But where will I go?”
“I just told you, you’ll stay with me. I have a guest room. It’s not fancy, but it’s private and safe.” His tone left little room for argument.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” He stepped forward and placed his hands on your upper arms. “I promise it will be fine. Trust me.”
“But he’s your son.” Uncertainty colored your words. “I don’t want to put you in the position of having to take sides.”
His expression hardened, cold fury settling behind his eyes. “You’re not. Blood’s got nothing to do with loyalty. He had it but he lost it when he raised a hand to you. That shit doesn’t happen. Not on my watch.”
The edge to his voice seemed to startle you so he took a deep breath, reining in his anger. It wasn’t directed at you and he wouldn’t have you thinking otherwise.
“Look,” he said more quietly. “I have certain lines that don’t get crossed. Hitting your partner is one of them. I don’t care if he’s my son or not. That’s unforgivable. Full stop.”
You studied his face for a long moment. “I don’t know, Jack. It still feels like I’d be coming between the two of you.”
“Daniel did that all by himself.” His voice was firm but gentle. “This isn’t your burden to carry. You didn’t create this mess, he did. And now I’m making a choice about what kind of a man I am. What I stand for. That’s on me, not you.”
When you still hesitated, Jack placed his hand on the side of your neck, his thumb running gently along your jaw. The gesture was more intimate than he’d intended, but it felt necessary. “It will be okay. Let me do this for you. Let me show you that you can depend on me. Okay?”
“Yeah,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay, Jack.”
He nodded once, letting his hand fall away from your neck. The warmth of your skin lingered on his fingertips as he stepped back, creating necessary distance between you. But as he looked at you sitting on the table, bruised but not broken, he knew with bone deep certainty that he was making the right choice.