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He made your heart flutter. Not in the awful, strikingly awkward way that sent you spiraling to no return, but in the way that each time he looked your way, your stomach did a backflip and your heart fought to keep up with the action. He'd only been "yours" for a number of days and he already had you messed up.
Shit. You weren't supposed to be this far gone already. A feeling of doubt crept along your spine, reminding you that this was wrong. He was wrong. Not because of something he did, or something that he would do, but because of you. You were too much. There were too many things waiting to pop out, too many things just lying beneath the surface, unaware of the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife and then some. He shouldn’t have to put up with it. To put up with you and all of the issues just waiting to reveal themselves when given the chance.
Jack Abbot was beautiful, and you were a fool in your own right.
You thought about straight up ghosting him. Just stop contacting him, ignore him instead of answer his texts, his calls. But it was all too much, and you had never been one to stay too far away from something your heart so desperately wanted even when your mind screamed the opposite.
—
Frank's Halloween party was in full swing.
You were dressed in a decent costume, one of your own choice and not the group costume with Frank and his wife (as much as you loved them both, you'd rather be caught dead than third wheeling in a couple's costume, because really, that's what it was). They had opted for Mario and Princess Peach, which was sweet, but what would that have left you?
(Frank had sent you a picture of Toad and said it would be perfect. If you could have jumped through your phone to strangle a man, that would’ve been the time to do it.)
It had been nearly half an hour since you last laid eyes on the host and hostess.
You hadn't drank much of anything, opting for a water and an odd candy bar or two. Your nephew wasn't there, the man of the house opting to let him stay over at a friend's house instead (it was the weekend, after all, and the party wasn't even on Halloween—just a few days before, given that Frank and a few others had been scheduled to work the commercial holiday laden with old traditions galore).
You had yet to lay eyes on Jack Abbot and you hoped it stayed that way. You hoped that somehow, he just wasn't there—that the invite had gone unread, and that you didn't show though you had asked him to be there. Crock shit of luck that was, knowing how he seemed to actually care about you.
That's what made you so hesitant. About him, about the barely budding relationship. If you allowed this to happen, you were admitting to yourself that you did have feelings, yes, but you were opening yourself up to a world of hurt if it happened.
You weren't ready for that.
Not again.
Finishing off your water and hoping for the best, you began to make your way around the house.
Dr. Robby hadn't made it, out of town for the weekend (not sure the reason, either—Frank didn't seem too positive, and you weren't about to press the issue after he seemed psyched with all the turnout for his party to begin with). A few of the nurses he worked with, same with some friends from his neighborhood was there. Cassie McKay in all her glory stood by the front door with a woman you didn't recognize, but you didn't bother them. Cassie was rather enthusiastically talking to her, and you weren't about to interrupt, or be pulled into a conversation you couldn't get yourself out of.
In your vague focus, you hardly noticed the appearance of one Dr. Jack Abbot. As soon as your eyes landed on him, though, your breath hitched.
Oh, he came.
He listened to you. He actually showed up.
Fuck.
Why wouldn't he? He said he'd be there. He said he'd be there if it made you happy. If it made you happy!
You hated to say it—that you regretted his appearance, that you wished he would never have shown up, but that part of you melted all for a few seconds as he spotted you, charming smile jumping to his lips in an instant.
He said your name, greeting you happily after speaking with a few familiar faces. (Now that you were thinking about it, many of the faces belonged to those in the ER—at least those you had seen with Frank in your minimal escapades there, save for the night doctor.)
You returned his smile, though hesitant and not as bright.
This was wrong. He wasn't, so to speak, but the rest of it? Oh, so wrong. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve you. The woman who could hardly get herself through a day without thoughts of death and damnation hounding her. The woman who knew Jack Abbot could do so much better.
The more you thought about your very obvious reality the less you realized he was solely focused on you.
"You alright there, sweetheart?" Jack asked, gently patting your shoulder with a strong, calloused hand. You could feel the texture through your costume sleeves. Your heart caught in your throat. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Perhaps you had. The ghost of a man wasting his precious time on you.
"Come on," he said, gently nudging you with his elbow. "Let's go to the kitchen. Get something to drink."
You didn't object. You let him guide you through the hallways you knew so well. Let him get you a drink, a real one this time, and you nearly downed it in one go.
"Christ," Jack said, sipping on his own cheap beer someone had stuck in the fridge. "Slow down. It's not about to run away from you."
It would. If you gave it a chance, it would. Much like everything else in your life.
Fuck, you and your therapist had a lot to discuss. You had been doing so well, not thinking like this, and all of a sudden, with the prospect of a hot doctor chatting you up, you crumbled like the broken frame you were.
Was that the issue? Or was it something deeper? She always mentioned that sometimes, there was an underlying issue influencing people.
It was really fucking annoying knowing that you were almost always the underlying issue.
Jack noticed something. He must have. He may not have asked you about it, or chided you like the knowing man he was, but the way he was looking at you made you feel as if you did something wrong.
Maybe you did do something wrong, wanting an older man to care for you the way you cared for him. He had been nothing but sweet to you. He had been nothing but attentive when the time permitted. Your few interactions kept to cellphone messages, short calls, and a few escapades in the afternoon or even early morning, after he'd gotten off a shift.
Why were you so miserable, locked away in your own mind when this man looked at you like that?
Brown eyed, locked on yours, the lines of age ever-present in the molding of his face. Your name on the tip of his tongue, his beer long forgotten behind him on the counter.
"You feelin' alright?" he softly asked, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for a reason as to why you were so quiet.
"I'm fine," you answered, unable to help yourself but lean against his hand. "Promise."
Somewhere in the living room, someone began to blare "Monster Mash" louder than the thrum of your heart. The base carried up from the tips of your toes to the pit of your stomach.
"Jesus Christ," you huffed. "Come on. Let's go somewhere quieter."
Jack blinked rapidly, watching as you began to walk away. He grabbed a piece of candy from the bowl on the counter, opening it and tossing the trash away as he followed after you. He popped the candy into his mouth, dipping into the same hallway you had been only moments earlier.
As you began to ascend the staircase, he watched you skeptically.
You looked down at him, jerking your head slightly in the direction you were going.
"So we can talk."
He hummed softly, glancing over his shoulder, before he followed after you, taking the stairs as carefully as he could.
Jack Abbot followed you into the guest room, to which you immediately made a beeline to the bathroom. You began to run the cold water, letting it run over your hands. You didn't splash it against your face, for fear of it ruining your costume makeup.
He leaned up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
"How've you been?" he asked, eyeing you warily. You knew he would talk your ear off if you let him.
Did you want that?
Scratch that. Did he want that? Spouting story after story to a woman who had a plethora of reasons he should not be with her?
You'd been doing so well in therapy as of late. So, so well. But one little mistake, one little thought, and it all went spiraling to the floor like an avalanche only just getting started.
That wasn't fair to him.
You weren't fair to him.
"You gonna talk to me or just stare like I've grown two heads?" Jack softly asked, smiling at you. Even now, his smile met his eyes. He genuinely seemed to enjoy you and your silence.
Your heart ached at the thought. You turned off the water, shaking what you could off into the sink. There wasn't a towel visible for you to use.
"I'm sorry," you softly said. "Just... have a lot on my mind."
It wasn't a lie. It wasn't the full truth, but you weren't lying to him. You were honest.
He wouldn't admit to it, but there was a part of him that felt so much younger by your side. Like he could be playful and not be disregarded as an older man, like he could truly find himself in the lost pieces of your puzzle.
Jack stepped forward, essentially trapping you in front of the sink. You kept your eyes steady on his, heart jumping to your throat.
This wasn't fair to him.
"You care if I...?"
He doesn't have to finish his sentence before you leaned forward, lips meeting with his. Your wet hands gently grabbed onto his black shirt, pulling him into your body. Jack's eyes widened a bit, surprised at your brazen act (it was usually him, if either of you).
He reached forward, one hand gripping onto the edge of the sink while the other wrapped around your torso, front pressed against yours. Lips molded into one another, as imperfect as all get out, teeth quickly coming into the equation. He could feel your hands trembling against his chest, the way your breath even fluttered. He only pulled back a moment to get a better hold of you, using his strength to prop you up against the sink.
A silent prayer carded its way into the back of your mind. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, lips once again finding purchase against the one thing he wanted more than anything.
Heart pounding, you took notice of him. Of all of him. Because you knew this was the last moment in which you truly had him.
This was it. Your last kiss.
Your eyes fluttered open as he kissed you, though his were screwed shut. That familiar guttural feeling that you often felt near him, it flowed from the kiss and into your very nervous system. Before he could see your eyes open, though, you squeezed them shut and leaned into the kiss once more, fearing you were losing breath, losing motivation.
He tasted like chocolate and cheap beer, and his kiss felt like heaven in the pit of your belly, in the deep abyss waiting to swallow you both whole.
Only when he parted for air did you finally get a good look at him.
Your lips, kiss-swollen and most definitely wanting more, remained blissfully unaware of what your mind was doing. Against all your heart screamed at you for.
After tonight, you'd cut things off with him.
He deserved so much more, even if he kissed you like that. Even if God had paved golden streets for the man he was, for Dr. Jack Abbot.
He deserved so much more, and you needed to speak to your therapist STAT. You shouldn't do this. Shouldn't leave him like this, looking so beautiful, so touch starved.
Could he feel your mind? Hear your thoughts though you'd never voiced them?
Jack leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
"You think you wanna head back down?" he softly asked, a hand on your hip as he spoke. His thumb gently brushed against the fabric of your costume. "You seem like you could use some air."
Oh, fuck.
You were screwed.
"Yeah," you softly said, giving him a soft smile. "Yeah. That sounds ice."
Air was good. You could go downstairs, get some air, and maybe get the hell out of there while you still had your wits about you.