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Jack Abbot has not uttered the words I love you, in a very, very long time.
Many moons ago, an entire lifetime ago, he said it all the time. He said it when he woke up; he said it over the phone during long shifts, knowing he wouldn’t make it in time to say goodnight before she went to bed. He left it on sticky notes, plastered all over the vanity and in her workbag before she left for the day, so she’d always know, even if he was barely around to say it.
He did the same thing at the cemetery.
Once a week, Jack went to the cemetery to visit his wife. He freshened up the grave, replaced the flowers, and returned with a new sticky note attached to the bouquet. He stayed a little while, chatting with her about that week’s happenings at work. Before he left, he always pressed his fingers to his lips, then pressed them to her name on the headstone.
Today is one of those days–Jack holds a bouquet of sunflowers with a bright yellow sticky note to match. Once he tidies up the weeds and cleans off the headstone, he arranges the flowers just so, just the way she’d like them.
“I know, you can tell I’m quiet today,” Jack says gently. “It’s not you, it’s just…I’ve got a lot on my mind. So many things I want to tell you.”
Normally, Jack rambles for at least an hour, maybe more if he’s been busy, sitting at her grave and telling her everything she missed that week. He stays longer if he had a bad day; he stays all day on her birthday.
But today, Jack finds himself a little bit lost for words, confessions sitting on his tongue. Sure, she probably already knows–people in heaven, or wherever they are, must have some sort of camera or looking glass, spying on their loved ones down below. She probably knows what Jack has been up to lately. His stomach twists at the thought of what she must be thinking. If she was thinking anything.
“It’s hard down here without you,” Jack says finally, “but I, um…I think I’m finding ways to make it a little easier.”
And that’s all he tells her for now.
Jack Abbot returns to an empty apartment, only the glow of the stove clock illuminating the space. He’s surprised to find himself a bit bummed that you’re not there tonight; the only evidence of you in the apartment right now is the pair of old sneakers left in the entryway.
As if on cue, his phone buzzes, a message from the exact person invading his thoughts.
Dana asked me to stay a little longer. Be there maybe around 0100, but I may crash with Santos because her place is closer. Miss you.
With a sigh, the night shift attending crashes onto his couch, letting his eyes grow heavy and dozing off. He dreams of tombstones and daisies, the past colliding with the future. He barely gets any sleep.
“You’re crabby.”
“I’m tired.”
Robby chuckles to himself, not needing to look over at his best friend to know that he’s wearing a glare as sharp as a scalpel.
Hour thirteen out of fourteen for the night shift attending; Jack’s best friend has taken note of the fact that there is a permanent wrinkle above his brow. While Jack remains mostly unreadable to most of the residents and other staff, he knows that he is no match for Michael Robinovitch.
The initial rush of shift change settles down, at least. Jack might actually be leaving on time for once. He doesn’t dare speak this revelation into existence; it’s like saying Macbeth in the theater. Never dare mention good things like leaving early when you work the ED. It’s like praying for the opposite.
And he’s not lying–he is fucking exhausted. After an entire night of babysitting interns, begging residents to pick up the slack, and the occasional drunken patient trying to swing at one of the nurses…yeah, he’s fucking beat.
The fact that Jack barely got any sleep before coming in last night isn't helping, either. Or the fact that he has someone on his mind, but he’s wearing a ring he shared with someone else.
Jack knows. He knows he’s being an idiot, and the rational, adult thing to do here is just talk, talk to you about everything, for real this time. But guilt always gnaws at the back of his mind, and the ring feels heavier most days than it ever did.
Alright, so he’s crabby.
The last of the morning shift rolls in, and a familiar face is rushing through the ED doors. Jack doesn’t even need to turn around to know you’re about to clock in; he can hear you laughing with Santos about something all the way across the unit. His body somehow has a visceral reaction whenever you enter the threshold–almost immediately, he can feel the tension melting away from his body.
Once you’re at the station, you catch Jack’s gaze, beaming up at him as you grab one of the tablets and peck his cheek as you pass him by. Quick, your favorite habit–Jack blushes every time.
“Feeling better or still crabby?” Robby chides.
Jack shoots him a glare but bites back a smirk. “Just tired, brother. I, uh…visited the grave yesterday.”
Robby pauses as nurses pass them by, then looks up at his best friend. Tired eyes, more shadow underneath them than usual. His brows furrow almost into a permanent state of worry, mostly unnoticed to the untrained eye. You’re still learning–Robby’s mastered it.
Silence floats between them, and as Robby scrolls through the admissions list on his tablet, he’s fighting the urge to ask Jack a question he won't want to be asked. He takes a deep breath anyway.
“Have you ever considered maybe taking–”
“Just drop it,” Jack snaps. “I’m not taking her there. Not yet.”
The morning attending says nothing more. Guilt consumes Jack for a moment; before he has a chance to apologize, his friend is already making his way to the residents for morning meeting. Jack manages to catch his friend’s gaze as he leaves the ED–Robby gives him a small, hopeful smile. He knows he’s lucky–not everyone would put up with his bullshit the way Robby always does.
Jack finds you in the madness of the morning shift, pressing a quick kiss to your hair as you run off to follow Santos and Al-Hashimi. The smell of your shampoo is enough to calm him down again, to bring him back down to earth.
When Jack finally makes it back to his truck, he pauses before turning on the engine; he fiddles with the band on his finger. Silence joins him in the front seat–normally he doesn’t care. Today, there’s a pit in his stomach.
The simple band is scratched up, years of love and hard nights leaving their mark. A cheap band, the only one she could afford when they got married. Jack told her he didn’t mind–he was an intern at the time they got engaged, so her ring was modest, too. It was a courthouse wedding; they had a party afterwards, in the backyard of her childhood home. He was so in love at the time, he would have gotten married with paper rings in their living room if it came down to that.
Nothing like cancer to fuck up the one good thing in your life.
Jack removes the band, taking a deep breath as he feels no resistance on that finger. The skin underneath is paler, and it suddenly strikes him that he’d been wearing the ring for nearly half his life. Nearly two decades had passed where that small band of skin hadn’t seen the sun, and it nearly fucking breaks him to think about that tan line vanishing over the next few months.
He slips the ring back on. He’ll figure that out another day.
You can do it. Just try.
Jack stares at himself in the mirror, shocked to see how much more gray streaks through his hair and stubble. He’s gotten older since she’s been gone; he hates the idea that he never got to see her with wrinkles or gray permeating through her hair, too.
He swears the band is heavier today. He had tried to keep the ring off for at least a few hours before his shift, but that failed miserably.
Another deep breath in. Slow exhale out.
The attending carefully removes his ring, storing it in the small pocket of his scrubs. A discreet pocket, hidden inside the waistline of the scrub bottoms. Jack was initially dumbfounded by the new features scrubs had these days. The newer brands of scrubs had way more pockets than the ones he was buying all those years ago. Pockets and extra compartments to hold stethoscopes, pens, and bandage scissors. He can feel the press of the metal inside his pocket; secure, still with him.
Fuck it. Let’s get this over with.
The shift goes by smoothly, a miracle by most nightshifters. By the time morning comes, sunlight seems to be shining more than usual; that’s when Jack sees your face. You’re not there to work today, surprisingly; everyone around you seems absolutely puzzled to see you in civilian clothes rather than gray scrubs.
“Feel like working today?” Robby calls out from the hub. “Always could use an extra set of hands.”
With a smirk, you walk towards Jack, hand held out just for him. “Nope. I’m kidnapping your night shift attending for a date this morning.”
The residents whistle and holler, eliciting quite a few laughs from patients in the trauma beds. While Jack is mostly unflappable, something about your smile today makes him soften; rouge crawls up his cheeks. Without thinking, he steps forward and catches your lips in a goofy, giggly kiss. The surprising display of affection leaves you a little nervous.
Everyone in the unit knows you two are together, and while it’s not illegal for partners to show a little PDA, even at work, you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Sure, you held hands walking out of the hospital, and there were many post-shift drinks at the local bar where you showed up together. All of it, no matter what, was at Jack’s pace; you let his hands find you before you ever went looking for his touch. You didn’t feel like flaunting anything if Jack wasn’t ready, and you wanted to take it at his pace–always.
Giddy and breathless, you look up at Jack. “What was that for?”
“Missed you,” Jack says simply. It’s not a lie–he always misses you during his shift. Something about it feels like a lie, with the weight of his wedding band in his pocket and his heart aching. He kisses your hair and pushes his anxiety away, at least for a while.
“Later, nightcrawlers. Got a date with my girl.”
The two of you walk out, hand in hand, leaving the noisy ED threshold and eventually reaching the cool breeze of the city. It’s early enough this morning that the air still feels fresh, and not the mugginess that usually meets you whenever you show up for night shift with Jack.
When you take Jack’s left hand, it takes all his mental strength to focus on something other than the bare feeling on his fourth finger. He loves holding your hand–he loves how soft and warm your skin is. Today, however, he can feel anxiety creeping up on him in ways he hasn’t felt in a very long time. He squeezes your hand and sighs, and you give him a curious look.
“You okay, Jack?”
Without missing a beat, Jack brings your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your skin and giving you a small smile. “I’m just fine, sweetheart.”
There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place; you curse yourself for not mastering the subtle facial cues of the mysterious Dr. Jack Abbot. You secretly despise the fact that Robby can read your boyfriend better than you can.
When Jack lets go of your hand, his left hand reaches up as he turns the wheel. You have to stop the gasp that rises in your throat at the sight of the tan line on his fourth finger. Suddenly, you search your memory, trying to think of any time in the last week that he could have removed it before today.
The ring is off.
Holy shit.
“Dana. I need to talk to you.”
The charge nurse quirks a brow at you. “Doll, it’s the last hour before shift change on Halloween on a Saturday. You really need to talk to me now, or can it wait until we clock out?”
You let out a sigh.
Holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving are a little bit more routine with the traumas that come into the ED: injuries from cooking, getting into fights with relatives, falls from putting up decorations, car accidents as people travel to visit their loved ones. Despite how annoying holidays could be, they were a little bit more predictable.
Halloween, however…
Something about dressing up, the fake blood and guts, people letting their children near sharp objects to carve those damn pumpkins, kids and adults alike getting into trouble all for some fucking candy–
“I just—”
Your words are cut off by another trauma rolling through the doors, and you have to hold back your groan that nearly follows. Quickly, you follow Robby into another trauma room, along with Dana to help bag the patient.
A severe laceration patient – pumpkin carving competition gone wrong. Tissues are exposed nearly to the bone; the young man in the bed has already passed out from the sight of his own blood.
Once the patient is intubated, Dana wordlessly moves from the ambu bag; you immediately swap with her as she proceeds to help Robby with medication administration.
Barely any words are exchanged; Dana anticipates what Robby needs before he utters a single breath. Robby’s hand opens, and Dana almost magically knows what medication or what instrument he needs next– you wish you had that type of relationship with someone in the department.
Sure, the residents are starting to get to know you, but not anywhere near the level of where Robby and Dana are.
The thought makes your stomach twist – how well do you even know Jack?
Dating Dr. Jack Abbot has been some of the best few months of your entire life. Truthfully, your dating history was nothing worth writing home about until now. Years of disastrous dates, terrible blind dates set up by friends, a couple of bad partners only putting up wth you for a few months – nothing compares to how Jack treats you.
A gentleman, thinking about your needs before the thought even hits your brain. Tea to settle your mind, warm blankets, and a heating pad whenever he can’t be there to keep you warm when you’re menstruating. Purposely leaving hoodies or old T-shirts (anything he’d been wearing all day) at your place so you can still smell him before you drift off to sleep.
You don’t pay for anything. Ever. That was a big surprise for you. There might have been one instance where Dr. Jack Abbot broke his silent promise to himself, and you ended up paying for breakfast one morning. It was a sneaky play – you said you were going to the bathroom, but you stopped by the hostess area to make sure you could pay before he ever had a chance. There was nothing that beat the smirk he tried to hide as he grumbled to himself about letting him pay next time.
Softness, in a way you were never expecting. The rugged exterior that most people knew now melts whenever you’re around. Dr. Abbot is still tough on his residents, urging them to push and learn more every night, no bullshit for the entire shift apart from the snarky comments that the surgery interns get out of him. The minute the sun rises enough to bring light into the ED threshold, the night shift can breathe as you come in with Santos and Whitaker. Everyone rolls their eyes when you peck him on the lips, but whenever anyone catches Jack staring at you from across the hub, it’s obvious. The great, rough-around-the-edges, badass ex-military SWAT medic Jack Abbot has finally met his match in the form of a quiet, kind ED nurse.
In the span of months, Jack has grown to know you pretty well. How you take your coffee. How you prefer to take care of the laundry. The kinds of chips you like to snack on in the three minutes you have for a break. The names of your siblings. The scar on your chin after falling off your bike in your childhood. The way you liked to be touched. How you squirmed when he slipped his hands under your shirt. The way you liked to be kissed when you make love –
God, do you even know him? Sure, you sleep next to him every night, but how well do you ever know the people you sleep with —
The blare of the patient coding in front of you startles you from your thoughts. The blood pressure has fallen rapidly, and you can see Robby’s lips moving as he motions for Walsh to hurry the patient into the OR. One of the surgical interns takes over the ambu bag as they rush the patient up to the operating floor. Immediately, you’re watched by Robby and Dana, both panting and tearing off their trauma gowns.
“Everything okay?” Robby’s tone suggests that he knows you’re not, but he also knows that he can’t cross that boundary. Not like you’d want to tell him anyway – he’s Jack’s person before you would ever have him as a confidant.
Dana waves her hand, swooping in like she always does, almost as if on cue. “I had her come in during pre-rounds with the newbies. It’s my fault she’s exhausted. Let’s take a walk, kid.”
The breath you’ve been holding releases, and you can feel yourself physically relaxing as you follow Dana into the break room. Wordlessly, she pulls out a chair. Anxiety leaves you shaking a little bit as you face her.
“Alright. Spill.”
The moment of truth. You’re not really sure if you want to know anymore.
“Did you know Ja—Abbot’s wife?”
Normally, Dana wears a stern look on her face. No-bullshit, no-nonsense nurse; she terrified you the day you met her. You’ve grown to know her over the last few months, and now, you’ve earned laughs and smiles from this person who once made you stand up straighter subconsciously every time she passed you by. Tonight, her expression softens, and there’s immediately a somber, melancholic look in her eyes.
“I met Abbot my first week here,” Dana explains. “He was an intern, and I was a lost, newly graduated idiot who didn’t know right from left. I’ve known Abbot for a long time, and when I met him, he had just gotten married. He was so in love.”
Your heart squeezes.
“She was a teacher,” Dana continues, “she taught kindergarten. She always joked that Jack acted just like them sometimes. He’d roll his eyes, but he definitely got a kick out of that.”
“When Abbot switched to nights, she would come in early in the morning to drop off treats for the unit. Whenever six a.m. rolled around, she would bring us cookies or muffins, and bring Abbot a coffee. Nearly everyone who might have seen her come in has retired or transferred out; only Robby and I remember her.”
“They always had dinner parties once the rest of us grew up and got married too. She was a hell of a cook.” Dana looks down at her own wedding band, a silicone replacement ring, but pretty all the same. Without realizing it, your heart aches for that feeling–being able to look down at your hand as a reminder that you love someone, and they love you, too.
The knot in your stomach twists even further.
When was the last time I cooked for Jack? Brought him special treats before my shift started? Fucking hell, he was married to a goddamn Disney princess.
“Once she got sick, it was pretty fast. Abbot would spend all night working, then go up to the oncology unit during the day with her. He never left this place, not for a while.”
This information wasn’t new to you— you had heard rumblings about Dr. Abbot’s late wife, but most of the time people quickly grew quiet whenever he passed by. An unspoken rule if you wanted to survive your shift: don’t mention the late wife.
Surely, Dana has been watching the wheels turning in your mind because she reaches out to you, softly grabbing your hand. “What is going on, doll?”
“I–”
Almost on cue, Jack enters the break room, surprised to see his oldest friend and you, eyes full of tears threatening to fall. Dana shoots him a look you can’t quite decipher, and you quickly wipe your eyes before facing him fully. Without a word, Jack immediately takes a seat next to you, grabbing your hand and squeezing.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
Dana’s eyes lock on yours before darting back to Jack. “She–”
“Just a bad shift,” you lie, plastering a fake smile on your face. “There was a trauma involving a little girl and her mom…those cases always get to me, that’s all.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Jack envelops you in a hug, and you breathe in his cologne, trying to center yourself. “Get home and get some rest. I’ll stop by your apartment after my shift.”
Quietly, Dana stands up, patting you on the back as she leaves the room. She’s out of your sight, which gives her just enough time to watch Jack hold you and stroke your hair. She smiles to herself as she gets back to the hub.
It’s been ages since she’s seen him like that.
The day Jack Abbot says I love you, he says it on the day he least expects it.
When you wake, you’re surprised to find the space next to you is cold. You sit up straight–it’s already almost ten o’clock. Jack should have been done with his shift at least a couple of hours ago unless Robby asked him to stay.
You check your phone– no texts or calls from Jack.
At first, you try to shrug off any sting of disappointment. Sure, you two are together, but that doesn’t mean you have to spend every waking moment with him. Today can be a day you take off from him.
Your apartment is small, a perfect size for one person. When you first moved in here, it truly was only a place for sleeping and eating. There were minimal amounts of plants or decoration; nothing where you had to have routine upkeep with how much you were working the ED. There were many days where all you could manage was brushing your teeth before crashing into bed. God knows you couldn’t keep more than two plants alive if you could help it.
Hints of Jack are sprinkled throughout your apartment, though. A pair of crutches. An old shirt he left behind the last time he slept there. An extra change of clothes in your dresser in case he ever stayed the night. You can’t blame Jack for not leaving more of his things here, not when he had an actual house instead of a one-bedroom apartment in a big city.
When Jack still makes no effort to at least text or call, you make the irrational decision to go to his place. He must have forgotten what he promised you–it’s no big deal. Better to meet him at his place, better to meet him at the pace he needs.
On your drive, your mind can only focus on his lovely late wife. It was easier before, looking at pictures of her and knowing she was beautiful but nothing more. Not knowing the kind of person she was, not knowing how she was an amazing wife and friend, not knowing that you could probably never live up to her. It was far easier seeing her photo on a bookcase rather than finding out she was the literal definition of an angel.
When you pull up to the house, Jack’s truck is in the driveway. You’re surprised when you notice that the front door is still open. Carefully, you enter the front door, knocking gently.
“Jack?”
The house…has seen better days.
Jack Abbot was not really a disorganized kind of guy. Everything had a place; everything was always in order. The only time anything was in slight disarray, unfortunately, was when you were over. Not that he minded– he always liked seeing your clothes littered on the floor of his bedroom.
Today is a different story. The throw blankets and pillows, previously on the couch, are now haphazardly on the floor, every single drawer in the kitchen open, cabinet doors flung open, any type of container for storage left askew.
Across the house, you hear muttering and thudding, as if furniture were being moved around. Quickly, you kick off your shoes and follow the sounds of Jack's panicked mumbling.
“...I swear I just left it…fuck…!”
The entire main bedroom looks as if a tornado has passed through. Clean and dirty laundry everywhere, dressers moved, the mattress lifted up and leaned against the wall. The once neat and tidy desk has papers and books strewn everywhere; it’s so unlike Jack that you’re shocked to see him still tearing up the room.
“Jack.”
He spins around and realization hits his face. “I-I’m sorry, I meant to just stop at the house for a minute–”
“What are you looking for?”
He avoids your gaze, looking back down into his dresser now. “I just–I misplaced something and I–”
You start to step closer to him. “I can help you look–”
His tone grows slightly more irritated now, which is another thing added to the list of things that are surprising you today. “Sweetheart, it’s fine, I really need to–”
“Goddammit, Jack, let me help–”
“I lost my fucking wedding band!”
Jack has never shouted at you before. The silence in the room is now deafening. When he realizes the gravity of his tone, he frowns when you step back.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I just…I can’t tell you about these things. Not this.”
Tears sting your eyes; you chew the inside of your cheek hard enough that you taste the familiar bitterness of copper. You’re not sure what’s worse–the ache in your chest or the heartbroken expression Jack wears on his face.
Your relationship with Jack up until this point has mostly been light, romantic, sexy–you almost wanted to keep it that way for a while. Standing across from him now, you realize that you’re about to enter territory that you can’t come back from.
This isn’t about you, a voice in your mind whispers. If you want this, you need to remember that.
You clear your throat. “Where did you see it last?”
Jack’s brows furrow together. “Uh…I really can’t remember anymore. My head is too–”
“I know, Jack. Let me help you anyway.”
He moves toward you again, cautiously and carefully. With a deep breath, you let him take your hand; you kiss his cheek gently. For the first time in a while, you wish you knew what he was thinking. You’d give anything for just a second in his mind.
Slowly, the two of you restore order in the house. Jack makes his way to the kitchen, surprised to see how much of a damn mess he made in the panic of his search. You gather the laundry, sorting clean clothes back to his room and the dirty clothes back into the mud room. Right as you’re starting a load of his scrubs, you notice something glimmering at the bottom of the washing machine.
A gold band.
Before you can stop yourself, you slip it onto your ring finger. It’s far too big for your own finger, but the sight of it makes your heart ache. You don’t realize how much you were thinking about marriage until the band slips around your knuckle.
You meet Jack back in the kitchen, placing the band on the kitchen counter. Jack’s shoulders slump in relief at the sight. You wish you could say you had the same feeling. He kisses your forehead, silently grateful.
There’s a shift, though. As he picks up the band, he pauses before looking at you.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, “I know it’s hard. It’s okay.”
Jack fiddles with the band, turning it over in his fingers. “I almost forgot.”
You tilt your head. “Forgot what?”
He exhales slowly, chuckling and shaking his head. “I almost forgot that she passed away. Today, after I left the ED, for a moment, I was so excited to see you after work that I almost forgot today was her death anniversary.”
Your throat closes; you barely croak out a response. “Jack, I am so sorry–”
“And when I did remember, I figured, hey. I’ll stop by the cemetery just for a minute, drop off some flowers. Then I realized I didn’t have my band, and that created…all this.” Jack gestures to the house, only now slightly more organized.
After a moment, Jack sets the ring down. His hands find your waist; he presses his forehead to yours. You breathe him in; the smell of his cologne is addicting. The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“I’m scared as hell to want you,” you choke out. “I want you so much, and I know you need time, but I–God, I asked Dana about your wife once I saw you without the ring and I–”
He stiffens. “So that’s what you and Dana were talking about in the break room.”
You train your eyes on a loose thread in his shirt. Still quiet, he raises your chin so you’re looking up at him again. His gaze is so intense; no matter how long it’s been, you can never get over how he looks at you. How he looks at you like you are the only person in the entire world. Which only stings more, knowing that before, there was another person in the world he would look at like this, too.
“I think it’s about time you meet her.”
The cemetery is farther away than you expect. The city skyline grows smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror; trees painted gold, orange, and deep maroon take their place on the horizon. Very rarely do you get out of the city most days, so it’s nice to get a change of scenery out in the country.
When you step out of the car, the fall air is crisp; you know that you’re shivering for other reasons, though. Jack sits down on the damp grass first, replacing the wilting flowers with a fresh bouquet. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to join him. The sight alone makes your eyes sting again.
Jack is often light-hearted and silly whenever you see him at work; he’s softer and gentler when it’s just the two of you. There are rare days when he wears an expression with something you can’t name; today, you realize, it’s grief. As you watch him touch the tombstone, your heart cracks in half when you see him take a shaky breath.
You can’t lie to yourself – some days, you were impatient. You wanted him, all of him, and you never wanted to share. Anyone who didn’t know the situation, like your friends, didn't blame you. Jack was kind and giving, so handsome that often people would stare whenever you were with him. You knew going into this that dating such a beautiful man would come with some ogling, but you secretly hated it. You wanted no one else to be ogling him because you were the only one who should be doing that.
There was always more to that. You hated the idea that someone else was always going to hold half his heart. And that secret, you never dared to breathe a word of it to anyone else. What kind of fucking monster thinks that?
The feeling hits you harder now that you see Jack like this. It didn’t matter how many years could pass– if the same thing happened to you, your heart would only belong to Jack. That much is true.
Jack can feel your eyes on him; he pats the grass beside him gently. Cautiously, you take a seat, keeping a sizable distance between you. You don’t move an inch closer—you don’t even let your fingertips brush against Jack’s hand. For some reason, it feels disrespectful, sitting on her grave and holding the love of her life’s hand.
He takes a deep breath before gesturing to you. “Here she is. She’s a nurse in the ED. A damn good one too.”
Carefully, Jack reaches for your hand; he smiles when he finally touches your skin.
“Hi,” you say quietly, “I, um…it’s an honor to meet you…I am very lucky to know Jack. I wish I got to know you, too.”
Jack’s breath hitches.
The words spill from your lips before you can stop yourself, but they’re true. Part of you does wish you had known her. That she wasn’t living in people’s memories. Somehow, this would have been easier if Jack were divorced, or if this person in his other lifetime were still alive, just not in Pittsburgh. It’s different, knowing that Jack has had and lost a love like this one. You genuinely wish you could know this person that Jack loved so fiercely, so deeply, that he was willing to bring you here to meet her; you wish, deep down, that he could possibly love you like this one day.
“She’s a special one.” Jack’s voice is barely above a whisper now. “Used to think I’d always stay in the dark without you…but it’s getting brighter now, angel.”
Angel. Hearing him use the pet name for her tugs on your heart a little bit. Jack used a myriad of nicknames for you – my girl, sweetheart, honey, baby – none sounded as intimate as the name he used for her. It’s not jealousy that pulls at you, but something else entirely as he tells her about his day.
You lay a hand on his shoulder. “I-I think I’m gonna wait in the truck.”
Jack frowns. “I’m sorry, I’m almost done here–”
“No, Jack, please stay.” You press a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Take your time with her. I just don’t want to intrude. I’m happy you’ve brought me here, believe me– maybe we can come back together more often.”
Jack nods silently before grasping you in a tight hug, his lips brushing your hair as he breathes out,
“Thank you. I love you so much.”
As the words come out of his mouth, Jack can feel his body relaxing for the first time in years. After months and months of holding himself back, afraid to hurt you or get himself hurt, afraid to fucking feel anything other than the bruising pain of grief, he can relax. He never wanted to hurt her, either; how the hell do you let your lost love know you found another one? Somehow though, as he says the words aloud, he knows it’s okay. She’d want him to be happy too–he knows he’d want that if he had ever gone first.
Despite everything he’s dealt with in the last decade, at least he has you.
Warmth and fondness flood through your body; only when the cool autumn air hits your face do you realize that you’re crying. Both of you hold each other so tightly you feel like you both could burst. Jack breathes you in – he knows now that he could do that forever.
“Oh, Jack. I love you, too.”
The following morning, on his day off, Dr. Jack Abbot goes and buys an engagement ring. That same day, his old wedding band goes into a small black box, tucked away in his nightstand.
He doesn’t take down any pictures of her - you insist that keeping them up is important for her memory.
Dana and Robby already call him crazy for buying an engagement ring less than a year into a relationship – not that he gives a damn. He won’t use it right away, not because he’s unsure, but because he knows you need time, too.
Jack insists you move in. You don’t really argue over it since your apartment was crappy anyway and half your hair care products lived at his house anyway. He jokes that you’ve got way too much shit, but he happily obliges in taking in all the books from your bookcase and promises to bring your plants back to life.
Your shoes lined up with his in the doorway make his heart swell in a way he wasn’t expecting. He loves doing laundry, seeing your grey scrubs now infiltrating the wash cycle. God, he thinks to himself, that is so fucking sappy.
Once a month, the two of you visit the grave. Rain or shine, snowstorm or blistering summer heat, you join Jack in changing out the bouquet, wiping down the tombstone, and sharing a meal with him while he tells her about your lives.
Once in a while, Jack recounts his life before. His time in the military. His experience after the amputation. When he used to work the day shift, the trials and tribulations of his residency. The terrible but eventually beautiful fixer-upper home he shared with his late wife. The time he broke his arm when he was twelve. How he survived COVID alone.
You learn about each scar that covers his body. You trace over them, wishing there was another lifetime where he never had to earn them. You kiss them, a silent prayer to someone up in the universe. Don't ever let him get hurt again. Ever.
He sleeps better than he ever did in the last few years. What began as endless tossing and turning has now transitioned into Jack snoring in your ear each night you’re both home. You tease him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Eventually, Jack needs one of your hoodies to fall asleep– you always leave one for him as he comes home and you’re about to head in for work.
When the day finally comes, after Jack’s old ring has been off for years and your coffee maker has taken a permanent residence next to the tea kettle, it’s a simple proposal. He cooks you dinner, and you pour him a glass of his favorite wine. Once you settle on his lap on the couch, he slips in the question between kisses to your cheeks,
“Marry me.”
With tears in your eyes, you nod. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, a million times, yes.”
“Good. I already scheduled for us to be at the courthouse tomorrow at nine.”
When you throw your head back in laughter, Jack’s heart is warm. It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this – he’s sure as hell not letting go, not for the rest of his life.