Archive of Our Own

Samira really did think that when she texted Jack Abbot to come over last week, it would be the last time. She told herself over and over that she just needed to get him out of her system, that once she had his hand on her body, her hunger for him would subside. 

So she texted him to come over, knowing he would. He always came when she asked. She did the same when he texted. Their meetups were always late nights or early mornings, when they both had free time after work. It wasn’t often, but it was enough to make it a semi-regular occurrence. 

Samira: You up?

Three dots appeared on her screen immediately, as if he were already on his phone, about to text her as well.

Abbot: Yeah.

That was all they needed. She knew he would be at her door in about 20 minutes. He lived close enough, and he never made her wait. So she sat in her cold, lonely apartment, nuzzled into her couch in old cotton shorts and a graphic tee. 

For a moment, she thought she should change into something nicer, maybe one of her sexier pyjama sets. She hated herself for caring, as if he hadn’t seen her in this exact outfit several times. 

A knock came fifteen minutes later. He had been early, probably running a red light or two to get here. She hopped up from the couch and made her way to the door before he could knock again. 

When she opened it, she saw him leaning on the door frame, his arms crossed, jaw clenched. He was wearing a grey hoodie, black joggers, and a work bag slung over his shoulder. He was probably just getting back from his shift. But his hair was wet, and he smelled clean, so he had definitely showered. 

“Hey,” he said. He didn’t hesitate to come in. He didn’t wait for a response; he never did anymore. He just stepped in and closed the door quietly behind him. 

“You said that last week was the last time,” he smirked. God, she hated that smug smile. He filled the distance between them, his hands automatically finding her hips and pulling her close.

“I know.” 

“If I remember correctly,” he continued teasing, “you also said that the time before that was the last time.” Samira glared up at him, furrowing her brows in annoyance. “But, you always say that, don’t you?”

“And you always show up.” 

He clicked his tongue in response but didn’t argue past that. Instead, his hands gripped tighter around her waist as he tilted his head down to her to kiss her.

It was like muscle memory. His rough stubble on her face, his hands on her hips. Her hands in his hair. It was never gentle, not anymore. They had gotten past that. This, whatever they wanted to call it, was a collision. A crash.

She knew exactly where to touch him to get him riled up. A slight tug at his hair, a bite at his lip. And he knew exactly how to make her unravel.

His mouth was demanding, familiar. He kissed her like he was irritated with her. Like he was trying to win something. Her fingers tightened in his damp hair, tugging just enough to earn a low sound from him that vibrated against her lips.

Abbot pushed them back against a wall. He pinned Samira against it, leaning against the wall and blocking her in with his arms. He threw his work bag to the side in a swift motion while also pulling off Samira’s loose shirt, leaving her top half only in a lacy bralette. 

“This is a bad idea,” his voice vibrated against her mouth between frantic kisses.

“It always is,” she shot back between breaths. Neither of them left, though, they just stayed against the wall kissing eachother harder. Both of their hands are travelling down each other's bodies. Even though Samira had been familiar with his touch, had been in this exact position multiple times, the way he touched her felt electric.

Her back arched off the wall as she let out a small moan. Pathetic, she thought to herself, they were just kissing, and she felt like she was going to crumble. “Look at you,” he purred against her skin, “already falling apart for me.”

Her breath caught in her throat as his hands travelled further and further down. “Still pretending that you don’t miss me,” he continued, the sound vibrating on the side of her neck.

She swallowed, fingers tightening instinctively in the front of his hoodie.

“I don’t,” she shot back, but it came out softer than she intended.

He hummed softly, unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar, always have been.” His fingers dipped into the waistline of her shorts as he played with the hem of her underwear. His other hand came to her chin and gripped it, forcing her to look into his eyes, “Look at me and say it then.”

Her pulse thudded in her head and in her core. She felt hot all over. Her eyes intently on his, both of their lips wet from eachother. “I don’t miss you,” she said.

His thumb shifted slightly against her jaw, brushing just beneath her lip. His voice was low and ravenous as he murmured, “again.”

Her jaw tightened as his fingers finally slid to her clit, drawing slow, steady circles. “I don’t miss you,” she moaned out. He kept his pace, feeling her writhe against his chest as she was trapped against the wall.

He knew all her sounds, all her movements. He knew when she was close to release, and just about when she was at her climax, he removed his hands from her shorts. Her breath was hot and panting. She was so close, and yet he had stopped. Had denied her pleasure. 

“Jack, what are you doing? Why-” Samira’s body arched into his, trying to get his hands back onto her, for him to touch her in the place she craved to be touched. 

“You say you don’t miss me,” he growled out, “but your body disagrees.” 

“Jack,” Samira whimpered out, frustrated, her body still feeling electric.

“Tell me you need me,” he breathed out, “tell me you miss me and I will do anything you want me to do, Samira.”

She gasped out in desperation, “god, please, Jack.” Her hands were all over his body. In his hair, on his hoodie, on his groin. He almost collapsed right then, but he needed to hear her say that she needed him. He needed vindication. Needed to be right. “Please, I need you.” Her breath was hot against his ear, “I’ve missed you, please.”

“Okay, baby,” he murmured, “see that is all that I needed.” Jack started trailing kisses from her mouth down to her abdomen. And then he got to work.

~~~

The aftermath had been the same as all the other times that Samira and Jack had done this. Her sheets were tangled at the end of her bed, and their legs were interlocked with one another. Samira’s head lay on his bare chest. She could hear his heart beating and feel the warmth of his chest as he played with her hair. 

These moments of intimacy after sex had been Jack’s favourite part of hooking up with Samira after their break-up. He could almost pretend that they were still together. He loved the smell of her shampoo and how messy her curly hair got. He loved drawing mindlessly on her back. 

“It’s late,” Samira whispered, “you should probably go soon.”

The small smile on his face faltered, “It’s not that late, not for me at least.”

“Jack.” Her voice was sharp. His hand stilled where it had been tracing lazy patterns along her spine. 

“Cmon, Mira,” his voice had a soft plea to it. He didn’t want to let her go. He never did. But it was the same thing every time; she always did this. Pushed him away as soon as things got too comfortable, too real. 

She shifted away from him and sat up in bed, looking away from him at a blank wall in her bedroom. He propped himself up on one elbow. “Why do you always do this?” he sighed.

Her head snapped towards him as she covered herself with her bed sheet, frustration written across her face, “Do what exactly?”

He ran a hand through his hair, a faint groan escaping him. “Every single time that we do this, it always ends the same. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head, “It always ends with you pushing me away. With me leaving. And somehow, I still keep coming back.”

She barked back, “well you don’t have to worry about it anymore. I’m done, we are done. I am serious about it being the last time we do this. This time is different, I mean it.”

“Different?” His laugh was bitter, almost a growl. “It’s never different. You say it’s the last time. I believe you. And then, here we are. Again. Just like always.”

Her gaze moved back to the empty wall, refusing to look at him or speak. For minutes, they stayed like that. Jack kept looking at her, wishing that she would just say something. She didn’t.

“Okay,” Jack said, his voice firm and absolute. He moved off the bed, grabbing his prosthetic and sliding it into place before locking it on. Moving around the room, he picked up his clothes and got dressed. Finally, he walked to the bedroom door frame and paused for a moment, looking back at Samira. She was in the same spot, not looking at him. 

He exhaled. If she asked him to stay, he would have. He would have done anything. 

Before he turned and left, he muttered softly, “Take care of yourself, Mira.”

He closed the door behind him, and the click echoed in the small bedroom, where Samira now sat alone.

~~~

It wasn’t always like this. 

It had started so simply, actually. It was the night of Pittfest, and after Samira’s shift, when they first really got to know one another. Jack and Samira sat in the park, with some of their other coworkers, blowing off steam after the chaos and blood had settled.

Samira had felt frenzied. The adrenaline from the action still jittered in her body from her shift. She couldn’t sit still on the park bench. Her legs bounced up and down, and her gaze moved erratically from person to person. 

Finally, she jolted up from her seat and began to wander off from the larger group. She just needed a moment to catch her breath, maybe cry a bit. She could feel her energy and adrenaline starting to wear off, leaving a hollow ache of sadness behind.

“Hey,” a voice said softly behind her. She turned around and was greeted by Jack Abbot’s steadying presence. They had worked closely together during the massacre, and she felt calm and safe with him nearby.

His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jacket, and he was walking towards her at a slow, careful pace. “You okay?”

“I… yeah,” she said quickly, brushing a hand through her hair, though her voice wavered.

He didn’t push but just stayed with her for a few moments, letting her calm down with someone by her side. He didn’t speak for a while. But after a few minutes had passed, he said softly, “Sometimes it helps to just… talk. Or scream. Or whatever you need.”

She gave him a small smile and let out a shaky breath, “I just started to feel everything at once, all the things that had built up from the day.”

“I get that,” he sighed, “more than you can know.” He stepped a bit closer to her. “I can stay with you for a bit, if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

They had talked a lot that night, and Samira realized how little she had known about him before that point. But she also realized she wanted to know more about him, wanted to get closer to him. 

So when Abbot offered to drive her home, she accepted.

The drive was quiet at first, the engine hummed lightly as the car zipped through the dim streets lit only by streetlight. They didn’t speak. Samira rested her head on the window as she looked out at the road ahead of them.

Jack kept glancing over at her. His eyes darting from the street, to his side mirrors, to her. She noticed it, but she didn’t mind. It didn’t feel like he was hovering over her, waiting for her to break down. “Thank you,” she said meekly, breaking the silence, “for driving me home and just being here.”

“Don’t mention it,” he spoke so softly to her, “we all have nights like these. Today was brutal. You handled it the best you could. The best any of us could.” 

Samira gave a half-hearted smile. As much as Abbot tried to reassure her, there was still the thought in the back of her head that she was not good enough. She knew her nickname. Slo-Mo. 

She knew that the attendings talked about how she needed to be better, faster, if she wanted a fellowship. Samira cared, but at the same time, she didn’t need to get a fellowship at PTMC. She knew where she wanted to go- back home to her mom in New Jersey. 

Yet, the comments and snide remarks hurt more than she cared to admit. “I mean it,” his voice broke her thoughts, “you are probably the best resident we have. I am grateful I get to work with you.”

He was looking at her so intensely. It made her heart beat fast and her face flush. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention before. “You don’t have to say that,” she murmured.

“I’m not saying it to make you feel better. I’m just being honest.”  There was a silent hum in the air around them in the car. 

Samira didn’t know what to say. She was flustered. The car came to a stop in front of her apartment building, and Jack put the vehicle in park before getting out. He came around the front of his car to the passenger door and opened it for Samira. He offered his hand to her. Taking it, Samira got out of her seat.

His hand was cold against hers, his skin was rough. The contact only lasted for a moment before she swiftly moved her hand down to her side. “Thank you again for driving me home.”

He nodded and gave her a slight smile, “Let me walk you to your door.”

She didn’t argue as they began walking up the small steps leading to her apartment entrance. “Make sure you get a good night's rest tonight, you work in the morning, right?”

“I do, yes. And I will.” They stopped walking as they got to her door and stood outside of it. Samira fumbled around in her coat pocket looking for her key. Finally, she grasped it in her hand and brought it to the lock. Before turning the key to go inside, she said, “goodnight Dr. Abbot.” Before she could stop herself, she went up on her toes and softly kissed the side of Jack's face. She felt his stubble on her lips. 

He went completely still, trying to savour the brief moment. Samira stumbled her words, “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” She continued to ramble, heat taking over her face. 

Jack’s hand went up to his face, softly touching the spot where her lips were with his fingertips. “Don’t,” he said, “Don’t apologize.” 

“I feel so stupid. That was so inappropriate. I’m so sorr-”

Jack stepped closer to her, his hand moving from his face to hers. Cupping the side of her head in his hand, he swooped down slowly and cautiously placed his lips on hers, silencing her. 

The kiss ended, and Jack moved his head back. He looked at Samira, looking for any sign of hesitation. Her eyes were closed, lips still parted. When her eyes fluttered open and found Jack, she moved quickly, kissing him back. 

Her fingers gripped lightly at the front of his jacket, the cool night air forgotten as warmth rushed through her. They both melted into the kiss. When they both came up for air, Samira breathlessly muttered, “Come inside.”

“Samira,” Jack voiced, “I’m your attending.”

“Okay,” She said, kissing him again, her back now against her unlocked front doors. “Come inside. It’ll be our little secret.”

Fuck it, Jack thought to himself as he let Samira pull him into her apartment, the door clicking closed behind him. 

Stumbling through her apartment in the dark, hands all over each other, Jack had felt untethered. He knew this was reckless and irresponsible, but he could not justify not kissing her. 

Samira was pushing him backwards through a hallway, then through a door, then finally pushed his back onto her soft mattress. He let himself sink into the comfortable surface as she climbed on top of him. They both knew that things were escalating fast. How had a simple peck on the cheek turned into this- them both clawing at each other, stripping eachother of their clothes. 

“Samira,” Jack groaned into her mouth. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She nodded before burying her mouth into his again. He pulled back again and stilled her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, “If we do this, there is no going back.”

“I don’t want to go back, I want this.” Her big brown eyes looked into his as if she were starving. Samira knew a lot of things, but this, her need for him, was the thing she was the knew most of all. 

Jack flipped her onto her back and hovered over her. His lips nipped at her neck, at her earlobe. Her hands trailed down his bare chest and forearms, feeling his muscles. 

Eventually, his head nestled in between her thighs, his tongue lapping around her core. If there was one thing Jack knew about himself, it was that he thoroughly enjoyed making women feel good. He liked burying his tongue in a woman and feeling thighs tighten around his head. But this, the way Samira whimpered out his name, and her legs trembled, was better than anything that Jack had ever felt. 

He wished that he could stay there forever. Circling her clit with his tongue, he moved his fingers towards her opening and lightly pushed two fingers inside. She was dripping wet already. She began to cry out his name as his pace quickened. This is heaven, he thought to himself

It didn’t take long for the building pressure and heat in her body to burst. The slight tremble of her legs stopped, and instead, she found her thighs clenched against Abbot as a wave of pleasure took over her.

When the sensation finally subsided and her thighs relaxed, Jack’s head shot up. His face was red, and he was gasping for air. At the sight of him panting, Samira’s face turned red. She was so turned on, but so embarrassed, “Oh my god,” she breathed out, “I am so sorry.” He didn’t say anything, just stared at her with lust in his eyes, and her wetness dripping from his mouth.  

“Never,” he said, “never apologize for that.” He smirked at her before he came up and closed his mouth around hers. She could taste herself on his lips. 

She felt so needy as she grabbed onto him and pulled him in harder, “I need you, Jack,” she said into his mouth, “please.”

“Please, what?” His eyes glinted as he smiled at her squirming underneath him.

“Please,” she pleaded.

“Use your words and tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

She exhaled audibly. She needed him so bad, “Please, Jack, fuck me.”

A shock went through his body; he thought he was about to finish right then. Just from her words. He pulled his boxers off and let his throbbing erection free. Pumping himself once with his hands, he asked, “condoms?”

Immediately, she replied, “bottom drawer,” nodding her head to the table at the side of her bed.

Jack reached and opened the drawer. He was met with a box of condoms… and handcuffs, ropes, a silk tie, and two vibrators.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled, “what do we have here?” Jack just reached for a condom and closed the drawer. He wanted to take it slow tonight. But, he made a note to himself for next time.

Samira bit her lip and smiled, “What can I say? I am full of surprises.”

“That you are.” His hands slid on the condom and guided his erection to her opening. He slowly pushed himself in. Fuck she felt so good. Like she was perfectly fitted just for him. When he was buried in her entirely, he bucked his hips back before pushing in again.

They breathed, moaned, and moved in sync. He was gentle with her, slow with her. He watched her face as he moved in and out. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her eyes wide, and her mouth was slightly open, making soft sounds. She was beautiful. 

Jack pulled one of Samira’s legs onto his shoulders as he repositioned himself to go deeper. He planted a kiss on her calf before driving himself in again, and again.

He tried to last as long as he could, but the way she looked at him and how her lips glistened with moans escaping… Jack's head fell back as he came.
~~~

The weeks following that first night together were a blur of linen sheets and sweet nothings. Something had been unleashed in them both, and they couldn’t get enough of each other. At first, they told themselves it was just sex.

They would collapse into each other in a shared, rare, moment when they both weren’t at work. They had explored the crevices of the other's body, had gained intimate carnal knowledge of each other. It had felt so easy being together.

But as time went on, it evolved into something else. Something more. 

Slowly, Jack found himself memorizing Samira’s favourite takeout order and how she took her coffee in the morning. One sugar and a splash of oatmilk. He made sure to keep an extra carton in his fridge for her.

Samira learned how to calm Jack down when he would wake up yelling in the middle of his sleep, his eyes wide with terror. She knew how to ground him and how to help him slow down his breathing while holding him in her arms. 

Slowly, Jack found that his apartment had somewhat shifted with her presence. She left her toothbrush at his place, and he had cleared out a bedside drawer for her. Her shampoo and body wash were in his shower, and her scent never left his sheets.

One night, after a long shift, Samira went to Jack’s apartment. She let herself in. He had given her a spare key after a few months and didn’t say anything about it. Like giving her a spare key was casual.

Jack heard her come in from where he stood in the kitchen cooking his breakfast. “Hey,” he called, “how was your shift?”

Samira did not respond; she just threw her bag down and walked over to Jack in the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him from the back. Her feet and legs ached, and she had a particularly brutal shift. She just wanted the comfort of being held by someone she…

No. No. No. She couldn’t admit to herself that she loved him. Oh god, did she love him? It was too soon and too fast. She pushed that thought away.

Jack spun around and pulled her into his chest. His arms engulfed her. She melted into him, burying her face in his chest. Her hands curled into his shirt, gripping tightly. “Hey,” he said, softer this time, less as a greeting and more as a comfort. “I’ve got you.”

He placed a kiss on the top of her head before leaning back and lifting her chin towards him. “You want some eggs?” 

Samira looked up at him. “Yes, please.” Jack could see the exhaustion on her face. Her undereyes were dark, and her hair was frazzled. It was more than that, though. Samira had a habit of taking on the emotional weight of her patients. It was something Jack admired about her, but he also knew that eventually she would get crushed. His face crinkled with worry.

“Why don’t you go have a shower and get comfortable? I’ll call you when it's ready.” 

Samira barely sighed out “Thank you,” before dragging her feet to the washroom and dousing herself with scorching hot water. She felt dizzy as the water hit her skin, making it red. She placed her hands on the smooth tile to steady herself and closed her eyes. 

She took a deep breath, reached for shampoo and began to lather it in her hands before gently massaging it into her hair. The feeling of her fingers in her scalp reminded her of her mom.

Every week, Samira’s mom would sit Samira down on a small stool in the kitchen of her childhood home. She poured warm oil between her hands before working it carefully into Samira’s scalp. 

“Sit still,” her mother would always nag at her.

“I am!” Although harsh, her mother’s hands were steadying and firm. How she missed her mom, but she was also so close to being near her again. Soon, she would be back in New Jersey in that kitchen she loved. That was always the plan. Finish her residency and move back home.

Samira felt a pang in her chest. Home.

The house she grew up in. Her mom. The city where her dad was buried.

That had always been home for her.

As she stood in the shower, water pouring down on her, a scary thought bubbled in her head. She pictured Jack in his kitchen, making her eggs with his sleeves pushed up. 

Jack Abbot was starting to feel like home to her to. 

She rinsed out the shampoo from her curly hair, letting the water run down her face. She couldn’t bring herself to get out of the shower. She just stood still as the realization of the depth of her feelings overwhelmed her. 

The water started to run cold when Jack softly knocked on the bathroom door, “You good in there?”

“Yeah,” her voice cracked as she called out. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a soft towel. 

“Food is ready for you. Take your time.” 

Samira stood over the bathroom counter. She brought her forearm up to the fogged mirror and wiped it to see her reflection. Her eyes were red, and she hadn’t realized she started crying. She could hear Jack moving around in the kitchen, utensils clinking together.

She wiped her eyes and got dressed. She felt ridiculous crying. Jack had never asked her to be his girlfriend or to move in with him. Or to stay in the same city. He had never said he loved her. It was still simple for Jack. And so it could also just be simple for Samira to.

She walked out of the bathroom to the kitchen. On the table, there were two plates untouched. Jack sat on a wooden chair reading a paperback book. He had waited until she had sat down across from him before he began to eat. 

“So,” he started talking as she took the first bite of her eggs, “I have something to ask you.”

“Oh,” she didn’t meet his gaze, she focused on her plate. 

He closed his book, “My sister is in town next week for Christmas.” He smiled, “I would really love for you to meet her. She keeps asking about you.”

Her fork hovered in the air. “Asking about me?”

“Well, yeah,” he clarified, “I’ve mentioned you before, she knows that I have been seeing someone.” He continued to speak, “we could all grab dinner or something together if you have time.”

Her stomach dropped.

“You will have to meet her eventually anyway, being my girlfriend and all.”

THUMP THUMP THUMP

She lowered her fork back down onto her plate. “Your what?”

Jack’s smile faltered, confusion flickering across his face. “My girlfriend,” he repeated, softer this time, like maybe she hadn’t heard him properly.

Samira’s eyes went to his face. She had a look of fear in her eyes. “We’ve never said that before,” her throat felt tight, “that we are like official.”

He leaned slightly back in his chair, and his eyebrows furrowed, “Samira.” He wasn’t angry. His voice was meant to ground her. “We spend almost every night together,” he said gently. “You have a key to my place.”

“I know, it’s just that-” her words spilled out, “I thought that we were just- I don’t know, that this,” she motioned her hand between the two of them, “that it was just us.”

“I don’t understand what you are saying. It is just us,” he replied, confusion edging into his tone. “That’s what being in a relationship is.”

THUMP THUMP THUMP

“Why do you look so scared?”

“Why do we need a label?” Her voice rose slightly. This was too much, way too much.

His eyes flashed with sadness as his hands went up to his hair. “Are we not on the same page here?” 

“I don’t know. Okay. I don’t know. I just-”

“I mean, what did you think we were doing here, Mira?” His voice began to waver as he continued to speak, “We practically spend every free moment with one another. We cook together, we” He gestured vaguely between them, “we’re building something. I thought we were building something.”

“Why can’t this just be enough, Jack?” Samira’s voice was stuck in her throat, “I mean, why do we have to label it, why do we have to make it serious?” 

Jack exhaled sharply, “This has always been serious to me, has it not been for you?”

Samira’s hand began to shake, and tears bit at the side of her eyes. “I really care about you, Jack, but I don’t think that I can give you what you are asking for. I mean, I am leaving in less than a year.”

His face went dark, “leaving? I mean god Samira. You don’t even know where you’ll get offers yet.”

“I’m going home. It doesn’t matter if I get a fellowship in New Jersey or not. I will make it work. I promised myself I’d finish my residency and go back to New Jersey. That’s always been the plan.”

Jack looked like he had just been shot. “Samira, we can do long distance, we can figure something out, I promise.” 

Samira scoffed in response and gave a slight shake of her head.

“Where is this going, Samira? What are you trying to do here?” He brought his hands down to his face and rubbed his eyes before planting them on the table in front of him. “I mean god, Samira. I love you.”

Samira’s eyes flashed down to his left hand, where his wedding ring sat. His eyes tracked where she was looking, and disbelief and hurt coloured his mind. 
 
“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Jack.” Tears slid down her face. “You deserve someone ready to give you their all.” Her voice wobbled, “and I don’t think that it can be me.” She pushed herself up from the chair.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded, “don’t walk away.”

“I am really sorry.” She took one last look at Jack before walking to his front door, grabbing her work bag, and stepping outside. Her spare key sat on a small table near his door. 

~~~

On New Year's Eve, Samira got a text from Jack.

Jack: I know this is over. And I know I shouldn’t be texting you. I just can’t be alone tonight.

Samira didn’t hesitate. She threw together an overnight bag and Ubered herself as fast as she could to his place. Fireworks had already been slowly littering the night sky. Shit. Shit. Shit.

As soon as the Uber had parked outside his house, she jumped out and ran up the pathway. Her hands went to her pockets, instinctively trying to grab the spare key, which she no longer had. She went to knock on the door, but as her knuckle made contact, the door creaked open. It hadn’t been locked, and it had been left cracked. 

Samira pushed her way inside and quietly called out for Jack. No response. Fear filled her. She moved around the house. The living room was empty, and the lights in the kitchen were left on. She made her way up the stairs, the hardwood creaking as she stepped. 

A firework popped in the distance.

“Jack,” She called out again. Silence.

She went to his closed bedroom door and slowly turned the handle, letting the soft hallway light spill into the dark room. His bed was empty, but the sheets were messy and rumpled. Her heart was hammering in her chest.

Another firework went off. The bright pink spectacle and bang filled the room with light and sound. She heard a rustling from the corner of the room. She turned toward the source and found him curled on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, hands gripping his head. His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, and his chest heaved with shallow, ragged breaths. Fireworks boomed outside, each one making him flinch, rocking his body like waves against a cliff.

“Jack…” she breathed, stepping closer. “It’s me.” She sank down to the floor and sat beside him. Softly, she touched his shoulder before wrapping her arms around him. At first, he went still and stiffened at her touch, but soon he folded over and lay his head on Samira’s thighs.

She threaded her fingers through his curly grey hair and held him as he shook. When another firework lit up, she soothed him, rubbing and stroking his back in predictable movements. “You’re safe,” she repeated over and over, “I’m here.”

Eventually, the fireworks stopped, but neither of them moved. She stayed exactly where she was and let Jack fall asleep in her embrace. Eventually, she fell asleep too. 

The next morning, Samira was woken up by the rising sun filling the room with a soft, warm glow. Abbot still lay in her lap. His chest moved up and down with steady breaths. At first, she did not want to move an inch in fear that she would wake him. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, and she did not want to disturb any solitude he got after what he went through the night before.

However, her fingers found it irresistible to play with his hair. Her touch was light so as not wake him. Yet, eventually Jack began to stir. The sun landed on his closed eyes as they shifted back and forth. He let out a low groan and adjusted his head. 

His eyes opened and landed on Samira’s face. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just looked at her, like he was trying to memorize the curve of her face, the way the sunlight hit her dark hair.

“Hey,” she said softly to him when she noticed that he had awoken.

“You stayed.” 

“Of course I did,” she replied, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. The morning sun warmed both of their skin.

His hand reached up and caressed the side of her face. Samira let herself sink into his touch. She had missed it so much. “God Mira, I’m hopeless.” His hand moved to her hand that rested on his hair. He brought her delicate fingers down to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. 

“You're not hopeless, don’t say that.”

“Yes, I am,” he gruffed out his voice hot on her knuckles, “it’s pathetic how much I need you.”

A tingle shot down her spine. Her voice was faint as she said, “Jack, you know that I can’t-” 

Her voice trailed off as he lifted his head off her legs, bringing his lips close to hers but not making contact, “I know.”

“Jack…” she whispered, shaking her head. But she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and placing her lips on his. 

~~~

It was July 4th, and it had been a week since Samira last saw Jack. A week since he had decided that enough was enough. There had been radio silence on both ends. She thought maybe it was real this time. Maybe she would never get to touch Jack Abbot again, never get to taste him or smell his subtle cologne. 

But she couldn’t think about that now. She was on shift, and whatever lingering feelings or resentment she bore for him had to be pushed to the side. 

It was the first few hours of her shift. The hospital lights shone brightly on the tile floor, and monitors beeped. Everyone was busy today. The nurses, interns, students, and doctors. Everyone zoomed around the emergency room floor. The day had already begun to heat up. Samira could feel a faint trickle of sweat forming on her forehead. 

Her phone, which she really should have left in her locker, kept buzzing in her pocket. She tried to ignore the sounds it made as she finished the patient discharge form, but the vibration was insistent.

Samira plucked the phone from her pocket and looked at the screen. 3 missed calls and 5 messages from her mom. Shit. Samira automatically jumped to the worst conclusion. Her mom could be hurt. Maybe she would have to fly out to New Jersey. 

Samira took a deep breath and stood up from her seat, making her way to the nearest supply closet. She looked at her phone as she walked.

Mom:
Call me ASAP.
Pick up ur phone.
It’s not an emergency but I need to talk to you.
Are you on shift?
Call me when you can.

Samira gave a sigh of relief. Good, it wasn’t an emergency. Stepping into the dark closet, she hit call on her phone and pressed it to her ear. The phone rang, once, twice, then on the third dial, her mom picked up.

“Samira sweetie, how are you, honey?”

“Mom,” Samira responded, “what’s going on?”

“Oh its nothing to worry about.” At that, Samira rolled her eyes. If it had truly been nothing to worry about, her mom wouldn’t have called and texted her like a maniac. Her mom continued to speak through the phone speaker, “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I think I am selling the house.”

Samira’s stomach dropped. “What?” Her voice was riddled with confusion.

“The last time we spoke, I told you that I was looking into that cruise.” Jesus Christ. Samira thought her mom had been joking. A year-long cruise, like seriously, who actually spends their money on that?

Samira sighed. “You’re serious?”

“Scott talked me into it!” Her mom squeaked excitdely unaware of the turmoil rolling over Samira, “he thinks it would be a good idea. Go travel the world with eachother, life is too short.”

Scott was Samira’s new stepdad, much to her dismay. He was younger than her mom, had shaggy hair, and called Samira ‘kid.’ 
 
“Mom,” she said carefully, pressing her back against the cool metal shelves, “you’ve known him for, what, a year?”

“A year and four months,” her mom corrected brightly. “And when you know, you know.”

A year and four months, god. Samira was happy for her mom; she really was. When her dad died when she was young, Samira had to witness the absolute heartbreak and depression that her mom went through. She never thought that her mom would recover, much less find a new person. And so, when her mom had brought Scott home, she smiled and tried her best to get along with him. 

Samira gritted her teeth and did not respond, letting the gravity of the situation settle. Her mom continued to speak, “He makes me feel alive again, and I don’t want to sit in that big empty house waiting for… I don’t know. Something to happen.”

Samira scoffed, “You have got to be joking! You have known since I got into med school that I was always planning on coming home. I mean, we talked, I don’t know, last month about me moving back for a fellowship.”

“You can still move home! I mean not the house, but New Jersey.” 

Samira let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Not the house, but New Jersey?”

“Sweetheart, don’t twist my words,” her mom said, her tone tightening. “You can rent something. Or buy something. You’re going to be a doctor.”

“That’s not the point,” Samira shot back, her voice echoing slightly in the cramped closet. “The point is that that house was the plan. Being with close to you was the plan. And now you are telling me that you are actually serious about leaving and travelling with a strange man and selling the house I grew up in.”

But it was deeper than that. Samira knew that it wasn’t just about the house or her mom. All through med school, through her intern years, and residency, Samira had never put down roots anywhere. She floated from place to place, not letting herself get settled, not letting herself get close to anyone with the inevitability of her eventual move home.

In many ways, she used New Jersey as a safety net, although she would never fully admit it to herself. And now, that delicate safety net was being destroyed. 

Her mind flashed back to the fights she and Jack had about this very topic. How he had begged her for commitment, just for her to pull away and shut him down. 

Where is this going, Samira?

Why can’t this just be enough, Jack?

“Samira?” Her mom’s voice cut through to her, “You went silent, are you okay, honey?”

Her voice was shaky as she replied, trying to suppress all the memories that had flooded back to her, “I’m fine.” Her voice went sharp, “I just need to rethink some stuff.”

“I know this is hard. Selling the house. I know you have a lot of memories of Dad tied to this place.”

Her dad. Her mom saying that almost knocked all the air out of Samira. Tears began to form in her eyes. She hadn’t thought about how, by saying goodbye to her childhood home, she would have to forfeit the last place that had remnants of him.

She slid down the door of the supply closet, sitting on the floor. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the cries escaping her. 

“Samira?” Her mom’s voice softened immediately. “Honey?”

“If you sell it, then it’s really over.”

“What is?”

“Dad.” Wet tears flowed down her face.

“Oh, no. He won’t ever really be gone, Mira. He is with you, with me. Always. We carry him in our hearts.” Her mom paused before continuing. Samira could hear her mom taking slow and controlled breaths, “but honey, I can’t let his memory dictate what the rest of my life looks like.” Samira knew she was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it. “And you can’t either.”

“Okay.” That was the only thing that Samira could respond with. 

“Okay,” her mom echoed softly, “I know that you had a plan. And you can still move to New Jersey. I’ll be back in a year or so, and then you and I can live like the Gilmore Girls. Just with Scott as well.” They both chuckled lightly at that. “But, you can also, I don’t know? Explore other options, see what fellowships you get and decide from there.”
“Yeah,” Samira said uneasily, “explore other options.” Could she do that, though? Build a new life, a new place for herself, somewhere that her dad had never been?

Her mind went back to Jack, to the life together that he had begged her for. That she had denied him because she thought she knew what her future entailed. “Okay, Mom, I've got to go.” Samira’s hands came up to her face and dried her tears. “I have to get back to work.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~

Hours began to pass in Samira’s shift, and her day kept seeming to spiral downwards. It was patient after patient. The chairs kept filling up, and the day had come to a sweltering heat which the shitty hospital air conditioning could not combat.

Samira moved through the halls, pushing her way back into the supply closet that she had been in earlier. She racked her brain for the list of supplies she needed to gather in the white bag she held. Electrolytes, insulin strips… what else?

Her hands searched the metal shelving, tossing the materials into the bag. She felt awful. Orlando Diaz, already in a mountain of medical debt, couldn’t afford proper treatment. And no matter how much she had begged him, how much his family had begged him, to stay for proper treatment, he had refused to stay. 

So here she was, gathering everything he would need for at-home care in the hopes that it would be enough to help him. His daughter was so young, and Samira knew what losing a parent at that age could do to you. She pushed that thought away quickly. 

She looked down at the bag she held. Yep, she had everything he would need. She pushed the door and walked out of the closet, her shoes hitting the tile beneath her as she moved to the glass observation room. 

The curtains were still drawn. Good, he was probably still lying in bed waiting for her. Her smile grew as she came closer to the door.  

She pushed open the glass door, calling out, “Mr. Diaz, I have a surprise for you.” She quickly drew back the curtains that surrounded the hospital bed.

But Samira was not met with Orlando Diaz. Instead, Jack stood there, pulling his shirt off, leaving his back bare. “Oh!” She was not expecting to see him today, or really to see him for a while. She knew that they would overlap eventually during shift change, but she did her best to avoid him on shift as much as possible. 

His head turned to meet hers quickly at the sound of her voice and the curtains sliding on the rails. His face flushed pink immediately, as his eyes shifted, trying not to look at her. 

She also redirected her attention. It's not like this was the first time she had seen him shirtless. And, she really needed to find Mr. Diaz. “Sorry.” Her voice was slightly raised as she began to look around the room frantically.

“It’s okay,” his voice was low.

“Have you- have you seen my patient?” She moved around the room to the glass doors again. Looking out of them, she quickly scanned the floor. Shit. She couldn’t see Orlando anywhere. “Orlando? Mr. Diaz?” She called out.

Abbot watched her look around and took a seat on the clean hospital bed that had been made just minutes before he came into the room. “The room was empty.” He mumbled out.

Her head fell to the side, and there was worry in her voice, “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyebrow furrowed, and her lips began to tremble ever so slightly. As if this day could not get worse. Abbot examined her, how upset she had seemed and the full white bag that now lay near his feet.

Samira stood for a moment, hands on her hips. She should have been quicker in getting the supplies for Orlando, shit. Then the realization came over her that Abbot was sitting shirtless in an emergency room with medical supplies splayed out in front of him. “What happened to you?” She questioned, her eyebrows still furrowed. 

“Oh.’ Jack looked over his shoulder at the bloody wound that scraped his back. He pulled off wound tape from the dispenser, looking back down at his feet, not meeting her eyes. “Bullet grazed my vest.”

Concern filled Samira as she took a step towards him, You were shot?” Panic filled her. 

Abbot immediately responded, “shot at.” Finally, he looked up at her, just for a moment, before turning back towards the tray holding gauze. “Genuises thought today was the day to rob a goods warehouse. Didn’t think about how long it would take to load the appliances. They panicked.” He shook his head and moved his hand in front of him as he spoke, “All hell broke loose.”

“Jesus.” Her head tilted to the side, looking deeply at him with worry, with fear. “Why do you do this?” Her mind went back to New Year's Eve. How he had grasped onto her, shaking from the sound of fireworks. 

Half-joking, half-not, Jack said, “My therapist said I needed a hobby.”

Samira did not laugh as she said, “Funny.” She sighed deeply and crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, moving her eyes around the room, “shit. This- this sucks.”

Jack’s eyes lit up slightly, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“No.”

A smug smile dared to tug at his lips, “No, don’t worry about me. I’m fine, seriously.”

“No. My patient.” Oh. Disbelief clouded Abbot’s face. Right her patient, as if anything else in this very moment would draw her concern. 

She took a seat on a stool near the bed. She didn’t know why she was still here. Still talking with him as if they were coworker. Just coworkers. As if the last time they saw eachother they didn’t fight like they always did. But Samira also knew that if she talked, he would listen, and she really needed to talk right now. 

“He didn’t have any insurance, and he was already in a mountain of medical debt.” Her voice cracked slightly, “he couldn’t afford any of his meds.” 

The way Samira’s eyes watered almost made Jack fold over. He let out a soft “hm” and diverted his gaze. “What’s in the bag?”

“Insulin, test strips, electrolyte powder. I- I got him everything he needed for home care.”

“So Uber it to his house.”

Samira scoffed, “Is the hospital gonna pay for that?”

No hesitation voice, so soft, “I’ll pay for it.” In his hand, he held a q-tip and he reached over his shoulder attempting to reach his wound.

Of course, he would offer that. Samira’s chest tightened as she watched him. She had known from working the few night shifts she had (upon other things), that Jack was secretly the biggest patient advocate at PTMC. He had always tried to make sure that his patients were taken care of and supported, even if he had to bend the rules. 

She looked at him. He struggled to reach his back, shifting awkwardly in his seated position. Before she could stop herself, she stood up and walked over to the wall that held the blue sterilized gloves. She snapped on a pair. 

“What are you doing?”

Taking a step closer to him, she shot back, “What you clearly can’t.”

His lips pursed together into a frown as he handed her the Q-tip. “Did you make a chart?” She asked.

She clasped the Q-tip in her hand and walked behind him. “No,” his voice was rough and deep, “this can stay off the books. Don’t need the paperwork from the hospital or the police department.” 

Samira rolled her eyes, “Okay.” She gently began tending to the wound, “our little secret.”

Jack’s eyebrows rose slightly, and a flicker of amusement and disbelief crossed his face. “Our little secret,” he echoed. “I’ve heard that before.”

Her face heated. She tried to focus on the wound, dabbing it with the Q-tip. She was so close that she could smell his cologne again. It had faded from her pillowcase. His voice brought her back to the moment: “Do you still have my card details saved?”

“Huh?”

“For the Uber? Do you still have my card on your phone?”

He always liked paying for stuff when they were together. It was a small, stubborn trait of his that he wouldn’t let go. All the dates, coffee, and takeout. All of it was paid for by him. At first, she protested, but as their relationship went on, she learned to just go with it. In a small way, it made her feel cared for. She knew it was superficial, but she liked being provided for, and he liked providing for her.

Even now that they weren’t really together anymore, the habit persisted. One night, he had been so needy that he paid for an Uber to pick her up and bring her over to his house. That night… Just thinking about it made a shiver go up her spine and a blush run across her face.

“Um, I should still have it.”

“Good.”

She steadied her hands and continued to work on his back. She tried to be careful of making her touches light, but as she applied the gauze, he let out a low wince. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“You're good.” He shut his eyes tight with the feeling of her touch. “So, I met Al-Hashimi. She seems nice. Just like you said.”

Samira smiled, “Yep. She’s great.” 

“I think we are gonna go out sometime.” Samira’s smile dropped. “Trade war stories over a drink or something.”

“Oh.” Her voice was sharp, “That’ll be nice.” Samira picked up the wound tape, securing the gauze in place. A slight tremble in her hand. She shouldn’t be jealous, shouldn’t feel this way over nothing. Over Abbot getting a drink with someone. Someone else. 

“Yeah, it will be.” 

Samira snapped her gloves off and moved to face Abbot. “Okay. I’m all done here. You are all patched up.”

“What are my discharge orders, doc?” He played. Samira’s face was still grim.

“Keep it clean. Change the dressing in twenty-four hours. Watch for signs of infection.” Her voice had gone cold.

“That’s it?”

“Yep. That’s it.”

Jack and she looked at eachother for a moment. Neither moving. He stayed seated on the bed, and she stood in front of him. Tears began to form in her eyes. She felt irrational; the thought of him going on a date shouldn’t bother her. For fucks sake, she was the one who ended things with him. He had every right to see whoever he wanted.

But it was more than that. It was today. It was thing after thing for Samira, and she was so tired of it all. Orlando Diaz, and her mom, and now Jack. It was just too much.

Samira turned her head away so Jack wouldn’t see her emotions. But he did, and so softly he asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

Samira, but her tongue was still not daring to look at him. 

A part of Jack didn’t want to comfort her, didn’t want to give her the affection that she had starved him of. Yet, as soon as he saw the sadness that came over her, he folded. He overruled the bitterness he felt towards her. Standing up, he walked closer to her and gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her voice cracked.

“Mira,” he said, “cmon.” 

Suddenly, she snapped, whipped her head towards his, tears just beginning to fall down her face, “Don’t call me that.”

Abbot became keenly aware that the door to the room was still open, that anyone could walk by and witness them speaking in low voices to each other, with heated expressions across both of their faces. 

Abbot walked around her and shut the glass door, then the curtains, concealing them in the small hospital room. He stood across from her again, arms crossed and jaw clenched in frustration, in concern. “Okay, what is going on?” He asked firmly.

Samira brought her hands up to her face and dried her eyes, trying to compose herself. She didn’t want to be here talking to him anymore; she just wanted to escape. “It’s nothing, I got to get back out on the floor.”

She moved to leave, but sharply his voice halted her, “Samira.” He threw his hands up in frustration, “Why are you shutting me out? Why do you always do this?”

Her eyes narrowed at him, “I am not having this conversation. We are at work, this is inappropriate.” 

“You know what else is inappropriate? Crying in the middle of the ER.”

“Wow, really nice of you, Jack.” She pivoted on her heels and started to walk away. 

“Oh come on,” he reached out towards her and stopped her before she pulled open the curtains to leave, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Can you just let go of me?” She shook her arm, and he dropped his hand immediately. 

 “Okay, I’m sorry,” his voice lowered, “please, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that. Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she whispered angrily, her eyes going wide in exasperation. 

“Is this about Baran? Are you upset because of that?”

“Jesus, not everything is about you, Jack.”

“Because I’ll remind you that you were the one to end things. You are the one who didn’t want to commit, not me.” His eyes were full of sadness, his voice full of frustration, “I mean, god. I can’t wait around for you anymore, Samira. I mean, you are moving away soon. I can’t- I really can’t do this anymore.”

Samira’s heart beat fast in her chest. THUMP THUMP THUMP. 

Jack continued to ramble on, “That’s always been the plan, right? That’s always what you’ve said. That’s why you ended things. And what? You just expect me to sit around and wait for you to text? To change your mind?” 

Samira began to tremble. All of her plans that she had so neatly laid out were beginning to disintegrate. The life she always thought she was going to live was slipping away from her. Her childhood home, her dad. 

Her emotion fully took over her. Quiet sobs bubbled out as she buried her hands in her face, shoulders shaking. 

Oh God. What had Jack done? He felt like such an asshole seeing her cry like this.  

There was a soft knock on the glass door. Before Samira or Jack could say anything, the curtain was drawn back, “hey I saw that you two were-” Robby’s voice sounded, “Oh.”

Jack knew how this looked. Him shirtless, standing too close to Samira as she let out soft sobs, her face splotchy and red. 

Robby’s eyes flicked between the two of them, confusion riddling his face. “Uh, is everything good in here?” 

Samira took a deep breath in and quickly said, “I am so sorry, Dr. Robby. I will be back out on the floor in a minute.”

Robby shot Jack a questioning glance, and Jack gave a slight shake to his head. No, she needs a minute. Robby understood the look in Jack’s eye. His silent plea to be soft with Samira. 

“Um. no it’s all good. How about you just take a couple of minutes?” Robby said. He lingered in the room for a few moments, trying to read the situation.

“Okay, thank you,” Samira said, embarrassed, “I am sorry again.”

“Don’t be,” Robby shot back. “Abbot, come find me once you are done here.” Robby left the room, closing the curtains once again behind him. The thick-silent air settled back over Jack and Samira. 

“This is humiliating,” she whispered.

Jack felt the weight of it settle in his gut. “Hey. It’s okay.” He knew he shouldn’t, but he reached his thumb to her face and brushed away a tear. Her face melted into his touch. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

“It’s okay, Jack. Everything you said was true. I have been awful to you.”

“We’ve been awful to each other. I’ve been so selfish, you don’t deserve that.” 

Samira’s hand moved up to his that was still grazing her face. She touched the backside of his hand, feeling his rough skin, and looked deeply into his eyes. 

It had been a bad day, and right now Samira needed this familiar comfort, his touch. “Jack,” her lips parted slightly.

And just like that, he was dragged back in. That look in her eyes evoked something in him, a carnal need. “Today has just been-” she said shakily, “it’s been a lot, and everything is so confusing right now. And this is just confusing me more.” 

Her hand was still on his. Warm. “It’s confusing for me to. How you are looking at me right now. But this is hurting me, Mira. I can’t do this with you anymore.” 

“I know,” another tear rolled down her face. “I know that.” She paused before speaking again, “But why haven’t you stopped doing this? Why haven’t you walked away from me?”

“You know why. Don’t make me say it,” he pleaded. Because I still love you. Because I never stopped loving you. It was pathetic, the effect, the hold that she had over him. “Tell me what’s going on, Samira. Why are you so upset, sweetheart?”

Samira took a deep breath in and out, trying to fully calm herself down, “It’s my mom. She’s selling the house.” 

Jack’s expression shifted instantly. All the frustration. All the tension. Gone.

“What?” he asked softly.

Samira swallowed, arms wrapping around herself like she was bracing against something cold. “She called me this morning. She’s selling my childhood home.” Her lips began to tremble again, and it took all of Jack’s effort to stop himself from bringing his fingertips to still them. “It feels like I am losing my dad all over again. It’s like all the memories I have of him are tied to that house, and once it’s gone, he is gone for good.”

Jack stepped closer to her and engulfed her in a hug, bringing one of his hands up to stroke her head. She let her head fully rest against his hard chest. He didn’t speak, he just let her talk.

“And then today with Mr. Diaz… It just reminded me so much of my dad again. And then seeing you…” She exhaled against his chest, her voice muffled. “Seeing you almost get shot. Seeing you sitting there like it was nothing.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

His arms tightened around her. “Hey,” he said into the top of her head, “I’m okay, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that,” she whispered.

His jaw tightened slightly. “I can promise that. I’m careful.” Being honest with himself, Jack knew he wasn’t as careful as he should be, but how sad she was in this moment made him pause and reconsider how he would handle himself moving forward.

Samira moved her head from his chest to look up at him, “I can’t lose you, too.”

Jack felt his chest tighten. “You won’t.” 

“I am just so scared, Jack. Everything I thought was going to happen, the way I had imagined my life for so long, is suddenly falling apart. All the reasons for moving back home are gone.”

“Then stay,” his voice broke as he gasped it out. She went still in his arms. “Stay here, stay with me. Build a life here. A life with me.” 

“Jack, it’s not that simple-”

“I know, I know it isn’t simple.” His eyes were searching hers intently, looking for a sign that she was even considering what he was saying, “but we don’t have to figure out everything right now. Just stop running from me. Stop pushing me away and just stay.” 

Samira’s lips trembled into a small, shaky smile. “Okay.”

He blinked in disbelief. “What?”

She whispered just loudly enough for it to be audible, “I’ll stay.”

Jack’s hands moved to her face, he tipped her face up to his and kissed her. At first, the kiss was uncertain and soft, but it moved to desperation. Jack’s hands framed her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks, holding her steady as the kiss deepened. Neither of them wanted to come up for air. 

When they finally did, they were both breathless, foreheads pressed together, hearts hammering in sync. Samira’s hands rested on his chest, and Jack’s fingers tangled in her hair, holding her close as if letting go would make them both shatter.