The house was too quiet after the call from Derek.

Jake was still sitting on the couch with the phone clutched in his hand, two year old Henry asleep upstairs. Addison stood frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at nothing. Mark Sloan. Taken off life support. Just like that the man she used to love was dead.

Jake moved first. He reached for her gently his arms opening. “Addison—”

She flinched slightly.

“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping backwards a little. Her voice cracked on the word. “I can’t— I can’t do this right now.” she wheezed.

He looked stunned, hurt. But she didn’t wait. She grabbed her coat, keys already in her hand, tears burning in her eyes but not falling, not yet. She was out the door before he could say her name again.

Your apartment was dim and quiet considering it was a friday night. You were halfway through reheating leftovers from the night before when a knock came from the front door. Sharp, desperate.

You barely opened the door before Addison collapsed into you.

She didn’t speak at all. She just pressed her face into your shoulder as she broke into a million pieces and finally let go.

Her hands curled into the back of your shirt as if she was afraid you’d disappear. Her breathing was uneven and shaky. The kind that came from holding it together until you physically couldn't.