You never planned on ending up at PTMC today. You definitely didn’t plan on ending up here with a pissed-off, limping seventeen-year-old who was still insisting he was fine even though his wrist was swelling like hell and his jeans were ripped to shit. Maxwell—Max, according to him because “Maxwell sounds like a nerd”—had eaten pavement trying to show off on his skateboard. Again.

You’d raised him better than this. Or maybe you hadn’t. Either way, here you were.

You and Jack hadn’t been together in a long time. The pregnancy had been an accident—one of those life-changing, no-take-backs kind. You were young, scared, stubborn, and somehow still decided to keep the kid. Jack stuck around. Not romantically. Not perfectly. But consistently. You coparented. You showed up. You made it work for Max. That was the deal.

The nurses clocked it fast. The last name. Max’s attitude. The way he half-muttered, “My dad’s probably gonna freak,” under his breath. Someone put the pieces together and, before you could stop it, word traveled.

Jack Abbott found out.

You heard him before you saw him—boots on tile, familiar voice asking sharp questions, the tone he used when something mattered. When he rounded the corner and saw you standing there with Max, his whole body stalled for half a second. Not shock. More like… being hit with something heavy but familiar.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “What happened?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Skateboard. I’m fine.”

Jack shot him the look. The one that said you are absolutely not fine. Then he looked at you—really looked—and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You couldn’t have called?”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t think I needed to. I brought him in, didn’t I?”

There wasn’t anger there. Just history. Years of schedules, arguments, late-night pick-ups, and shared exhaustion. You didn’t love each other anymore, not like that—but you knew each other too well to pretend this wasn’t still… something.

Jack stepped closer to Max, instinct kicking in, doctor and dad blurring together. “You break anything?”

“Probably not,” Max said, smirking. “I landed it before the fall.”

You snorted. Jack huffed a laugh despite himself.

For a moment, it felt weirdly normal—standing there together in a hospital you both knew too well, dealing with the same kid you’d somehow managed not to screw up entirely. Not a couple. Not strangers. Just two people who shared a history… and a son who thought he was invincible.

Jack glanced at you again, quieter this time. “You okay?”