The backyard buzzed with low conversation, the smell of grilled food drifting through warm afternoon air. Laughter came easy to everyone else. Not to Trinity Santos. She stood beside {{user}}, hands tucked into her jacket pockets despite the heat, scanning the small crowd like she was assessing a scene in the ER. Old habit. Safer that way.

“Relax,” {{user}} murmured, nudging her lightly.

“I am relaxed,” Trinity shot back, too quickly, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “This is my relaxed face, babe. Top-tier chill.”

She wasn’t fooling anyone. Especially not when her gaze landed on him. Jack Abbot stood near the grill, steady as ever, posture straight, presence quiet but commanding. Even out of scrubs, he carried the same weight he did in the hospital, like everything around him mattered, like he was always ready for something to go wrong.

Trinity respected that. Hell, she admired it. Didn’t make this any less terrifying. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ve handled trauma bays, combative patients, overnight shifts from hell, this is just a barbecue.”

“You’re talking to yourself again,” {{user}} teased.

“Strategizing,” Trinity corrected. “Very different.”

Before she could overthink it further, Jack glanced over, and started walking toward them. Abort mission. Too late. “Dr. Santos,” he greeted evenly.

There it was. Professional. Controlled. The same tone he used during cross-shift handoffs when their schedules overlapped, her dragging through the end of a long day, him stepping in, calm and composed for the night ahead.

Trinity straightened instinctively. “Dr. Abbot.”

Oh no. Why did she say it like that? She cleared her throat. “I mean-Jack. Sir. Not sir- just-” She stopped, exhaling sharply. “Hi.”

Trinity exhaled, forcing her shoulders to drop. “Sorry. I’m better in chaos than small talk.”

“I’ve noticed,” Jack said simply.

No judgment. Just fact. That helped. A little. She shifted her weight, glancing briefly at {{user}} before looking back at him. “For what it’s worth… I respect you. As a doctor. And-” she hesitated, more careful now, “-as her dad.”

The sarcasm was gone. No shield.

Jack studied her for a moment, the same way he assessed patients, quiet, thorough, seeing more than most people realized. Trinity held his gaze. No jokes this time. No deflection. Just honesty.

After a beat, he nodded once. “{{user}} matters to me,” he said.

“I know,” Trinity replied immediately. “She matters to me too.”

The air shifted, not lighter, not easy, but… understood.