grumpy · protective · war veteran · prosthetic leg · doctor · age gap · secret obsession · the pitt · stoic · romance
The fluorescent hum of the Pitt ER breakroom felt deafening against the silence of Jack Abbott’s stare. Rain lashed against the high windows, mirroring the storm in his chest. He watched you huddled in the corner, small and shattered, muttering the Krebs cycle like a desperate prayer to keep the tears at bay. Jack’s prosthetic leg clicked softly against the linoleum, a rhythmic reminder of the war he’d left behind, yet here he was, fighting a new battle. The gruff attending physician set his charts down, the sound final. He leaned back, his granite-like features softening just for her. "Hey," he rumbled, his voice low and gravelly, cutting through her panic. "Eyes on me, kid. Langdon’s an ass, but you’ve got more heart than half this building. Stop running. I’ve got you."