A week later….
I was sleeping peacefully when suddenly the sunlight blasted on my face, and without opening my eyes, I knew it was Jake's doing. I pulled my blanket over my face and yelled, "Go away!"
"No, Ma'am," Jake forcefully took my blanket away from me and, without any warning, lifted me from my bed like I'm a sack of potatoes to take me out of my bedroom against my will.
"Put me down! This is kidnapping!" I yelled and tried to jump off his shoulder, but his grip was absurdly very strong, and I couldn't do anything about it until he sat me in one of the stools in the kitchen. Ethan was making coffee and frying some pancakes as well as bacon, and that instantly made my stomach grumble.
"Hey, want some coffee?" He asked from across the kitchen island, wearing a crisp white shirt, red tie, and dark blue vest, looking dapper in early morning.
"Yes, please," I rub my eyes, trying to keep them open, and take the mug full of piping hot coffee with a dash of milk. It's been a week of me dealing with Jake and Ethan always waking me up in the morning just because they're early birds. Fun fact about me, I like to sleep in until the afternoon. I was expecting a true RnR after two days being cooped up in the hospital, but then Jake pulled the big brother card and won't let me go back to my own house. Now, I feel like a third wheel in their domestic bliss.
"Here, eat some pancakes, and then we'll go to the gym," Jake said, sitting next to me, sliding a stack of pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup like he didn't just forcefully wake me up from my dreamless sleep.
"Nope, I want to go home today," I said with as much conviction as I could muster because I knew they would gang up on me to change my mind.
Ethan shared that weird look with Jake, then Ethan turned back to the pan while sipping his coffee like they didn't just share a telepathy. "I don't think it's a good idea right now. I'm still worried about you. You just got out of the hospital." Jake said.
I stabbed a pancake. "I can't stay here forever. I've got work, remember? Deadlines?"
Jake crossed his arms. "You nearly died a week ago. Work can wait."
His words hit a little too hard, so I dropped my gaze and drowned the pancake in syrup. "You can't just keep me here like a prisoner."
"You're not a prisoner," Jake said, his tone softening. "You're my sister. And I'm not risking coming home one day to find you collapsed on the floor because you pushed yourself too soon."
I hated how his reasoning made sense. Hated how his concern warmed me even as it smothered me.
Ethan slid onto the stool beside me, eyes steady but kind. "Why don't we compromise? You come with him to the gym. Light workout, massage, and ice cream after. Then we'll talk about your house."
I narrowed my eyes. "That's bribery."
"It's a bargain," Ethan corrected smoothly.
Jake smirked. "Same thing."
I sighed, chewing slowly. Between the two of them, resistance was pointless. "Fine. But only if I get extra sprinkles on the ice cream."
Jake ruffled my hair, and Ethan chuckled into his coffee. For a moment, despite everything, the kitchen felt safe.
*~*
The gym was blessedly empty when we arrived, except for a couple of hardcore morning people who looked like they lived on protein shakes and self-loathing. Jake wasted no time dragging me toward the mats.
"Alright, Monkey. Warm-ups first."
I groaned, stretching my arms overhead. "Do I look like I'm auditioning for a Marvel role? Because I'm pretty sure the only six-pack I need is in the freezer section."
Jake snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not training you for Hollywood, just making sure you don't pass out walking on the treadmill."
"Wow," I said, clutching my chest in mock offense. "You really know how to inspire me."
But I followed anyway, if only because Jake's version of "light workout" meant a mix of squats, push-ups, cardio, and basic self-defense drills that he's been shoving down my throat since high school. My muscles complained instantly, but the familiarity of his instructions, like "Keep your guard up,"
"Don't drop your stance,"
"breathe, Mily," in his comforting deep voice was comforting.
Then, after a short break of just me chugging water and breathing like a fish out of the water, we moved into a sparring routine, Jake going easy on me, of course. I managed to land a half-decent jab to his shoulder, which earned me a proud grin.
"Not bad," he said.
"Translation: you're holding back so I don't cry." I point my finger at him while circling him to get my opening for the next attack.
"Maybe," he admitted, smirking, and I didn't hesitate while landing my punch to his left shoulder. Not hard enough to do damage, but enough to make him grunt.
"Hey," he said, rubbing the spot, though his grin only widened. "Cheap shot."
"Effective shot," I countered, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
Jake adjusted his stance, feet planted solidly like he was back in the military gym, while mine was looser, improvised, quick, the kind of style you learn from backyard training and a lifetime of dodging bullies. He feinted right, and my whole body jerked before I realized he hadn't committed.
"Still twitchy," he teased. "Gotta work on that."
"Oh, shut up." I lunged, aiming for his ribs this time, but he sidestepped easily, catching my wrist mid-swing.
In one smooth motion, he twisted my arm just enough to throw me off balance, then let me go before I could stumble. "Rule number one: keep your stances strong at all times."
I blew a strand of hair out of my face. "Rule number two: don't be a smug asshole."
Jake laughed, the sound bouncing across the sparring arena of the gym. "Good rule. But mine still wins."
I circled again, more determined, watching his shoulders for the smallest giveaway. He raised his guard casually, almost lazily, but his eyes stayed sharp. I faked left and went low, aiming a quick kick toward his shin.
He caught it. Of course he did.
"Really?" Jake said, holding my leg in place with annoyingly little effort. "That's the best you've got?"
"Not even close." I twisted, using the leverage to swing my free leg at his side. He let go at the last second, and I landed in a clumsy crouch, but at least I kicked him and didn't fall on my face.
Jake rubbed his right arm mockingly. "Better. You're learning."
"Learning to kick your ass," I shot back, standing tall again for another round.
An hour later, I dropped my butt ungracefully to my mat as I caught my breath, and I noticed Jake's smile falter. He sat on the edge of the mat, running a hand through his hair. The shift in his mood was so sudden that even my sore arms forgot to complain.
"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting beside him.
He hesitated, staring at the floor. "I've been thinking… about Ethan."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was headed. "Do I need to prepare my maid of honor speech?"
Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "That's the thing. I want to propose, but… Ethan always says marriage is unnecessary. That what we have is already enough."
I tilted my head, studying him. "And what do you think?"
"I think I want it. The promise. The permanence. But I don't want to push him into something he doesn't even want." He sighed. "Sometimes, I wonder if my wanting to make us official makes me selfish."
I leaned against him, nudging his arm. "Jake, you've faced literal death on your missions and came out fine, but you're scared of a conversation with your boyfriend?"
He glared at me. "Not helping."
"I'm serious," I said gently. "You're not selfish for wanting commitment. And Ethan's not wrong for thinking love doesn't need paperwork. The only way this works is if you're both honest about it. He loves you. You love him. If you tell him why marriage matters to you, he'll listen."
Jake was quiet for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. "The problem is I'm not ready to hear what he has to say. But thanks, that's kinda helpful."
"Of course," I said, noticing his shoulder relaxing. "I'm the best sister in the whole wide world. You're lucky to have me."
He laughed, pulling me into a headlock until I squealed. For once, I tried to fight to get out, but once again, he's always stupidly stronger than me.
*~*
The spa was our next stop. I expected Jake to shove me into a sauna and call it a day, but instead, he booked me a full-body massage and a manicure.
"This is suspicious," I muttered as a nail technician buffed my nails to a shine after getting a full treatment that made my body more relaxed than a bear in hibernation. "Is this your way of buttering me up so I won't complain when you lock me in your apartment for another week?"
Jake, sitting on the empty chair next to mine, just rolled his eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just being a good brother."
"Uh-huh." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Or maybe you feel guilty for all the years you left me stuck with Mom and Dad's chaos while you were out being Captain America."
"Ouch, low blow," he said. "Can you just stop being a sarcastic ass for a minute and enjoy?"
I grinned. "It's my most winning personality. But seriously, though, I still want to go home after this. I'm fine, I promise,"
Jake sighed. "Mily, listen… I know you want to be fine. But wanting and being are two different things. You just got out of the hospital. I'm not letting you push yourself."
I rolled my eyes, wiggling my fingers so the manicurist could keep buffing them. "I don't need a babysitter."
"Good thing you've got a brother instead," Jake said dryly.
I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling lights. "You're impossible, you know that? You're acting as if I step outside on my own, the sky will literally fall."
His reply came quieter this time, almost buried under the sound of the background music. "It already did once."
That stilled me. The memory of Daniel's hands at my throat flashed across my mind, and for a second, the warmth of the spa couldn't chase away the cold creeping into my chest. Jake must've noticed, because he quickly added, "I just want to keep you safe until you can take care of yourself. I want to protect you. That's all. When you're really ready, then we can talk again."
I looked at him, at the way his jaw tightened even as he tried to relax. My heart ached for him. For how much he carried since I was a child, how much he tried to keep me safe.
"Fine," I finally said, knowing that he's mostly right, but I miss my independence so much. This conversation needs to happen again soon.
Suddenly, the nail technician asked me about what design I wanted, and I quickly got distracted by the many samples she showed me until I finally settled for many combinations of bright colors, sparkles, and intricate designs for each of my nails.
By the time we left, I felt lighter, polished, and maybe a little proud about my selection of perfect nails.
Our favorite ice cream spot was nestled in the heart of LA, not far from the spa, so we decided to walk so Jake doesn't have to find another parking spot. The place is a hole-in-the-wall café with mismatched chairs and the best waffle cones in existence. We claimed our usual table by the window.
"Sprinkles?" Jake said, sliding my cone toward me.
"Sprinkles," I confirmed, satisfied.
For a while, we ate in silence, the city buzzing peacefully outside. For once, I wasn't thinking about deadlines or scars or a certain editor who should rot in prison. I was just… here. With Jake. Talking nonsense. Safe.
And then the ground shook. At first, it was light. Only a few glasses clinking against the counter, spoons rattling in their bowls. Then the floor rolled under us like a wave. People screamed. Chairs toppled. Someone yelled, "Earthquake!"
Jake didn't hesitate. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. "Come on!"
We stumbled outside with the rest of the crowd, huddling near the line of parked cars. The asphalt quivered under my feet, and my chest clenched tight.
"Jake," I started, my voice shaking.
"I've got you," he said, shielding me with his body as dust shook loose from a nearby building. His arms were steady, grounding me as he brought me as far away from the building and into the park nearby. When the earthquake became too strong, he brought me to crouch under a tree and held me tight.
I buried my face against his shoulder, heart pounding. Around us, people are screaming, cars are crashing, and I think I heard some cracks from a building, and it's literally sounds like it's about to collapse.
And then, in the chaos, Jake shifted. With one arm still wrapped protectively around me, his other hand brushed the ground beside him. His palm pressed flat, fingers splayed as he tried to keep us steady.
Slowly, the violent jolts softened into a gentle shiver, then faded altogether. Relief rippled through the crowd. People sighed, hugged, and laughed nervously as if they'd dodged death by inches.
Jake straightened, brushing dirt from his palm before pulling me closer. "It's over," he said softly, his voice steady against the ringing in my ears.
I nodded, my legs weak. "That earthquake was insane. I hate LA."
"I know." He guided me to stand up, his hand firm at my back. "Let's get you home."
By the time we got back to his house, exhaustion weighed heavily than fear. I curled up on the couch with a blanket while Jake fussed in the kitchen, making tea neither of us really needed.
"Sleep if you can," he said, setting the mug on the table. "I'm not going anywhere."
I wanted to argue, but my eyes were already closing. The warmth of the blanket, the low hum of the TV, and the steady rhythm of Jake moving around the room lulled me into calm.
The last thing I felt was him tucking the blanket tighter around me, his voice a quiet promise in the dark.
"I'll keep you safe, Monkey. Always."
And this time, sleep came easily.