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kjiscrawlingbackformore · 12 hours ago

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Lilies In The Valley

Mom!Jackie Taylor x Reader (post!rescue au)

Summary: Marrying Jackie Taylor was the best thing that ever happened to you. And it seemed to only get better with the additions of your babies.

A/N: Jackie Taylor would’ve been the best mom in the world 🥺

The stillness in the air felt like a gift from God. The aroma of fresh-baked bread mingled with the soft, rhythmic sounds of chopping. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window in warm, gentle rays, gilding the worn countertop and the edges of the flour-dusted apron around your waist.

Your eyes drifted toward the window, drawn by the sound of laughter. A smile tugged at your lips. Two tiny heads bobbed across the yard. Joshua and Lily, so alive with energy it almost seemed to lift the blades of grass in their wake.

Josh, only seven, stood clutching his soccer ball, watching his little sister with a frown that tried unsuccessfully to look severe. Even in his exasperation, there was something unshakably patient about him, a kindness too big for such a small boy.

Lily was two but already carried herself with a sense of entitlement, as though the whole world—and certainly her big brother existed to do her bidding. She shrieked with delight when he finally relented and rolled the ball her way, her chubby arms flailing in triumph.

Your chest felt full at the sight. This ordinary moment, sun on their hair, flour on your hands, the quiet hush of the house around you. It felt almost too precious to disturb.

They were the best part, you thought, glancing back at the rising dough. The very best part of everything was them.

And especially Jackie.

The thought of her caught you gently, like a hand on your shoulder. You could almost hear her footsteps in the hall, the soft scrape of her keys on the table, the way her voice warmed every corner of this place.

You exhaled, feeling something small and grateful settle in your chest. Even in the quiet, you weren’t alone. You never were.

Jackie’s presence seemed to be all consuming even when she wasn’t here.

When your grandfather passed away he left you this home. The home you grew up running up and down these halls with your brothers every holiday and summer. The walls still had the wood paneling of the late 1980’s and scuff marks of the wear and tear of years of love.

Here in the central valley of Northern California, your family has been here for years. Your grandfather used to joke about his family being the keeper of this land since ancient times. It was a massive eight hundred acre property. Filled with farmland and wildlife.

He had a whole team of people who helped tended to the cattle that was in the southern part of the land. It was the family business. Caring for cattle and Bison. We sold the diary and meat.

It’s been a lucrative business that helped put all of your siblings including yourself through college. Your grandfather was one of the sweetest men you’d ever known. Your dad used to joke about him being made of sugar.

Somehow he decided it was best to leave it all to you, when he passed. You couldn’t believe it, but then again you were the only one from your family that spent every summer working the lands with him.

You loved that you got to take care of the land. You loved this home on the small corner of the property with a small little river running to the side of it. Hell you even loved this business. But your life wasn’t just your own anymore. You were madly, deeply, devotedly, in love with Jackie Taylor.

And there is no question in your mind that you would do anything she told you to. Even if it meant giving up this land.

With that known…to say the least you were worried Jackie would hate it. She’d come from the suburbs of New Jersey, a place that felt big and humming compared to the hush of your valley.

You still remembered the first time you saw her, like it was pressed into the inside of your eyelids.

She walked into the coffee shop on Main Street where you worked the early shift. The bell over the door chimed, and you looked up just in time to see her push her sunglasses onto her head, her dark hair falling around her face in a way that made your breath catch. She wore ripped jeans, scuffed Converse, and a vintage art conference tote slung over one shoulder, and she looked like she belonged somewhere faster, somewhere brighter.

But she chose a corner table by the window every Tuesday and Thursday morning, spreading out textbooks and highlighters in a kind of determined chaos.

For weeks, you couldn’t stop glancing over, heart tripping every time she caught your gaze. You told yourself she was just another customer, but you couldn’t help it. She was so pretty it was almost unsettling.

So you started small. A free refill slipped onto her table when she looked especially tired. A latte you didn’t charge her for. A chocolate croissant when she was still there by noon, scribbling notes with her hair in a messy knot.

And then you started writing little notes on the cup sleeves.

You’re going to ace that exam.

Try to get some sleep, okay?

The best things are headed your way.

The first time she looked up and smiled, really smiled, you thought your knees might give out. You couldn’t stop yourself from doing it every time. Just so you could see that damn smile.

It turned into a ritual. She’d tease you about how you were going to get fired for giving her free coffee, and you’d tease her about her catastrophic caffeine dependency. The banter settled into something easy, something you looked forward to on the long, slow mornings.

You never expected her to make the first move. She just seemed too confident, too polished, out of your league.

But the week before the semester ended, she waited until your back was turned, then slid a napkin across the counter with her receipt. You picked it up, expecting her usual scribbled thank-you.

Instead, in her loopy handwriting, it read:

If you ever want to stop giving me free coffee and maybe have dinner instead, call me. - Jackie <3

Below it—her number, underlined twice.

When you looked up, she was already at the door, her cheeks pink but her chin lifted like she wasn’t about to second-guess herself.

You still had that napkin. Pressed flat in an old recipe box in the pantry. A reminder of the first time you realized that sometimes the most unexpected things could take root in the quiet places.

You turned back to the counter, pressing the heel of your palm into the dough, feeling the softness give way beneath your hands. The afternoon was so peaceful you almost didn’t hear the front door click open, or the familiar shuffle of Jackie’s shoes as she toed them off in the entryway.

A moment later, her arms slipped around your waist, warm and solid, and you felt her sigh against your back. She pressed her forehead into your shoulder, her breath soft on your neck.

“God,” she mumbled, her voice muffled in your sweater. “I think today was a year long. My seniors can’t tell a Baroque cherub from a Gothic arch, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m the problem.”

You smiled, resting one flour-dusted hand over hers. “You’re not.”

“I might be.” Her voice was sleepy and a little hoarse, but even so, you could feel the affection thrumming under her exhaustion. She nuzzled deeper, as if she could just melt into you right there by the counter. “I swear, if I hear one more kid say ‘I don’t know, it’s old’—”

A high, delighted squeal from the yard cut her off. She went still for half a second, and then something in her…some small, tired place, lit up.

She lifted her head, eyes bright again. “That,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “is what I’ve been waiting for all day.”

She turned back to you to grab your face gently and she paced an intentionally featherlight kiss on your lips. You smiled brightly at her.

She gave you one more peck before you watched her slip out of your arms and cross the kitchen, her exhaustion already dissolving. She pushed the back door open, the screen creaking, and stepped into the sunlight with her hair tumbling loose from its clip.

“Mama’s home!” she called, her voice lifting into the soft air.

The children’s shrieks rose in answer, and you watched as Josh dropped the soccer ball and Lilly barreled straight into Jackie’s waiting arms.

For a moment, the house was still again. But it was a different kind of stillness—one filled with laughter and the easy certainty that this was exactly where you were all meant to be.

From the doorway, you watched Jackie slip right back into her old rhythm, like she’d never left the soccer field all those years ago. You knew she played soccer in high school. But she never wanted to talk about it.

Her past was a heavy topic. Before California…BC Jackie, as she would call her past was something she would often say was dead. “That was BC Jackie, baby. That Jackie is dead.”

You knew enough, plane crash, survival, deaths. You never pressured her for more than what she told.

But seeing her like this, it was like seeing a younger much more light Jackie come back to life in front of you. It was a treat to see BC Jackie come back even for a moment. She crouched down in front of Josh, one hand on his shoulder, her expression focused but bright.

“All right, big guy,” she was saying, her voice lifting just enough for you to hear. “You’ve got to look where you want the ball to go, not just at your feet. Watch—”

She took a few steps back, her work flats kicked off on the porch, and demonstrated a pass with the edge of her foot, her ponytail flying over her shoulder. Josh watched with wide eyes, already trying to mimic her movement.

It made something soft bloom in your chest—watching her be both teacher and mother in the same breath.

Then you felt a gentle tug at your pant leg.

You looked down to find Lily, all wispy curls and dimpled hands, peering up at you with Jackie’s exact hazel eyes. She wiggled her nose—just like Jackie did when she was thinking hard, and the sight made you melt in a way you never quite got used to.

“Hi, bug,” you said, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Getting bored with all that soccer?”

She nodded solemnly, her gaze drifting to the counter where your blueberry pie was cooling on a wire rack.

“Can I taste?” she asked, her voice small but hopeful.

You couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, you think you can just come in here and steal pie before dinner?”

She nodded again, this time with a grin so wide her nose scrunched all the way up.

You sighed, trying for stern but failing spectacularly. She had Jackie’s face, the same big hazel eyes you fell for, and that had always been your undoing. You wondered if this was how Jackie felt every time Josh looked up at her with your same cautious little smile.

“Okay,” you relented, lifting her under the arms and settling her gently on the counter. “But only one bite. And only if you promise to keep it a secret.”

Lily pressed both hands over her mouth, eyes round. “Secret,” she whispered.

“You have to swear,” you said, lowering your voice like you were conspiring in something terribly important. “On your stuffed bunny’s life.”

“I swears,” she breathed, solemn as a little monk.

You cut a tiny wedge of pie and offered it to her on a fork. She took it carefully, her chubby hands steady. The moment the blueberry filling hit her tongue, her whole face lit up, and she let out a delighted little sigh.

“Good?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Good,” she declared. Then, as if remembering the seriousness of your pact, she clapped a hand back over her mouth. “Shhh!”

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the smell of warm pie and her soft, clean hair.

“All right, little bandit,” you murmured. “Our secret.”

Outside, you heard Jackie’s voice again, laughing as Josh kicked the ball across the grass.

For a moment, you just stood there, holding Lily steady on the counter, feeling like everything you’d ever wanted was right here—sticky fingers, scuffed floors, and the woman you loved teaching your son how to aim for something bigger than himself.

Lily finished licking the last smear of blueberry filling from her lips, her eyes already drifting hopefully back to the pie.

“More?” she asked, tilting her head in that practiced way that always made you weak.

“Oh no you don’t,” you said, trying your hardest to sound firm. “One bite was our deal, little miss. Now go help set the table before you charm me into spoiling your dinner.”

She stuck her bottom lip out, just a little. But when you raised an eyebrow, she sighed—so dramatic—and reached her arms up for you to lift her down.

You couldn’t stop the breathy chuckle that flew out of you. God was she Jackie’s twin.

“Go on,” you said, giving her a soft pat on the back. “You can put out the napkins.”

She nodded solemnly and waddled off across the kitchen, curls bouncing, her little feet slapping the tile. You watched her go, your chest tugging with that familiar ache, equal parts love and disbelief that this was really your life.

You were still standing there when the screen door banged open again.

Jackie came in first, hair escaping her ponytail in damp strands, smelling like sweat and fresh turf. Josh barreled in right behind her, breathless, cheeks red with excitement.

“Mom!” he shouted, skidding to a stop. “Mom! Did you see me? I kicked it so far—like Coach Jorge said—and Mama says I’m getting way better!”

“You are,” you said, crouching to ruffle his hair. “You’re going to be ready for that game on Saturday.”

Josh’s chest puffed out. “I’m gonna score a goal,” he announced.

“Oh, he is soooo ready to kick some butt in the grass this Saturday, Momma,” Jackie chimed in as she stepped closer, her grin bright and a little wicked. She leaned in and kissed you square on the mouth, tasting of sun and sweat and something achingly familiar.

You pushed at her shoulder with a laugh. “And you are sooo ready for a shower.”

Jackie pouted, eyes going wide in mock sadness. “A shower with you?”

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “Absolutely not.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Whyyy not?” she whined, her voice pitching up like a petulant teenager.

“Because,” you said, smoothing a hand over Josh’s hair again to hide your smile, “somebody has to finish dinner and make sure Lily doesn’t sneak more pie.”

Jackie crossed her arms and stomped one foot—just enough to make Josh giggle. “Fine,” she huffed. Then her eyes softened as she leaned in closer, dropping her voice low so only you could hear. “But I expect some extra love tonight when the kids are asleep.”

You rolled your eyes but felt heat creeping up your neck anyway. “Go,” you ordered, pointing down the hall.

She gave you one last smirk before trudging off toward the bathroom, Josh trailing after her still chattering about soccer and goals and grass stains.

And you stood there a moment longer, listening to their voices echo down the hall, the kitchen full of flour, blueberries, and the sweet, perfect mess of your life.

After dinner, the house quieted into that gentle hush you always loved most. Josh had fallen asleep halfway through his bedtime story, sprawled across his comforter with one arm thrown over his stuffed fox. You’d kissed his cheek and pulled the quilt up to his chin, heart soft with the simple rightness of the moment.

Down the hall, Jackie’s voice drifted low and melodic through Lily’s doorway. You leaned against the wall, listening to her read Goodnight Moon for what must have been the thousandth time, her voice carrying that lilt she saved just for the kids.

When she reached the last page, she closed the book with a soft thud and brushed her lips across Lily’s forehead.

“Goodnight, my Lily in the valley,” she whispered.

Lily mumbled something too sleepy to understand, her lashes already fluttering closed. Jackie stood for a moment, just looking at her—the impossible little girl she’d waited years for. Then she turned and eased the door shut, meeting you in the hall.

You didn’t miss the glimmer in her eyes, the way she blinked too fast.

“Hey,” you murmured, stepping forward to wrap your arms around her. You felt her let out a long, shaky breath against your collarbone. “Aw, baby…what’s going on?”

She shook her head, pressing her cheek to your shoulder, her voice thick. “I just… I wish I had more time with them,” she whispered. “I love teaching, I do, but… God, they’re my miracles. Both of them.”

You tightened your hold on her, feeling your own throat go tight.

“Lily…” She drew in a tremulous breath. “Every time I look at her, I remember. How I thought I’d never…how the doctor said I couldn’t…”

Your eyes drifted past her, to the closed door where Lily slept.

And for a moment, you were back in that small exam room, the smell of antiseptic so sharp it made your eyes water. Jackie sitting beside you, her hand clenched tight around yours as the doctor’s voice turned to static. I’m so sorry. The likelihood is extremely low…

Jackie had buried her face in your shoulder and wept like her heart was breaking—and you’d held her, feeling helpless in the face of how much she’d wanted to carry life inside her.

It was why, when she’d looked up at you later, eyes swollen and red, and whispered, Would you…maybe…would you carry our baby?—you’d said yes before she could even finish the question.

Josh had been your first, a boy with Jackie’s dirty blonde curls and your quiet nature. And then, after years of trying and every treatment you could afford, the impossible happened.

Five years later…just when Jackie had finally let herself believe it would never be. She was pregnant.

You could still remember the day she held up the test with trembling hands, tears already spilling over her cheeks. Our miracle, she’d sobbed. Our Lily in the valley.

Now, you pressed a kiss into her hair. “I know,” you murmured, voice thick. “She is. You fought so hard for her to be here.”

Jackie swallowed, trying to steady herself. “I just…sometimes I look at them and I feel like time is slipping through my fingers. Like I’m going to blink and they’ll be grown.”

You brushed your thumbs across her cheeks, wiping the dampness away. “Hey,” you said softly. “You are there for them in all the ways that matter. They know how loved they are. And you are the best mom.”

Her lip wobbled, and she let out a watery laugh. “I hope so.”

“I know so,” you whispered. “They adore you baby.”

She leaned in and kissed you slow, her hands tangling in your shirt. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“For what?”

“For…all of it.” She blinked, her eyes shining again. “For never giving up on this. On me. You could’ve left…I wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving.”

You smiled, your own eyes damp. “Never, it’s you and me forever.” you said simply.

And for a moment, standing there in the quiet hall, it felt like time itself had paused, just long enough for you to remember that every struggle, every heartbreak, had led you here. It felt like the first day of your life all over again.

Like you were born the day you met Jackie Taylor.

Later that night, you lay side by side in the dark, the hush of the house settling like a quilt over your shoulders. The kids were asleep. The dishes were washed. The day had finally let you both breathe.

Jackie had her reading lamp on, the soft pool of light spilling over her face and the pages of her book. You stared up at the ceiling, your mind still reeling from the ache in her voice when she’d whispered I wish I had more time with them.

You thought of how your grandpa used to talk about expanding the business before he passed—how he dreamed of converting part of the southern acreage into coffee fields. Craft brewers are going to be the next big thing, he’d said more than once, eyes bright with the kind of conviction that always made you believe in things.

You’d never considered it seriously. You’d already inherited more land than you knew what to do with, and the thought of adding something else to your plate had always felt overwhelming.

But now, with Jackie’s words still echoing in your chest, it didn’t feel impossible. It felt…right.

You turned your head to look at her. She hadn’t noticed, still reading, her hair tumbling over her shoulder.

“Jax?” you said softly, your voice a little unsteady.

She glanced up, tucking her finger into the crease of the page. “Yeah, love?”

You swallowed, heart tripping. “I’ve been thinking.”

Her brows lifted. “That’s never good.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, but it faded as you searched for the right words. “Remember how my grandpa always wanted to plant coffee trees? To make a little roastery and café on the property?”

Jackie tilted her head, studying you. “Sure. You always said it was too much work.”

“I did,” you admitted. “But…if we did it, if we built it up enough to bring in another source of steady money…I could run the business. And you…you could stay home. Homeschool the kids if you wanted.”

The quiet stretched out between you. Jackie’s mouth parted, but nothing came out at first. Her eyes glistened in the lamplight.

“Would you really do that?” she whispered finally, voice trembling. “For me?”

You reached out and took her hand. “Baby,” you said softly, “if you want to stay home and be here every day…I would move heaven and earth to make it happen. I know the kids would love it. And if it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

For a second, she just stared at you. Then her book slipped from her lap to the floor with a soft thud.

She kissed you hard—sudden, fervent, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. In one smooth movement, she swung a leg over your hips, straddling you as she pressed her forehead to yours.

“Baby,” she whispered against your mouth, her voice cracking, “I love you so much.”

Your hands settled on her waist, heart hammering. “I love you too,” you breathed.

She kissed you again, deeper this time, as if she was trying to pour every unspoken feeling straight into you. You hand held her steady by her waist. Your lips being devoured by the girl on top of you.

“I think now is a good time for some fun.” Jackie mumbles against your lips before pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw.

You let out a long content sigh. Feeling heat rise within you. Tonight was going to be the death of you.

Saturday morning dawned bright and already warm, the sky a clear blue that promised the first true heat of summer. You’d planned to leave earlier, but Lily had insisted on wearing her pink tutu over her shorts, and then you’d needed to grab your files for the meeting.

Jackie had gone ahead to the field with Josh to help him warm up. You could practically picture her there already, setting out his water bottle, fussing over his shin guards.

You balanced Lily on your hip as you spoke with Mr. Reynolds, the coffee bean sourcer you’d invited to come walk part of the property. His truck idled in the gravel drive, dust curling up around the tires.

“Martinez Farms has a strong yield this year,” he was saying, flipping through a weathered binder. “They’re certified organic, too—good marketing angle if you’re planning a craft roasting operation.”

You nodded, trying to keep your mind on the logistics even as your phone buzzed with Jackie’s texts. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. I’d like to negotiate a bulk shipment to get the first rows planted by late summer.”

“Smart timeline.” He shut the binder and extended a hand. “I’ll draft a contract proposal this week.”

“Perfect. Thanks so much, Mr. Reynolds.”

You were just shifting Lily to your other arm when your phone lit up again—this time with Jackie’s name and a string of exclamation points.

They bumped the game up. 10am start. WHERE ARE YOU?

You felt your stomach drop. “Shit.”

“Mommy said a bad word,” Lily announced, wide-eyed.

“Mommy’s sorry,” you muttered, already waving Mr. Reynolds off. “I have to run—my son’s soccer game. Thanks again!”

He chuckled as you took off, Lily giggling in delight at every jostling step.

By the time you pulled up to the field, you had barely a minute to spare.

Jackie was easy to spot, her Dodgers baseball cap pulled low, her hair in a messy braid, and the total soccer mom uniform: tank top, sunglasses, clipboard tucked under one arm. She spotted you at once, her face brightening in relief.

“Hi, baby,” you panted, slowing only enough to set Lily down.

Lily squealed and bolted straight into Jackie’s arms. Jackie scooped her up effortlessly, pressing a kiss to her cheek before looking back at you.

“You made it,” she said, grinning. “Barely.”

You handed her a cold Gatorade. “I know, I know. What’d I miss?”

“They bumped the game up because the other team had a scheduling conflict,” Jackie said, cracking the cap and taking a long drink. “Josh is over there warming up-he’s so nervous he’s about to vibrate out of his little cleats.”

You laughed, then leaned in and kissed her on the mouth, quick and warm.

“I think we’re going to go with Martinez,” you said as you pulled back, still catching your breath. “Just saw their crops and they look great. I’m going to negotiate a bulk order so we can start planting ASAP.”

For the smallest moment, something flickered in Jackie’s eyes, like a flinch she tried to swallow. That happened a lot. Small things like names seemed to trigger her. Like they carried weight or meaning that was too deep not to have a reaction.

You learned to ignore the flinch, or the fear. She never could talk about it. You knew it had to do with her past. Just as quickly as it came it left. You watched as she squared her shoulders and smiled so wide it nearly undid you.

“God, I’m so excited,” she breathed. “I’ll talk to the school on Monday about the timeline of me leaving.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, studying her face. “You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure,” she said, voice fierce and a little raw. “This is our dream. All of it.”

Lily tugged at her hat brim, trying to get her attention. Jackie shifted her on her hip and kissed her temple.

And for a second, the whole world seemed to slow—the dusty soccer field, the kids shouting and running drills, the sun warming your shoulders.

The game was everything Josh had hoped for. He darted up and down the field, determined and red-cheeked, Jackie shouting encouragement with all the fervor of someone who’d once lived for this sport.

“Stay on the ball, baby! That’s it—good hustle!” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Lily bounced in your lap, clapping each time everyone else clapped. Including when the opposing team scored. She was everyone’s fan today. You glanced over at Jackie, her eyes locked on Josh with that laser focus and bright, almost desperate pride.

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged on your lips seeing her in her element.

When the final whistle blew, Josh’s team erupted in cheers. He threw his arms in the air, beaming across the field, and Jackie actually teared up.

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You’re such a soccer mom.”

“Shut up,” she sniffed, wiping her cheek.

The stands began to empty. Parents herded their kids toward snack tables and coolers. You were smoothing Lily’s curls back from her face when you noticed her little hand waving.

“Hi!” Lily chirped brightly.

You glanced up, expecting to see another classmate’s parent.

Instead, a woman stood just below the bleachers, blonde curls frizzing in the heat, her round glasses sliding down her nose. Her blue eyes were wide with astonishment.

“Jackie?” she said, her voice bright with a kind of delighted disbelief.

Beside you, Jackie went utterly still. The color drained from her face so fast you felt your own stomach pitch.

You’d never seen her look like that. Not when your water broke, and she raced to you to the hospital. Not when she went into labor. Not even when she’d held Lily for the first time, hands shaking.

“Um,” you began carefully, shifting Lily on your lap. “Hello? Are you…a friend of Jackie’s?”

The woman didn’t look at you right away. Her eyes stayed pinned to Jackie, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real. Finally, she blinked and turned, offering a too-bright smile.

“Uh—yes. We knew each other in high school.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly. “I’m Misty.”

Your heart knocked hard against your ribs.

Misty.

That name was familiar. You shot Jackie a sidelong look, hoping she’d offer something, some sign you were overreacting. But she was pale, lips parted, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Jackie didn’t talk about high school. She’d told you bits and pieces over the years—enough to understand there’d been a plane crash on the way to nationals. Enough to know she hated the survivors, every last one of them.

Enough to know this woman standing here had to be part of that.

Trying to keep your voice steady, you shifted Lily higher on your hip. “I—I’m Jackie’s wife,” you said gently. “And you are…?”

Misty’s gaze finally slid to you, blinking as if just realizing you existed. “Misty,” she repeated. “It’s…wow. Jackie, I didn’t—”

“Why the fuck are you here, Misty?” Jackie snapped, her voice low and flinty.

The moms in the row below turned to look, their brows knitting. You felt Lily tense against you, her little hands fisting in your shirt. “Mama said a bad word.” Lily whispered loudly in your ear.

“And Mama is sorry.” you whispered back to Lily, forcing a small smile.

You cleared your throat. “Ladies…maybe we should talk around the back of the bleachers?” you suggested, already rising.

Jackie shook her head sharply. “No. This conversation won’t be long.”

Her eyes were locked on Misty with a fury that made your skin prickle. Misty’s mouth parted in confusion, but then somehow…she smiled. Small and almost pitying.

“I just wanted to see if it was true,” she said quietly. “You were here. Seems it is. And with kids…and a wife. Didn’t peg you for swinging that way.”

Jackie scoffed, a bitter, humorless sound. “You don’t get to joke with me.”

Misty’s smile faded.

“Now you know,” Jackie said, her voice trembling with rage. “Get the fuck out of here, Misty. There’s a reason I left. I wanted nothing to do with you—all of you.”

Misty opened her mouth, but Jackie stepped down off the bleachers, her face inches from Misty’s, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

“And if you tell the others I’m here,” she hissed, so quietly only you and Misty could hear, “I will personally kill you.”

Your arms tightened instinctively around Lily, a chill sliding over your skin despite the warm air. Misty swallowed hard, her eyes wide behind her glasses. For a long, brittle moment, no one spoke.

Then she nodded, almost imperceptibly, and backed away without another word. You felt Jackie’s hand on your back, steadying herself more than you. You glanced at her, searching for any sign she was okay.

But Jackie’s eyes were still locked on Misty’s retreating figure, her jaw tight, her shoulders rigid with something darker than anger. And for the first time since you’d met her, you realized you might never fully understand everything she’d left behind.

In the shuffle of it all. Josh was begging to go somewhere, Lily was falling asleep in your arms, and Jackie was shell shocked. She had gone almost nonverbal just a quiet nod of her head and a small shaky “No just feeling a little out of it suddenly.” as an explanation to our friends.

You did the heavy lifting in conversations with the coaches and the moms. And when insistently Josh begged to go to his friends house. You decided that’s exactly what you all needed, the kids needed to be taken care of so you can focus on Jackie.

You pulled the truck up to the curb in front of the Adams’ house, where Josh’s friend’s mom was waiting with pool floaties stacked under one arm. Josh barely remembered to say goodbye, too excited about the promise of popsicles and Marco Polo.

You ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. “Be good,” you called after him.

“I will!” he yelled, already halfway up the walk.

When you turned back, Jackie was sitting rigid in the passenger seat, one hand locked in a white-knuckled grip around her seatbelt. Lily was slumped in her car seat behind her, mouth open in sleep, her curls plastered to her damp forehead.

You stepped around to Jackie’s door, easing it open. She didn’t move.

“Come on,” you said gently. “Let’s get some air.”

She blinked as if coming to, unbuckling with jerky hands. The second her feet hit the ground, she reached for you, clutching handfuls of your shirt.

You pressed your back to the side of the truck, your arms wrapping tight around her. She buried her face in your shoulder, her body shuddering.

“Hey,” you murmured, one hand rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. “Shhh. I’ve got you.”

But she couldn’t seem to stop. Her breath came ragged, almost hitching on sobs she refused to let out. Her voice was low, broken, words tumbling over each other in a panicked whisper.

“…the wilderness…the smell…it’s like being there again…if Misty found us, the others can too…oh God…oh God…the wilderness keeps following…”

You felt your own stomach clench. You’d never seen her like this. Never.

You cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer, your lips against her temple. “Baby, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. They can’t hurt you. Not when I’m here.”

She went completely still. You could feel her heartbeat thudding against your chest, wild and desperate. Then she pulled back just far enough to look you in the eye, her face streaked with tears, her mouth trembling. Like the thought of them hurting you became as real as can be.

“I can’t lose you,” she said, her voice hoarse, almost a rasp. “I fucking can’t lose you. I would die. I—I—”

“Hey,” you whispered, your thumb brushing the wetness from her cheek. “Jax. Look at me.”

Her eyes clung to yours, huge and terrified.

“You’re not losing me,” you said, steady and sure, even though your own throat was tight. “I’m not dying. They can’t hurt you. Whatever that was—whatever it is—it won’t happen again.”

But you could see she wasn’t convinced. She looked like she was about to splinter into pieces. So you took her face in both hands, pressed your forehead to hers, and kissed her gently.

Then you pressed your lips to the space just above her brow, the place that always made her breathing slow. You held her like that, her body trembling against yours, her hands fisted in your shirt.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered again, closing your eyes. “I’m right here. You hear me?”

She let out a shaky breath, and finally—finally—you felt some of the tension start to ease from her shoulders. She melted into your hold, her cheek resting over your heart, and you stayed there, under the bright Saturday sky, trying to be enough to steady her.

And in that moment, you swore you’d never let her face any of it alone. But more than that you couldn’t help but wonder. What the fuck happened when that plane crashed?

And how could a group of women revert your strong, loving, full of life, joyful wife…into a trembling anxiety induced state? And what the fuck does she mean the wilderness keeps following?

#jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor #yellowjackets #jackie yellowjackets #misty quigley #yellowjacket au #yellowjackets jackie #yellowjackets x reader #if i were to continue this #the wilderness would sooooooooooooo haunt their family #Also anxious jackie 😭#ugh #i want to give her only the best of life #protect my sweet angel

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