Chapter Text
Jade lies back against the pillows, thinking over the whirlwind of the day. The house is still, the town ominously quiet outside. His heart flutters oddly in his chest—he can’t tell if it’s the coffee or something else, but he feels oddly energized, as if he’s accomplished more today than in the past week. His mind struggles to catch up, the events of the day still spinning in circles. His meeting with Boyd, for one, left him with more questions than answers. The arrival of the coffee shop has provided a possible new hiding place, a safe haven—but the sheriff doesn’t trust it. Jade can’t say he does either. Still, he brought some coffee beans home to examine, and if he ended up brewing a whole pot of pour-over, well, who’s going to judge him?
The smell of coffee lingers in the house, even now. The lower level still carries the rich, earthy scent from the afternoon, which filled the rooms while dinner was being made. Julie and Ethan’s voices had blended with the sounds of pots and pans, a symphony of domestic life Jade never expected to find so comforting. They ate together, and for once, there were no ‘what ifs’ or ‘could haves’ hanging in the air. After dinner, he helped clean up, sipping the last of the coffee and passing the dishes to Tabitha, who dried them with a quiet smile. It was almost normal, and Jade is trying not to let that feeling slip away.
But now, he can’t sleep.
He’s been tossing and turning for what feels like hours. He’s tried everything—breathing exercises (though they only made him startle awake every time he dozed off, feeling like he couldn’t breathe quite right), and even tried to relieve himself the other way, but the result left him with a hollow frustration and a bitter taste of guilt he couldn’t quite shake. Finally, deciding he might as well try to purge the caffeine with some water, he makes his way downstairs. But halfway into the kitchen, he stops.
He’s not alone.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Tabitha asks, her voice soft, the familiar lethargy of insomnia coloring it. She lets the sheet fall back over the window she’d been staring out of, and the kitchen grows darker without the moonlight to brighten it.
Jade shrugs, unsure if she can see the gesture in the dim light. “Well, you know... Some asshole brewed an entire pot of coffee right before dark, and I drank most of it,” he says, stepping toward the sink to fill a glass of water. “I can almost hear the sound of my own heartbeat.”
Tabitha nods in understanding. “Yeah, I was trying to sleep, but I started feeling paranoid—then I remembered…” She catches his eyes, offering a rueful smile, and he matches it with a grim one of his own. “No coffee after five, then. Lesson learned,” she says quietly.
He downs the water in one gulp, setting the glass down on the counter. He contemplates getting another but knows that will just keep him up later. His bladder will be the next problem.
They stand in silence for a moment, the house still, the quiet stretching between them. Jade feels the weight of everything left unsaid. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe it won’t. But for now, it’s just the two of them in the quiet of the kitchen, a strange comfort in the shared insomnia.
“Can’t really blame you for being paranoid given, you know… the circumstances,” Jade says, gesturing vaguely toward the sheet-covered window and the quiet night beyond. “But I think we’re okay for the time being.”
As long as he doesn’t overdose them on caffeine again, he doesn’t say.
Tabitha eyes him for a long moment, then says, “You really mean that.”
It’s not a question, but he answers anyway, his voice softer than he intends. “Of course.” The vulnerability in her eyes makes him ache. She looks so fragile, so worn. Without thinking, he steps closer, his hand landing on her shoulder. The way she leans into his touch, her eyes cast down, makes his heart tighten in a way that would take a much better man not to freely provide her with the comfort and warmth she so clearly needs. He wraps her in a tentative embrace, whispering, “Hey, you’re okay,” he whispers, even though it feels as if he's trying to convince himself.
She rests her head against his chest and he touches her back soothingly. He’s not that good a man, after all, and he can’t say he feels the socially appropriate amount of guilt when he presses his nose into the sweet scent of her hair, seeking as much comfort in her proximity as she’s seeking from him.
“I’m so tired, Jade,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, as if she's holding something back. He tightens his arms around her instinctively, feeling the strain in her body. “Every day feels like we’re running on empty, and I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Jade strokes her back in soothing circles, trying to offer some stability. “You’re stronger than you think, you know. It’s okay to be tired.”
She pulls back just slightly to look up at him, eyes shining as they catch the faint light bleeding in through the blanketed windows. “I don’t wanna lose myself in all of this. I keep thinking about my kids... They need to be okay. I can’t fail them.”
Jade’s heart aches. He holds her tighter. “They’re lucky to have you, you know. You’re doing everything you can.”
She shakes her head, frustration and self-doubt clouding her face. “I just wish it felt like enough. Every decision, every action... it’s like there’s always something more I should have done.”
He pulls him back into his chest as her voice dies down and gently brushes his lips over her hair, as though the touch could ease her pain. He struggles to swallow all the things he wants to say about how she doesn’t have to carry the burden alone, how she’s so brave and strong and has no reason to feel guilty. He offers, instead, a light,“How about we stick to decaf?”
When she chuckles, her voice low and tired, his heart clenches. “Sounds good,” she says, the corners of her mouth lifting just a little.
He holds her there a little longer, both of them silent, lost in the comfort of the moment. But even in the quiet, Jade’s mind races with the weight of everything they’re up against—and with how much he wants to help her carry it all.
-x-
The following morning, Jade is heading toward the kitchen, his mind still swirling with last night’s thoughts, when he hears Jim and Tabitha arguing. The tension is thick in the air, and he feels it before he even reaches the kitchen. He pauses on the stairs, hand on the railing, frozen in place as their voices rise.
It’s not his place to interfere, but Tabitha—he can’t help but care. He’s heard the strain in her voice, and it weighs on him. He stands there, torn between moving forward and retreating. Jim’s anger, Tabitha’s frustration—they’re both so stuck in their positions, neither willing to give ground.
“I’m trying to hold it all together, Tabitha. I need you with me, but it feels like you’re slipping away every day.”
Tabitha isn’t backing down. “Maybe I am slipping away because you won’t let me help! Every time I try, you shut me down!”
Jade’s pulse quickens. This isn’t supposed to be his fight. Then, without warning, his coat snags on the coatrack, sending it crashing to the floor. Jade’s stomach drops as the noise echoes through the house.
“Shit.” The curse slips out before he can stop it, and both Jim and Tabitha immediately snap toward him. “Sorry, guys,” he mutters, scrambling to fix the coatrack as embarrassment rushes in. Jim’s glare is all too clear—the suspicion, the tightening of his jaw. “I was just heading out to the coffee shop.”
The silence that follows lingers uncomfortably until Tabitha speaks, her voice cold and clipped, “I’m coming with you.” Jade senses the finality in her words. Her back is to Jim, her face hidden by a curtain of dark hair, but her posture says it all. She’s done. She needs space. “Let me get my coat,” she murmurs, not even glancing at Jim.
Jim just stands there as frozen for a beat before blurting out, “What about the kids?”
The question, his last feeble attempt at reasoning with her, hangs heavily in the air, and Tabitha’s eyes flash with pure, raw fury. Her jaw tightens, her body stiffening in a way Jade has never seen. Jim must feel it too, because he instinctively takes a half-step back. The silence between them thickens, suffocating, as the weight of unspoken words presses in. Tabitha’s look is murderous—rage from years of hurt and neglect, from being unseen. Jim has pushed her too far, and Jade knows she’s done. The look she gives Jim says everything. This isn’t about the kids. This is about everything Jim has failed to acknowledge.
Without answering, Tabitha grabs her coat and heads for the door, her movements quick and decisive. She’s done—not just with this fight, but with the years of frustration.
Jade watches, taking in the raw hurt in Jim’s face, the seething rage in the wake of Tabitha’s retreating footsteps. For a moment, he wonders how much longer they can keep pretending everything is fine.
It’s clear now—it’s not.
With little else to do, Jade follows her out the door.
-x-
They don’t speak at all on the way to the coffee shop. Tabitha stews in her frustration the entire trip, the tension in her body palpable. She continues to simmer in silence as Jade rummages through every corner inside of the shop, checking each cabinet and shelf until he’s satisfied everything seems to be the same as the day before.
When he moves into the backroom, she follows him without a word, lost in thought.
Jade sets his notebook down and turns to her, his face softening. “Why did you come with me?”
The question catches her off guard. She gives him a glance—half disbelief, half defensiveness—as if the answer should be obvious. “You know why. I needed to get away.” She looks down for a moment. Then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, “I didn’t want the kids to see me like this.”
The weight of her words settles heavily in the air. Jade shifts uncomfortably, the awkwardness stretching between them like a fragile thread. He runs a hand through his hair, wishing he could find the right words to ease the tension. “I don’t want to pry. You have to tell me if I’m overstepping, okay? But if you ever want to talk…” His voice trails off as he stumbles over the words, trying to sound casual. “I’m here.”
She hesitates, clearly wrestling with her emotions. Finally, she sighs, a tired, bitter sound. “I appreciate that, Jade. It's just…” She trails off, her words caught in her throat. How could she even begin to talk about Jim with him when they’re all under the same roof?
Jade arches an eyebrow, leaning against the shelves. The hint of sarcasm in his voice is a defense mechanism, a way to mask the rawness he feels. “What, can’t talk to me without the cover of night and caffeine-fueled insomnia?”
Her lips twitch like she’s fighting back a smile, but the sadness in her eyes is undeniable. Then, as though the words can’t be held back any longer, she says, “We’re getting a divorce.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, Jade can’t seem to find his voice. He swallows hard, trying to keep his cool, holding on to whatever is left of his usual wit. Finally, he offers a dry, awkward chuckle, more out of discomfort than humor. “Well, good luck finding a lawyer out there.”
It’s a poor attempt at humor, but Tabitha lets out a sharp laugh, brief but real, despite the pain behind her eyes.
Jade feels it in his chest.
When the smile fades from her face, he grows serious again. “Look, I’m sorry you’re going through that. I’ve heard it’s… hell.” He wants to say more. He wants to tell her that he gets it, that he understands how hard this must be, but the words get stuck in his throat. Instead, he steps closer, his voice quieter now. “Have you told the kids yet?”
“No,” she says, her voice faltering. “I mean, yes. Sort of. Ethan knows now. Julie… she figured it out on her own. She’s too smart for her own good.”
Jade nods, absorbing her words, the weight of them settling over him. The kids knowing, the cracks in the facade—it must be suffocating for her. They share a look, a silent understanding passing between them.
“That sounds about right,” he says dryly, but with more sincerity than he intends. “She’s trouble, that one. Wonder where she gets it from.”
He trails off, his gaze turning painfully soft as something vulnerable slips into his expression. The affection Tabitha finds there catches her off guard. She blinks like she doesn’t know how to respond. Before either of them can speak, though, the sound of the door chime breaks the moment.
Just like that, they step away from each other. Jade heads for the door.
“Who’s there?” he calls out, glancing outside.
“Hey, man.” From across the counter, Randall flashes him a casual smile. “Heard you had good coffee here.”
“Well, you heard right,” Jade replies, the moment he and Tabitha just shared coming undone piece by piece. Before he walks out, Jade glances back at her for a moment longer, like he wants to say something more but doesn’t know how.
Tabitha offers him the smallest of nods—an acknowledgment that they shared something, and now it’s time to see what the hell Randall wants with Jade. He should do, that, yeah, but he can’t take his eyes off of her as she walks past him and out of the backroom.
Randall looks between Jade and Tabitha like he has just figured out something hilarious. “Oh, I didn’t realize you had company,” he says. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I was just leaving,” Tabitha says quickly. Jade raises his eyebrows.
“Are you sure?” Concern creeps into Jade’s voice. He’s still unsure whether she’s truly ready to face whatever is waiting for her at home, but she gives him a firm nod.
“I’ll see you back at the house,” she says, and before he can say another word, she’s gone.
Jade stands there, watching her leave. When the door closes behind her, he turns to Randall, who’s already smirking. It’s the kind of grin that Jade doesn’t care for, but it’s there all the same.
With his heart still hammering in his chest, Jade brushes it off and asks, “What can I get you?”