Teach Me, Jake

Chapter Twenty

Alice wasn't expecting the call.

It was a Wednesday afternoon gray sky, low hum of rain outside, the kind of day meant for quiet things.

And since things with Alex ended, she spent her days studying.

She was halfway through editing an essay when her phone buzzed across the table, screen lighting up with a name that pulled her straight back into a different version of her life.

Janine Bennett.

Alice hesitated before answering, half expecting it to be a social call maybe a new book recommendation or an invitation for dinner. But the tremor in Janine's voice wasn't casual.

"Hi, sweetheart. I'm so sorry to call out of the blue. I just-well, Charles had a little scare this morning."

Alice straightened instantly. "What kind of scare?"

"Oh, he's fine now," Janine said quickly. "It wasn't a heart attack or anything like that. Just... chest pains. They're keeping him overnight for observation, you know how hospitals are." A soft exhale. "Jake's stuck in meetings out of town, and Noelle's trying to get a flight back from Chicago. I just didn't want to sit here alone."

"You're at the hospital now?"

"Yes. St. Claire's. Don't feel obligated, darling. I know you've got school and everything."

"I'm coming," Alice said, already reaching for her coat.

St. Claire's smelled like antiseptic and quiet panic.

Alice found Janine in the cardiac observation wing, sitting in one of those molded plastic chairs with a paper cup of coffee clutched in both hands.

She looked up when Alice appeared relief softening her features immediately.

"Oh, honey," she said, standing to hug her. "You didn't have to"

"I wanted to." Alice squeezed her tight. "How is he?"

"Grumpy," Janine said with a faint smile. "Which means he's probably fine."

Charles Bennett, even in a hospital gown, managed to look vaguely like a CEO mid-negotiation. He was propped up in bed, scrolling through his phone, glasses sliding down his nose.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Martin," he said when Alice stepped in. "You didn't come to see an old man, did you?"

"Obviously," Alice said. "I heard there was a dramatic fainting spell and thought I'd get a front-row seat."

Charles chuckled. "You missed it by an hour. And it was more of a dignified slump."

Janine rolled her eyes. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, Charles."

He reached for her hand, his voice softening. "I'm fine, Janie."

Alice smiled, the familiar warmth of their banter easing the tension in the room. She stayed a few hours, running coffee errands, fielding calls from Noelle and Jake, updating her own parents.

It was almost comforting being there, helping, feeling useful. Like she still belonged to that rhythm their families had always shared.

It was nearly eight when Jake arrived.

He looked tired and different.

A charcoal coat, disheveled hair, the faintest crease between his brows. His eyes swept the hallway until they found her, and for a second, something quiet passed between them.

"You came," he said, stepping closer.

"Of course," she said. "Your mom called."

He nodded, exhaling slowly. "Thanks for being here."

There was a pause too long to be casual, too short to mean anything safely defined.

Alice just nodded back. "He's okay. Bored, mostly. Complaining about the Wi-Fi."

"That sounds like him," Jake said, smiling faintly.

They went into the room together. Charles lit up at the sight of his son, immediately launching into a monologue about the incompetence of hospital food.

Jake dropped into the chair beside him, falling into easy banter, but Alice noticed the way his hand gripped the armrest a little too tightly when Charles coughed.

Afterward, when Janine suggested getting some air, Alice joined her. The hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights humming above them.

"You two," Janine said softly, glancing at Alice with a knowing smile. "Still dancing around each other."

Alice blinked. "We're not-"

Janine chuckled. "Relax, honey. I didn't mean that. I just meant you care. He does too, even if he's terrible at showing it."

Alice opened her mouth, then closed it again. "He's... complicated."

Janine smiled knowingly. "He always has been."

They sat in silence for a moment, watching a nurse push a cart down the corridor. Then Janine sighed, squeezing Alice's hand. "You're good for him, you know. You always have been."

Alice didn't know how to answer that.

Jake found her later, sitting in the hospital café with a half-empty cup of tea and a paperback she wasn't really reading.

He slid into the seat across from her. "Mom went home. Said to tell you she loves you more than she loves me."

Alice smiled faintly. "She says that to guilt you into visiting."

"It works."

They were quiet for a beat. Then Jake leaned back, studying her. "You didn't have to come here."

"I wanted to."

"Still," he said, softer now, "it means something."

Something in her chest tightened. "He's family," she said.

"Yeah," Jake said. "He is."

And yet, the way he looked at her it wasn't the way someone looked at family. It was something else entirely. Something he tried to mask by glancing away, tapping his thumb against his coffee cup.

"You look exhausted," she said.

He smirked. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true."

That earned her a faint laugh the kind that loosened something behind his ribs.

When Charles finally dozed off, Jake insisted on driving her home. The rain had picked up, turning the city into a blur of reflections.

For most of the drive, they didn't speak. Just the hum of the tires, the quiet static of the radio. At a red light, Jake glanced sideways.

"You've been... okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, too quickly. "Busy. You?"

He shrugged. "Trying to be."

It wasn't much, but it was honest and that honesty hung between them, fragile and necessary.

When they pulled up to her dorm, she hesitated before getting out.

"Tell your dad I'll stop by tomorrow," she said. "And... take care of yourself, okay?"

Jake gave a small nod. "You too."

She stepped out into the drizzle. He waited until she was inside before driving away but she could feel his headlights lingering, even after the car turned the corner.

And later that night, when she finally crawled into bed, Alice realized her heart felt louder again.

Not from fear.

But from everything she still hadn't said.