Tess~3

COOK POV:

Christmas in jail wasn't really Christmas.

The walls didn't know the date. The lights didn't flicker soft and golden. Everything was grey. Still. Stale. Like someone had hit pause on life and forgot to press play again. The other lads were loud earlier, cracking jokes, trying to make it feel normal- but Cook didn't feel like playing along.

Cook sat on the edge of his bunk, elbows on knees, staring at the floor.

He'd never been one for Christmas anyway — not really. Not after years of it going to hell.

His mum always started strong — like she was trying, for once. Bought a fancy tree, wrapped some presents. But then she'd get wrecked before dinner and everyone knows how that goes...

Eventually, he just stopped sticking around. Started going to JJ's or Freddie's instead.

Freddie's was... warm. Full of people. Food. Music. His mum used to wear those little paper crowns and always hugged Cook like she meant it.

But when she died... Everything changed. Freddie stopped smiling. The house was quiet. He went to JJs Christmas instead, it was easier.

Last Christmas, though... that was different.

That was before all the shit, all the mess. Before he'd even gone near Tess. Before he fucked everything up.

They were all together on Christmas eve — laughing, drinking, throwing crisps at each other. Tess was there, she even drunkenly sang some Christmas songs with all her heart.

Back then, things weren't complicated.

But now?

He glanced at the tiny clock bolted into the wall.

His legs moved without thinking, heading towards the prison phone. He'd memorised her number. He wasn't even sure she'd answer.

He dialled.

Then —

"Hello?"

She sounded...off. Like she'd been crying — or trying not to.

He swallowed. "Hey."

"Cook?"

"Yeah. It's me." He chuckled.

"Oh... Merry Christmas." She said, almost sadly.

"Cheers."

"You alright?" His voice softened.

Silence.

Then, sharp and shaky: "No. Not really."

That was new. Tess never admitted that. Not unless she was hanging on by a thread.

"What's happened?" he asked, brow furrowed.

She laughed — a bitter, breathy thing. "It's so fucking stupid."

"Doesn't sound it."

"It's my dad. He's being a prick."

His jaw tightened. "What about?"

"About stuff, I dunno"

Cook could tell she definitely did know.

"I thought he'd changed, at least a bit. Not for me, but for other people." Her voice cracked.

"I was wrong though. He's still in there...and I told myself I would never let it get to me again, but it did."

Cook winced. "Shit. That's shit." He let out a sigh, not knowing exactly how to comfort her, "Look you helped me with my dad, even though I was a stubborn dick about it but I eventually realised...well y'know."

"Yeah." She sniffed. "I just don't know what the fuck he's gonna do know and it's freaking me out"

Cook rubbed the back of his neck, heart pounding.

"Don't get so worked up, yeah? it'll sort itself out."

She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was lower.

"I just- I can't stop thinking... if he can't handle me now, what happens when it's not just me anymore?"

Cook frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"Just forget it."

"Suit yourself, love. But you can tell me, y'know?"

She didn't answer straight away.

"Cook." Her tone was softer now. Fragile, almost.

"If someone had a problem... like a massive, life-changing one. And they didn't know what to do. Or how to say it. Would you... would you want them to tell you? Even if it changed everything?"

He blinked.

"Course I would."

He could hear her breathing heavily through the line, "Would you help me?"

He stood, pacing the tiny floor. "Is this about your dad or—"

"Don't worry about it." She cut him off quickly

"Tess—"

"Seriously, Cook. It's Christmas and I don't want to talk about this right now. " Her voice was firm now.

"Fine..."

"I - I like miss you you know?" he said suddenly, like it had slipped out.

She went quiet. Then softly, sarcastic again, "So thoughtful."

He gave a tiny, crooked smile.

"Yeah, well. I do."

Another long pause.

"Call more." Tess said quietly

"I will."

A small, sad smile crept onto his face.

"Goodbye, Cook."

He stared at the wall as the line went dead.

Not talk soon. Not Merry Christmas again.

Just goodbye.

He hung up the phone and went back to his cell, jaw clenched.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

----

Tess lay on her side, eyes open, still clutching her phone like it might say something else. It didn't. The line had gone dead. She'd hung up.

She couldn't tell him. She'd wanted to — had even led him right up to it, circling the truth with her stupid, cryptic questions — but when it came to actually saying the words, she couldn't. Didn't know if it was nerves. Guilt. Shame. Maybe all three. It felt like her throat closed up the second she tried.

The room was dim, early morning light trying to squeeze through the crack in her curtains. The air felt cold against her cheeks, still damp from crying. She hadn't really slept, not since last night. Since the fight.

It got loud. Ugly. The kind of argument where you know the damage is permanent. She'd stormed out, walked around the block in the freezing cold before dragging herself home again. She hadn't said a word to anyone. Just climbed into bed and didn't come out.

Now she had to. It was Christmas.

She dragged herself out of bed, pulling on her hoodie and slipping into her Uggs." Her eyes were sore, throat tight, but she opened the door and headed down the stairs.

It used to be her and Michelle racing down them. Pushing past each other to see if Santa had come. Now? She didn't feel like leaving her room at all.

When she reached the lounge, everything was too... cheerful.

Paul was handing out mugs of tea, practically dancing around the room. Michelle and her mum were already sitting cross-legged on the floor, chatting about something in fast, excited voices. Her mum looked up first, eyes lighting up.

"There she is! Merry Christmas, love." Michelle waved, a mouth full of biscuit. "Hey! Come open stuff!"

Tess managed a weak smile and dropped onto the arm of the sofa, pulling her sleeves over her hands. She unwrapped a couple gifts — fuzzy socks, a necklace she'd pointed out once in a shop window, some fancy shampoo and stuff.

Later, they all gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, cups of tea in hand — the weirdest Christmas tradition they had. Years ago, on Christmas eve the living room was 'unavailable' (which Tess now knows meant her dad was probably passed out drunk on the sofa) So her mum moved the TV into the kitchen and watched Elf around the table with breakfast as a distraction. It stuck. Every year since, it was tea, toast, and a movie in the kitchen.

This year, it was Home Alone. The TV was balanced on the windowsill, steam from the mugs fogging it slightly. Her mum was cackling at every gag. Paul was talking about his own home alone experiences and Michelle was going on about the gifts Tony had gotten her.

Tess sat there, lazily stirring her cereal until it was just a soggy mess. She wasn't even pretending to listen.

Her mum finally noticed.

"Tess? What's up with you? You love this one." Her voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge underneath — concern, maybe.

Tess blinked at the screen, then gave a tired shrug.

"Just tired."

Her mum watched her for a moment, then glanced at Michelle and Paul, who had gone quiet too. The energy shifted, just slightly. Like they were all waiting to see if she'd say more.

But she didn't have to.

Her mum's phone started ringing.

Everyone turned slightly as Anna reached across the table, still chewing, and picked it up. "Hello?" she said, pressing it to her ear.

Immediately, she flinched and yanked it away. The voice on the other end was loud. Angry. Slurred.

Tess didn't have to hear it clearly to know.

Anna swallowed her mouthful quickly, already rising from her chair and heading toward the doorway.

"Nathan, calm the fuck down. I can't understand you—"

The phone clattered to the ground, a sharp clink against the tile.

Silence.

Tess's stomach dropped. The look on her mum's face said everything. She didn't even need to ask. She knew what had just been said.

Without thinking, she pushed her chair back. The legs scraped loudly across the floor.

Michelle stood up too, eyes wide. "Tess—?"

Tess gave her one last look — panicked, wordless, pleading — and bolted.

She moved fast, past her mum who barely registered it, past the tree and the torn wrapping paper, past the warmth and noise and cheer.

Out the door.

The cold hit her instantly, but she didn't care. She kept walking, arms folded tight, boots crunching over bits of frost.

She didn't know where she was going.

Anywhere but there.

-----

She didn't go far. Just a few streets over, where the pavement dipped and opened up to the edge of the water.

The town looked cold and hollow — like it was still asleep, blanketed in that early Christmas hush. No traffic. No kids trying their new bikes. Just the occasional distant rustle of wind.

Tess sat on the bench with her knees pulled tight to her chest, chin tucked down into her chest. Her breath fogged in the air. She wasn't crying, but she didn't feel far from it.

Everything felt... loud inside her. Even in the silence.

She heard light footsteps crunching along the gravel path. She didn't even bother looking up until the figure was right beside her.

"When you were little, you used to pretend you were running away." Anna sat down slowly on the other end of the bench. "You packed a backpack and put your little raincoat on, took your favourite toy."

Tess's eyes flicked over to her.

"You never made it past this spot."

She looked away again, unsure what to say — confused, even, by her mum's tone. She wasn't yelling. Wasn't crying. She wasn't furious.

"Are you mad, Mum?"

Anna breathed out through her nose. A quiet, almost dry laugh.

"I had a good ten minutes for the shock to die down after your dad yelled it down the phone at me and you stormed out..." she paused, "so, no. I think enough people are mad at you right now... Ask me again tomorrow."

Tess gave a small, broken smile, then turned away again.

"He really told you like that?"

Anna nodded slowly. "Didn't even make sense at first. Just shouting. I could barely get a word in before he said it clearly,"

Tess flinched.

"I knew something was wrong," Anna added. "After last night. You barely said a word. What even happened, Tess?"

Tess drew in a sharp breath through her nose.

"He overheard Louise and I."

Anna blinked. "Louise knew?"

Tess nodded, guilt spreading across her face.

"You know she got that job at my school? Well I fainted in front of her and some stupid receptionist must've told her when she called the doctors."

Anna looked down, hands twisting in her lap.

"We had a fight," Tess added. "It wasn't the worst I've ever seen him but I guess I'm not used to it anymore."

Her voice was trembling now, all of it catching up at once — the yelling, the silence after, the weight of it. She pressed her forehead against her knees.

"He said I'm fucking it all up."

Anna reached out, placed a hand on her back. Didn't rush her. Just let it sit there, warm and steady.

"Tess..."

"Said it was all your fault," Tess whispered again, and that was when her voice cracked properly. She didn't mean to say it. It just...slipped out. "As if he thought he would do any better."

Anna blinked, eyes glossing. She didn't answer right away — just scooted a little closer.

"I'm sorry you heard all that," she said. "He shouldn't have said it. And I know I wasn't always..." she swallowed, "I wasn't perfect, Tess."

Tess shook her head. "Maybe not but you'd never treat us like he did." Her voice was soft. Choked. "You always tried. I just... I didn't know how to tell you. Didn't know if I ever would."

Anna looked at her daughter — really looked — and realised just how tired she was. How fragile, and scared, and small she suddenly seemed. It hit her all at once.

She wasn't mad. She was gutted.

"You should've come to me."

Tess let out a shaky breath.

"I didn't want you to be disappointed."

Anna blinked. That word — disappointed — landed like a punch to the stomach. She reached out, more insistent this time, wrapping her arms around Tess and pulling her close.

She folded straight into her mother's chest, body trembling, breath catching in uneven hiccups.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I don't know anything anymore. Cook's gone. Everyone's mad at me. I can't sleep. I feel sick all the time and it's not even about the baby, it's just... everything. It's me."

Anna held her tighter, gently pressing her hand to the back of her head.

"It's okay," she murmured. "You don't have to have the answers yet. You don't even have to decide anything today."

Tess's voice cracked again.

"I didn't mean to."

"I know."

Tess clung tighter for a moment, like she was afraid to let go.

"I just wanted someone to say it'd be alright."

Anna's throat tightened.

"Then I will," she whispered. "You're gonna be ok Tess."

Even if she didn't know how yet. Even if she was scared too.

Eventually, Anna pulled back just slightly, brushing Tess's hair behind her ear.

"I still don't think Cook's good for you." Tess gave a weak smile, eyes puffy. Anna added, gently, "Especially now that he's... where he is. You can't depend on him to fix this. You've got to do that part for yourself."

Tess nodded, voice almost a whisper. "I know."

Anna stood, then reached down and offered her hand. "Come on. Let's get you home."

As they walked back through the empty streets, Anna slid her arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

"You don't have to come to lunch if you don't want to."

Tess shook her head. "No... I'll go. Better than sitting around thinking about all this."

Anna nodded, not pushing further. But she looked down at her daughter — really saw her — and felt something tighten in her chest.

She hadn't lost her. But she'd missed the signs- again.

------

It was still when Tess opened her eyes.

Her bedroom was quiet. The air felt heavier than usual — cold, stale. Katie was curled up beside her, snoring softly with her face half-buried in the duvet, mascara faintly smudged under her eyes.

On the floor, Panda was out cold on a nest of cushions and a blanket Tess had chucked down in the middle of the night, one arm flopped over her head, tights ripped and shoes still on.

Tess didn't feel tired. Just worn out in that strange, permanent way she had for the past few weeks. Even when her body stilled, her brain kept moving — dragging her thoughts through all the same circles.

She stared at the ceiling for a while, fingers absently tracing the edge of her pillow.

Last night had been chaos.

Panda had been wailing for hours. About Thomas. Again. She'd spotted him dancing with someone at the club and that was enough to unlock the floodgates.

They'd barely made it past the second round of drinks before she was sobbing into Katie's shoulder and slurring dramatic threats about "never speaking to him again" and "burning his stupid hat." Katie had tried to reason with her, Tess had passed her napkins, and the night sort of collapsed from there — them leaving the club early, Panda getting chips and crying in the queue, Katie bribing a cabbie to take them home while Tess tried to pry her off a bin.

No one had really talked about anything serious.

And Tess had kind of been glad. She hadn't felt like talking.

She turned her head slightly, looking at Katie sleeping beside her.

They didn't always stay — but sometimes, on the worst nights or the really good ones, they did. It was comforting. A little piece of normal.

Even if everything else — her body, her thoughts, her whole life — felt like it was spinning out of her control.

Tess carefully peeled herself out of bed, tiptoeing over Panda's tangled limbs, wincing every time a floorboard groaned.

Tess treaded downstairs, bare feet cold against the kitchen tiles.

She moved on autopilot — kettle filled, water poured, a couple slices of toast dropped into the toaster with a tired clunk. Her eyes stung. Her stomach felt weird. Not quite nausea, not hunger either. Just that dull unsettled buzz she'd grown used to waking up with.

As the kettle boiled, she leaned against the counter and stared out the window.

The postman passed by on his motorcycle.

Instinctively, Tess turned and went to the front door. She stepped outside, the air sharp against her bare arms.

She crossed the garden slowly, arms wrapped around herself.

Then she saw someone standing on the street corner..

At first, just the shape of a woman — tall, slim, pacing a little. But as she got closer, the face came into view.

It was Louise, walking slowly down the pavement, squinting at house numbers.

Louise's eyes caught hers, and her expression shifted — awkward. Apologetic.

"Tess," she said, voice low but not unsure.

Tess didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not bothering to hide the edge in her voice.

Louise looked up, startled, then gave a small, uncertain smile. "I'm glad you came out when you did. I wouldn't have found your place otherwise."

Tess crossed her arms, hugging the oversized hoodie around her. "Did my dad send you?"

"No," Louise said gently. "He doesn't know I'm here."

Tess looked her over. She wasn't dressed up. Just in jeans, trainers, an old coat buttoned wrong. Like she'd left the house in a rush, still figuring out what she wanted to say.

"I just wanted to apologise," Louise added. "For the other night."

Tess let out a sharp breath. "Why are you apologising for him? You didn't do anything."

Louise hesitated. "I... didn't stop him either."

"You couldn't have," Tess snapped. "No one can, when he's like that."

Louise nodded, quietly.

"I get if you don't want to talk," Louise said, her voice low. "But I didn't like how it ended. I didn't like the way he spoke to you. And I didn't like what it brought out of him."

Tess shifted her weight, scowling toward the ground.

"He always finds a way to make it your fault," she muttered. "No matter what it is."

Louise looked down at the pavement, then back at Tess. "We had a fight."

Tess's brows lifted. "Because of me?"

"No," Louise said quietly. "Because of him."

Something in Tess's chest tightened. She felt guilty

"I don't know what to do anymore," Louise admitted. "And I'm not asking you to have the answers. But... I don't want this to be how things are between us. I care about you."

Tess's jaw twitched. She didn't trust herself to speak yet.

"I didn't come to stir anything," she said. "If you want me gone, I'll go. I'll leave the job too, if it makes anything easier at school. You've got enough going on."

"No," Tess said quickly. "Don't do that. Don't let him take that away too."

Louise blinked, surprised.

"You're... good at it," Tess muttered. "People actually like you."

Louise gave a half-smile.

"Look... I don't know how he found you. I don't know what he did to deserve someone like you. But I'm glad he met you." Tess added, surprising even herself.

"If he never met you then who knows where he would be right now... he wouldn't have changed so drastically because that man you married is not who he used to be." Tess sniffed

Louise's face softened. "I know."

"But that version came out the other night," Tess said. "At Christmas. Just..." she swallowed, "His voice. That mood. That thing he does, makes you feel- feel like..." Tess couldn't finish her sentence

"He never really told you what happened with us, did he?"

Louise paused. Then shook her head slowly. "I'm starting to think not... at least, not all of it."

Another pause. Then Louise asked, gently, "Are you going to tell the father? If you know who it is...you do know don't you?"

Tess looked at her for a long moment.

"He's in jail..."

Louise blinked. "Oh." Tess could tell she wanted to say more, but she didn't press further

"He's been calling more often since Christmas... I keep thinking about it. Telling him. But I don't know how."Tess gave a half-hearted shrug

Louise watched her carefully. "You're scared."

"Yeah," Tess said. "I'm scared."

Louise nodded once. "Then maybe you should tell him before it gets worse. Before fear makes the choice for you."

Tess looked at her, really looked, and for the first time in days — maybe weeks — she felt a small wave of something other than panic.

Gratitude, maybe.

They stood there for a moment longer in the quiet morning.

Then Tess nodded toward the door. "You want a cuppa?"

Louise smiled. "God, yes."

---

Tess sat curled on the bathroom floor, knees tucked in, towel wrapped tightly around her. Her hair was still damp, skin flushed from the bath. The steam had faded now, leaving just condensation clinging to the mirror and the quiet sound of the extractor fan humming overhead.

Her phone buzzed across the tiles, the screen lighting up. She knew who it was. He called around the same time every week.

She stared at it for a second. Then picked up.

"Alright, gorgeous," Cook's voice came through loudly. "You're lucky, y'know. I had to wrestle a geezer for the phone today."

Tess gave the smallest smile. Didn't speak.

He didn't seem to notice.

"The food's still fucking tragic. I swear down, the mashed potato tasted like bin juice. And there's this one bloke — Gary or Barry or whatever — keeps challenging everyone to chess. Proper serious, right? Like, intense eye contact and all. I don't even know the rules."

Tess blinked at the floor, silent.

"But I knew he was cheating. Kept movin' the little horse one all the fuckin' time. I flipped the board. Got told off again. Dunno why they even bother givin' us games. Should just let us bare-knuckle box and get it over with."

He let out a laugh at his own joke, then paused. Like he finally noticed the quiet on the other end.

"...Tess?"

She wiped her nose against her knuckle. "Yeah."

"You alright? You been weird lately."

"I've not been weird."

"I mean I know you're probably just missing my handsome face," He softened it with a cocky grin she could hear through the line. "But that's no reason to go all... you know, loony on me."

No laugh. No reply.

A pause.

"...This about that weird shit you were on about a few weeks ago?" he asked, voice dipping serious now. "That, uh... 'life-changing' problem?"

Tess didn't answer.

"...Yeah," she said finally. Barely more than a whisper.

Cook exhaled. "So tell me."

"I don't know if I can."

"Try."

His voice was softer than she expected. Not mocking or sharp. Just... open.

Tess's breath caught.

It was like opening a door she'd kept nailed shut. Everything flooded in at once — the guilt, the fear, the way her hands had started shaking again. Her voice came out cracked, hoarse, on the edge of breaking.

"I just... I don't know how to say it without sounding mental. Or making it worse. Or like it's your fault. It's not. Not entirely."

Her fingers twisted into the edge of the towel.

"I wasn't gonna tell you, at first," she went on, words tumbling out. "I didn't even know if I should. Or if I wanted to. And I kept going back and forth and thinking like... maybe I can handle it on my own, maybe that's better for everyone. Maybe you don't even wanna know. You've got your own shit going on—God, obviously—and I didn't wanna pile it all on, y'know? Didn't wanna be that person."

Her voice cracked on the last few words. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, choking on it. "I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't... I didn't want it to be this way. I should've been smarter. I should've been thinking—fuck, I thought I was better than this, but now everything's just completely fucked and I don't know what to do."

A beat of silence.

"Tess," he said, more alert now. "What are you saying?"

She covered her face with one hand. Her chest hurt. Her heart was thudding somewhere in her throat.

"I'm scared," she whispered. "I'm saying I've never been more fucking scared in my life and I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know how to tell you. It's just you, and you're the only person I should be able to tell."

"Tess—what happened?"

The words were nearly too soft to hear, but they still left her throat aching as she finally said it. One breath. Soft. Flat. Final.

"I'm pregnant."

Silence.

A dead, dragging kind of silence.

"...Are you fuckin' serious?" His voice sounded different. Tighter.

She nodded before she remembered he couldn't see her.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, voice cracking open. "I'm really fucking sorry, I didn't wanna drop it on you like this, I just— I didn't know when or how or if I should even—"

She could hear the line shifting, movement, static. Something brushing against the mic. But he wasn't answering.

And then— BANG.

Tess flinched. Her body curled in instinctively. On the other end, something crashed — sharp and metallic. The phone, maybe. A table. She couldn't tell. Voices echoed behind the noise, low and scrambled and too far away to make out.

"Cook?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Can you say something?"

Nothing.

No voice. No breath. Just the sound of her own heart thudding wildly in her ears.

Then—

Call ended.

She stared at the screen. Blank. Dark. Silent.

For a second, she thought maybe it had cut out. A bad signal. A glitch. Something simple. Something fixable.

But she knew.

Tess stayed there, still as stone. The towel slipped halfway off her shoulder, skin damp and cold, but she didn't move. Couldn't.

She'd told him the truth.And all she got back was silence.