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She's barely been home since Jay left. It just doesn't feel like home anymore, and being there makes her sick. Working the human trafficking case was easier. It still formed a knot in her stomach, but at least she could handle this knot. There were solutions and ways out of this knot.
Not like the knot formed by Jay's absence.
They could still text daily (usually just some sort of greeting or wish goodnight) and called each other about every other week (even if they were vague calls meant to mask each of their own terrors), but it wasn't a solution to Hailey's pain. She ached to feel Jay wrapped around her in their bed and his presence in the bullpen. Her hand itched to hold onto something when she drove, and her voice seemed to grow hoarse at its lack of use. She felt like her body was falling apart just like her heart.
Quite possibly the best and worst thing that happened to her in November was closing Sean's case. Nailing him and bringing justice to Abby and the countless other victims lifted a weight off her shoulders. However, that weight just seemed to land in her apartment.
No longer did she have an excuse to avoid the home she once shared with Jay. Now, she needed to actually spend time there.
Her first night there was spent unapologetically crying in the shower. Whether it was relief at the case closing or her frustration at Jay, she wasn't sure. It didn't exactly seem to matter: crying tired her out and she was actually able to fall asleep rather easily on the couch.
Over the next few nights, she slowly worked her way into bed until she was finally able to be asleep by midnight, curled up in her blankets with Jay's hoodie on and his pillow tucked into her side. His pillow certainly didn't smell like him anymore, but the hoodie still had a trace of his aftershave along the collar, and it helped her fall asleep.
As her time at home went on, she finally decided to go through the mail. There wasn't a lot, but it still needed to at least be organized. She tossed out the newspapers and skimmed through a few ads for clothes, wondering if Jay could receive Christmas gifts because he always went through socks like they were disposable. Kim and Adam had sent a Christmas card of Makayla that she hung on the fridge before recycling a few pieces of junk mail. Underneath a coupon for the local Thai place she loved, she found a handwritten envelope to Jay.
She hesitantly set it on top of a guns and ammo magazine she was saving for him, but couldn't tear her eyes from it. Will surely wouldn't have sent a letter to him here; it could have been from one of his aunts or uncles. If that were the case, they'd probably want him to get the letter.
Before she knew it, she was opening the small white envelope.
They were married; she figured she could open his mail.
A Christmas card was inside with an old-fashioned picture of Santa on the front. Inside that, there was an even smaller envelope covering the message: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Your friends at the American Legion.
She picked up the inner envelope and noticed it was already addressed to the local veterans' center. She opened it to find an index card asking for donations and simply stared at it.
Never in her life could she remember Jay mentioning the American Legion. She tried wracking her memory for some off-hand mention of the veterans' association, but came up blank, so why they were asking her husband for a Christmas donation completely slipped her mind.
Before she could spend any more time on figuring it out, her phone rang causing her to sigh. It wasn't Jay like she was hoping, but rather Kevin asking if she wanted to grab dinner with him. Usually, she'd turn him down, but tonight she decided to actually take him up on his offer with the envelope tucked in her pocket.
"Sorry, I've heard of it, but I don't know why they'd be asking him for money," Kevin said, passing back the envelope and card after having looked at it. He sipped his water and asked, "Maybe they just know he served before? Is that a thing you can google?"
"I don't know," Hailey replied quietly. Slipping the envelope back in her coat pocket, she said, "I don't know a lot of things anymore."
Kevin shook his head and said, "Don't think like that. None of this is your fault."
Hailey closed her eyes. This was why she didn't like hanging out with her friends. They all tried telling her this pain and her missing husband wasn't on her shoulders when she knew that was the opposite of the truth. Maybe Jay had been the one to pull the trigger, but she'd been the one ignoring the fact that he'd been loading the gun. She should have stepped up sooner. She waited too long to attempt to stop him from falling down that rabbit hole he'd gone in before.
It made her sick.
"Can you call him?"
Hailey pursed her lips as she opened her eyes to stare at him again. "I can, but he can't always answer," she replied, "It's…complicated."
Kevin frowned then nodded slightly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Hailey sighed, "I'm good. Everything is fine. I'll just…I'll send the money."
Kevin raised an eyebrow and said, "You don't have to donate to anything you don't want to. It's your money."
Hailey shrugged and moved back toward the door. "Thanks for dinner."
"You sure you want to go?" Kevin asked, "We could have a beer."
"No, I have to go," Hailey said, "Thanks, though."
Kevin watched her as she opened the door and said, "Well, see you tomorrow."
"Of course." Hailey shot him a small smile then waved as she stepped outside. Closing the door behind her, she braced herself against the wind and hurried down the walkway toward her car.
Just as she was in it and about to pull away, she hesitated and reached inside her coat. She couldn't shake the American Legion from her mind, so she spun her wheel in the opposite direction and headed off to figure it out for herself.
Jay never would have just written a check to anyone without knowing who was getting the money. She didn't blame him, but he was one of the most annoying people regarding money she'd ever met. On one hand, it did work out well because he had a lot saved up that they used for their apartment. On the other, he reminded her of an old man, and she teased him once or twice for acting like his father. He'd shot back that she never met his dad before finally agreeing that she might have been right.
It was why she was so confused about the note and donation request. After getting married, they had gotten a shared bank account for bills, and she could not remember ever seeing the American Legion on their list. They were always on the same page with paying rent and car bills, so the fact that Jay had probably donated money without telling her felt off. She knew it couldn't have been more than $20, which made it not a big deal, but she also knew she wouldn't be able to get over it until she figured out what it was.
When she parked her car in the dark parking lot, she was surprised at the amount of cars there. She knew the place was for veterans, but that was really all she knew. She'd never been to an American Legion, she had no idea if it was a place for group therapy or meeting people or even just eating food. Jay had to have known though.
Walking up to the front door with her hands in her pockets, she could feel her heart start to race. This was giving her an insight into Jay's life she hadn't had before, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. She wished she would have known sooner, but she was also grateful to have something to connect her to him while he was gone. It was better than nothing.
The second she was through the door, she could hear people talking and bottles clinking. It brought a smile to her face as she looked around. Through one door was a rather big banquet room with a fireplace and table filled with different plated desserts. Through the other was the source of all the noise.
She walked through that one to see a bunch of folding tables and chairs spread out near a bar. There were several people throughout the room, all of varying ages. Like in the banquet room, there were a few awards and pictures on the walls. An American flag hung in the corner just above the Chicago one. The lighting was rather warm giving the place a cozy feel. She liked it.
"Can I get you something?"
Hailey looked to her left at a woman probably in her sixties leaning over the bar. She hesitated then said, "Actually, I have a question."
The woman nodded and patted the bar.
Hailey smiled slightly then sat at a barstool. She took the envelope back out of her coat and placed it between them. "My husband received this, so I was kind of curious about what this place was. I've never been here, and I didn't think he had either, but I guess I'm wrong."
The woman nodded again and picked up the envelope. "We sent these out to anyone who's a member," she explained before flipping it over. She instantly smiled and said, "I haven't seen him in a while."
"So you know him?" Hailey asked quickly, "You know Jay?"
The woman hummed and said, "He started coming again about a year ago, before that, I don't even know when." Straightening up, she said, "Shelly. You are?"
"Hailey. It's nice to meet you, but I-I'm sorry, I...I need to ask more questions," Hailey replied.
Shelly laughed and shook her head. "Not a problem. Can I grab you a drink?"
"Um."
Hailey bit her lip as she realized the chances of this bar having a red wine were rather slim. She hadn't found it in herself to have whiskey since Jay had left. The smell reminded her of him and the taste would bring her back to the weekend when they got married and all his lips tasted like were the bottle of Jameson they'd shared over the course of 48 hours.
Shelly raised an eyebrow then pulled out a bottle of Jay's go-to bar whiskey. "Am I safe to assume you'd like the same as your husband?" she asked.
Hailey weakly laughed and looked down at the bar top. "Yeah," she said quietly, "But I don't know if I can. I haven't…I've been drinking wine lately."
Shelly slightly nodded then put the bottle back. Taking a deep breath, she walked out from behind the bar and said, "Follow me." She led her over to a table in the corner where no one else was sitting, near a few framed pictures of men in different military uniforms.
They were quiet for a moment as Hailey debated looking up at the woman. She no longer knew why she was here. She wanted to feel closer to Jay and understand him, but it seemed like in doing so, she was hurting herself. Her heart ached at memory after memory that was flooding her system of Jay sitting next to her or across from her at a bar sipping on a beer or a glass of whiskey after a long day. It became something she could depend on most weeks no matter the case. Jay was always willing to listen to her either laugh over nothing or vent about work. He was her person.
Until he wasn't.
The thought of him coming here enough that the bartender knew his drink order even months after he'd left stung. He was coming here on his own, and she'd had no idea.
Prior to him leaving for Bolivia, there'd been many nights where he'd come home late smelling like whiskey, and it was something she never truly accepted. It angered her, filled her with disappointment, and simply upset her. They went from drinking at bars to drinking in their shared apartment to drinking alone, and she hated it. It wasn't fair that he would have rather been alone dealing with his problems than with her dealing with them together. It formed a hard knot in her stomach.
She wished he would have come to her. Again, she couldn't help but think this was partly her fault. She should have noticed and fought for him sooner. She should have fought for their marriage.
Wiping sudden, angry tears from her eyes, she shifted in the chair and shook her head.
Coming here was a mistake. It wasn't making her feel closer to Jay. Instead, it was making her feel even worse about the entire situation.
She was about to stand up, forgetting Shelly and the donation card, to go home and drink the wine she wanted when Shelly put her hand out and asked, "Where's he stationed?"
Hailey paused.
"How'd you know?" she asked quietly.
Shelly sadly smiled and said, "I couldn't drink tequila during any of Pete's tours."
"Any of them?" Hailey breathed, settling back into her seat, "How many did he go on?"
"One when we were dating and two when we were married," Shelly replied, "The first was for two years, second for just over eighteen months, and the third was nine months exactly. It was rough."
Hailey nodded and looked down at her hands. "I can't imagine," she said.
"I think you can," Shelly said gently, "How long has he been gone?"
Hailey swallowed a lump in her throat and said, "Two months. He left at the beginning of October. He's a squad leader in Bolvia. It was sudden and his choice. He thought…he thinks…he thinks this will fix him because-"
"It's black and white?" Shelly guessed. When Hailey nodded, she sighed and said, "That's what Pete always said. He liked that it was simple in that sense. He would say jobs here were too complicated with too many layers to them."
Hailey shook her head and looked up. "I get it, but I don't," she admitted, "I understand that he-they need something concrete, but to just drop everything and leave? To leave our life and…"
Me.
She felt selfish.
Jay enlisting couldn't be about her when it was literally all about him, but then again…Jay leaving without talking to her about it had been selfish in its own sense.
It was too damn complicated to process. She probably should have found a way to wrestle with all those thoughts over the past two months, but it'd been a pain she didn't want to deal with. Instead, she'd pushed it to the side and focused on work, and now here she was struggling with the consequences of those actions.
Maybe it was how Jay had felt before he left. He'd pushed aside his complicated emotions about work and policing until they'd become overwhelming and all he could do was something drastic. He'd felt stuck.
Just like her.
Shelly studied her for a moment then asked, "Do you drink tequila?"
Hailey tried laughing as she said, "I do."
Shelly patted the table before standing up and returning to the bar.
As she waited, Hailey took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over her face. Taking the card back out, she looked at it then glanced around the room. She wondered what Jay thought of this place. He'd obviously liked it if he came often, but she wanted to know what he liked about it: the atmosphere, the bartender, the other vets? Maybe all of it combined?
Shelly returned with two glasses half-filled and passed one to Hailey once she sat down. "Is alcohol a healthy coping mechanism?" she asked absentmindedly while staring at the glass, "Probably not, but it's a good one."
Hailey laughed and took a sip of the tequila, closing her eyes as it burned her throat – something she hadn't felt since Labor Day when she and Jay had done shots on their balcony while watching the sunset. It was a good night and, unfortunately, maybe one of the last ones before clouds had darkened Jay's eyes. She'd actually almost forgotten it until now.
She kind of hated that.
Looking back at Shelly, she asked, "How'd you survive? I don't know if I can do this. I hate it."
Shelly hummed and nodded as she thought over her answer. Taking a sip of her own drink, she finally said, "It took a lot of hard work. I was less angry and upset the third go-around, but I also had a toddler and was pregnant, so I didn't have much time to really have emotions if we're honest. Do you-"
"No," Hailey quietly interrupted, "No. It's just me."
Shelly shot her a sad smile then said, "That's okay. Might leave you feeling more alone, but there was this haunting ache whenever I'd look at my son and see his daddy staring back at me. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone."
"But the first time?" Hailey asked, "How…how did you breathe? We sometimes talk and there's texts, but he's lying and maybe I am too. They're vague. I think we don't want to worry the other which just causes more worry. And underneath all of that is the blame that I still haven't figured out."
Shelly shook her head and said, "Sweetheart, you can't blame anyone for this."
"But it was his choice to go," Hailey argued, the words now boiling within her, "I didn't fight hard enough for him and he didn't fight enough for us."
The anger that'd been growing in her over the past two months seemed to light up in her belly again as she straightened in her chair and gripped her glass.
"He's gone," she continued roughly, "He's out there in the world and I'm alone, and it's either my fault or his. The issue is, I don't know who I'd rather blame. I need him." Her voice broke and she felt her hand shaking around the glass. The words got stuck in her throat where they'd been sitting for months until they could finally break free. "I need him here, and I can't stand that he's not."
Shelly frowned, but the sadness on her face didn't twist in Hailey's gut like it would whenever Trudy or Kevin or Kim would look at her. This wasn't pity.
It was understanding.
They sat in silence staring at each other, empathy and compassion and a deep sadness floating between the two of them. Slowly, quietly, they finished their drinks until Hailey felt like she could breathe again.
Tears had come in the past two months, but the words and the anger? Those were much rarer things. She hadn't felt safe enough or maybe even ready enough yet to share them with anyone. It was different talking to Shelly. She may have experienced the pain years before under different circumstances, but she still experienced it. She could listen and not judge. It was new, and it felt nice.
"You asked how I survived," Shelly finally said softly, "And yeah, drinking and my kid and my family helped, but I tried making goals to get me along the way – kind of like checkpoints. It helped to look forward to something besides him coming home. It gave me a purpose."
Hailey nodded and wiped her fingers under her eyes. "By doing what?" she asked.
"I started lifting weights actually," Shelly answered with a slight smile, "Working toward increasing my dead lifts was good. Every five pounds felt like a win. I actually entered a competition a month before his return date the second time he left, and I won."
"Wow," Hailey said, finally smiling for herself, "That's awesome."
"Yeah," Shelly said softly, "It was nice. It helped that it was something for me too and something for my health. Kind of kept me on track. I'm not saying you have to, but maybe consider something similar. Find a task or a hobby that you could work on that will help pass the time because there is time. Tours are not individual sprints; they're marathons that we all run together."
Hailey nodded slightly. She had no idea what she could possibly learn in the next six months in any of her rare free time, but the idea was nice.
"And you are always welcome here," Shelly said, reaching over to squeeze her arm, "I'm here to listen or pour the drinks – tequila, water, or whiskey when you're ready. Maybe I'll try to get us some wine if you'd like."
Hailey laughed and looked down at her hands. "Thank you," she said softly, "I think I'll take you up on that. It was…I liked talking. Kind of surprised, but also not really."
"Talking always helps," Shelly agreed, "Even if it's not just about this. Don't forget to live your life too. Go out, be with your friends, eat good food, take vacations, be you. Being miserable is not going to make any of this go by any faster."
"I understand," Hailey said, glancing up again, "I can try."
"That's all you need to do," Shelly said softly.
"Thank you, really," Hailey said as she pushed back from the table, "It wasn't what I came for, but I think it's what I needed."
"Of course," Shelly said. She stood with Hailey and grabbed both the empty glasses. "I hope I'll see you soon. We are having a little Christmas party that you're welcome to attend. The food is typically very good since everyone brings a dish to pass. Do you like to cook?"
"Um, I like to try," Hailey laughed, sticking her hands in her pockets. Feeling her wallet next to the envelope, she pulled it out and dug around for a twenty dollar bill. "For the drink," she said.
Shelly scoffed and pushed her hand away. "Half a glass of tequila is not worth twenty bucks."
Hailey smiled and tilted her head to the side. "Maybe not," she said softly, "But the rest can maybe cover Jay's Christmas donation."
"Ah, I see," Shelly laughed, but still accepted the money, "Thank you."
Hailey nodded and stepped back. "How often do you work here?"
"Every night," Shelly said then nodded toward the pictures they were sitting by. "My dad started the place and my husband and I took it over when he died. It's my home away from home."
"Oh, wow," Hailey breathed. She leaned closer at the picture and the men smiling back at her. Again, she felt something shift within her, but this time it wasn't a negative feeling. Now, she felt like she was getting what she came for: a connection to Jay.
"We're a family for everyone, I promise you," Shelly said, rubbing her hand over Hailey's arm.
Hailey shot her a smile and nodded. "Thank you," she said, "I'll be back. I promise."
Shelly smiled back and said, "I'll hold you to it. If not, I've got your address."
Hailey laughed and said, "Clearly."
Shelly laughed with her then said her goodbyes before returning to the bar.
Taking one last deep breath, Hailey glanced at the picture for the last time then left the building to return home with some answers and hope.
"Hey, I'm missing you a little extra today. Was hoping I could hear your voice. Call me if you can? Love you."
Hailey ended her call before plugging her phone in and picking up the photo album she'd dug out of the closet. She'd only seen it once before when Jay was putting away the pictures he'd taken out to show Knox, but he hadn't shown her any of the contents, so she didn't really know what to expect to find inside. It wasn't like the one of his family he kept next to her own in the living room. It was the one he'd filled with pictures from his time in Afghanistan and the one that she remembered existing when she was back at the American Legion.
Part of her felt guilty for opening it without Jay's permission, but she didn't know exactly when she'd ever get that, so she pushed past that twisting feeling and began flipping through the pages.
He wasn't smiling in every picture, but occasionally she could see the light in his eyes she'd been longing for. He kind of looked like the guy she'd first met six years before: a little younger, a bit jaded, and very focused. He knew what he needed to do and was determined to achieve that.
She wondered if that's what he looked like now.
She hadn't received a picture of him or even a FaceTime in weeks. She wondered if he was still growing out his facial hair like he had been at the beginning of November or if he'd decided to go clean shaven like the last time he'd been enlisted. She didn't know which she'd prefer. Maybe the one that made him happy.
There was a picture of him and Knox that she was sure had been removed the year prior. A couple of him and a few kids playing soccer. Many that included Mouse.
Mouse had needed to reenlist. Jay had told her the story a couple years before in a bar. He'd seemed rather down all day until she'd finally convinced him to venture out and get a beer. That's when he let it spill that it was his best friend's birthday and he hadn't heard from him in over a month because he was overseas.
How ironic.
She sighed and moved to put the photo album on her nightstand when a picture slid out onto her lap. Hesitantly, she picked it up, only for the air to get sucked right back into her lungs.
It was of the two of them at her work anniversary party just ten months prior. He had his arm around her shoulder so that she was tucked into his side. She remembered how warm he had felt against her. It'd felt nice after the week she'd had.
Pursing her lips, she flipped open the photo album to the back to see a handful of pictures tucked into the last few slots with a few slipping out. All of these back pictures were much more recent than the Afghanistan ones. They were from Chicago.
With his first patrol partner at what seemed to be a promotion ceremony.
With Erin sitting on his tailgate outside the district.
With Al and Adam in their dress uniforms.
With Kevin and Antonio at Molly's on his birthday.
With her and Kim in a surveillance van in the heat of the summer.
With her and Trudy on the day they told her they'd gotten married.
With her on his couch after he'd been shot.
Of her in the bullpen the night they stayed until 2am while splitting a bag of gummy bears.
Of her making waffles in her old apartment wearing only his t-shirt.
Of her sleeping on his chest.
That one brought tears to her eyes. She had no idea he'd taken it. Flipping it over, she spotted the date and the few tears that had been forming slipped down her cheeks.
It'd been the same night as that first picture of them at her anniversary party. They'd come home and exhaustion got the best of her. She remembered agreeing to watch a movie, but that was it. She'd pulled on her pajamas, sat between his legs on the couch, and promptly fell asleep. He'd been running his fingers through her hair and slipping them along her sides, so it wasn't a surprise that he lulled her to sleep.
For the week after, he'd been more protective than usual. She told him he had nothing to worry about, but he countered with reminding her of how she'd acted after he'd been shot, and it shut her up. He insisted on going for runs with her no matter the time or temperature. At first, she'd been worried that it would distract her, but he wasn't annoying and stayed rather quiet as they ran her usual path, so she grew used to having him. Not to say she wasn't happy when he decided to stop, but that she liked his company.
What she would do to go on a run again with him.
And that's when it hit her.
"Tours are not individual sprints; they're marathons that we all run together."
Kevin had asked her once why she ran, and she really didn't have an answer. Mostly it was to clear her head.
Now it could be more than that. She could run a marathon.
For the first month, she simply ran. It hurt her lungs and the bitter air stung her face, but it gave her something to do whenever she'd get tired of sitting home alone. However, it all reminded her of when she started running the year before: just running.
Within that month, she got her mile down to about nine minutes depending on the day, weather, and even if she was in a gym or outside. She still got bored, though, and struggled to find the fun in it. Podcasts were hard to keep up with, and she couldn't stand when her playlist would end before she was ready to stop or if a slower song came on. She almost missed that week when Jay would run with her just to have some company.
Kevin tried telling her to stop running when she slipped on ice just after the new year, but she refused. She needed to keep going. She needed to run a marathon.
She needed to get through the next six months.
February was just around the corner when Shelly asked her if she'd made her race date yet, and she had to admit that she didn't.
"But what if I can't do it?" Hailey countered after taking a sip of tequila, "What if the date comes and I'm still not ready?"
Shelly shook her head and said, "You will be. Having a date will help. It will make this all the more real. You've been doing a good job so far, you've seemed happier in the last few weeks, but to do a great job, you need a real plan. Come on, take your phone out, let's go."
Hailey laughed slightly and said, "I'm not-"
"Do it."
To her disappointment, the Chicago marathon wasn't happening until October. She sat stunned staring down at her phone. She felt stupid for having assumed marathons happened at least once a month.
Shelly leaned over the bar to look at the phone herself then said, "Sign up for the one in May."
"But that's a half," Hailey said.
"It doesn't matter," Shelly said, "It's a start. A half-marathon will get you prepared for the one in October."
"But Jay will be back before then," Hailey said in a half-attempt at an argument.
"Hailey," Shelly sighed, "When you told me you were running a marathon as your goal, I was so proud of you, and I think you were proud of yourself too. You need this. Hell, if it's in October, then Jay can go watch you cross that finish line. Sign up for the race."
Hailey looked back down at her phone and let out a breath.
Running didn't have to be hard, just like waiting for Jay to come home. She had wanted to do this months before, and Shelly really was right: she was proud of herself for wanting to run a marathon and actually making the effort to do so. On top of that, she knew Jay would be proud of her too.
There was a lot she could do to make it all easier: new shoes, a better playlist, an actual program to follow, a real timeline.
She hesitated for just a moment before pressing her thumb to her screen and signing up for not just the October marathon, but the half-marathon in May too.
With a program to follow and better shoes on her feet, Hailey took the entire thing much more seriously. She gave herself breaks and worked on timing. She created a better playlist that didn't bore her to death and made sure to watch what she ate before heading out.
Her friends joined her occasionally whether it was at the gym or the park when she finished. Everyone was supportive of her journey to feel better. It wasn't a physical journey, but a mental one. Sure, losing weight, gaining muscle, and getting faster were all great benefits, yet smiling more and having a personal reason to wake up in the morning was even better.
Kim told her her smile looked brighter. Adam said her laugh was a little louder. Kevin mentioned once or twice that she looked radiant. Even Dante had an off-hand comment about being happy she was happy. They were her team at work and when it mattered most.
But the person who was most excited for her was Jay.
He downloaded an app on his own phone so he'd get notifications when she finished a run and would then promptly text her how proud he was of her. On Sundays, if possible, he set an alarm so he could run at the same time as her. They'd then call each other once their workouts were done to celebrate another week down. But it was never about him. He understood how important her journey was to remain hers. He just liked having a small connection to her when possible and told her it was fun to have something to do together again. She didn't mind in the least.
He sent her a screenshot as April came to an end of a note he kept with all her times and how she was improving. It was followed up by a video of someone else who had run a marathon with their tips on what to do in the final month. To wrap up his text thread, he sent a video of himself telling her how proud he was of her and how he knew she was going to kick ass in the coming month.
Unfortunately, it was the last she heard of him until the day before the race.
He hadn't known he was going to suddenly get very busy where he was, but it happened and made May almost unbearable. Hailey sent text after text asking for him to reply only to get nothing in return. She tried calling his base just to be met with statements of him being busy. She was told he was alive, but no one ever said he was doing well, and that sat funny in her gut.
It almost stopped her from running the race.
Shelly tried assuring her that maybe no news was good news and that these things happened. She reminded her that this race wasn't meant to be for Jay, but for her. She needed to do it for herself. Her husband was alive, and she had made a commitment.
Thankfully, Jay texted her as she tried meditating twelve hours before her start time. It was short, just an apology with a promise to call her after the race and a quick wish of luck, but it was enough to bring her peace for the first time in weeks. She fell asleep ready to face her challenge head on.
The morning air was cool against her skin, and she wasn't sure whether that was why her fingers were trembling or if it was something more. To combat it, she tried jumping around and shaking her hands. If anything, it distracted her enough and warmed up her muscles.
After five minutes of deep breathing exercises to calm her nerves, she was tapped on the shoulder and turned to see Shelly standing in front of her.
Taking out her headphones, she asked, "What're you doing here?"
"I came to see you off," Shelly replied, reaching out to squeeze her arm, "You're going to do amazing. I'm so proud of you."
Hailey smiled and blinked her eyes quickly against tears that she didn't want to shed. Nodding, she hugged her tightly and whispered, "Thank you."
"Thank you for teaching me about persistence again," Shelly said. She rubbed her hand over her back then stepped back and reached out to adjust Jay's plain black hat she was wearing. "I've been texting Kim, you'll be set every couple of miles with drinks and snacks if needed, but call me if something happens. I will come and get you myself if needed."
Hailey laughed and said, "Thank you. I appreciate it. I know it's just a half, but I'm still nervous."
"Well, it's thirteen miles!" Shelly exclaimed, "You have every right to be nervous. But, like I said, I know you're going to crush it."
"Thank you," Hailey repeated for the umpteenth time just before she heard her group being called to the starting line. She shot Shelly one last smile, debated expressing her appreciation one last time, then shook her head because she knew it'd make her emotional.
Turning away, she lightly jogged through the crowd to get ready to begin.
Miles one through three were filled with loud music and pride in herself. She couldn't believe she was doing this. She couldn't have asked for better weather and wondered if the full marathon in October would be the same.
Kevin and Dante appeared on the edge of the race soon enough with orange slices and water that she quickly accepted. Their cheers brought an even bigger smile to her face as she ran off.
A certain song on her playlist triggered an old memory of Jay just after she hit her fifth mile, and she physically felt herself slowing down. She hoped he was okay and that they could FaceTime each other that night instead of simply calling each other. She needed to see his face.
Shelly was there a moment later offering her a towel to wipe the sweat from her face and a water bottle. Seeing her reminded Hailey of why she was doing this. She couldn't give up. She didn't want that for herself, and she knew Jay wouldn't want it either.
Pain started sinking in around mile seven. Her chest ached from breathing and her feet burned. She pushed through, though, and knew she was over the halfway mark. This wasn't impossible. She could make it.
Kim and Makayla had a sign reminding her of just that at the tenth mile. For a brief moment, as she quickly swallowed a bite of banana, she wondered where Adam was. It seemed weird that he wouldn't have been with them. A younger guy tripped and stumbled into her then, breaking her thoughts about it and forcing her to focus back in on the race.
The emotions she'd felt when Shelly first met up with her before the race started bubbling up again as she neared mile twelve. She was so close to finishing the half-marathon. She'd nearly done it.
Not only did she survive the race, but she survived the last six months. She'd given herself a purpose since November. She had been determined to be a better person and succeeded. Running made her happy by clearing her head and giving her something to focus on that wasn't such devastating pain.
Though the burning sensation in her heels could probably fall into that category.
More and more people lined the streets as she approached the finish line. Everyone was jumping around trying to get their racer to see them.
The second she spotted Makayla's big pink sign that said Hailey is fast!, the tears fell down her cheeks and she ran even faster. She had done it. She ran a half-marathon.
Just as the finish line came into sight, she heard a new voice screaming her name. A voice she'd heard thousands of times in her life.
But it had to have been a dream. The pain had to have gotten to her and she had to have been hallucinating.
Jay couldn't be there.
But then she heard it again and again, and, finally, she ripped her headphones from her ears.
"Hailey! Come on, Hailey! You can do this! Almost there, babe! You're almost there!"
She turned her head to see Jay running alongside the street dressed in his combat uniform and let out a sob, stumbling slightly where she was.
"No, come on!" he yelled again, pushing his way through the crowd to get to her, "Just a little bit longer, you've got this!"
She couldn't believe her eyes or ears, but she nodded and turned back to face the finish line. With tears falling freely down her face, she pushed against any pain she was feeling and ran forward.
Jay was here. Jay was in Chicago. Jay was home.
She could once again hear him breathing next to her as he urged her forward. Occasionally, she felt his arm brush against hers while they ran the last few paces together.
Jay was here at home in Chicago with her. Jay was home.
He was home.
Stepping across the finish line brought instant relief to her system, and she staggered as she tried putting on the breaks and slowing down.
"I've got you, I've got you," Jay whispered before pulling her in his arms.
She sobbed again as he lifted her up and hugged her tightly to his chest. His hat fell from her head when she buried her face in his throat.
Not only did she run her half-marathon, but she finished her real one. She survived Jay being gone, and so did he.
He was here in her arms once again.
"I'm so proud of you, so, so proud," Jay murmured in her hair, "You did so well. Kev said you beat your time. I knew you could do it. I knew it."
Words failed her as she held onto him and prayed he'd never let go. She just dug her fingers into his shirt and breathed him in. No longer did he smell like whiskey and his arms felt bigger than she remembered, but he was her Jay. She knew it. This was her Jay.
The one who liked to surprise her in the shower and with flowers on a random Tuesday. The one who brewed her coffee in the morning and poured her whiskey at night. The one who held on to jackets for much too long and liked to hold her thigh as he drove his truck.
This was her Jay that she hadn't seen in just under a year.
Pulling back from him, she met his eyes to confirm that he really was there and was met with so much more.
She was met with the light she'd been longing for since August. The green of his eyes was no longer dull or just plain gone.
Jay was home.
"I love you," she finally gasped, "I love you so much."
Jay smiled and leaned forward to brush his nose against hers before kissing her with everything he had.
It was long nights in dark bars and early mornings in crisp white sheets. Syrup and pine scented aftershave. Callused fingers and ballpoint pens. Promises of forever and reassurances of love.
Jay was home.
She rested her forehead to his, wrapped her legs around his waist, then set her hands on either side of his face to whisper those exact words, not as a question, but as a statement: "You're home."
Jay smiled and nodded. "I am. I'm home with you. For good."
Another tear fell down her cheek, but she didn't care to wipe it away. People were cheering in the crowd maybe for the racers or maybe for the military couple reunited here at the finish line, but they all fell away into a quiet buzz.
Jay was home. They'd run their marathons, and now they were reunited.
Forever.
It was better than any medal she could ever receive.