Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hailey is running late.

Her boot heels click against the polished airport tiles, each step echoing the urgency tightening in her chest. She adjusts the strap of her bag, fingers brushing the worn leather as she weaves through the crowded terminal. God, she hates airports— the stale air, the harsh artificial lights, the constant blare of announcements that sound like garbled nonsense. For all she knows, they’re announcing her flight is done boarding, but the muddled words are impossible to decipher, sending a fresh jolt of panic through her.

She checks the time on her phone. If she sprints, she might just make it to the gate. So she tightens her grip on her bag and picks up the pace, barely dodging a toddler who veers into her path.

“Jesus,” she mutters under her breath as she sidesteps the tiny obstacle—only to slam into a solid chest. The collision jolts her backward, her phone slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t—” she begins, dropping to one knee to grab her phone. Then she hears his voice.

“Hailey?”

Her head snaps up, her breath catching in her throat. Jay stands over her, his expression frozen in shock—like he’s seen a ghost. Maybe he has. In this moment, she feels half-dead herself, as emotions she thought were buried six feet under come surging back to the surface.

Hailey slowly stands back up and opens her mouth, but no words come out. What can she possibly say to him after all this time?  

Her gaze sweeps over him, taking in the familiar and the unfamiliar all at once. Jay looks the same, but different. His shoulders seem broader, carrying a weight she can’t see, yet his eyes hold a softness she doesn’t recognize. She also notices his hair is a little longer, curling slightly at the ends in a way that seems aloof, like he’d stopped trying so hard.

But beneath it all, it’s still him. Just a little older, a little more tired. Just like she feels.

"I... I can’t believe it’s you," he finally manages, his voice low and unsteady, eyes still wide with shock. "Hailey..." He hesitates, then forces a small, uncertain, almost boyish smile. "Do you… want to grab a coffee or something? I—" His voice trails off, and for a fleeting moment, he’s her Jay again—the man she married, the one who’d flash that charming smile and ask her to grab coffee when she needed a pick-me-up.

Then the buried anger flares up, but beneath it lies something else—something soft she can’t shake, tightening her chest. Maybe it’s the warmth in his voice, the familiar gesture that makes her heart beat just a little faster, as if she’s still the woman he once knew. But that version of her is long gone. 

So her mind rebels, rejecting the lure of old familiarity. No—she cannot allow herself to soften. "I'm late for my flight." The words come out cold and brittle. He doesn’t deserve anything soft from her, not after the way he shattered her. “I have to go.”

She watches his jaw tighten, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe?—flashing in his eyes before he masks it. “Of course.” He steps back, giving her space, as if the distance could somehow erase the tension thick in the air. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.”

An announcement crackles over the loudspeaker, but the words are muffled, distorted, and lost in the chaos, only adding to Hailey’s growing frustration.

“Okay,” she says, her voice tight, but her feet remain glued to the spot. Every part of her mind is shouting at her to run. But her body refuses to move. Not yet. 

“Jay…” His name slips from her lips before she can stop it. She doesn’t know what she wants to say, only that she can’t let him walk away just yet. 

“Yeah?” A flicker of hope lights up his eyes. 

She wants to ask where he’s been, what he’s been doing. When did he get back to the States? What is he doing here in D.C.? A layover? Was he coming or going? Questions swirl in her mind, one after another, each more pressing than the last. But the words won’t come out, stuck somewhere between her heart and her throat.

“Hailey?” he prods gently, his voice soft as he tilts his head, stepping a little closer. 

She inhales instinctively, catching the familiar scent of his cologne—something warm and comforting that takes her back to a time she’s tried hard to forget. The smell stirs something deep inside her, a mix of longing and pain.

“I-I have to go.” Her voice is a whisper now, heavy with words left unsaid.

He nods, but the way his shoulders fall tells her everything. “Right. Take care, Hailey.” He turns before she can respond, quickly blending into the crowd, slipping away just as easily as he did when he walked out on her all those years ago.

Hailey watches him go, her fists clenched tight around her bag, the fury still simmering beneath the surface. She feels like she should be walking away, leaving him behind, but instead, she’s rooted in place, consumed by everything she thought she had moved on from.

Therapy was supposed to have worked. She thought she’d made peace with it all—thought the anger, the heartbreak, had been dealt with. But now, all those feelings come rushing back, circling inside her head like they never left. The frustration, the betrayal, the love. It’s all there, tangled up and suffocating her, making it impossible to take a single step in the right direction.

Her phone buzzes, a reminder of the time ticking mercilessly forward. Her flight. Her future. Everything she’s built since he left. 

She forces herself to start moving, her feet hitting the cold tile of the terminal, the rush of people all around her. Her breath comes faster, heart still pounding with the echo of his face, his voice, his fucking absence. She keeps her eyes fixed ahead, focusing on moving forward to escape from all of this.

When she rounds the corner, she sees her gate just ahead, the last few passengers trickling through the door. She sprints the last few steps, her bag bouncing against her side, and slides into line. The agent scans her boarding pass, and she is the last one in before the door closes behind her.

x

The adrenaline from her encounter with Jay still lingers as Hailey steps off the plane in New York, but as she steps into the crowded streets everything comes sharply into focus. She’s here to do her job, and nothing—not even the ghosts of her past can get in the way of that.

The case she’s working back in DC is far from simple—it’s about vulnerable children, caught in a dangerous web of trafficking, exploitation, and neglect. For months, Hailey’s been chasing leads, and the suspect she’s about to question is the key to cracking it wide open. She’s determined to get the information she needs from this suspect.

After leaving Chicago a year and a half ago, Hailey moved between cities and explored different job opportunities, trying to put distance between herself and the past. Then, by chance, she ran into Isobel Castille, the special agent in charge of the FBI New York Field Office. The two struck up a conversation, and Isobel mentioned a new interrogation division opening in DC that Hailey would be perfect for. Figuring it would be bad luck to turn down the FBI twice, Hailey accepted the offer. Twenty weeks of grueling field training later, she officially became an FBI special agent.

For the last six months, she’s been working as an interrogation expert, diving into high-profile cases. Every day brings something new and exciting, and as the lead agent on this latest case, she’s more determined than ever to see it through.

Walking into the New York Field Office feels like stepping back in time. The walls are still the same shade of muted white, the air still carries that faint scent of coffee and paperwork, and the hum of activity is just as constant as she remembers. It’s like nothing has changed, even though everything is different for her.

She is different.

A few familiar faces greet her, their smiles warm and welcoming. It feels good—steady, like solid ground beneath her feet. For a moment, she lets herself relax, slipping back into old routines as if no time has passed at all.

The interrogation goes exactly as planned. The suspect crumbles under her precise, calculated questioning, and by the end of it, she’s walking out with all the information she needs. The rush of victory is unmistakable, sharp, and electrifying. It’s moments like this that remind her why she chose this path, why she fought so hard to get where she is.

For the first time in a long while, she feels accomplished. Like she made the right decision. For once, she chose something for herself, and it was the right call. The sense of fulfillment lingers as she leaves the room, her footsteps confident and steady.

After wrapping up for the day, Hailey barely has time to catch her breath before OA insists they all go out for drinks. The next thing she knows, she’s sliding into a booth at a dimly lit bar, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the space around her.

“You know,” OA says, leaning back with a smirk, “I still can’t believe you turned us down just to take a job in that fancy DC office.”

Jubal nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Had to go rub elbows with the big shots, huh?”

Hailey rolls her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “You all act like I’m working on Capitol Hill. It’s still the Bureau.”

Jubal shrugs. “Sure, sure. But don’t think we won’t be bragging, ‘We knew her when,’ once you’re running the place.”

Hailey laughs. “My FBI career started here. I’ll remember you... What’s your name again?”

The table erupts in laughter, OA nearly choking on his drink. “Oh, that’s cold!” he cackles, slapping the table.

Jubal clutches his chest dramatically. “Et tu, Brutus?” He turns to OA, feigning betrayal.

“I owe her, you know,” OA explains, leaning back with a smug grin. “Hailey saved my life once.”

Hailey rolls her eyes. “I did not save your life.”

Maggie’s jaw drops. “Wait, what? How come I never heard about that?”

Hailey waves it off. “Probably because there’s nothing to tell. I pushed him out of the way. It wasn’t that serious.”

“Not that serious?” OA’s eyes go wide with mock disbelief. “Bullets were literally flying at my head. You shoved me out of the way and saved my life.” He shakes his head, feigning shock. “I swear, I saw my life flash before my eyes,” he adds, his voice dripping with drama.

Jubal snorts. “Your life flashed before your eyes? What was it? A highlight reel of you coming into work?”

OA points a finger at him, his face mock-serious. “I’ll have you know my life is very complex. I also go to the gym.”

They burst into laughter, Maggie shaking her head as she sips her drink. “Hailey the hero, huh?”

OA sets his drink down with a dramatic nod. “We were all thinking it, but someone had to say it.”

Hailey’s face flushes, the warmth from the drinks mixing with the unexpected praise. She chuckles, shaking her head as she lifts her glass. “Yeah, yeah, keep it coming.”

OA raises his glass, his grin softening. “To Hailey,” he says, his tone turning sincere, “a hero in more ways than one.”

Jubal gives a playful salute. “And to the one who’s too good for us now, working with the fancy folks in DC.”

Maggie grins. “I’m just mad I never got to work with you. But you did kick ass in that interrogation room today.”

They clink glasses, and warmth rushes through Hailey once more, something deeper than just the alcohol. It's not just the drinks, or the jokes—It’s in the way they look at her—with pride, with belonging, welcoming her as a peer. 

Hailey grins, feeling lighter than she has in a long time. “Thanks. And I’ll keep this all in mind… if I can remember your names,” she answers teasingly. 

As the night winds down, they walk out together, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar. Just before they part ways, OA glances at her as if he’s just remembered something. “Hey, how’s your old partner, Halstead? How did he take the news that you were leaving? You were here for, what, a month? I remember the guy calling you a few times a day.”

A memory surfaces, unbidden—the day she told Jay about her first FBI offer. She can still feel the charged air between them, the unspoken words hanging heavy before he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, filled with every emotion they had been too afraid to voice, all the love they had been holding back for so long. In that moment, everything changed. A new chapter began, one she thought they would write together.

But Jay bailed on her, leaving her to write the rest of the story alone.

OA waves his hand in front of Hailey’s face, snapping her back to the present. Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag as she forces the memory away. “Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat. “Jay actually re-enlisted a few years back.” Her voice comes out a little sharper than she intends, trying to push down the flood of feelings that threaten to resurface.

OA raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Re-enlisted, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles softly. “So he’s back with the Rangers?”

“Last I heard he was in Bolivia chasing cartels.” She forces a small smile, keeping her tone even.

Maggie smirks and nudges OA with her elbow. “OA would probably cry if I ever left him.”

OA rolls his eyes but grins. “Not true. I’d just send you a million texts begging you to come back.”

Hailey laughs, the tension in her shoulders easing as the conversation shifts. But the banter slowly fades, and the group falls into a comfortable silence before they start to say their goodbyes.

“It was good to see you, Hailey. Really. Keep in touch, yeah?”

Maggie adds with a teasing grin, “Great meeting you, Hailey. And thanks for saving my partner's life.”

She laughs. “Sure.”

Hailey returns to her hotel room, the quietness wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. Jay hasn’t been a topic outside of therapy for months, and yet, he’s been front and center the last 24 hours.

She thought she’d buried that part of her life—left it behind with all the pain and unanswered questions. But today, it felt like the universe was forcing her to confront it all over again. She sits on the edge of the bed, her phone heavy in her hand as she considers emailing her therapist.

Maybe she’s not as over it as she thought.

Maybe she never was.

x

Hailey takes the earliest flight out of New York and is back in D.C. before lunch the next day. Stepping off the plane, she pauses just outside the gate, her eyes scanning the bustling terminal. It’s silly to think she’d run into Jay again, irrational even, but the anticipatory feeling is there, heavy in her chest.

Her gaze lingers on the crowds, searching faces she doesn’t recognize. Of course, he’s not here. Why would he be? Yet, her heart doesn’t get the memo, thudding harder than it should. She shakes off the thought, adjusting the strap of her bag. She has a case to get back to—a reason to ground herself in the present and leave the past exactly where it belongs.

But a question lingers, gnawing at the edges of her mind: Why was Jay at this airport? She tells herself it was probably just a layover, that he’s probably miles away by now, in another state or even another country. It’s easier that way, to imagine him far, far away. Out of sight, out of mind.

Hailey heads straight to the office, her steps purposeful as she walks into the bustling bullpen. She barely has time to drop her bag before she’s briefing her team and superiors about the suspect’s confession—locations, names, timelines—all the puzzle pieces they’ve been missing.

They regroup in the conference room, maps and documents spread across the table. It’s all business, just the way she likes it. They strategize, plan every move, anticipating the targets’ next steps. Hailey spends the rest of the day poring over intel, coordinating with field agents, and ensuring every detail is airtight. This is what she’s good at, and for those hours, she manages to keep her mind off certain ghosts.

By the time the sun dips below the horizon, she’s dead tired. The quick trip to New York, the long hours, and everything that came with it are catching up to her, winding tight in her shoulders and settling behind her eyes. She needs to unwind, to let it all go, even just for a moment.

Stepping into her apartment, the faint echo of her footsteps is a reminder of how empty it still feels. Boxes are stacked against the walls, half-opened, their contents spilling out—a mix of old memories and new beginnings.

It’s only been a couple of weeks since she moved in, and the place doesn’t feel like home yet. But it’s nice, nicer than anything she’s allowed herself to have since the divorce, a reflection of her new life and the salary that comes with being an FBI agent.

She heads straight for the shower, washing away the day’s exhaustion. Yet, even as the water cascades over her, she can’t help but replay everything in her mind. The case, the team in New York, and, inevitably, Jay. She leans her head against the cool tile, her chest tightening. Why was he there? Where was he going? She wants to believe it was just a layover – really, she does— and that he’s miles away now.

She towels off and moves through her half-empty apartment, but his face lingers. Therapy taught her to sit with it and move forward. But running into him has pulled her back, reopening old wounds. She ended up not reaching out to her therapist yesterday, but she’s considering it again, maybe setting up an appointment. It might not be the worst idea.

Hailey orders takeout from her new favorite spot, craving something warm and comforting to end the day. When the intercom buzzes she grabs a sweatshirt from the couch and pulls it on. Her reflection in the floor-length mirror that should be in her bedroom but is currently leaning against the hallway wall catches her off guard—hair still damp from her shower, face bare and tired. She looks as exhausted as she feels.

Shaking it off, she heads downstairs to meet the delivery person. She grabs her food, offering a quick smile as she hands over a tip. She heads back inside the building and waits for the elevator, feeling the exhaustion of the day settle into her bones. All she wants is to crawl into bed, turn on the TV, and eat her takeout in peace, letting the noise drown out her thoughts before she eventually crashes. 

Her phone buzzes, muffled from her pocket. She shifts the takeout bag to her other hand, awkwardly juggling it as she fishes out the phone. The screen lights up, and her fingers automatically move to unlock it. The elevator dings, and she’s barely paying attention when she steps forward, and bumps into someone. Hard. Her eyes snap up in surprise, and there, standing in front of her, is none other than Jay.

Again. 

For a heartbeat, time seems to fold in on itself, and she’s thrown back to yesterday—the shock, the rush of emotions, the way her heart had lurched painfully in her chest. Déjà vu washes over her, heavy and disorienting. 

She stares at him, blinking rapidly as if it would clear the surreal image before her. She struggles to find her voice. “Jay?”

Jay looks equally shocked, his eyes widening as he takes a step back, clearly caught off guard. For a second, he seems to be searching for words. He blinks a few times—much like she did moments ago—as if trying to piece together the situation.

"Hailey..." His voice is a mix of disbelief and something else—something she can't quite place.  "I... I… What are you doing here?”

Hailey raises an eyebrow, her utter shock quickly shifting to a hint of defiance. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her tone even but with an edge, as if she’s the one who should be asking the questions.

As the elevator doors begin to close, Jay quickly steps forward, his hand shooting out to stop them. The doors slide open again, and he takes a step closer to her, the distance between them shrinking.

Hailey takes him in, every detail hitting her at once. His hair is damp, looking like he’d just run a towel through it. There’s a fresh, clean scent that lingers in the air —a mix of soap and something distinctly him that Hailey remembers all too well. He’s wearing a fitted navy t-shirt that clings just enough to his shoulders and chest, the fabric smooth and unwrinkled, and a pair of jeans that sit low on his hips, relaxed and worn in. 

“I—” he begins, but his words falter for a moment before he clears his throat. “I live here.”

Hailey’s eyes widen, the shock hitting her like a punch to the gut. “You… what?”

Jay rubs the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “I live here. Moved in nearly a year ago.” 

Her grip tightens around the takeout bag, her mind racing, the walls suddenly feeling too close, the air too thin. This can’t be happening. Of all the places in the world, the cities, the buildings, he has to live here? Her new start, her fresh beginning is now tainted.

She forces herself to breathe, but her thoughts are spiraling, colliding into one another. 

He lives here. 

He’s been here for a year.

 All this time, he was right here.

Jay watches her, his expression cautious, uncertain. “What are—” he starts, his voice low, almost hesitant, but then his gaze drifts over her, probably taking in her casual clothes and the takeout bag in her hand. "Do you live here, too?" he asks, his voice careful. "Or...  visiting someone?" His words falter, and she catches the flicker of something in his eyes—something he rather not think about.

“Just moved in a couple of weeks ago,” she says, trying to keep her tone steady. She takes a shallow breath, willing herself not to think about the year-long lease she just signed—or how breaking it isn’t an option.

"Small world," Jay says, and the weight of this statement hangs in the air, a reminder of just how close he is now. How small the world really feels at this moment.

Hailey forces a light laugh, but it comes out more strained than she intends. "Yeah, looks like it," she says, not meeting his eyes, focusing instead on the closed elevator door in front of her. 

After a beat, she sees him hesitate. He opens his mouth, then closes it, and she can almost see him trying to gather his thoughts, the tension in his shoulders more pronounced now. After a moment, he speaks again, quieter this time, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“Hey, uh... I know this is... unexpected, but, um, maybe we could... sometime, like... grab that coffee–”

She raises a hand, stopping him before he can finish. ”I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she bites out, her voice low, trembling with barely restrained emotion. It’s the only answer she can manage, and even that feels like too much. 

Jay opens his mouth, then closes it, his shoulders deflating as he takes a small step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. It’s hard to watch—his deflation, the way his whole demeanor drops as if she's just pulled the ground out from under him. 

For a moment, neither of them moves. The space between them is heavy, charged with a tension so thick it feels like the air could shatter. It’s electric, crackling with everything left unsaid, everything they lost. It would be so easy to let everything spill out—the hurt, the anger, the love she thought she buried.

Her pulse races, each heartbeat echoing in her ears, and she wonders if he can feel it too—this fragile, volatile thing hanging between them.

Jay’s eyes remain fixed on hers, a silent plea woven into his gaze—like he’s reaching for an olive branch. But she stands firm, a wall between them, unwilling to offer him anything. He already took everything she had to give, draining her raw and leaving her hollow. There’s nothing left.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open behind Jay. A tall, broad-shouldered man steps out, his dark hair slightly tousled and sharp brown eyes sweeping the open space before pausing on Jay.

“Hey, man. You’re back,” the man exclaims and Jay turns. Hailey sees recognition flash across Jay’s face. The men move in for a quick, informal hug, clapping each other on the back. “When did you get home?”

“Yesterday,” Jay answers, keeping his tone even.

“Did you get the packages I left by your door?”

Jay’s posture relaxes just a fraction. “Yeah, thanks. Appreciate it.”

The man glances curiously at Hailey, then back at Jay, keys jingling in their hand. “Hey, are you in town this weekend? Big game on Sunday.”

Jay’s expression shifts, a practiced casualness slipping over him. “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

“Cool, I’ll shoot you a text,” he says, and his gaze lingers on Hailey once more, a moment longer than necessary, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe with a look that makes her feel uncomfortably seen. He leans in just slightly, his smile widening as he says, "I'm Mark, by the way," his voice smooth with a subtle charm. He extends his hand to her, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. 

Hailey keeps her expression neutral. “Hailey,” she says simply, noticing Jay’s gaze flickering between them, lips pressed together in a tight line, a subtle tension in his jaw—just enough to make her wonder if a hint of jealousy is creeping up behind his stoic expression.

"She moved in a couple of weeks ago," Jay interjects,  his tone a little too sharp,  almost as if the words are meant to interrupt something . 

Mark’s eyebrows lift in surprise, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “No kidding! Which unit?” 

Hailey hesitates for a split second, feeling Jay’s eyes on her, then answers, “Uh... 6C.”

Mark’s face lights up. “6C? Right across from Jay! Small world, huh?” He claps Jay on the shoulder.

Hailey’s stomach flips. And a small fucking world it is. The universe really has a twisted sense of humor, doesn't it? 

“So, you all unpacked and settled in, or still living out of boxes?” Mark asks, crossing his arms, his tone light but his gaze sharp. Before Hailey can respond, he adds, “If you need a break from all the moving shenanigans, swing by on Sunday to watch the game with us, and meet everyone. I’m in 4B, just two floors down, and Jay can vouch that I make a mean bowl of nachos.”

Hailey smiles politely, shrugging slightly as she shifts the takeout bag in her hand. “Maybe,” she says, keeping her voice casual. "I'll think about it."

Mark nods with a grin, clearly not taking her half-answer to heart. “Alright, well, the offer stands.” 

With a cheerful wave, Mark heads down the hall towards the front security door, leaving them alone once more.

Hailey barely has a chance to process all that just happened before Jay takes a step closer, his voice low and edged with surprise. “6C, really? I saw that someone had moved in, but–”

Jay's voice fades beneath the pounding rush in her ears, and the ground feels unsteady, as if all the progress she’s made the last couple of years is slipping away. But then, like a quiet anchor, her therapist’s words drift through her mind: “You need to find peace with your emotions, not force them away.” The reminder pulls her back from the brink. She doesn’t need to shut off what she’s feeling—she just needs to sit with it, understand it, and let it pass, without letting it swallow her whole.

She feels a gentle touch on her arms. Jay’s hand, warm and steady, grips her arm lightly. “Hailey... hey, are you okay?” he asks, his voice low, soft with concern. “You look… like you’re about to pass out.”

The warmth of his hand on her arm jolts her back to reality, but instead of steadying her, it does the opposite. She blinks, trying to regain her bearings, but her mind is still spinning. With a quick motion, she shakes his hand loose from her, taking a deep breath. A shaky laugh escapes her, and before she can stop it, a nervous sound slips through her lips.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly, her words coming out a little too sharp, a little too fast. “I just—this is all just... too much.” She waves her hand vaguely, as if that somehow explains everything, even though it doesn’t. “Look, I just… I need a minute.” Maybe two.   

Jay’s expression softens and he takes a small step back, instinctively giving her space before nodding toward the bag in her hand. “You should probably go enjoy your dinner before it gets cold,” he says, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

With a final glance, Jay smiles faintly, his eyes lingering on Hailey for just a moment longer than necessary. “It’s really good to see you,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. Then, with a soft sigh, he turns and walks away, disappearing down the hallway.

Hailey watches him go, her heart a jumbled mess of confusion and disbelief.

Hailey calls the elevator, her fingers hovering over the button as the door slides open. She steps inside, her mind buzzing with restless thoughts. By the time she returns to her apartment, the hunger she felt earlier has vanished, replaced by a tight knot in her stomach.

She stands frozen for a moment, her gaze drifting over the empty spaces of her apartment. With a shaky breath, she grabs her phone, her fingers trembling as she opens a new email. Slowly, she starts typing.

Her therapist is going to get a kick out of this.

Chapter Text

Hailey sits cross-legged on her couch, laptop balanced on her knees, the soft hum of white noise crackling through her earbuds. Her therapist’s face fills the screen, calm and composed, eyes patient behind thin-framed glasses. Hailey tries to match that calmness, but her mind is a tangled mess. She traces the rim of her tea mug with her finger, realizing she hasn’t taken a sip in over ten minutes. It’s gone cold.

“So,” Dr. Morgan’s voice is steady, inviting. “In the email you said you ran into Jay.”

Hailey forces a nod, her shoulders tensing. “Twice, actually. Once at the airport, and then again... at my new apartment building.” She pauses, fingers tightening around the mug. “Did I mention he actually lives across the hall?” she adds, knowing she had left that detail out of the email—wanting to gauge her therapist’s reaction.

Dr. Morgan’s eyes widen just slightly before she schools her features back into a mask of neutrality. “That’s... quite the coincidence.”

“Yeah. Small world,” Hailey mutters, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She sinks back into the couch, her gaze drifting to the half-unpacked boxes stacked in the corner. “I thought I was over it—over him. But seeing him... it was like getting the wind knocked out of me.”

Dr. Morgan’s head tilts, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “It sounds like it stirred up a lot for you. What were you feeling at that moment?”

Hailey’s jaw tightens. “Definitely anger. Confusion.” She hesitates, her pulse quickening. “But also... something else. Something I don’t want to feel.”

Dr. Morgan doesn’t push, just waits, her silence urging Hailey to continue.

Hailey looks down, her fingers tracing the curve of the mug. “It was like… he was that Jay again. The one who made me believe in love, in trust—the one who flipped a switch in my brain and made it feel safe to open my heart.” She exhales sharply, her grip tightening. “And for a second, I wanted it. Then I remembered how easily he walked away… how he never looked back.” Her throat tightens, and she shifts her gaze away from the screen, blinking fast. “I can’t let myself go there again. I can’t let him break me again.” A beat of silence, then her voice drops. “Do you remember how I was when we started?”

Dr. Morgan meets Hailey’s gaze with that steady, knowing look of hers, her expression soft but firm. “Hailey, I remember. And you’ve made so much  progress, even if it might not feel that way right now. But it’s important to acknowledge where you’ve been, so we can keep moving forward.”

Hailey lets out a slow breath, her words sinking in. She can’t go backward. But it feels like she’s standing at the edge of something—and one wrong move will catapult her right back to where she was.

Dr. Morgan’s voice breaks through the silence, steady and thoughtful. “You’ve built walls to protect yourself, and for good reason. But sometimes those walls trap in the pain too.” She leans forward, her voice gentle. “What would happen if you allowed yourself to feel everything, even the hurt? The love?” 

Hailey’s stomach twists, her grip tightening on the mug until her knuckles turn white. “I’d fall apart,” she whispers. “And I’ve worked too damn hard to put myself back together.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy and fragile. Dr. Morgan nods slowly. “Then maybe the goal isn’t to break down the walls all at once. Maybe it’s about finding a way to feel without falling apart.”

Hailey doesn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the swirling tea in her cup, its surface finally still. She wishes she could be that calm, that steady. But the chaos inside her is a storm she’s not ready to face. Not yet.

“How am I supposed to deal with this? With him... being back in my life like this? Should I just... avoid him?”

Dr. Morgan’s eyes soften with understanding. “You could. But avoidance doesn’t resolve the emotions—it just buries them, remember? And from what you’ve described, those feelings are already starting to surface.”

Hailey’s shoulders tense. “I don’t want them to. I don’t want to feel anything for him.”

Dr. Morgan leans back, her gaze steady. “I understand. But it’s clear that seeing him again has stirred things up. Pretending he’s not there won’t make those feelings go away. If anything, it might make them louder.”

Hailey’s chest tightens, frustration bubbling up. “So what then? Am I supposed to just... be friendly? Pretend like he didn’t break me?”

“No,” Dr. Morgan’s voice is firm but gentle. “You don’t have to pretend. But you also don’t have to punish yourself by constantly reliving the pain. It’s about finding balance—acknowledging your feelings without letting them control you.”

Hailey swallows hard, her grip on the mug loosening. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“It won’t be easy,” Dr. Morgan admits. “But it’s not about forcing yourself to be okay. It’s about allowing yourself to feel—without judgment. You can be angry. You can be hurt. You can even feel... love. That doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human.”

Hailey’s throat tightens. “But what if… what if he tries to get close again? What if he wants to talk about… us ?” She exhales, shaking her head. “He already asked me to get coffee, like it’s that easy. Like we can just sit across from each other.”

Dr. Morgan’s eyes hold a quiet compassion. “Then you set boundaries. You get to decide how much access he has to your life now. You get to protect your heart, Hailey. But pushing him away out of fear isn’t the same as setting boundaries out of strength.”

Hailey’s eyes drop to her mug again. The tea’s gone cold, and it probably tastes awful now. She exhales, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this.”

A small, encouraging smile plays on Dr. Morgan’s lips. “You’re stronger than you think. And if you need help finding that strength, that’s what I’m here for.”

The knot in Hailey’s chest loosens just a little, the faintest glimmer of hope breaking through the storm inside her. She nods, a shaky breath escaping her. Maybe she’s not ready to face Jay. Maybe she never will be. Regardless, she doesn't have a choice, but to try. And for now, that has to be enough.

Hailey ends the call, the screen dimming as she sets her computer on the coffee table. A heavy sigh escapes her, and she leans back, sinking into the cushions. The weight of the conversation settles over her, mingling with the exhaustion from the past few days.

She closes her eyes, letting her head fall back against the couch, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. For a moment, she just breathes, the quiet hum of her apartment filling the silence. But even as she tries to relax, Jay’s face lingers in her mind, his eyes filled with emotions she’s not ready to confront.

With a groan, she curls her legs up beneath her and grabs the remote, flicking on the TV. She needs a distraction, something mindless to drown out her thoughts. Something to help her forget, even just for a little while.

She sinks deeper into the couch, eyes fixed on the TV, but she’s not really watching. The noise from the screen blends into the background, her mind drifting to places she doesn’t want it to go. She shifts, pulling a blanket over her legs, trying to get comfortable, trying to relax. But her muscles stay tense, her body on edge, like she’s waiting for something.

Then she hears it—a door closing out in the hallway. The muffled thud is ordinary, insignificant, but it sends her heart racing. Her eyes snap to her front door, breath catching in her throat. It’s not him. It could be anyone—any of her neighbors coming home, heading out. It doesn’t have to be Jay. But her mind betrays her, conjuring his face, his voice, the way he looked at her like he couldn’t believe she was real.

She hates how easily he’s invaded her space, how he’s managed to slip past all the walls she built. Even now, alone in her apartment, she feels his presence lingering, ghosting through her thoughts.

Hailey swallows hard, forcing herself to breathe. It’s nothing. Just another neighbor. She clenches the blanket a little tighter, eyes drifting back to the TV, pretending she doesn’t care. Pretending he hasn’t already gotten under her skin.

x

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon when Hailey ties her sneakers, giving the laces a firm tug. She straightens, stretching her arms overhead, feeling the pull in her muscles—and the dull ache in her back from falling asleep on the couch again. The early morning air is crisp in the apartment, the world outside still quiet, and she rolls her shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness. She’s determined to get a run in before heading to the office, hoping it’ll help clear her head.

She picked up running following the aftermath of Jay leaving—not consciously, but out of necessity. Running was her outlet, now it's her constant.

She grabs a top from her dresser and moves to the floor-length mirror, now settled in its rightful place against the wall in her bedroom. She catches her reflection—just her workout bra and leggings—and pauses for a moment.

Her gaze lands on the scar—a small, puckered mark on her left abdomen. It’s a bullet wound, a through-and-through, the skin scarred but healed after all this time. She knows there’s a matching mark on her back, a reminder of the day everything changed. The memory rushes back—blinding pain, the heat of the bullet passing through her, the way everything flashed before her eyes. 

Her fingers hover over the scar, tracing the slight ridge of the skin beneath her touch. Jaw tightening, Hailey grabs a shirt from the dresser and pulls it on, adjusting the fabric so it completely covers it. There's no point in letting anyone see it. She rolls her shoulders back, standing a little straighter, then grabs her water bottle and heads for the door.

The gym in Hailey’s apartment building is small but functional, tucked away on the ground floor. Despite its compact size, it’s well-equipped, with a few rows of free weights, a set of cardio machines, and a stretch area by the windows. The walls are painted a soft gray, reflecting the morning light that filters through the large windows. 

It’s early enough that she expects the place to be empty, but as she rounds the corner, she spots Mark from 4B. 

He’s there, effortlessly bench-pressing weights, his muscles flexing beneath his T-shirt. Of course, he’s a gym bro—because why wouldn’t he be? Just her luck.

She considers turning around, but he catches sight of her before she can make her escape. 

“Hey, neighbor!” Mark calls out, his voice annoyingly cheerful for this early hour. He racks the weights and sits up, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Didn’t think I’d see you down here.”

“Yeah, well,” she mutters, heading for the treadmill. “Wanted to get a run in before the day starts.”

She’s hoping he’ll leave it at that, but Mark leans back against the bench, folding his arms casually. “You didn’t come by on Sunday. Missed out on the best nachos this side of DC.”

Hailey powers on the treadmill, pretending to be engrossed in setting her speed. “Yeah, I was busy.”

“Too busy to watch the game?” Mark teases, his eyes crinkling with a playful challenge. 

Her jaw tightens. She doesn’t have the energy for this. “I had work,” she lies smoothly, stepping onto the moving belt and starting her run. “Long hours, you know how it is.”

Mark straightens and takes a few steps toward the treadmill, closing the distance between them just enough to catch her eye. “So, what keeps you working such long hours?” he asks, his curiosity evident. “What do you do?”

Hailey’s fingers tighten on the treadmill’s handles, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She could brush him off, give some vague answer, but something in his tone tells her he won’t let it go that easily. Besides, it’s not like her job is a secret. “I’m an FBI Special Agent.”

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up, his posture straightening even more. “No shit? FBI, huh? That’s... impressive.” His gaze sweeps over her, as if seeing her for the first time. “Explains why you were too busy for nachos.”

She forces a shrug, keeping her pace steady. “It’s a job.”

Mark lets out a low whistle. “More than just a job, I’d say. Jay’s a cop, by the way. He used to be in the military, but now he is this expert analyst.”

At the mention of Jay, Hailey’s steps falter, and for a brief moment, the treadmill seems to blur in front of her. Analyst? That’s the first real piece of information she’s gotten about Jay since their split. 

“He’s constantly traveling and stuff. I don’t know much about it—he keeps things close to the vest,” Mark adds offhandedly, his tone mildly annoyed. Then, with a shrug, he adds, “Probably makes him a good neighbor, though—not always around to be a hassle.”

That’s Jay in a nutshell—always compartmentalizing, always keeping things locked away. Some things never changed.

Mark continues. “An FBI agent and... whatever he does. You too probably have a lot in common.”

Her jaw tightens. You have no idea, buddy. The words linger in her mind, sharp and bitter.  

“Yeah. Small world,” she mutters, her voice flat. The phrase is practically her  mantra at this point. Maybe she should get it tattooed across her forehead. 

If Mark notices her tone, he doesn’t comment on it. “Well, Agent Upton, I’ll let you get to it,” he says, flashing her a grin before moving back to the weights.

She keeps her eyes on the treadmill display, forcing herself to focus on the numbers, the rhythm of her steps, anything but the knot forming in her stomach.

x

While Hailey is at work, the familiar hum of activity and the sharp, focused air wrap around her like a shield. In the constant rush of investigations and high-stakes cases, she finds the only semblance of peace. The noise, the focus, the urgency—everything feels grounding.

She isn’t surprised that work has once again become her refuge from her personal problems; it’s always been her escape. In the midst of chaotic investigations and high-pressure cases, she immerses herself fully, shutting out the noise in her head—like now, as she sifts through a mountain of reports. Dr. Morgan wouldn’t be thrilled about it, though. She’s already pointed out—more than once—that burying herself in work isn’t the same as dealing with her problems. But right now, it’s the only thing that keeps her from unraveling.

“Hailey,” a voice breaks through the silence, light with teasing. “You know, you don’t have to keep pulling these late nights. You’re already killing it on the case.”

She glances up briefly, enough to catch the playful glint in Nina’s eyes as she gathers her things for the night.

Nina Reyes, a senior analyst on Hailey’s team, is sharp, perceptive, and unwaveringly reliable. With a no-nonsense attitude and keen analytical mind, she quickly earned Hailey’s respect. She cuts through the noise, speaks her mind, and thrives under pressure, offering both support and hard truths. Loyal but never coddling, she has Hailey’s back—even when pushing her to face what she’d rather avoid.

Hailey nods, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she runs a hand through her hair. “Someone has to stay on top of things,” she replies, her tone even. “The case isn’t going to crack itself.”

Nina laughs softly, slinging a bag over their shoulder. “Yeah, well, if anyone’s going to crack it, it’s you. But, uh,” she pauses, looking at the stack of reports on Hailey’s desk, “you might want to let the rest of us catch up sometime, huh?.”

Hailey’s gaze flickers up, her expression a mixture of amusement and weariness. “I’m fine. I like being busy.”

Nina hesitates for a moment, and Hailey can feel her eyes linger on her, sensing the undertone of something unspoken. 

“I get it,” she says, her voice softer now. “But don’t let the job swallow you whole, okay? You’re doing great work, Hailey. Take a break.” 

Hailey exhales sharply, her eyes returning to the reports as she mutters, “Yeah, well, breaks are overrated.”

Nina chuckles and leans against the desk, studying Hailey with a raised eyebrow. “Have you even had a chance to see the city?”

Hailey glances up briefly, distracted as she flips through yet another report. “D.C.? I’ve seen enough of it to get by.”

Nina smirks, setting her bag down with a soft clink. “I doubt it. I mean, you’re always here. D.C. has more to offer.”

Hailey shrugs, still focused on the pages in front of her. “I’m not much for tourist stuff.”

Nina grins, her eyes bright with mischief. “Who said anything about tourist stuff? I know all the hidden spots—good food, cool little galleries, places you’d never find unless you’ve lived here for a while.” She pauses, her smile widening, her voice lowering a notch. “And I also happen to know where all the good-looking guys hang out.” 

Hailey raises an eyebrow, giving Nina a look that clearly says, Really?

Nina laughs, her grin growing even wider. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but you look like someone who could really use a bit of fun.”

Hailey tilts her head, a small chuckle escaping despite herself. She knows exactly what kind of fun Nina’s talking about, and it’s not the kind she’s interested in. “I don’t know, Nina. I’m not really looking for anything like that right now.”

Nina raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Who said it was anything serious?”

Hailey lets out a breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s not that,” she says, letting her stiff shoulders relax a bit. “I just don’t want to start anything random, you know? Not exactly in the mood for flings.”

Nina leans in slightly, her curiosity piqued. “Not to pry or anything, but… ex drama?”

Hailey freezes for a moment, caught off guard by the question. Nina’s sharp—she’s a good analyst, always noticing more than she lets on—and Hailey realizes now she’s picking up on something Hailey thought she was keeping buried. 

“I’m just… not in the place for anything like that,” Hailey answers slowly, her voice a little quieter. “Even if it’s not serious, I’m just… not ready.”

Nina nods, like she understands. “Fair enough. Just offering you a little break from the grind.”

Hailey offers Nina a small smile, appreciating the gesture but feeling a twinge of guilt for turning her down. “I know, and I really do appreciate it. I just…” She exhales, then softens her tone. “How about I take you up on the good food part instead?”

Nina chuckles, her laugh light and playful. “Alright. I’m holding you to that.” She picks up her bag and turns toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Nina leaves, and Hailey is left alone, the quiet hum of the empty office filling the space around her. She leans back in her chair, her mind drifting despite the task at hand. The reports no longer seem so important; they’re just something to focus on, a distraction from the tangled mess of thoughts.

Later that night, Hailey unlocks the door to her apartment and steps inside, the soft click echoing through the still empty space. She flicks on the light, revealing the mess she’s been expertly ignoring all week. Papers from her case are scattered across the coffee table, a half-finished cup of coffee sits abandoned on the counter, and the overflowing laundry basket looms in the corner, taunting her.

She sighs, fatigue settling deep into her bones as she drops her bag by the door. All she wants is to collapse into bed, but she’s down to her last clean shirt, and the thought of wearing a blazer over yesterday’s tank top isn’t exactly appealing.

Hailey runs a hand through her hair, glancing at the clock. It’s late, but if she starts now, she can at least get one load of clean clothes done. Reluctantly, she drags the basket out from the corner, stray socks tumbling onto the floor. She gathers them up with a muttered curse, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish. It’s just laundry, she tells herself, trying to summon the energy. Just one more thing to check off the list.

Balancing the overstuffed basket against her hip, Hailey steps out into the hallway, heading toward the building’s laundry room. She hesitates for a moment, her eyes flicking to the door across from hers—Jay’s door. Her chest tightens, but she forces herself to look away. 

Reaching the laundry room, Hailey nudges the door open with her shoulder, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh, steady glow over the rows of machines. Then she stops short, her heart lurching.

Jay is there, and even with his back turned, she knows it’s him. The way his shoulders fill out his shirt, the fabric stretched taut across his back, muscles shifting beneath. Her gaze catches on the faint freckles dotting his neck and arms, a detail she used to trace with—

Hailey clenches her jaw, forcing the thought away. She can’t go there. Not now. Not ever.

She can do her laundry later—tomorrow, even. It’s not worth this. Not tonight. She takes a step back, moving as quietly as she can. But the overstuffed basket shifts against her hip, and her grip slips. Before she can catch it, it tumbles from her arms, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Clothes spill out, scattering across the white tiles.

“Shit,” Hailey mutters quietly under her breath. 

Jay’s head snaps up, his body stiffening before he turns around, his eyes locking on hers. Surprise flashes across his face, quickly replaced by a guarded expression. “Hailey.”

Her pulse races, heat creeping up her neck. “Hey.” She forces herself to stand her ground, even as her heart begs her to bolt.

Jay’s gaze drifts to the clothes strewn across the floor. His jaw tightens for a second before his shoulders relax. “Here, let me—” He moves toward her, kneeling to gather a handful of fallen shirts.

“No,” she blurts out, more sharply than she intended. She drops to her knees, snatching up a pair of socks. “I’ve got it.” Her movements are quick as she shoves the clothes back into the basket. 

He hesitates, his hand frozen mid-reach, before he slowly pulls back. “Alright.” He straightens, giving her space.

Hailey keeps her head down, her hair falling like a curtain to hide her face. Her heart is pounding stupidly, her chest tight. Of all the tenants in this building, why does it always have to be him?

The room is too quiet, the hum of the machines doing nothing to ease the tension. She doesn’t look at him as she stands, hugging the basket tightly to her chest. 

“I’ll be done soon.” He gestures to the dryer, the door now closed, the faint hum of the cycle starting. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

Hailey forces a nod, moving to the washer farthest from him. She can feel his eyes on her, the weight of his gaze pressing against her back. She doesn’t dare look at him, afraid of what she might see—or worse, what he might see in her.

Hailey moves quickly, sorting through her laundry, loading the washer without much thought. She’s not paying attention—too focused on getting the task done as quickly as possible so she can go back to her apartment. 

She shoves in the last handful of clothes and slams the lid shut, not realizing that one of her red socks has slipped in between her white shirts.

“Uh, Hailey…”

She glances over, already feeling a surge of annoyance. “What?”

Jay hesitates, a sheepish look on his face. “I—uh—I didn’t mean to, like, watch you or anything. I was just... you know, minding my own business and I saw that you, uh, had a red sock in with your whites.” He points awkwardly at the washer.

She  blinks, confused for a second, before she turns to look. Sure enough, there it is—the red sock, clearly out of place among the white shirts.

“Shit,” she mutters  under my breath, cursing herself for rushing through it without paying attention.

Jay scratches the back of his neck and stumbles through the next words. “I just didn’t want you to end up with, like, a bunch of pink shirts or something. I know you’re not really into pinks. Or maybe you are now,” he adds quickly, as if realizing what he just said. “It’s just... I thought I should say something.”

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. It’s almost funny how flustered he is right now—Jay, a man who once exuded confidence, who never hesitated or second-guessed himself, now rambling like he’s trying to tiptoe around an invisible line. She never imagined he’d be so out of sorts over something this trivial.

"Appreciate the heads-up," she mutters, trying to mask the amusement in her voice.

Jay nods a little too quickly, clearly relieved Hailey chose not to bite his head off. "No problem, really. I’ll just... be over here."

She watches him retreat, his movements stiff as if he’s not sure what to do with himself anymore. Hailey shakes her head, focusing back on the laundry, making sure the rest of her laundry goes in properly, and without a hitch. 

The minutes drag by, the low hum of the machines filling the silence. Hailey glances up briefly from her phone, catching Jay as he folds his clothes with methodical precision. His movements are practiced, almost muscle memory, as he smooths out each shirt before neatly placing it into his basket.

Some of those shirts she recognizes. A faded blue button-down. A dark gray hoodie—the one he used to throw on after long shifts. The one she used to steal. The fabric was always soft, comforting. Seeing it now, neatly folded in his pile, tugs at something in her chest. She pushes it down, snapping her attention back to the screen in her hand.

The sound of the dryer door opening pulls her attention back, and the soft shuffle of clothes fills the room as he places them into his hamper. She doesn’t look up immediately, but she can sense him moving around. Then, out of nowhere, he clears his throat, as if the silence has finally gotten to him. 

“I like the new hair,” he says casually. 

She tenses slightly, caught off guard. Her instinct is to ignore it, let it slide past, but the words slip out before she can stop them. “You do?” She regrets it instantly, the question hanging between them like a thread she shouldn’t have pulled.

Jay shifts awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, clearly unsure of how to respond. “Yeah, I mean... I always liked it long,” he admits, his voice softer now, a little more vulnerable. “But, you know, you look good with it short, too. Different, but... good.”

There he goes, all boyish and flustered again. God, it’s almost amusing how he can't help but slip into this nervous, unsure version of himself now.

She watches him shift his weight from one foot to the other. "I didn’t mean to make it weird," he adds quickly, as though trying to backpedal. “Just... you know, I noticed. I thought it looked good,” he says, repeating himself. 

Hailey raises an eyebrow, her gaze briefly meeting his. “Thanks,” she says, her voice clipped, keeping it short, not sure what else to say.

He picks up the hamper, and steps toward the door, his movements purposeful like he can’t get out of there fast enough. But just as he reaches the exit, he glances back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you around,” he says, his voice light, almost nonchalant.

And then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. Hailey sits there, fingers still wrapped around her phone, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The room suddenly feels quieter, emptier.

In any other context, his nervous rambling might’ve been endearing—something straight out of a romance movie where the guy stumbles over his words, a little self-conscious around the girl he’s into. It’s the kind of thing that usually tugs at the heartstrings, makes you think, aww, how cute.

But not now.

Not when his discomfort is a reminder of everything that’s changed. Not when the thought of finding anything sweet in it only makes the ache in her chest sharper.

Dr. Morgan would probably be proud of her, though. Hell, she’s proud of herself. Proud that she let herself be in his presence and feel—whatever this strange mix of frustration, nostalgia, and something else she can’t quite name is.

She won’t judge herself for it.

She won’t let those feelings control her.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

She’s still figuring it out.

x

Jay shuts his apartment door behind him, leaning against it as a heavy sigh escapes his lips. Embarrassment prickles under his skin, the memory of his rambling words to Hailey replaying on an endless loop in his head. He scrubs a hand over his face, cringing as he remembers how he’d stumbled through that stupid comment about her hair.

He groans, letting his head thump back against the door. Smooth. Real smooth. Like he was some awkward teenager trying to compliment his crush. Even then, he wasn’t this lame—never this tongue-tied, never this uncertain. But he can’t help it. Hailey knocks him completely off balance. 

Jay pushes off the door, running a hand through his hair as he crosses the room, the other gripping the laundry basket. He gets it—her curtness, her standoffishness. She doesn’t owe him anything, least of all a smile. Not after everything he put her through. But having her this close again, hearing her voice... it stirs up everything in his head.

He drops the laundry basket on the couch, letting out another sigh. For a moment, he just stands there, staring down at the neatly folded clothes. He’d been in such a hurry to get out of that room, he barely remembers putting them all together. But now, one piece catches his eye—a dark gray hoodie. He reaches for it, the fabric soft between his fingers, and a familiar ache tightens in his chest. Hailey used to wear it, sleeves falling past her hands as she curled up on the couch, stealing bites of his food. 

Jay closes his eyes, jaw clenching. 

He thought he’d won the lottery when their paths crossed again, like the universe was handing him a second chance wrapped neatly in sheer coincidence. He was ready—or at least, he thought he was. Thought he could handle the situation. But nothing about it has been easy. Nothing about seeing Hailey again is simple.

He drops the sweater back into the basket, the fabric crumpling. He needs to get his head on straight. Hailey is doing fine—better than fine. She’s moved on, carving out her own life here. New hair, new city, new everything. And him? He’s part of her old life, a piece of the past she clearly left behind. 

Jay sinks onto the couch, elbows on his knees as he buries his face in his hands. He needs to get it together. Because no matter how much he wishes he could take back everything he did, he can’t. And no matter how much he misses her, she doesn’t need him complicating her life.

But even as he sits there, the image of her lingers—Hailey in that laundry room, eyes sharp and guarded, hair short and fierce. Now, he just has to figure out how to be around her without making a complete ass of himself.

Chapter Text

Jay leans against the kitchen counter, his phone pressed to his ear as he listens to his brother’s voice on the other end. It’s late, but the time difference means nothing when catching up with Will. They haven’t talked in weeks, and Jay needs the distraction.

“Owen’s playing soccer now,” Will is saying, his voice tinged with pride. “Kid’s got a mean left foot. You should see him. Thinks he’s the next Messi.”

Jay chuckles, picturing Owen tearing up the field. “Does he at least pass the ball?”

“Not a chance. Kid’s a ball hog,” Will admits, laughing. “But he’s got spirit. And Olivia’s getting big. She’s crawling everywhere, driving Natalie nuts. We’re basically babyproofing everything.”

"That's awesome, man! I saw the picture Nat posted—she's really cute. Crazy how much she’s changed already!"

“Yeah, she’s got us wrapped around her finger. You know how it is.”

Jay’s smile fades. He doesn’t know, not really. Will’s comment was innocent, just something he said without thinking, and Jay doesn’t hold it against him. It’s not Will’s fault that it stings. Shaking the thought away, Jay forces his voice to stay steady. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Will says, his voice softening. Then he shakes his head. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s going on with you? How was—wait, was it Boston? Or Buffalo? I swear you’re always on the move.”

Jay runs a hand through his hair. “Boston, and it was just a work trip. I’m glad to be back in DC, though.”

“Yeah, how’s DC? You’ve been living there for a while now, right?”

“About a year,” Jay confirms. “Starting to feel like home... well, as much as anywhere does.” 

Jay hears Owen laughing in the background, followed by Olivia’s excited babbling. Will says something muffled—probably to his wife—before coming back on the line. 

“Sorry,” Will says, a smile in his voice. “Liv just discovered how to throw her sippy cup, and Owen thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world.” 

Jay huffs a quiet laugh. “Sounds like she’s got a good arm. Future pitcher?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Will chuckles through the phone. “But anyway, back to you—DC’s going good then? You actually liking it out there?”

Jay hesitates, running a hand over his face. “Yeah… yeah, it’s good.” A beat passes. The thought of Hailey lingers, unspoken, at the back of his mind. He debates whether to bring her up, knowing it’ll crack open something he’s not sure he’s ready to deal with. But the words press at his chest, waiting to be said.

He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face again. “I, uh… I ran into Hailey.”

“Wait— what?” Will’s voice jumps, sharp with surprise. “You’re kidding. Where the hell did that happen?”

Jay exhales slowly, his grip tightening on the counter. “I didn’t just run into her,” he says, letting the words hang for a second. He swallows, bracing himself before continuing. “She’s actually living in DC now.” Another pause. Then, with a wry exhale, he adds, “In my apartment building. Across the hall.”

There’s a long pause. Then, a low whistle. “Damn. That’s... a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” Jay mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ve thought about it—hell, I’ve dreamed about it—what it would be like to see her again. Kept telling myself I was ready, that I could handle it.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “But actually being around her? It’s… complicated.”

Silence hangs between them for a moment before Will finally speaks, his voice low. “So… how’d it go? Seeing her again, after all this time?” He pauses, then lets out a short laugh. “Wait, let me guess—she went straight for the throat, didn’t she?”

Jay laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Yes. It went about as well as you’d expect. She hates my guts.”

“You can’t blame her for that.”

“I don’t.” Jay looks down, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. “Like I said, I thought I was ready. I was prepared for the anger, for everything. But she’s... she’s different, Will. Tougher. Colder.”

“She’s protecting herself,” Will points out. “You walked out on her.”

“I know,” Jay admits, his voice dropping. “And she’s got every right to be pissed at me. Hell, she has every right to never want to see my face again.” 

Because he didn’t just walk out on her. He ghosted her. Ignored her calls. Didn’t even have the decency to give her a damn explanation. He was a coward, and he knows it. He didn’t deserve her then, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve her now. 

Jay hears the sound of something clattering in the background before Will’s voice comes back, sharper now but not unkind. “Okay, but again —why? Why did you do that? I just—” He exhales, exasperated. “I need you to explain it to me again because, man, I still don’t get it. You were happily married… and then you weren’t.”

Jay takes a deep breath, swallowing hard as he thinks back to the group therapy sessions he began going when he first returned to the States. They’d said it would help—opening up to the people he trusted, letting the words out instead of bottling them up. But even now, it feels hard, raw. Still, he tries.

“I was scared,” Jay admits, his voice low. “Shit went down in Intelligence, my head was a mess, and I thought if I left—if I did something black and white for a while—it’d clear things up. So I pushed her away, convinced myself it was for the best.” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “But that was bullshit. Just a lie I told myself so I wouldn’t have to face the truth. I didn’t know how to deal with my own mess, so I ended up making hers worse.”

He pauses, the weight of it all settling in his chest. “I’m not proud of it.”

Will’s voice comes through the phone, sharp and no-nonsense, just like it always is. “You really screwed this up, didn’t you?” Jay opens his mouth to respond, but Will continues, the familiar brotherly edge now unmistakable in his voice, “You made a decision for her without even giving her a chance to make one for herself. To her, you took the easy way out.”

Jay’s grip tightens on the phone. He knows his brother is right, but hearing it out loud makes it worse. “I know, okay?” Jay mutters, his voice raw. “I messed up. I didn’t know how to handle it, and I ran.”

For a moment, Will doesn’t respond. The silence stretches, thick, but Jay can feel the shift in his brother’s energy. It’s not judgment—not exactly—but something closer to understanding. Then, finally, Will exhales, his tone softer, more deliberate. “So… what’s Hailey up to in DC anyway?” 

Jay exhales, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. “She’s with the FBI now. Lead agent on some big case,” he says, quiet but full of something close to pride. He did some digging, asked around through mutual connections—just to see what she was up to, just to know. “She’s killing it,” he adds. 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Will agrees. “So... what now?”

Jay runs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. She doesn’t want to talk to me, let alone... anything else. But I can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t stop the urge to fix everything.”

“You can’t expect her to just forgive you,” Will warns. “It’s not that simple.”

"I know," Jay says, his chest tightening. "But I want to at least try to apologize. Even if it's just to make things civil between us, especially since it looks like we're going to be running into each other now. She deserves that much."

Will is quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “Then don’t screw it up this time.”

A bitter laugh escapes Jay. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

“You’ll figure it out. Just… don’t push her. Take it slow,” Will says through the phone. Then, after a beat, his voice turns wry. “And Jay—no confessions, no grand gestures, no ‘I see the light’ speech, alright?”

Jay can practically hear the smirk in his brother’s voice before he adds, “Just… don’t make it weird. Keep it casual. Maybe start with a coffee, not, like, a damn orchestra and fireworks in the background. No over-the-top rom-com bullshit.”

Jay chuckles at the mental image, but the laughter fades quickly. “Got it, no fireworks. I’ll keep it cool,” he says, because cool was the last thing he was in that laundry room—fumbling, awkward, nothing like the confident guy he used to be.

“And remember,” Will adds, his tone firm, “the most important thing is that Hailey owes you nothing.”

“I know.” Jay glances out the window, his reflection staring back at him. Haunted. Tired. But I owe her everything, he thinks. 

“Good,” Will replies. “Now, get your ass to the gym and work out that guilt. You’ll feel better. Trust me.”

Jay hangs up the phone, staring at the screen as the weight of the conversation settles over him. The silence in his apartment feels deafening, pressing in on him more than he’d like to admit. Will’s suggestion about the gym lingers in his mind—he needs to clear his head, to stop the spiral before it pulls him under.

Glancing at the clock, he knows he has time before his meeting. Without overthinking it, he grabs his keys and heads out, hoping a hard workout will give him even a brief reprieve from the chaos in his mind.

As soon as he steps into the apartment gym, the familiar scent of rubber mats and sweat fills his lungs. It’s grounding in its own way—a space where everything is simple, where he can focus on the burn in his muscles instead of the mess he’s made of his personal life.

He has a membership at a better gym, one with more equipment and options, but today, time isn’t on his side. The apartment gym is smaller, simpler—but it’ll do.

As he heads toward the weights, his eyes catch a familiar face near the squat rack—Mark. The guy's leaning back casually, taking a sip from his water bottle.

Mark spots Jay and flashes him a grin. "Hey, man. Haven't seen you here in a while. Is that fancy gym you go to closed? You slumming it today, huh?”

Jay laughs. "Something like that," he mutters. "Figured I’d mix it up for once."

Mark continues, his eyes scanning the gym before landing on Jay. “By the way, you just missed the hot new neighbor of yours," he says with a sly grin. "She was here, looking like she was ready to set the place on fire. Got a few stares, that one.”

Jay freezes for a moment, his grip tightening around the dumbbells. Mark’s a good guy—friendly enough—but something about the way he talks about Hailey, so casually, like she’s just another pretty girl he’s used to flirting with, hits differently. He has no right to feel this way, and he knows it. But hearing another guy talk about her like that? It sets something on edge inside him he can’t quite shake.

"She’s a regular here?" Jay asks, trying to keep his tone even. His voice comes out a little sharper than he intends.

Mark raises an eyebrow, clearly not noticing the subtle shift in Jay's mood. "Yeah, she comes in a few times a week. Did you know she works for the FBI?” he asks, a little too interested. 

Jay’s grip on the dumbbell tightens, but he doesn’t let it show. "She’s a special agent," he says, flatly, not looking at Mark as he keeps his focus on his workout. 

“Special agent, huh? That’s hot,” Mark says with a smirk, his voice dropping slightly as he leans in. “Bet she turns heads in that job. I mean, I wouldn’t mind getting arrested by her… maybe even cuffed.” He chuckles, clearly amused with himself.

Jay’s grip tightens on the dumbbells, his knuckles turning white. He doesn’t want to feel this way, but this conversation is stirring something in him that it’s hard to ignore.

“You ever get a chance to talk to her? You two have a lot in common.” 

Jay stiffens at the question, the last thing he wants to do is talk about Hailey with Mark. He forces a shrug, his voice intentionally casual, though it feels anything but.

 “Not really,” he replies. “She seems pretty busy.” 

Mark smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah…” he drawls, then lowers his voice just a notch. “But hey, she’s gotta make time for a little fun, right?” He nudges Jay with a teasing look. “You think she’d be up for a drink sometime? I mean, you met her first—don’t wanna step on any toes or anything.”

Jay’s jaw tightens, the possessiveness he’s trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. He forces himself to loosen his grip on the dumbbells, keeping his voice casual. “You don’t need my sign-off,” he says with a shrug, eyes flicking back to his workout.

“So, what does a girl like that even drink?” Mark asks, leaning back like he’s really thinking it over.

Whiskey sour, Jay thinks instantly, but he just shrugs, keeping his mouth shut.

“Probably a Cosmopolitan,” Mark continues. “Or one of those fancy drinks with the little umbrella.”

Jay almost laughs at the thought. He can already picture it—Mark handing Hailey some overly sweet, neon-colored drink, the ridiculous little umbrella perched on the rim. He can practically see her reaction: that slow, unimpressed blink, followed by a pointed look that says really? before she rolls her eyes in that cute, annoyed way she does when someone is testing her patience.

Honestly? Jay almost hopes Mark does take her out, just to watch her hand him his ass.

Smirking, he decides to play along. “Yeah, a Cosmopolitan sounds about right,” Jay says, nodding like he’s giving it real thought. “Probably with one of those fancy garnish skewers—you know, the ones loaded up with fruit.” He keeps a straight face. “I can totally see her sipping on that.”

Mark laughs, oblivious to Jay’s sarcasm. “I knew it. Maybe I’ll take her to that new place downtown. They’ve got all sorts of crazy cocktails with stuff like that. Sounds exactly like her vibe.”

“Yes. that is definitely her vibe,” Jay agrees. 

Finally, the conversation drops, and Jay turns his focus back to the weights, forcing Mark and Hailey from his mind. He pushes through the rest of his set in silence, letting the strain in his muscles drown out everything else.

By the time he steps out of the elevator, his body still hums with adrenaline, but his mind feels clearer. The sweat on his shirt cools against his skin as he moves down the hallway, the steady thud of his sneakers against the floor grounding him after the intense session.

As he turns the corner, he spots Hailey, locking the door to her apartment, her back to him for the moment. 

He doesn’t know how to proceed. He wants to give her space, let her go on about her day without interrupting, but before he can decide what to do, Hailey turns, and her eyes lock onto his and she looks so good—with her sharp suit clinging to her frame, a crisp white shirt tucked neatly inside, and her hair pulled back in a way that’s both professional and effortless. It’s the kind of look that makes Jay freeze in place, his breath catching. 

The seconds stretch on, and Jay doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Hailey says, eyebrows raised, a faint, humorless smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Something on my face?”

Jay blinks, caught off guard, and immediately clears his throat. “Uh, no. Sorry, just—morning,” he mutters, feeling a flush creep up his neck as his words trip over each other.

Hailey nods, still smiling faintly, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes before she turns to walk past him. “Morning,” she replies coolly, her voice a perfect mix of distant and polite. 

As she starts to walk away, Jay clears his throat, not ready to let the moment slip just yet. “You heading to work?” he asks, aiming for casual, though it comes out more hesitant than he intended.

Hailey pauses just for a second, back still turned. Then, glancing over her shoulder, she tilts her head slightly, watching him. “You asking to know what I do,” she says slowly, her voice edged with amusement, “or should we skip this step and assume you already looked it up?”

Jay lets out a small, almost nervous chuckle, shifting slightly where he stands. “I mean, if I did, would you be flattered or creeped out?”

Hailey exhales, rolling her eyes. “I’m heading to work,” she says, her tone flat, offering zero warmth.

Jay hesitates, debating whether to say anything at all. But then the words tumble out before his brain can stop them. “Busy day, then?” The second they’re out, he winces inwardly. Real smooth, Jay. Like he doesn’t already know she’s probably buried in work.

Hailey glances back again, her expression tinged with amusement. “Yeah, it’s looking that way. A few meetings, a lot of paperwork... the usual.”

Jay hesitates again for a moment, then thinks, Fuck it. I’m already making a fool out of myself. “No fieldwork?” His voice is quieter than he intended.

She turns fully now, her blue eyes flicking with something like curiosity, but her expression remains composed. “No,” she says, her tone light. “I’m not in the field anymore.”

Jay blinks, caught off guard by the response. “Wait... you’re not in the field? Like at all?” It comes out more incredulous than he meant. The idea of Hailey stuck behind a desk doesn’t compute. “I just figured you’d be out there chasing criminals, kicking down doors… not, y’know, stuck at a desk.”

Hailey tilts her head, lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “There’s more to the job than that.” 

Jay realizes instantly how that must’ve sounded and backpedals, heat creeping up his neck. “Right. Of course,” he mutters. “I guess it’s just... hard to picture you behind a desk.”

She laughs at that—soft, light, unguarded. It’s the most beautiful sound, and for a moment, he feels a bit caught off guard by how much it hits him.

Hailey’s gaze softens, her eyes studying him for a moment before she answers, her voice steady. “I’ll give you that,” she admits. “Didn’t think I’d be done with the field either, but...” She lets the sentence trail off, her expression thoughtful, distant even. “It’s definitely a change.”

Jay feels a flicker of surprise at the vulnerability in her words. He hadn’t expected that. He watches her carefully, wondering if there’s more she wants to say. She seems lost in her own thoughts for a second, but then she meets his eyes again, offering a one shoulder shrug. 

“But it’s good,” she says. “No more dodging bullets.” 

The words are casual, her tone light, but there’s a shadow in her eyes that Jay doesn’t miss.

He nods. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then,” he says, his voice sincere. 

Hailey glances at her watch, then takes a small step backward, already creating distance. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going,” she says, tossing her thumb over her shoulder toward the elevator. 

Jay watches her go, replaying their conversation in his head. Her words were measured, her composure practiced—but for a split second, something darker slipped through. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but he saw it. And it stuck with him.

He isn’t sure what it means, not yet. But the fact that he noticed it—really saw her, even for a moment—feels like something.

For once, he didn’t make a complete ass of himself. That, too, feels like progress. A small victory, maybe, but one he’ll take. The faintest smile tugs at his lips as he finally turns toward his own apartment.

Later, Jay sits at his kitchen table, the earlier moment with Hailey still lingering in the back of his mind as his laptop screen lights up. His boss’s face fills the frame—Richard Donovan, all no-nonsense authority with graying hair neatly combed and glasses low on his nose as he scans through his notes. A digital stack of case files populates the shared screen, each one stamped with different locations and assignment details, pulling Jay’s attention back to reality.

“All right, Jay,” Richard begins, his voice steady and businesslike. “We’ve got a few cases requesting an outside analyst. Let’s see… There's one in Detroit, two in Miami, and a high-priority situation brewing in Portland. Could use your eyes on any of those.”

Jay leans back in his chair, feeling the familiar itch of curiosity. Usually, he’d be the first to volunteer to get on a plane, dive into a new environment, and see the job firsthand. But this time, the idea of leaving DC doesn’t sit right. His mind drifts back to his earlier conversation with Hailey, the look in her eyes, the weight behind her words. 

“Anything local?” Jay asks, keeping his tone casual as he leans forward, elbows on the table. 

Richard’s head snaps up, his brow lifting in surprise. He pulls off his glasses, letting them dangle in his hand as he studies Jay with open curiosity. “Local?” he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You’re asking to stay put? This from the guy who’d jump at a chance to go anywhere but here?”

Jay shrugs, trying to play it off. “Just thought it’d be easier this time around. You know, less hassle.”

“Did you finally meet a girl like I told you to?” he asks smugly, clearly enjoying himself. “About time.”

Jay’s stomach flips, heat creeping up his neck. “What? No,” he blurts out a little too quickly, running a hand through his hair. “Just trying to keep things simple. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Richard says, clearly unconvinced. “You? Wanting things simple? You sure you’re feeling all right?”

Jay forces a laugh, trying to mask his discomfort. “I’m fine, Rich. Just figured I’d keep things local for now. Plenty of work here, right?”

Richard shakes his head, still eyeing him with suspicion. “Well, if you say so. I’ve got a case needing intel over in Baltimore. Close enough? Just some low-level drug deal—small-time players, nothing exciting.”

Jay nods, relieved for the change of subject. “Yeah, that works.”

“All right then. I’ll send over the details.” Richard’s gaze lingers for a second longer before he finally looks back at his notes. “But if I find out you’re slacking off because you’re busy wining and dining someone, you owe me a drink.”

Jay smirks, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Deal.”

x

Hailey sits at her desk, eyes fixed on the open case file in front of her, but the words blur together, refusing to make sense. Her mind drifts back to Jay—the way he stood there in the hallway, fresh from his workout, his T-shirt clinging to his chest and shoulders, sweat glistening on his skin. His hair tousled, a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. There was a flush to his face, his breathing just a bit uneven, his body radiating heat and energy.

She swallows, her heart beating faster at the memory. He looked so good, too good. For a second, she remembers how his eyes had locked onto hers, how he seemed to be taking her in, like he was admiring her, too. 

A pen clicking across the room snaps her out of it. She blinks, heat crawling up her neck. What is wrong with her? She shouldn’t be thinking about Jay like this—shouldn’t be thinking about him at all. Not his stupidly handsome face, not his broad shoulders, not the way his presence filled the entire hallway.

Fuck.

Hailey sits up straighter, forcing herself to focus on the file in front of her. There are more important things to worry about—like this case. Not Jay. 

Definitely not Jay.

Hailey’s eyes return to the case file, but she can barely process a single word. Then Nina magically appears beside her desk, a tablet in hand and a triumphant look on her face.

“Hey, I think I found something,” Nina announces, leaning against the edge of Hailey’s desk. She taps on her screen, pulling up a report. “There’s a name that keeps popping up in the background checks—Evan Torres. He’s been linked to two of our suspects. Not directly involved, but close enough to raise some flags.”

Hailey’s focus sharpens instantly. “How close?” she asks, already shifting gears.

“Close enough that he might know more than he’s letting on,” Nina replies. “I say we bring him in, see what he has to say.”

Hailey nods, feeling a surge of purpose. “Do it. I want him in interrogation by tomorrow morning,” she says firmly. 

Nina grins. “Done.” She straightens, shooting Hailey an approving look before heading back to her own desk.

As soon as Nina’s gone, Hailey pulls up everything they have on Evan Torres, her mind switching into full work mode. She combs through his background, known associates, financials—anything that might give her an edge in the interrogation room. She starts drafting questions, mapping out the psychological angles to get him talking.

It feels good to have something to sink her teeth into. Something she’s good at. Something that isn’t Jay and the way his shirt clung to his body this morning.

Hailey straightens, jaw set with determination. She’s going to crack this case wide open.

Hours later, the adrenaline has worn off. As she walks down the quiet hallway of her apartment floor, the soft click of her boot heels echoing off the walls, the weight of the day settles in. She stops in front of her door and glances across the way. Jay’s door is shut, unmoving. Still, her eyes linger—just for a second too long.

It’s just a door, she tells herself. Just wood and hinges. But her chest tightens anyway.

Shaking her head, she unlocks her door and steps inside. The apartment feels empty—nothing like the chaos she left at work, but still, it is home. She flicks on the lights, glancing around at the boxes still scattered around the apartment. The place is not totally unpacked, and it’s starting to get to her. She promises herself she’ll get all the unpacking done. Soon. This weekend. 

The fridge door swings open with a soft creak, revealing a nearly empty interior—just condiments, a mystery takeout container, and a nearly empty jar of pickles. Hailey stares at it for a moment, then sighs and shuts the door.

She’s not in the mood to order out, so she thinks of the vending machine outside the gym. With a resigned sigh, she heads down, hoping for something decent. The options are bleak—chips, granola bars, an assortment of candy. She grabs a couple of granola bars, a bag of SunChips, and a Snickers. Not exactly a meal, but it’ll do.

On her way back, she tears open one of the bars, chewing it absently as she waits for the elevator. When the elevator dings, Hailey steps inside, pressing the button for her floor. The doors start to slide shut when, at the last moment, a hand appears, stopping them with a soft thunk . She looks up, startled, as Jay steps inside.

“Oh hey,” he says, his voice low and casual, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Hailey’s eyes sweep over him before she can stop herself. He’s in a sharp suit with no tie, the top button of his shirt undone. Effortlessly put together. Maddeningly handsome in a way that feels almost unfair.

She nods, not quite sure how to respond as he steps inside. The elevator feels smaller instantly, the space tightening with their shared presence—close enough that their arms might brush if either of them moved. But she doesn’t. She’s not sure she could, even if she wanted to.

Her gaze drops to the strange assortment of junk food in her hands. A flush creeps up her neck—suddenly, all she can think about is how ridiculous it looks. Not exactly the image she wants to project with Jay standing inches away. She shifts slightly, lowering the snacks as if that might somehow make them less noticeable.

But of course, he fucking notices, and from the corner of her eye, she can see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That your dinner?” he asks, the question light, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

Hailey blinks, her hand frozen mid-air, the granola bar still half-way to her mouth. “No,” she lies. 

Jay raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. His gaze flicks to the junk food in her arms, then back to her face. “Right,” he says, his tone teasing. 

Hailey’s cheeks flush. She hates how easily he can get under her skin, how effortlessly he can make her feel exposed. She straightens her shoulders, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Not dinner, just...impulse decisions,” she says, a little too defensively. 

Jay nods, smirk firmly in place. “Of course.”

A playful glint sparks in his eyes, and for a moment, it’s easy—familiar. Just them, teasing each other over something stupid, like no time has passed at all. But then the elevator dings, the doors slide open to their floor, and the spell is broken. Hailey steps out first, eager to escape the confined space and the way his presence seems to fill it. She doesn’t look back, but she hears his footsteps behind her as they walk down the hallway.

She pauses, her fingers gripping the key a little too tightly. “Night,” she says, her voice softer than she intended. Without waiting for a response, she slips inside her apartment, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Leaning against the door, Hailey exhales a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her heart is still racing, her skin tingling. Then comes the soft jingle of keys, the quiet click of a lock turning, and the muted thud of his door closing across the hall.

She looks down at the junk food in her arms and lets out a groan. “Pathetic,” she mutters, tossing the snacks onto the counter.

She’d thought the granola bars would be the low point of her night. Turns out, getting caught by Jay was a whole different kind of humiliation.

Hailey sinks into her couch, curling her legs beneath her as she tears open the bag of SunChips. She munches absently, her mind replaying the elevator encounter over and over again. The way Jay had looked at her, the way his voice had wrapped around her... She shakes her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. 

She grabs the Snickers bar next, peeling back the wrapper. It’s ridiculous how much of a mess he can make of her. It’s even more ridiculous that she’s sitting here, alone, eating junk food like some heartbroken teenager. She groans, throwing her head back against the couch cushion.

Then, there’s a soft knock on her door. Hailey sits up, her brows knitting together in confusion. It’s barely a tap, so light she almost thinks she imagined it. She stands, her bare feet padding across the floor as she approaches the door. Peering through the peephole, she sees nothing—no one in sight.

She hesitates, hand hovering over the doorknob. For a brief, irrational moment, her instincts kick in, her training whispering caution. But this isn’t some suspect’s hideout; it’s her hallway. Her empty hallway.

Unlocking the door, she cracks it open and looks around. Still nothing. But then, as her gaze drops to the floor, she notices it.

A cup of instant ramen, sitting neatly on her welcome mat. There’s a yellow post-it note on the top, scrawled in familiar, messy handwriting.

For when your impulse decisions don’t cut it. – J

Hailey blinks, her chest tightening unexpectedly. She picks up the cup, her fingers brushing over the paper. It’s stupidly thoughtful, and that makes it even worse. She hates how her heart does this little flip, how a stupid cup of noodles can make her feel... seen.

She looks back at his apartment door, half-expecting it to swing open, for him to be standing there with that stupidly smug grin on his face. But the door stays shut, the hallway quiet and still.

Shaking her head, she closes the door and leans against it, staring down at the ramen. “Idiot,” she whispers, but she’s not sure if she’s talking about him or herself.

Her fingers tighten around the cup, the scent of the salty broth already teasing her senses. She can’t help but smile, just a little, as she heads back to her couch. Maybe her dinner isn’t so pathetic after all.

Chapter Text

Jay unlocks his apartment door, the familiar click echoing through the quiet hallway as he pushes it open. It’s late—another long day at work, and all he wants is a hot shower and some sleep. But before he steps inside, a noise catches his attention—a muffled grunt, followed by a dull thud, then a muttered curse. He freezes, his gaze flicking to the door directly across from his.

He hasn’t seen her in a few days, not since the elevator incident with her sad pile of junk food. He’s been wrapped up in the Baltimore case, too busy kicking down doors and piecing together intel to think about much else—but now, standing here, he realizes he’s missed her.

And not in the vague, restless way he used to when he was… away. This is different. Sharper. Heavier. The kind of missing that settles in his chest and refuses to leave—the kind he used to feel back in Chicago, when they were working side by side every damn day. When she was right there, and somehow, he still missed her.

Another thud, louder this time, followed by a string of curses that are definitely coming from Hailey’s apartment. Jay’s eyebrows shoot up. What the hell is she doing in there? Before he can stop himself, he takes a step closer, listening. There’s more grunting, the sound of something heavy scraping against the floor, then another curse.

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. She sounds pissed. And stubborn. 

He can practically see her—hair pulled into a messy bun, strands already escaping, one curling across her cheek. She’d blow it out of the way with that familiar, frustrated huff, cheeks flushed, blue eyes sparking with fire.

The image isn’t just vivid in his head—it’s intimate. Nostalgic. It sneaks up on him, hits a little too hard. God, he used to love watching her like that.

He hesitates, his hand hovering over his doorknob. He should go inside, mind his business, and–

His thoughts are abruptly cut off when Hailey’s door flies open with a burst of energy, and she comes stumbling out, a pile of disassembled cardboard boxes clutched awkwardly in her arms. She’s wrestling with the mess, trying to keep them from toppling over as she maneuvers into the hallway.

Jay takes a quick step back, narrowly avoiding getting smacked in the face by a rogue flap. “Whoa—need a hand?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

Hailey startles, her head snapping up, eyes wide. “Jay,” she says, her voice a little breathless. “I—uh—” 

And there she is, exactly as he pictured her. Hair pulled into a messy bun, strands falling loose around her face, one clinging stubbornly to her cheek. She blows it out of the way with an exasperated huff, her cheeks flushed, blue eyes bright with frustration as they flick from the boxes in her arms back to him.

“Need a hand?” he asks again, softer this time.

Her shoulders sag just a fraction. “Sure. I’m just trying to get these to the recycling chute.”

Jay grins, already reaching out. “Let me.” He takes half the load, his fingers brushing hers briefly.

He pretends not to notice the way her eyes widen at the contact—or how quickly she steps back to put some distance between them. But he feels it. And yeah, it stings a little. That instinctive pull away, like getting too close to him burns.

They walk down the hall in silence, the only sound is the rustling of cardboard. When they reach the chute, Jay yanks it open, tossing his pile in with ease. He watches as Hailey struggles with hers, the boxes catching on the rim.

“Here, like this,” he says, stepping in close, guiding the stack into the chute. The movement brings him in just a little too close, his arm brushing hers, his shoulder practically touching hers. For a heartbeat, neither of them move, the air between them suddenly charged.

Hailey clears her throat, stepping back quickly. “Thanks,” she mumbles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, and Jay can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“No problem,” he says, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. “Doing some spring cleaning?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “More like finally finishing unpacking.” She pauses, glancing sideways at him. “I’ve been putting it off.”

Jay nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, I get that.” There’s a beat of silence, then he adds, “New place can take a while to feel like home.”

Her eyes flick to his, and for a moment, she just looks at him, really looks at him, as if she’s trying to figure something out. Then, just as quickly, she blinks and looks away. “Yeah... something like that.”

They stand there a moment longer, neither one making a move to leave. Jay’s about to say something else, anything to keep the conversation going, when Hailey shifts awkwardly, hugging her arms to herself. “Well, I should... get back to it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jay says, pushing off the wall. “Good luck with the rest of it.”

Hailey’s lips curve into a faint smile. “Thanks. And... thanks for the help.”

“Anytime.”

She nods, then turns and walks back to her apartment. Jay watches her go, his chest tightening as her door clicks shut behind her. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, rubbing the back of his neck.

On the bright side, she’s finally unpacking, he realizes, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. She’s staying. Despite himself, a small smile tugs at his lips.

x

For the next few days, Jay doesn’t see Hailey at all. He’s still buried under the fallout of the Baltimore case, and the grueling three-hour round-trip commute only stretches his days even further. By the time he gets home, it’s late—too late to catch her. Even when he deliberately lingers in the mornings, hoping for a chance encounter in the elevator, she’s nowhere to be found.

Their worlds have shifted out of sync, and Jay feels the weight of it more than he wants to admit. He knows exactly why it unsettles him—because being around Hailey, even with all the tension, still feels better than being without her.

The next morning, he’s done waiting. One glance at his calendar shows a morning debrief—a meeting he’d normally never skip. But today, he will. With a few quick taps, he texts the sergeant in Baltimore, citing a doctor’s appointment. His fingers hover over the send button for only a second before pressing it. A strange sense of satisfaction settles in, quiet but steady.

Determined, he heads to the apartment gym, hoping fate will finally be on his side. If Hailey sticks to any kind of routine, this is his best shot.

As he steps inside, his gaze sweeps the room—empty. The soft hum of machines fills the quiet space, the dim lighting casting long shadows, but there’s no sign of her. He forces himself onto a treadmill, starting with a light jog, pretending he’s not constantly glancing toward the door.

An hour passes. His legs ache, his breath comes in shorter bursts, and sweat drips from his brow, but still—no Hailey. His thoughts wander, unfocused, and he knows he’ll regret pushing himself this hard tomorrow. But if it means seeing her, maybe it’ll be worth it.

Just as he’s about to give up, the door swings open.

Hailey walks in, looking like she just came back from a run—cheeks flushed, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, a sheen of sweat still clinging to her skin. There’s a lightness in her step, the kind that only comes after pounding pavement and clearing her head.

She strides across the room, and when their eyes meet, she gives him a small, casual wave. It’s nothing, really—just a passing acknowledgment. But to Jay, it feels like a lifeline, a tiny bridge between them. He finds himself smiling as he lifts a hand in return.

Hailey moves to a corner to stretch, her movements fluid and purposeful. He watches her for a second too long, taking in the way she seems so at ease, while he feels anything but. His grip tightens around his water bottle, and he suddenly realizes he’s been holding it for way too long. He lifts it to his lips and drains nearly the entire thing in one go, the cold water a sharp contrast to the warmth still pulsing through him.

With a deep breath, he wipes his mouth and forces himself to look away. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Seeing her was the goal, but now that she’s here, he has no idea what to do next.

With a mental sigh, he heads toward the weights, hoping it’ll give him something—anything—to focus on besides Hailey.

Grabbing a pair of heavy weights, Jay starts with some bicep curls, but his eyes keep drifting back to her. He tells himself it’s no big deal—just habit, muscle memory—but then, as she moves through her stretches, her shirt rides up slightly. Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of something on her side.

His gaze lingers for only a moment, but that’s all it takes. The skin is healed, but the mark is unmistakable—raised, pale, and precise.

A bullet wound.

The realization slams into him, knocking the air from his lungs. His stomach twists, a cold, sinking weight settling deep in his chest. The gym suddenly feels stifling, the air too thick, pressing in on him. His grip tightens around the weights, but his hands feel unsteady. His mind races—when did it happen? Where? How bad was it? Was she alone? Who took care of her?

He swallows hard, trying to shove the thoughts down, to bury the heavy, crushing weight of them. But it’s useless. The guilt, the regret—it grows with every passing second, threatening to swallow him whole.

He can’t stay here. Not like this. He might do something reckless—say something he can’t take back, push her when she’s not ready. Something he’ll definitely regret.

Without another word or glance in her direction, he grabs his water bottle and walks out, retreating before the storm inside him breaks loose.

x

Hailey watches as Jay all but bolts from the gym, his water bottle clenched in his hand like it’s the only thing keeping him steady. Her brows knit together—he’s been off since she walked in, stealing glances, tense in a way she can’t quite place. And now, he’s gone without a word.

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. 

Rolling her shoulders, she shifts into another stretch, but as she moves, something in the mirror catches her eye—her shirt has ridden up slightly, exposing the faint, round scar etched into her side. Her stomach tightens, and she quickly tugs the fabric down, pressing her fingers against it. 

Did he see it?

The thought unsettles her in a way she doesn’t want to acknowledge. It’s not like she’s ashamed of it. It’s just a scar. But if Jay saw it… what then?

She shakes the thought away. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get to ask questions. Doesn’t get to feel anything about it.

Squaring her shoulders, Hailey moves through the rest of her stretching routine with careful precision, refusing to let her thoughts linger on him. When she finally finishes, she grabs her towel and slings it over her shoulder, and heads back to her apartment.

x

“Yeah, I know, I know—I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important,” Jay says, phone pressed to his ear as he paces the length of his living room. His jaw is tight, his free hand clenched at his side as he listens.

“I need all the reports—everything you’ve got, including any supplemental files.” He stops near the window, rubbing the back of his neck as he huffs out a dry laugh. “Oh, come on,” he says, injecting a smirk into his tone, even though his stomach twists. “This isn’t some classified nuclear launch code. Just Intelligence reports that Detective Upton signed off on.”

He listens, jaw tightening. “Thank you. That’s perfect,”  he says, exhaling. He forces out a quiet chuckle. “An expensive bottle of Macallan will be on your desk by the end of the week.” He forces a smirk into his voice, despite the way his grip tightens on the phone. “And before you ask—yes, the good stuff.”

He turns away from the window. “Alright, just send them over as soon as you can. In the next hour, if possible.” A beat passes. “No, I’m not impatient. I just—” He stops himself. Lets out a breath. Adjusts. “I just need them.” He glances at his watch. “Alright, I’ll let you get to it.” 

He ends the call, setting his phone down with more force than necessary. His fingers linger against the counter, pressing into the cold surface as he exhales. He drags a hand down his face, staring blankly at the floor. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping to find—just that he needs to know what happened to Hailey.

Jay paces the room, his thoughts tangled in a relentless loop. Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each passing second. Then, finally, the soft ping of a notification cuts through the silence. His phone vibrates against the surface, and in an instant, he snatches it up, his thumb swiping across the screen before he’s even processed the movement.

Macallan Delivery Confirmation

His pulse kicks up as he taps the email open. Dozens of files. Before he can fully process, another notification dings—then another. More emails, all under the same inconspicuous subject line, flooding in one after the other. More than he expected. More than he’s ready for.

But he doesn’t hesitate.

He moves to his laptop, downloading the documents, and the second they load, he starts reading. At first, it’s just skimming—dates, locations, incident summaries. But the more he reads, the deeper he sinks, his focus narrowing, his stomach twisting tighter with every report he opens.

Shots fired. Officer down. Suspect neutralized. Injuries sustained—

His breath catches. His fingers hover over the trackpad as he clicks on one particular file, dread curling around his ribs like a vice.

MATSON 

And there it is.

The words blur for a moment, but he forces himself to focus, forces himself to read every damn detail. Hailey risked her life to save Voight—and it was the last case she worked in Intelligence. The one that pushed her to leave.

Jay swallows hard, his vision swimming. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, keeps clicking. There are more incidents. More injuries. More close calls. More moments where she could have—where she almost—

His eyes snag on a few dates, and his stomach drops.

Some of these happened while they were still married.

While he was gone.

While he was in Bolivia, chasing something that was supposed to make sense of the mess in his head. While he was ignoring her calls, convincing himself that cutting her off was somehow protecting her.

Jay swallows hard, his fingers shaking as he scrolls through older reports—until one stops him cold. Lee Byers. The name punches through the haze in his mind. He was an old CI. A ghost from another life. He clicks the file open. 

OFFICER ABDUCTED – INCIDENT REPORT

The scanned pages load slowly, agonizingly, and then he sees it—her handwriting.

PERSONAL STATEMENT – DETECTIVE HAILEY UPTON 

Jay’s pulse pounds as he reads. Line by line, detail by detail.

He reads her words, the detached, matter-of-fact way she describes it, but his mind fills in the blanks. The fear she must have felt. How hard she must have fought. The way she must have believed, even for a second, that no one was coming for her.

Because the one person who was supposed to always have her back was thousands of miles away, not taking her calls.

His vision blurs, his throat tightening painfully.

She almost died. Twice. 

And he never knew.

Jay pushes the laptop away and exhales sharply. But the breath doesn’t come easy. It catches halfway, like his lungs forgot how to work. He tries again, but the air feels thick—like breathing through a straw. His whole body starts to tingle, buzzing beneath the skin, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic spurts.

No. No. Not now.

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair back, but the room tilts and spins. His fingers tremble as he grips the edge of the desk, white-knuckled. He presses his palm to his mouth, as if that will stop the way his chest heaves, as if that will keep the flood of emotions at bay.

But it’s useless.

His heart pounds—too fast, too loud—like it’s trying to escape his ribs. Heat prickles up the back of his neck, sweat beading along his hairline. The first tear falls, then another, and then the dam breaks. Silent sobs wrack through him, shoulders shaking violently, his body caught in a loop of guilt and grief and panic.

He drops to his knees beside the desk, curling forward, trying to breathe through it, but the more he tries, the worse it gets. His mind spins with fragmented thoughts—She could’ve died. You weren’t there. You left her. You left.

He claws at the collar of his shirt, desperate for air, for escape, for something solid to anchor him. His vision tunnels. His body locks up.

Jay leans forward, pressing his forehead to the floor this time, trying to ground himself, to feel anything but the crushing weight in his chest.

He thought leaving was what ruined them.

But this?

This is unforgivable.

For a long while, he stays there—forehead pressed to the floor, letting the storm pass. His chest still aches, his breaths coming in short, uneven bursts. But slowly, painfully, the edge of panic dulls. The buzzing in his limbs begins to fade, leaving behind only exhaustion and the raw, hollow ache of regret.

He can’t even remember the last time he wasn’t able to contain a panic attack. Not in years. Not since combat, maybe. But this? This gutted him.

Jay wipes a shaking hand over his face, dragging it down as if he could erase the tears, the shame, the weight of it all. His breath is still unsteady, catching now and then like he hasn’t quite found his rhythm again.

Everything was laid out in excruciating detail, but suddenly, it’s not enough. Not even close. He needs more—needs someone to fill in the gaps, the parts he knows are always left out of the official reports.

Eventually, he forces himself upright, limbs heavy and unsteady, and settles back into the chair at his desk. He drags a shaky hand through his hair, then reaches for his phone.

His thumb hovers over his contacts as he scrolls.  Voight.  The name alone makes his stomach twist, but before he can second-guess himself, he taps the call button.

The line barely makes it through a second ring before a gruff voice answers. “Halstead.” No hesitation. No surprise. Just the weight of someone who knew this call was coming.

Jay grips the edge of the desk, his knuckles white. He doesn’t know where to start, how to even form the words clawing at his throat.

“You pulled Upton’s reports today?” Voight’s tone is flat, indifferent—like he’s asking about the weather. In the background, there’s a faint rustle of papers, the distant creak of a chair, as if this conversation is just another part of his day.

Jay exhales sharply through his nose. “Yes.”

Silence. Heavy and weighted.

Then Voight sighs, the sound thick with something Jay can’t place. Frustration? Pity?

“You really wanna have this conversation now?” Voight’s voice crackles through the phone. 

Jay’s jaw tightens. “I should’ve had it a long time ago.”

A long pause hangs in the air. Jay’s throat works around the lump there. “E-Everything,” he forces out, his voice barely a whisper. “I need to know everything.” 

Jay squeezes his eyes shut, his grip tightening on the phone as his chest constricts. The silence on the other end stretches, heavy and unbearable, and suddenly, it’s too much.The words come tumbling out before he can stop them. 

“God, why didn’t anyone tell me all this happened?” His voice is sharper now, more raw. “You could’ve called. Someone could’ve—I should’ve—” He cuts himself off, his breath ragged.

Voight’s voice is low but firm. “You wouldn’t have answered.”

Jay’s stomach twists violently because—fuck—Voight’s right. Back then, he wasn’t taking anyone’s calls. He was too far gone in his own head, drowning in whatever the hell he thought he was searching for.

“You still should’ve told me.” His voice cracks. “When she was kidnapped. We were still married.”

“Maybe,” Voight says. Another heavy pause. “But Hailey didn’t want me to.”

Jay stills. The air is knocked clean from his lungs. “What?”

“She made it clear. Didn’t want anyone reaching out to you.”

Jay presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose, his mind spinning. “Why?”

Voight lets out a quiet scoff. “You tell me.”

Jay doesn’t answer. Because he already knows.

His chest tightens as he drags a hand down his face. “Tell me everything that happened while I was gone.” His voice is quieter now, stripped bare.

“You piling on the guilt isn’t gonna fix anything,” Voight says after a beat, his tone rough. “You weren’t here, Jay—and nothing I tell you is gonna change that. You want my advice? Let it go. Move on. For both your sakes.”

Jay swallows hard, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I can’t,” he says, voice hoarse. “I need to know.”

Voight doesn’t respond right away. When he finally does, his voice is measured, steady—but there’s weight behind every word.

Jay doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. He just listens, gripping the phone so tightly it might crack in his hand, while every piece of the past he thought he understood shifts—realigning into something far heavier. Far worse.

By the time Voight finishes, Jay feels like he’s sinking.

Like he might never find his way back up.

x

Something has changed. Hailey can tell. It’s subtle, but undeniable. 

Since that day he bolted from the gym, Jay's been avoiding her.

At first, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she was imagining it, reading too much into things. But the signs are there, stacking up like evidence she can’t ignore.

The other day she was pushing through her gym routine, when she saw him walk in and scan the room. Their eyes met for a moment—just a flicker. But then, without so much as a nod, he turned around and walked right out.

She didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe he had to leave. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood. But then, it happened again.

At the elevator. She’d been waiting, scrolling through her phone, when Jay appeared at the end of the hall. Their eyes met, and for a split second, she thought he’d walk over, wait with her like he used to. But instead, he veered off toward the stairs. Six flights up.

And then, yesterday.

She was loading laundry into the machine when she heard the door swing open. She didn’t even need to look up—she could feel it. That subtle shift in the air, the way the room suddenly felt smaller. He stepped inside, paused like he might say something. But then, without a word, he turned and walked right back out.

Since then, everything has felt... off. Small moments that once felt normal now feel loaded. The easy pleasantries, the passing smiles—they’re gone. Replaced by silence and space thick with something unspoken.

Why is he doing this?

She tells herself she shouldn’t care. That maybe, after everything, this is for the best—for her sanity, at least. She doesn’t need the distraction, doesn’t need the confusion. 

This is just who he is. The guy who leaves. The one who always pulls away when things get tough. And it makes her feel like a fool for ever thinking he could be different. Because no matter how much he seems to care, when it comes down to it—he walks.

He always walks.

And the worst part?

She can’t stop wanting him to stay.

Every time he avoids her, every time she sees him pull away, it’s like a small, insistent tug at her chest, a dull ache she can’t shake. And it’s driving her crazy.

"Fuck him," Hailey mutters under her breath, fists clenching at her sides. “Fuck Jay Halstead.”

The words feel sharp, but they bring no relief. They just hang there, empty and hollow.

She wants to be done with him, to shake this weight pressing against her ribs. But no matter how hard she tries to convince herself it’s the right thing—

She can’t.

She just…can’t.

x

A few days later, Hailey stands in the mailroom of her apartment building, shifting the weight of a  package in her arms, struggling to balance it while sorting through her mail. Bills, a real estate flyer, a J.Crew catalog—nothing important.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. With an awkward shuffle, she shifts everything to one arm to free a hand, nearly dropping the package in the process. She huffs, awkwardly wrangling the box against her hip as she digs her phone out of her pocket.

The screen lights up with a notification, and she swipes it open with her thumb. A few taps and a scroll later, a message from Nina appears:

I found the best tacos in DC, and yes, you’re coming with me. No excuses.

A smirk tugs at Hailey’s lips as she starts to reply, still fumbling with the package in her arms. She’s so focused on not dropping everything that she barely registers the sound of a door opening behind her.

But then—something shifts. The air changes, and instinct makes her glance up.

Jay.

He freezes the second he sees her, his entire body going rigid like he wasn’t expecting her to be there—or worse, like he was hoping she wouldn’t be. 

Hailey’s eyes lock on him as his grip tightens around the key in his hand. He hesitates, just for a second… and then turns, like he’s about to walk right back out.

A sharp stab of frustration shoots through her and her patience snaps.

“What the fuck, Jay? Are you seriously avoiding me right now?”

The words come out before she can stop them, but she doesn’t regret it. She’s done pretending not to notice his avoidance, done giving him the space he clearly doesn’t deserve.

Jay’s muscles tense even more, like he’s been caught in the act. His back stays to her, and for a second, she thinks he might actually walk away—proving her right.

She slams her package unceremoniously down onto the counter. "You don’t get to fuck with my head like this. Not again.” 

Jay exhales slowly, his head tilting downward. “Hailey—”

“No.” She steps forward, cutting him off. He’s still facing away, but she can see it—the tension in his shoulders, the way his head shifts slightly, his jaw clenching tight. She knows that posture too well. He’s about to dodge, to deflect, to say nothing. And she’s not having it. “I want an actual answer, Jay. No bullshit.”

Finally, he turns to face her, and when he does, she sees it—guilt. Shame. Hesitation. A storm of emotion flickers across his face, but no words come.

The silence between them stretches, heavy and suffocating. And that silence? It’s louder than anything he could have said. Because silence is all she got from him for three fucking years.

Hailey huffs out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You know what? Fuck you.” 

She grabs her package and pushes past him, her shoulder brushing his as she storms out —and there’s a strange, bittersweet satisfaction in it. 

For once, it’s her walking away. 

She stabs the elevator button, her pulse still hammering in her ears. When the doors slide shut, sealing her inside the small space, she exhales sharply, tilting her head back against the cool metal wall.

Fuck. 

Her hands clench around the package she barely remembers picking up, her mind replaying the confrontation in the mailroom. She exploded. At Jay.

God.

She shouldn’t have let him get under her skin like that. Shouldn’t have let his avoidance dig so deep that she snapped. But Jay has always had this way of breaking down her walls, slipping past every layer of defense she’s spent years fortifying. And she fucking hates him for it.

The elevator dings as it reaches her floor, and she storms out, her jaw tight as she unlocks her apartment door. The second she’s inside, she drops the package onto the counter and presses the heels of her hands against the cool surface, grounding herself.

A deep breath in. A slow exhale out. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

It doesn’t help.

Her emotions crackle under her skin, restless and raw. This—this whole fucking thing between them—it’s exhausting. The push and pull, the unresolved past that neither of them seems capable of walking away from.

A sharp knock at the door makes her freeze.

She doesn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it is.

Her heart slams against her ribs as she stares at the door, fingers curling against the counter. A part of her wants to ignore him. To give him the silent treatment right back. Let him feel what it’s like to be shut out, to be ignored.

But that’s the coward’s way out. And Hailey is far from a coward.

Ignoring him would mean burying this, shoving it down and pretending like it doesn’t matter. And she’s so damn tired of pretending—tired of the fake niceties, the forced smiles, the empty good mornings and how was your day? Tired of being civil with the man who fucking broke her. She can almost hear her therapist’s voice in her head, reminding her not to bury her emotions, to let herself feel them.

Well, she’s definitely feeling them right now. The anger, the hurt—it’s all rising, sharp and hot, tightening in her chest, impossible to ignore.

Before she can second-guess it, she moves—crossing the room in a few quick strides and unlocking the door. When she pulls it open, Jay is standing there. His expression unreadable, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

For a long moment, neither of them speaks.

Then, finally, Hailey lifts her chin, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “What?”

Jay exhales, something flickering in his eyes—regret, maybe. An apology he doesn’t quite know how to say. But Hailey doesn’t fill in the silence for him this time. If he has something to say, he’s going to have to be the one to say it.

And for once, she’s going to let him.

Jay exhales, his jaw tight as his fingers flex inside his pockets. “I’ve been avoiding you.”

Hailey lifts a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “Yeah, no shit.”

Jay huffs out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” she cuts in, shaking her head. “Don’t stand here and tell me you didn’t mean to when that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. You see me, and you run the other way.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, but he doesn’t deny it.

That stings more than it should.

Hailey exhales sharply, gripping the doorframe. “Why?”

Jay hesitates, his gaze dropping for a beat before he forces himself to meet her eyes. “Because I don’t know how to be around you.”

A sharp, humorless laugh escapes her. “Bullshit. You knew how to be around me when we ran into each other in the hallway, the elevator... When you helped me with the cardboard boxes…When we were…” She trails off, jaw clenching. When they were inching toward something again.

Jay’s eyes darken like he knows exactly why she cut herself off. “That was before.”

“Before what?” she snaps, frustration flaring hot again.

His jaw tenses, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “Before I saw it.”

The words hang between them, thick and heavy.

Hailey follows the shift in his gaze—his eyes drop, just for a second, landing on the spot just beneath her ribcage. The place where the scar is. Where the bullet tore through her and changed everything.

And just like that, she knows exactly what he’s talking about.

Hailey inhales sharply, her stomach tightening as she shifts her weight. “So that’s what this is about?” she mutters, shaking her head. “You saw my scar, and now you suddenly can’t be around me?”

“It’s not just the scar.” His voice is rough, like the words physically hurt. “It’s what it means. It’s everything that happened to you after I left.” He drags a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his expression. “I–I looked it up, Hailey. I know what you went through. And I—” He stops himself, like he doesn’t trust what might come out next.

Her head jerks back, heart slamming into her ribs. “What do you mean, you looked it up?”

Jay hesitates, like he knows he just stepped on a landmine. “I—I read the reports,” he says, voice low. “And I talked to Voight… too.”

A bitter laugh escapes her. “Unbelievable.” Her voice rises. “Did it make you feel better? Knowing how fucked up things got for me after you left?” She shakes her head, anger curling hot in her gut. 

Jay flinches. “Hailey…” His voice is rough, guilt-ridden. “It made me feel fucking worthless—like I didn’t deserve to even look at you.”

She scoffs. “Good.”

He looks away briefly, gathering his thoughts, before finally meeting her eyes again. It feels like he’s gathering something—like he’s trying to find the right words, but they’re stuck somewhere in his thick, fucking head. 

“I… I just needed—” 

But before he can finish, a neighbor’s door swings open down the hall. A man steps out, offering a polite smile as he passes by. For a brief moment, they both snap back into civility, tension momentarily masked. The neighbor nods, murmuring a quiet “Evening,” before continuing down the hallway.

Hailey and Jay exchange a brief, strained glance, and once the elevator door closes, Jay’s eyes return to hers. He takes a shallow breath, the weight of his words still hanging in the air.

“I just needed to know,” he finishes. 

“Needed to know?” She lets out a bitter laugh, gripping the doorframe to steady herself. “Wow. Look at you—playing catch-up like it makes a damn difference now.”

She catches the slight clench of his jaw before he speaks again, his voice quieter. “I know that, but—”

Hailey cuts him off, frustration bubbling over. “Oh, here’s a thought—you could’ve asked me. But no, why do that when running off and playing detective is more your style?”

Jay exhales through his nose, his hands flexing at his sides. “Didn’t think you’d want to talk about it.”

“Maybe,” she snaps. “But that should’ve been my choice.” She shakes her head again, looking away for a second, trying to breathe past the tightness in her chest. “You left, Jay. You signed the divorce papers. And now, years later, you think you can try to fix your guilt with some research?” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Must be nice. Getting closure on my life without ever having to look me in the eye.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“I don’t care what you were trying to do.” Her voice cuts through his, sharp and unyielding. “You don’t get to feel guilty now. You don’t get to act like you care after shutting me out of your life.”

Jay’s lips press together, his whole body tense. “You think I don’t know that?” he says, his voice low and strained. “You think I don’t wake up every damn day knowing I was the one who wrecked us?” His voice drops even more, heavy with guilt. “Hailey, every time I see you, all I can think about is how I lost everything—the best thing that ever happened to me. And now, knowing exactly what it did to you?” He meets her eyes. “Yeah. I was avoiding you.”

A beat of silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating.

Hailey tightens her grip on the door, nails pressing into the wood. She should slam it in his face.  Push him away and pretend she doesn’t care. But again, she’s so damn tired of pretending. Because for all the anger burning inside her, there’s something else, too. Something she doesn’t want to name.

Her voice is quieter when she finally speaks. “So what now?”

Jay exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly, like he doesn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.”

A beat of silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating.

Hailey tightens her grip on the door, her nails digging into the wood. Her heart is pounding, but it’s no longer with anger. It’s sadness now. She meets his eyes, searching for something—anything—that might make reopening this old wound feel worth it. But whatever she’s looking for... it’s not there.

Without a word, she steps back. But she doesn’t invite him in.

“Goodnight, Jay,” she says softly, the finality in her voice landing like a closing chapter.

Jay presses his lips together and nods once, slow and quiet, accepting her decision.

And then she closes the door—gently, but firmly. The soft click of the lock echoes through the silence like a full stop. 

Chapter Text

A month passes, and they’re not pretending anymore.

The tension between them is palpable, an unspoken weight pressing into every encounter, stretched taut like an invisible wire ready to snap. They pass each other in the mailroom, in the elevator, outside the building—but there are no pleasantries, no forced smiles, no empty “How’s your day?” 

Just silence, thick and unresolved.

Hailey can’t decide which is worse: the strained, surface-level civility they used to share or this cold, stifling nothingness.

She tells herself it’s better this way. Cleaner. Less complicated. But some nights, when she catches a glimpse of him unlocking his door across the hall, his shoulders tense like he can feel her watching, she wonders if she’s lying to herself.

But work keeps her distracted. 

Her latest case is big—trafficking, cartel involvement, layers of corruption that make it nearly impossible to pin down one key player. She’s the lead agent again, which means long hours, endless briefings, and the kind of relentless focus that leaves little room for anything else. And that’s exactly what she needs.

She buries herself in it, chasing leads, coordinating surveillance, pushing her team toward a takedown that’s just within reach. It’s exhausting, frustrating, but also the one thing that makes sense right now.

Because when she’s working, she’s not thinking about Jay.

She’s not wondering. 

She’s not questioning. 

And she sure as hell isn’t letting herself think if the silence between them is starting to feel a lot like regret.

Which is why she throws herself into the case harder than ever. 

Hailey stands in the conference room, poring over surveillance photos with Nina and the rest of the team. They finally have a lead—Manuel Cortez, an enforcer for the Serrano cartel. A man with a long history of violence and a reputation for making problems disappear.

Their intel puts him in a warehouse on the outskirts of Baltimore, suspected to be a key hub for moving victims before they’re funneled elsewhere.

“This is our best shot,” Nina says, tapping a finger against the map spread out on the table. “We have confirmation that Cortez was seen here two nights ago. If he’s still operating out of this location, we need to move fast.”

Hailey nods, flipping to the next file, adrenaline thrumming low in her veins. “Before we do that, we need to push our CI for more. We’ve got enough to move in, but if we can get Cortez on conspiracy charges before he bolts, we’ll have a stronger case to take down the bigger players.”

Hailey’s voice is steady, sure. Here, in this space, she knows exactly what to do. There’s no second-guessing, no unresolved past clouding her focus. Dr. Morgan won’t be happy to see her using work as a distraction once again—but right now, Hailey doesn’t care. This is where she feels in control.

x

Jay adjusts his headset as the video window pops open. Richard appears on the screen, leaning back in his leather chair with the same effortless authority he always carries. His tie is loose, a whiskey glass half-full beside him, like he’s settling in for the night.

“Halstead,” Richard greets, tilting his head slightly. “I just saw your email, and I’m glad you reached out—we need to discuss a few things. But first, what’s on your mind?”

Jay exhales, trying to figure out how to actually say the thing he’s been wrestling with for days now. “I just…I  need a new assignment. Something long-term. Preferably out of DC.”

A slow smirk tugs at Richar’s lips. He doesn’t answer right away, just studies Jay with an amused glint in his eye. “That’s funny,” he says finally. “Last time you wanted to stay local. Now you’re itching to get out.” He takes a sip of his drink, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Whatever was going on clearly didn’t work out, huh? You owe me a drink.”

Jay presses his lips together, not in the mood. “Can you make it happen or not?”

Richard leans forward, interlocking his fingers on the desk. “No can do.”

Jay frowns. “Why not? I’m sure that field office in El Paso—the one that keeps requesting me—they’d be more than happy to have me.”  

Richard lets out a short breath, the trace of a smirk fading. “Oh, so now you’re volunteering for the post you’ve spent the last year dodging? Yeah, no. Still can’t do it. Baltimore’s heating up, and that’s what I need to talk to you about.” His voice shifts, turning serious. “That low-level drug situation? It just got a hell of a lot bigger.”

Jay narrows his eyes. “How big are we talking?”

Richard exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Big enough that it’s joint-level now,” he says. “What started as a low-level drug operation has unraveled into a major trafficking pipeline. Narcotics, weapons, even human trafficking—it’s all connected. And now we’ve got cartel ties running through Baltimore like a goddamn circulatory system.”

Jay stiffens. “Cartels?”

His mind is already working through the implications. Cartels moving in at this level means federal involvement isn’t just a possibility—it is a certainty. And if the FBI is involved—

Richard nods grimly. “Nothing confirmed yet, but the patterns are there—money movement, supply routes, even some of the players we’re tracking. This is going to be a full-scale task force. It’s already messy, and it’s about to get worse.” He levels Jay with a steady look. “This is where you’re needed, Jay. You’ve been in this world before. You know how the cartels move—how they think. And we need that.”

Jay exhales through his nose, his plans unraveling faster than he can piece together an alternative. He convinces himself that the scale of this task force, the complexity of what they’re dealing with—it’s so massive, so tangled, that there’s no way his path will cross with Hailey’s. Even if they’re both working in the same general area, their roles are different enough that their paths will probably never intersect. He tells himself that’s the most likely scenario. 

Still, the thought nags at him.

Jay clenches his jaw. “For how long?”

Donavan shrugs. “As long as it takes.”

Jay exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. 

Richard watches him for a beat, his tone shifting. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, and I know better not to ask. But this isn’t the time to run, Halstead.”  

The words hit harder than Jay expects—even though he knows Richard didn’t mean them as anything more. Still, they echo in his chest, striking a nerve he’s been trying to ignore. Because it’s not the assignment he’s running from.

It’s Hailey.

It’s the wreckage of choices he can’t take back.

It’s the guilt, the regret, the shame he’s tried to bury under new titles and fresh starts. But no matter how far he runs, it all follows.

Richard sighs, breaking the moment. He lifts his glass of whiskey slightly, a wry half-smile tugging at his lips as he motions it toward the camera in a mock toast. “Briefing at 0800. Everyone will be there. Be ready. Look sharp—and show them why they pay you the big bucks.”

And then the call ends.

Jay pulls off his headset, staring at the dark screen.

So much for getting away.

By morning, any thoughts of escape are buried beneath duty. Jay steps into the conference room, the low murmur of conversation already filling the space as he takes his seat at the long table. Chief Hayes sits at the head, arms crossed, observing as the last few people file in. A large monitor at the far end of the room displays a map of Baltimore, red zones highlighting key areas of concern..

Chief Hayes clears his throat, and the room falls silent. “Alright, let’s get into it. We’ve caught ourselves a whale,” he says. “What started as a local drug trade issue has escalated into something much more organized—and far more dangerous.”

Jay listens, his back straight, fingers laced together on the table as reports and crime scene photos flash across the screen. He absorbs all the information in silence, already processing potential routes of investigation, but he forces himself to stay quiet.The last thing he wants is to look too invested—especially with what Ricahrs told him yesterday about the cartel's involvement. 

The more he stays under the radar, the better chance he has of keeping his distance from the Bureau. 

From Hailey. 

Then, a sharp-eyed woman from the DEA named Monroe, flips through a folder before leveling her gaze at Jay. “Which brings me to my next point. The FBI wants to loop you in, Halstead.”

Jay’s stomach drops like a lead weight. Across the table, Richard shoots him a knowing glance but stays silent.

“They want you to assist their task force,” Monroe continues. “Your background with cartel operations in Bolivia makes you one of the most qualified.”

Jay leans back slightly, his pulse pounding in his ears. How the hell is he supposed to get out of this now?

He keeps his expression neutral as he shifts in his chair. “I’m more useful staying on our side of things,” he states, keeping his voice even. “I can liaise with them, sure, but I don’t need to be embedded.” 

Monroe raises an eyebrow. “With all due respect, this isn’t about convenience. This is about capability. And you’re one of the few with real, tactical experience against this kind of threat.”

Jay responds quickly, but his tone is calm, deliberate. “I understand that. I just think there are other analysts—people with Bureau clearance—who might integrate more smoothly, without causing unnecessary friction.” 

She doesn’t budge. “You’re not being asked to volunteer, Halstead. This is–”

“Look,” Richard cuts in, his voice calm but firm, “I get it. This is a tough ask. But you’re the right guy for it, Jay. You’ve worked cases like this before, and frankly, your insight could be what turns the tide.” He leans forward slightly, tone gentler now. “This isn’t about throwing you to the FBI wolves. We’re backing you. You’ll have the Bureau’s resources, our support—and full control over your end of the intel.”

Jay hesitates, tension still thrumming beneath his skin.

“This is now a joint operation,” Hayes reiterates, his tone leaving no room for debate. “We need full cooperation. No exceptions.”

Jay looks down at the papers in front of him, the edges blurring as his mind spins. He gives a small nod, swallowing the frustration building in his chest.

They're not giving him a choice. And now, whether he’s ready or not, his path is about to collide with Hailey’s.

She needs to know.

So later that night, after hours of second-guessing and pacing his apartment, Jay finds himself standing in front of Hailey’s door, hands on his hips as he exhales sharply. His mind runs through a dozen ways this conversation could go—none of them particularly smooth. But she deserves to hear it from him before she finds out some other way.

Rolling his shoulders, he lifts a hand and knocks.

For a moment, there’s nothing. Then, faint shuffling. The sound of her footsteps approaching. He knows the second she looks through the peephole—he swears he hears the smallest sigh, and  after another pause, the door swings open.

Hailey stands there in sweats, her hair pinned up messily, strands escaping. The faded sweatshirt she’s wearing—one of his old favorites—sits loosely on her frame. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, her expression unreadable, her gaze guarded.

Jay wets his lips. “Can we talk?” He glances down the hallway, eyes sweeping over the closed doors lining the corridor. The last thing he needs is a neighbor stepping out at the wrong moment—like last time—catching fragments of a conversation that isn’t meant for anyone else. 

His gaze shifts back to Hailey. “Do you think I could come in?” he asks, voice low, unsure. “I’d… I’d rather keep this between us.”

Her eyes flicker with something—hesitation, maybe, or irritation. But after a beat, she steps back, pulling the door open wider.

Jay takes a breath and steps inside, bracing himself.

The apartment feels oddly familiar yet distinctly her. It’s an organized chaos—papers stacked on the coffee table, a jacket draped over the arm of the couch like he knows she just tossed it there in passing. A pair of running shoes sits haphazardly by the door, laces loosely knotted. There’s order to the mess, a system he knows only she understands. It's her. Clean, but lived-in. Functional, yet not sterile.

He follows her into the kitchen, where she leans against the counter, arms crossed, her sharp, blue eyes fixed on him.

“Alright,” she says, cutting straight to it. “What do you want to talk about?”

Jay exhales, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “This past month, I spent working on a low-level drug case,” he says, meeting her gaze. ”In Baltimore.” 

Her expression doesn’t shift, but he catches the slight change in her posture. A barely-there tension.

“Okay,” she says slowly, dragging the sound. “And?”

“And it’s evolved into a major trafficking pipeline with confirmed cartel ties,” he says, pausing before adding, “The Bureau’s pulling me into their task force, given my history with cartel ops.”

The weight of those words settles heavy between them. 

Hailey doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. But he notices the way her fingers tighten slightly against her arms, the small clench of her jaw—tiny tells only someone who knows her well would catch. 

“I tried to get out of it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “But they didn’t give me much of a choice.”

Hailey exhales sharply, shaking her head as she looks away for a moment. “Of course they didn’t,” she mutters under her breath. She lets out a slow breath, nodding once as the reality sinks in. “And you’re telling me this so I don’t get blindsided when you waltz into my bullpen?”

“Something like that. But—” Jay swallows, runs a hand over his jaw, then meets her eyes squarely. “Look… I’ve been pacing around my apartment for the past hour, trying to figure out if this could even work,” he says, his voice steady, unwavering. “And honestly?  I don’t have an answer. But if this puts you in a bad place—if you don’t want me there—I’ll walk away. I’ll quit.”

Hailey’s brows pull together, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

“I’ll find something else,” he continues. Then, almost to himself, he murmurs, “Maybe I should.” But the words feel heavy in his throat. “Maybe being apart is what’s best for us right now.” 

He doesn’t even know why he said that last part—maybe because he thinks she’ll agree, maybe because saying it out loud makes it feel like something he can control. But the second the words are out there, a weight settles in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

He watches her, waiting for a response, but she doesn’t give him one right away. Just stands there, her expression unreadable. 

Then, finally, Hailey exhales a long sigh and runs a hand through her hair, the movement slow, almost resigned. She pushes off the counter. “These conversations always work better with a drink,” she mutters. “You want a beer?” she asks, already heading for the fridge.

Jay blinks at her, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but then huffs a quiet laugh. “Uh, sure.”

She pulls out two bottles, pops the caps off with ease, and hands him one before leaning back against the kitchen counter again. She takes a sip, eyes flicking up to him. 

“You’re not quitting your job.”

Jay watches her carefully. “Hailey—”

“No,” she cuts in, shaking her head. “I appreciate the… consideration or whatever this is, but don’t put that on me. I’m not gonna be the reason you quit.”

Jay studies her, fingers wrapped around the cold glass bottle. “Even if it means we might work together?”

She shrugs, but it’s not indifferent. More resigned. “It’s not ideal, but we’re both professionals.” She pauses, staring at the label on her beer like it holds some kind of answer. 

Jay takes another sip of his beer, the cool liquid offering a small relief against the tension hanging in the air. His eyes stay on Hailey as she leans against the counter, watching him in silence. The weight of everything unspoken between them is thick—so heavy he can almost taste it.

Finally, Hailey speaks, her voice even. “So, tell me about this drug case.” 

"Low-level stuff, mostly—street dealers, small-time distributors, nothing that raises too many red flags on its own. But when you start connecting the dots, it’s leading back to bigger players. Supply lines are too clean, movements too coordinated. Someone with real power is pulling the strings, and we’re just starting to get a glimpse of who.” He sips his beer. “FBI picked up the cartel angle?” 

Hailey meets his gaze, her voice steady. “Yeah. The cartel’s been working its way into several low-level operations, making it harder to trace. I’m not surprised your drug case is connected. It’s probably part of the same network we’ve been investigating.” 

Jay watches as Hailey takes a slow sip of her beer, the bottle brushing her lips before she pulls it away, her gaze fixed on something just past him. He follows suit, bringing the cold glass to his mouth.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The silence lingers, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It settles around them like something familiar—worn in, comfortable. The simple act of drinking together, of sharing a quiet pause, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

As he lowers his bottle, his eyes meet hers. And in that fleeting second, something unspoken passes between them—something that doesn’t need words.

Because it's the thing that works between them. 

Even now. 

After another long beat, Jay takes a few tentative steps toward the counter and sets his bottle down, finally exhaling. "Are you sure you’re good with this? With us possibly working together? With me being in your space?"

He watches her, waiting for her response, unsure if this is something they can truly navigate smoothly.

Hailey looks at him, her eyes steady, and for a moment, she doesn’t answer right away. She takes another sip from her beer, then sets it down on the counter next to his, her fingers briefly brushing the label.

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly, not meeting his eyes at first. “But we’ll figure it out.” She finally looks at him. “We’ve always been good at the job part, even when our personal lives got a little messy."

Jay nods, a flicker of something like relief crossing his face. “Yeah,” he says quietly. He means it. And he knows she does too. They’ve always had that unspoken rhythm—chaos outside, clarity on the job. Whatever else was falling apart, the work never did. “But if it gets too complicated… if it gets to be too much—"

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” she interrupts, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “No need to borrow trouble.”

Jay chuckles quietly, a hint of relief in the sound. “Fair enough.” He takes another sip from his beer, the tension easing just a little. “Thanks for the beer,” he says, his voice a little more casual now. He pauses, shifting slightly as he feels the awkwardness start to settle in. 

"Thanks for the heads up,” Hailey offers a small smile, her gaze meeting his for a second before she looks away.  

Jay nods slowly, offering her a smile. “I should probably…” He motions with his thumb toward the door, his tone uncertain, as though he’s not entirely sure he’s ready to leave. An apology has been at the tip of his tongue, but he’s not sure she wants to hear it.

Hailey nods. “Okay.” She unfolds her arms and pushes herself off the counter, walking toward the door. She pulls it open, then turns to face him. Night, Jay.”

"Good night, Hailey," he says with a small smile. He steps out, but at the doorway, he pauses, glancing back and meeting her eyes. "Thank you."

Hailey frowns for a split second, a brief flicker of confusion crossing her face. But the moment passes quickly, and she just nods. “Sure,” she says softly, her voice quiet and almost distant.

As he walks across the hall, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s been left unsaid. Something he can’t quite put into words yet. But for now, all he can do is let it go and hope they both figure it out—whatever “it” is.

x

Hailey sits at the long conference table, fingers lightly drumming against her notepad as she listens to Special Agent in Charge Daniels outline the next phase of their investigation. The cartel case has taken a sharp turn, and with it comes new resources . 

Ever since that conversation with Jay a few days ago, she’s been hearing murmurs around the office—whispers about a new outside analyst joining their task force. And now, the moment she’s been quietly dreading is finally here. Tension coils in her chest as Daniels flips to the next slide on the monitor, and she forces herself to breathe.

“To strengthen our intel on cartel movements, we’re bringing in an additional resource. The Bureau has secured the expertise of an intelligence analyst—Jay Halstead.” Daniels lets out a low whistle as he glances at the file in front of him. “Decorated Army Ranger, former detective with Chicago PD, recipient of multiple commendations for tactical excellence, and most recently part of an international task force in Bolivia targeting high-level cartel networks.”

Hailey keeps her expression neutral, but this is sending a sharp pulse through her chest.

Daniels continues, scanning the room. “He’ll be joining us later today, and I thought it would be a good idea to have Garcia, Reyes, and…” He pauses, eyes drifting across the room before landing on Hailey, who’s subtly trying to make herself small. Daniels clears his throat and adds, “…and Upton work with him. Since he was a Chicago police officer, I figured you two might have something in common.”

Hailey forces herself to keep her expression neutral. She nods stiffly, trying to keep her voice even. “Small world.” 

Her grip tightens on her pen, and she forces herself to focus on the screen, hoping no one notices the way her pulse has quickened.

But of course Nina shifts in her seat, glancing over at Hailey with a raised eyebrow. Hailey keeps her gaze fixed ahead, trying to avoid Nina’s scrutiny.

“Reyes, you and Upton will work closely with him on the intel side,” Daniels continues. “I want you both looped into his briefings. Garica, you work on him on the tactical side.”

Hailey nods again, her posture stiff as she tries to shake the weight of everything from her mind.

As the meeting wraps up, Nina falls into step beside Hailey in the hallway. “So…” Nina starts a playful note in her voice, “The new guy…” she begins. 

Hailey glances at her, keeping her expression neutral. “What about him?”

Nina shrugs slightly, a mischievous smile on her face. “Do you know him?”

Hailey forces a smile and shrugs, trying to keep her voice light. “I’ve heard of him,” she says, keeping her tone neutral, hoping she doesn't press further. But there’s something in Nina’s eyes—a flicker of curiosity—that Hailey knows means she’s not letting this go .

Nina tilts her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Sooo… you two have crossed paths before, or…?” she asks, her voice casual but curious. “Anything I should know? Red flags?”

Hailey flashes her another small, tight-lipped smile, trying to deflect. “Daniels already gave us his spiel. What else is there to know?”

Nina, not convinced, leans in slightly, her curiosity piqued. “I don’t know... Is he an ass? Is he good looking, at least?” she asks, her voice light but with a teasing edge.

Hailey feels a flicker of tension but quickly masks it with a shrug. “Why would that matter?” she asks, her voice deliberately casual as she walks ahead, clearly trying to steer the conversation elsewhere—or, better yet, end it.

Nina raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I mean, if I have to play nice with some outsider analyst, it’d be nice if he’s at least easy on the eyes.” She gives Hailey a quick wink, clearly amused. “God knows I’ve dealt with enough unattractive douchebags in this job.”

Hailey rolls her eyes, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” she says with a shrug, her voice casual, almost dismissive. She picks up her pace, clearly ready to leave the topic behind.

Nina studies her for a moment longer. “Alright,” she says, though there’s a hint of doubt in her voice. “We’ll see.” 

Hailey changes the subject, tossing out a comment about the pile of reports waiting for her back at her desks. It’s a casual deflection, effortless on the surface. But even as the conversation fizzles out, the weight of what’s coming settles deep in her bones. She’s known this was happening, tried to prepare herself—but that doesn’t stop the nerves from creeping in.

And no amount of preparation is going to make it easy to see Jay Halstead in her bullpen.

A short while later, Hailey sits at her desk, tapping her pen against the edge of her notepad, trying to focus on the case file in front of her. Her mind, however, is elsewhere . 

The phone on her desk rings, pulling her from her thoughts. She picks it up. 

“Upton, get Garcia and Reyes,” comes Daniels’ voice on the line. “Meet me in my office.”

The line goes dead before she can respond, and her stomach drops. She knows exactly what’s coming. She pushes her chair back, the creak of it too loud in the otherwise silent bullpen, and glances over at Nina and Garcia, both deep in their own work. Nina looks up first, raising an 

“Guess it’s time to meet the new guy,” Hailey mutters under her breath. She grabs a notebook—more out of habit than need, her hands a little shakier than she’d like. But after a step, she pauses, sighs, and sets it back down before weaving through the bullpen toward Daniels’s office.

Nina gives her a curious look but doesn’t press. She and Garcia follow Hailey down the hallway. As they walk, Hailey catches a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of a nearby office door. She instinctively pulls at the hem of her suit jacket, smoothing it down. Her stomach twists again, but she straightens her shoulders, mentally preparing for what lies ahead.

As they reach Daniels’ office, Hailey’s pulse quickens. She can already feel the tension in her chest tightening. She pushes the door open and steps inside, the others following her.

Daniels stands by his desk, his arms folded across his chest, a small but noticeable smile on his face. But Hailey doesn’t register much of anything else. Her eyes immediately lock on the man standing beside him.

Jay is dressed in a sharp, dark suit that fits him effortlessly. The jacket is crisp, sleeves rolled up, no tie, and the top button of his shirt undone, giving him a relaxed, casual look. His hair is slightly tousled, as if he’s run a hand through it absentmindedly, and while his posture is easy, Hailey notices the subtle tension in his stance.

Next to her, Hailey can practically hear Nina’s thoughts. The way her gaze sweeps over him, full of clear appreciation, says it all—she’s impressed. And Hailey knows she won’t hear the end of it.

“Everyone,” Daniels says, gesturing toward Jay. “This is Jay Halstead. He’ll be joining us on the task force. 

Garcia is the first to extend a hand, smiling warmly as Jay shakes it with a firm grip. Reyes follows, offering a brief but respectful handshake. When Hailey steps forward, her hand hesitates for just a second before meeting his. The moment their hands touch, there’s an electric charge between them—a jolt that sends a wave of heat rushing through her. She quickly pulls her hand back, her fingers tingling, but tries to mask it with a polite smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Hailey says, keeping that polite smile plastered on her face.

Jay meets her gaze, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something she can’t quite place. Hesitation? Unease?

“Good to meet you,” he says, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Good to meet  you all.” 

"As I mentioned," Daniels continues looking at Jay,  "you’ll be working with Hailey and Reyes on intel coordination, and Garcia will be handling the tactical side of things. We are very thankful you are here now, especially with how fast everything is unraveling."

Jay gives a small nod, his posture still relaxed but his eyes sharp.

Hailey feels a tightness in her chest. She tries not to look at him too closely, but it's impossible to ignore the way his presence just fills the fucking room. The way his every movement seems to draw her attention.

"Alright, that’s it for introductions. Halstead, welcome to the team.” 

"Thanks. Looking forward to getting started.” 

As Daniels dismisses them, Hailey starts to head out of the office, eager to escape, but Daniels calls her back. “Upton, would you mind helping Jay get situated? Maybe show him around?”

Hailey nods sharply, mentally bracing herself. "Of course," she says, her voice calm, though her mind is racing.

Jay meets her gaze briefly, but this time, there’s no flicker of nervousness. Instead, it’s a steady calm—a professionalism that she knows too well. It’s comforting. Still, she can’t shake the feeling that something beneath the surface is pulling at him, just as much as it’s pulling at her.

What the fuck has she gotten herself into?

Hailey leads Jay down the hallway, her steps quick, almost too quick, as though she's trying to outrun the weight of his presence behind her. She keeps her posture rigid, shoulders squared, determined not to acknowledge the knot tightening in her stomach with every step. Every part of her wants to escape, but she knows better. She’s a professional. She can handle this.

She’s mid-step when she feels a light but firm touch on her arm. Jay’s hand—warm, familiar, steady. The contact is innocent, but enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Hailey, wait.” His voice is quiet, careful. 

Her eyes flick to where his fingers curl around her arm, then, like he’s realized what he is doing,  he drops his hand to his side and exhales. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “The tour. I’ve been in offices like this before. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

Hailey holds his gaze for a second too long, weighing her response. Part of her wants to take the out he’s giving her—to turn around and walk away—but she doesn’t. Instead, she lifts her chin, schooling her face into something she hopes is unreadable.

“It’s no big deal,” she says, her tone even, dismissive. “It’s just a tour.” 

Jay studies her for a beat, then nods, accepting the answer for what it is. “Alright,” he says, his tone even, but she doesn’t miss the way his fingers flex at his side, like he’s resisting the urge to say something more.

Hailey doesn’t wait for him to change his mind. She turns and keeps walking. 

Jay follows in silence, his presence looming, too familiar and too foreign all at once. The low hum of the office seems to fade as Hailey guides him past desks, pointing out different team members. Her voice comes out steady, practiced, but there’s a tightness to it that she can't shake.

“Over here, is the intel team,” she gestures toward a row of desks. “The team is solid., and feel free to take any of these empty desks,” she adds. 

Jay nods, his gaze flicking briefly toward the team, then back to Hailey. There’s a flicker in his eyes—something guarded, like he’s trying to read her without her knowing. She doesn’t let him. Not now. Not here.

They stop at the IT desk, and she gives a short nod to the tech working there. “This is Sam. He’ll help with any computer stuff.” 

“Got it,” Jay responds, voice low. 

They continue down the hall, and Hailey keeps her focus on the path ahead. As they reach the conference room, she pauses, the door just in front of her. “This is where the team meets for briefings,” she says, her voice clipped, professional. “We like to meet every couple of days, or whenever something big drops.”

Jay doesn’t respond immediately. His eyes are fixed on the door, like he’s waiting for something, but when he finally meets her gaze, his lips twitch, like he’s about to say something but holds it back. Instead, he nods once, a tight, barely-there gesture.

“Okay.” 

She stops by the kitchen area, an open space with a small table and an array of snacks lining the counter. A coffee machine hums quietly in the corner. 

“Kitchen,” Hailey says, her voice even. “Coffee, snacks, nothing fancy. Feel free to use it whenever.”

Jay’s gaze flicks to the coffee machine as he steps inside. “Fancy,” he says, giving her a half-smile. “Mind if I..” 

Hailey nods. “Go for it. Mugs are in that top cabinet. “

Jay grabs a mug and moves to the coffee machine, brewing a cup—the sound filling the quiet between them. Hailey stands by the door, arms folded loosely, trying not to let her thoughts get too loud. It doesn’t help that he looks good— too good, honestly. She takes a breath, focusing on staying calm, on keeping everything professional.

“There are energy drinks in the cabinet, too,” Hailey says—knowing he’s not into them, but saying it anyway. Anything to quiet the thoughts clattering around in her head.

Jay glances up from the coffee machine, offering a small smile. “I’ll stick with coffee.” 

Hailey forces a smile of her own, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Right.” 

For a moment, they both stand there, the space between them slightly awkward. Hailey is conscious of the tension she’s trying to ignore, but she knows she’s not fooling herself. Jay’s here now. Nothing she can do about it.

Jay takes a sip from his mug, his green eyes meeting hers for a brief moment, though he doesn’t say anything. Then, he looks down at his watch, his brow furrowing slightly as he checks the time.

“I’ve got a meeting with... uh… John Keller, I think?” he says hesitantly. 

Hailey nods, keeping her tone neutral. “He is the Assistant Special Agent in Charge.” 

“Right,” Jay responds, giving her a quick look before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Need help finding his office?” Hailey asks, as she turns to leave.

Jay’s quiet response follows her as she steps out. “I’m sure I can find it.” 

Jay’s lips tug into a faint smile. It’s not enough to soften the tension, nothing is,  but it’s there—just barely.

 “I’ll leave you to it then,” she mutters, already feeling the familiar weight of the conversation hanging in the air. 

“Thanks,” Jay says quietly, his tone softer than it was before.

Hailey gives a small nod in response and she steps out of the kitchen area, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the hallway as she walks away from the tension, but she knows it’s still there. And it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Chapter Text

It has been a week since Jay started working with the Bureau. A week of navigating the uneasy territory between the past and the present, between what they had been and what they are now. Hailey braced herself for the worst—awkwardness, tension, maybe even the return of all the anger, but instead, she finds herself taken aback by something unexpected.

She’d forgotten how good Jay is at his job.

Jay has slipped into his role seamlessly, his experience and instincts proving invaluable to their task force. His analysis is sharp, his insights precise. He asks the right questions, connects dots others might overlook. He has always been good—she knows that better than anyone—but this Jay seems different. More intense, more focused. Yet, at the same time, lighter somehow, like he has shed some of the weight that used to sit so heavily on his shoulders.

True to his word, he’s been keeping things strictly professional, maintaining a respectful distance, which Hailey appreciates. There are no lingering glances, no loaded silences. He is encouraging, but not overbearing. Present, but not intrusive. It is almost maddening how well he is handling it all, like working with his ex-wife doesn’t shake him at all. Meanwhile, she feels like her equilibrium has been thrown off.

She steals a glance at him from across the conference room, where he stands near the evidence board, running through a timeline with Nina and Daniels. His expression is serious, focused, but there is clarity in his eyes she hasn’t seen in years. The weight of experience, of everything he has been through. But there is also something else. A steadiness. Like he has found a way to make peace with his demons.

Hailey is almost jealous of him. 

She turns her attention back to the file in front of her, inhaling deeply, forcing herself to concentrate. This is her job. She can handle this. She has to. Because if there is one thing she is sure of, it is that Jay Halstead isn’t the same man who walked away all those years ago. And she isn’t sure what that means for her anymore.

Maybe it’s time to book another session with her therapist.

The meeting wraps up, and Jay nods to Daniels before they both exit the room, their conversation continuing as they head down the hall. Hailey keeps her focus on her notes, but she is acutely aware of his presence fading down the corridor. She exhales slowly, trying to push away the tension that has been riding her shoulders all morning.

Nina lingers behind, arms crossed as she watches Jay leave. Then, with a low whistle, she shakes her head. "That man has everything going for him."

Hailey pretends she doesn’t hear Nina, flipping a page in her file instead. She’s gotten good at tuning out the commentary—Nina’s been openly ogling Jay all week. Not that Hailey could blame her. Because of course he somehow got hotter with time. Like that was necessary.

"He’s smart, confident, clearly knows what he’s doing,” Nina continues. “And let’s be real—he’s so easy on the eyes." Nina smirks, coming to nudge Hailey’s arm. "Honestly, that voice alone? I could listen to him talk all day. And don’t even get me started on those arms. Did you see the way his shirt fits? I mean, damn. That man was built to make bad decisions with."

But Nina isn’t done, she  leans in closer, lowering her voice. “And all those freckles. Have you seen them? They’re all over his arms… like little constellations.” She grins, her tone playful. “I’d happily count every single one of them if I had the chance.”

Hailey feels her cheeks heat up, and before she can stop herself, a flash of Jay’s freckled skin comes to mind—her fingers tracing them, even the memory of her lips following the pattern, soft and warm against—

Hailey blinks rapidly, forcing her mind to snap back to the present. She clears her throat, trying to shake off the image. “Nina,” she mutters, her voice tight. “Stop.”

Nina gives her a knowing look, leaning back. “Just saying, girl.”

Hailey forces a short laugh, hoping it sounds casual. "Yeah, except he’s… he seems focused on the job."

Nina tilts her head, studying Hailey with curiosity. "You say that like you know him."

Hailey stiffens but quickly covers it up by shutting her file and standing. "Just an observation. He’s got that whole ‘all business, no distractions’ vibe."

Nina hums, unconvinced but not pressing the matter. "Well, I guess I’ll have to  figure out how to crack that exterior. Because I wouldn’t mind getting a little distracted by him."

Hailey just nods, offering a tight smile before standing and heading for the door. But even as she walks away, she can feel Nina’s eyes on her—sharp, observant, like she’s filing every shift in Hailey’s expression, every carefully measured reaction all away for later.

And later comes faster than Hailey expects.

In the cafeteria, Nina flips through a stack of case notes, her expression equal parts focused and frustrated. "These case notes are starting to blur together," she mutters, not looking up. "Do you have any thoughts, or are we just pretending to understand half of this?"

"Honestly, I think we’re all pretending," Hailey says with a slight smirk, leaning back in her chair as she picks at her salad. 

The cafeteria hums around them—the clatter of trays, the low buzz of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. Hailey sits beside Nina, barely picking at her salad as they flip through case notes spread between them.

Then Hailey feels it. A subtle shift in the air, the tightening in her chest—she doesn’t need to glance up to know who just walked in. 

Her eyes lift, and there he is, moving through the cafeteria with that same quiet focus, a  tray in one hand, phone in the other, eyes scanning the room. For a second, their gazes collide. It's fleeting, but sharp—charged with something she doesn’t have the energy to name.

She thinks he might keep walking, might take the out. But Nina, ever the wildcard, spots him. Of course she does.

“Hey, Halstead!” she calls, waving him over with a grin. “Don’t just stand there looking all broody—come sit with us!”

Jay hesitates, his eyes flicking to Hailey for the briefest second. She keeps her face neutral, waiting. She watches him shift on his feet, then exhales like he knows there’s no easy escape without drawing suspicion. With reluctant steps, he makes his way over and sets his tray down across from them. He begins digging into his lunch without a word, eating like this is just another lunch break and not a slow crawl through a minefield.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before Nina leans back in her chair with a casual smile. "So, how are you liking working here? Getting settled in alright?" she asks, her tone light and friendly.

Jay gives a small shrug, his eyes glancing briefly at Hailey before he responds. "Yeah, it's been good.” 

Nina nods, seemingly satisfied with the simple answer, but her curiosity lingers. “I bet D.C. is a nice change from your past work. I mean—Army Ranger, Chicago detective, chasing cartels in Bolivia... that’s quite the résumé. How’d you end up as an intelligence analyst?”

Haliey’s curiosity bubbles up unexpectedly, and she finds herself listening a little closer since this question has lingered in her mind. 

Jay lets out a soft chuckle, shifting slightly. “It’s definitely been a journey. After my time in Bolivia, I kind of stumbled into the analyst role. Sergeant Donavan, my current supervisor, was the one who brought me in. So far, it’s been a good fit.”

Hailey notes how effortlessly Jay skims over the specifics, keeping things vague without raising any suspicion.

"Right," Nina says, her grin widening. "But still, it’s a hell of a resume." She leans forward, genuinely interested now. "I bet you miss the action"

 Jay finishes chewing his food, then his lips twitch in a half-smile. "Surprisingly, I’m out in the field a lot. That aspect didn’t really change.” 

Nina raises an eyebrow, her playful curiosity taking over. "What about outside of work? Hobbies? You do anything fun?" She pauses just long enough to make it clear she’s not going to let him off easy.

Hailey shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her focus flicking to Jay. His expression tightens for just a second, but he responds smoothly. "I stay pretty busy with work. That’s where most of my time goes."

Nina doesn’t press further, but she can’t hide her grin. "Fair enough. Well, for what it’s worth, you’re fitting in great here. And if you ever need any tips on what to do around D.C., I’m your girl."

Jay chuckles, his eyes meeting hers for a moment. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Meanwhile, Hailey stabs a piece of lettuce on her plate, pretending she isn’t paying attention, pretending Nina’s obvious flirtation doesn’t bother her. Pretending she isn’t hyper-aware of Jay sitting just across from her, his button-down sleeves casually rolled up, the fabric pulling slightly across his broad chest, and the effortless, boyish grin he’s currently wearing.

But then Nina’s voice cuts through Hailey’s thoughts again. “Wait a minute,” she says, her tone light and teasing. Hailey glances up just in time to catch the mischievous smile on Nina’s face as she looks between her and Jay. “Halstead, you’re from Chicago too, right? That’s kind of wild. You and Hailey, both from the same city? I’m surprised you didn’t run into each other before now.”

Hailey’s stomach drops, and she immediately feels Jay’s gaze flicker toward her, and neither of them say anything immediately, both of them stumbling to find the right words. 

Then Jay clears his throat, his voice a little off. “Yeah, well… Chicago’s a big place.”

Too smooth. Hailey can hear it, and by the way Nina’s brow twitches, she can too.

Hailey forces a smile, her heart hammering. “Yeah. Different circles back then,” she says, the words tumbling out too fast. 

Nina leans back in her chair, eyes sharp now as they move between the two of them. Hailey feels it immediately—the subtle shift. Nina’s not just teasing anymore. She’s watching, analyzing, filing things away.

Then Jay speaks again, like he’s reaching for something to anchor the moment. “I think we might’ve crossed paths once. That bank robbery case, remember?”

Hailey nods quickly, seizing the lifeline. “Yeah. I was in Robbery-Homicide then.”

“Right,” Jay adds, maybe too quickly. 

Nina doesn’t say anything for a beat. Her gaze lingers, landing on Hailey just a second too long. Hailey keeps her expression steady, but inside, everything is fraying.

Shit.

“Sure, sure. Different worlds, huh?” Nina says, her tone still playful, but the edge is unmistakable. “I’ll bet.”

Hailey tries to keep her face neutral, but she’s unsure if it’s working. She’s not fooling anyone—especially not Nina.

"Well," Nina continues, her voice light but with an edge, "Funny how things work out like that," she muses, her gaze flicking between the two of them. "Maybe it’s just the way things were meant to be.” 

Hailey feels the weight of Nina’s words settle between them, the subtle suggestion of fate hanging in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. She forces herself to maintain eye contact with her friend, but her chest tightens. The way Nina’s looking at her now, almost like she knows something is off, makes it harder to breathe.

Jay shifts in his seat, his posture more controlled than hers, but she catches the slight tension in his jaw. He glances at her for just a second before responding. He takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly, almost like he’s buying himself time. 

Then he clears his throat, a subtle shift back to business. “Yeah, maybe,” he says.

Nina glances at her watch, a slight frown tugging at her brow. “I’ve got a meeting with that douchebag from Homeland Security,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to rob him of the chance to lecture me about punctuality.”

She stands up, flashing a quick smile. "You two enjoy the rest of your lunch. And I’ll catch you later," she adds, her tone deliberately pointed toward Hailey for the last part.

With that, she grabs her bag and her leftovers from the table and heads out. 

Hailey exhales a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding, feeling the pressure lift now that Nina’s not there to keep things hovering in uncomfortable territory. The moment finally feels a little less suffocating, though the awkwardness still lingers, and she turns toward Jay, hoping to smooth things over.

"Hey," she says, her voice a little softer, more apologetic than usual. "Sorry about Nina. She can be... a little intense sometimes."

Jay doesn’t say anything for a moment, but the look he gives her is one of understanding, though his lips press into a thin line as if he’s trying to hold back a chuckle.

"It’s fine," he finally says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "I can handle her."

Hailey manages a small, genuine smile at that. 

“But,” he starts, his voice a little lower now, “we should probably figure out how we’re gonna play this whole... situation.” He finishes the last bite of his sandwich, wipes his mouth with a napkin, then balls it up and drops it onto his tray. “You know—the past. All of it.”

Hailey feels a brief flash of something warm in her chest, knowing that he’s trying to navigate this just as carefully as she is.

"Yeah," she says, her voice low. "I would like to keep it between us. No one can know... what we were."

She doesn’t look up at him, her gaze fixed on the way her fingers grip her water bottle. They both know they can’t afford any slip-ups, but the thought of dodging this topic every time, of maintaining the facade, already leaves her feeling drained.

Jay’s voice cuts through her thoughts, steady once more. "We keep it vague. Just colleagues. We’ve run into each other in passing. Nothing more."

She nods, her jaw tightening. It’s the only way for now. But even as she agrees, a part of her wonders just how long they can keep pretending. 

Jay leans in slightly, his tone lowering, as if weighing his words carefully. "You might have a problem with Nina, though," he says, his gaze flickering to where she’d headed out of the cafeteria. "She doesn’t seem like the type to drop a subject once she’s latched onto it."

Hailey sighs, her shoulders dropping as she runs a hand through her hair. "I know," she mutters, her voice heavy with resignation. "She’ll continue to dig if she thinks there’s something worth finding.” 

Jay leans back, nodding. “She’s a good analyst,” he reasons, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"That she is," Hailey agrees, her tone dry, acknowledging the truth of it.

She feels him watching her for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he leans forward, his voice low but direct. "Do you have a plan to deal with her?" he asks, his eyes searching hers, probably trying to gauge how much she’s thought it through. 

Hailey’s fingers twitch around her water bottle, and she lets out a slow breath. "Short of telling her the truth? No." She glances up at Jay, trying to gauge his reaction. "Would you be okay if it came to that? If I had to tell Nina the truth?"

Hailey meets his gaze, and he offers a soft, reassuring smile. "Yeah, if it gets her to back off from you." 

Hailey takes a slow sip of her water, considering her words, then meets his gaze. “She’ll hate you," she says softly. "The truth... it doesn’t paint you in a good light. And Nina will not let it slide."

"I know," Jay says, his tone quiet. "But I can take the heat. I’m not worried about what she thinks of me." 

Hailey's gaze flickers to Jay, the weight of his words sinking heavily on her chest, and she quickly looks away, trying to steady herself.

Silence falls, the weight of his words hanging between them, thick and unspoken. She can feel the tension creeping in, and she knows she’s not ready to address any of it. After a moment, she shifts in her seat, letting out a quiet breath before standing up slowly.

"I should probably go," she says, her voice softer than she expects, her eyes avoiding his as she begins gathering her things. "We’ve got more pressing things to deal with."

Her words hang in the air, an attempt to deflect from everything she doesn't want to face right now.

Jay stands up as well, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he nods. "Yeah, you're right. We should get to work." He offers a small, understanding smile. 

They leave the cafeteria together, a heavy silence trailing behind them as they walk down the hallway. Hailey’s mind races, thoughts tangled in everything they’ve just sidestepped. It feels like an invisible thread pulling tighter with every step—a quiet, persistent reminder that nothing between them is truly resolved.

x

Jay sits in the dimly lit observation room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. It’s his second week at the Bureau, but already this place feels like home—a quiet familiarity that’s become almost instinctual. He’s worked in a few places over the past year, but this sense of ease, of belonging, he knows comes from the woman on the other side of the glass. 

Hailey stands in the center of the interrogation room, looking effortlessly sharp in her navy suit, the crisp lines accentuating her confident stance. Her blond hair is pulled back, but a few loose strands frame her face, and her blue eyes—piercing, focused—hold the suspect captive before she even says a word. Calm and unshaken, Hailey exudes the kind of presence that commands attention without ever raising her voice. She is in control, and the suspect across from her knows it.

Jay knows it, too.

She is damn good at this. Better than good. He’s known it for years—first as her partner, then as her husband. And now, sitting here, forced to watch her from the outside, he feels the weight of that knowledge settle deep in his chest.

The suspect, a wiry man with cartel ties, leans back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. He thinks he has the upper hand. Jay has seen guys like him before—arrogant, believing they are untouchable. But Hailey is already peeling away at his defenses, pushing in just the right places. She leans in slightly, voice even, her words precise. Jay sees it happening in real time—the man’s mask cracking, the subtle shifts in his posture betraying him.

He’s starting to sweat.

The comms crackle in Jay’s ear. Daniels’ voice comes through first. “Reyes, Halstead, anything?”

Nina Reyes, sitting next to Jay, taps a pen against the desk. “He’s on the edge. Another push should do it.”

Jay nods, eyes still locked on Hailey. “He’s lying,” he says, his voice level, controlled. “Watch his hands—he flexes his fingers every time she gets close to the truth. He’s holding back, but she’s got him cornered.”

Almost as if she can hear him, Hailey shifts tactics. “You think you’re in control here,” she says smoothly, her tone edged with something just sharp enough to make the suspect straighten. “But I’ve been doing this a long time. I know when someone’s got something to lose.”

Jay’s grip on his arms tightens. God, he remembers the first time he watched her work an interrogation like this—back in Chicago.  She had been fearless then. She is even more dangerous now.

The suspect scoffs, shaking his head. “You don’t know anything.”

Hailey doesn’t react. Doesn’t blink. Just lets the silence stretch long enough to make the man uncomfortable. Jay almost smirks. He knows that trick—he’s seen her use it a hundred times before. It always works.

Then, something shifts. The suspect leans forward, expression hardening, voice dropping into something colder. “You think you scare me?” he asks. “You don’t. You’re just some FBI bitch playing tough.”

Jay’s entire body goes rigid. His jaw clenches so hard it aches. He forces himself to stay put, forces himself to keep his breathing even. Hailey doesn’t need him charging in there, doesn’t need him to fight her battles. She never has.

But damn if it doesn’t make his blood boil.

Hailey tilts her head slightly, expression unreadable. “You’re trying too hard,” she says. “It’s desperate.”

Jay recognizes the exact moment the suspect realizes she isn’t rattled. He sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes. A second later, the man exhales sharply and looks away. And just like that, Hailey has won.

The confession comes in pieces, reluctant and bitter, but it comes. Jay lets out a slow breath, forcing his shoulders to relax.

Nina turns to him. “She’s impressive.”

Jay swallows, his throat dry. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “She is.”

Because how can he say what he really means? That she always has been? That he’s never once doubted her? That even now, after everything, she still has a hold on him in ways he can’t shake?

Instead, he just sits there in silence, watching as Hailey walks out of the interrogation room, straightening her posture, rolling the tension from her shoulders. She glances at the glass, just for a second, and Jay wonders if she knows he’s watching.

Of course, she does.

She always knows.

A short while later, Jay watches as Hailey steps out of the interrogation room, her posture still alert but with a relaxed ease to it. Daniels is waiting nearby, and as soon as Hailey’s in range, he claps her on the shoulder with an approving smile. “Outstanding work, Upton. You cracked him wide open.”

Jay can’t help but notice the faint flicker of pride in Hailey’s eyes as she nods. “Just doing my job, sir.”

Nina, always ready with a grin, joins them. “Come on, don’t be modest. That was textbook. The guy didn’t stand a chance.”

Daniels chuckles, clearly impressed. “Reyes is right. That was damn impressive. We’ve got what we need to move forward.”

Jay steps closer, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He looks at Hailey, and for a moment, the words slip out without thinking. “She’s always been that good,” he says, his voice even, but there’s warmth behind it—something he can’t quite hide. “It was incredible to watch.”

Hailey meets his gaze briefly, and something unreadable flickers in her eyes. He feels a pull, a connection, something familiar. Then she exhales slowly and offers him a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Thanks.”

For a second, it’s like they’re back in the old days—walking out of the district after closing a tough case, side by side, knowing they had each other’s backs. But the moment slips away as quickly as it came, reality settling in like a weight on his chest. He forces himself to step back, to keep his distance.

Because no matter how much he wants to, some things can’t be undone.

Later that evening, Jay rounds the corner of the apartment hallway—a pizza box in one hand, keys in the other. It’s Friday, and he’s ready to call it a night when he spots Hailey sitting on the floor outside her apartment, her back against the door, arms draped over her bent knees. She exhales slowly, tilting her head back against the wood, lost in whatever thoughts have pinned her there.

He slows his steps, frowning. “Should I even ask?”

Hailey startles at the sound of his voice, her head snapping toward him before she exhales a dry laugh. “Locked myself out. Waiting on the locksmith.”

Jay’s lips twitch, but he hesitates, shifting his weight slightly. He isn’t sure if offering to share the pizza is too forward, wrong. Still, he lifts the pizza box just enough to catch her attention. “Well... since you’re stuck out here, want to share?” His voice is careful, almost tentative. “It’s still hot.”

She exhales, shaking her head. "I’m good, but thanks. The locksmith should be here soon anyway."

Jay raises an eyebrow, then tilts the box slightly toward her. “You sure? I’d be kinda offended if you turned down my offer in favor of the vending machine downstairs.”

Hailey huffs a quiet laugh. “That wasn’t my dinner, okay?” she mutters, though Jay knows better.

"Sure," Jay counters. "But I promise this will be better."

Jay steps closer, and Hailey catches a whiff of the pizza—cheesy, warm, with just enough garlic to make it impossible to ignore. He sees the flicker in her eyes, the subtle shift in her posture, and knows he’s not exactly playing fair. 

She looks at him for a beat, then sighs and shrugs, resignation softening her features. “Alright, fine.”

Jay considers inviting her in—but he knows she probably wouldn’t go for that, and he gets it. So instead, he slips his keys back into his pocket and sinks down onto the hallway floor in front of his apartment. It’s not exactly clean, definitely not ideal, but it’ll have to do.

He flips open the lid, revealing a classic pepperoni. No frills—just simple, solid comfort food. He grabs a slice, and after a brief pause, Hailey does the same.

After a moment, Jay stands up and gives a quick nod toward his apartment. “Hold on a second.” He disappears inside and returns shortly with two cold beers. "I think this combo could use a little liquid accompaniment,” he adds, offering one to her.

Hailey takes it, raising an eyebrow. “You really know how to make an evening out of a hallway.”

Jay shrugs with a grin. “Gotta work with what we’ve got.”

For a moment, they just eat in comfortable silence. The hallway is quiet, save for the occasional muffled sound of someone’s TV from a few doors down. It isn’t weird, sitting here with Hailey like this. If anything, it feels… familiar. Like the countless late-night stakeouts where they’d shared takeout in the car, waiting for something to happen.

Jay glances at her, chewing thoughtfully. “You have a spare key anywhere?”

Hailey shakes her head. “Nope. I keep meaning to get one but I never get around to it.”

“Rookie mistake.” He smirks. “You should know better.”

She rolls her eyes but smirks back. “Yeah, yeah.”

They lapse into silence again, and Jay watches as the tension in Hailey’s shoulders eases just a little. He reaches for another slice, then nudges the box a little closer to her, wordlessly making sure she takes more, too.

She does. 

Then, the silence is interrupted by the soft ding of the elevator. A neighbor steps out—an older woman with a small dog in tow. She pauses when she sees them sitting on the floor, the pizza box between them and beers in hand. The awkward silence stretches for a moment as the woman blinks, clearly unsure of how to respond to the unexpected hallway picnic.

Jay clears his throat first, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Hey, Mrs. Thompson, how’s it going?”

The woman, a little flustered, forces a smile. “Well, this is certainly... unconventional."

Jay glances at Hailey, who’s fighting back a smile. Her lips twitch, and he can see her trying to hold in her laughter, her eyes darting between the woman and him. Jay bites back a grin himself, knowing he’s barely keeping it together.

“Locked myself out,” Hailey explains. “Waiting for the  locksmith.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Mrs. Thompson says, glancing down at the pizza. “Well, don’t mind me.”

She shuffles past them, her dog giving a curious sniff toward the pizza box. Once she’s out of earshot, Hailey and Jay share an amused glance—and then, almost at the same time, they both laugh. It’s quick, quiet, but real. The tension eases just a little as they settle back into their makeshift dinner.

A few minutes later, Hailey’s phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out to check. Her eyes light up with a mix of relief and gratitude.

“That’s the locksmith,” she says, tapping her screen to answer. "He’s here.” 

She stands up, stretches out her legs, and quickly finishes her beer with a small sigh. Jay watches her, still sitting on the floor.

The soft ding of her phone vibrates again. "He’s downstairs," she adds. “Let me–”

“I’ll buzz him in,” Jay offers, standing up. He collects the trash—empty bottles, pizza box—and walks inside his apartment to buzz the locksmith in. 

A few minutes later, the elevator dings and out walks the locksmith, rolling his toolkit behind him. The guy’s in his forties, a bit rough around the edges. He’s dressed in a faded company uniform, his hands already working on the lock before he even greets Hailey.

“Locked out?” he mutters, the words almost a formality.

“Yeah,” Hailey replies, watching him already working. “Just need it opened.” 

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a visible sigh as he fiddles with the door handle. 

When he finally finishes with the lock, the door opens with a faint click. He doesn’t even wait for a thank you, packing his tools away with an annoyed grunt. The guy's practically muttering under his breath as he heads out.

“Thanks,” Hailey says, keeping her tone polite.“I appreciate it.”

The locksmith doesn’t respond, just nods curtly, and walks off, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway. 

Hailey looks back at Jay, her face twisting into something between amusement and sympathy. “Well, at least I’m not spending the night in the hallway,” she says, a small laugh escaping her as she shakes her head.

Jay can’t help it. He smiles. “I’m glad.” 

She rolls her eyes, but it’s a soft, familiar gesture. “Yeah, that would’ve been… a little much.”

She opens the door to her apartment and holds it open, her hand resting lightly on the handle. She looks back at him,  and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s something genuine in her smile. It’s small at first, but as she meets his eyes, it widens just a little, and in that quiet moment, it feels like the world pauses.

There’s warmth in it, an unspoken softness that pulls at something in him. It tugs at his chest, like a string he didn’t know was tied there, and for a second, all the tension of the past, all the unresolved things, just melts away. It’s as if she’s letting him in, even if it’s just for a moment.

For a second, he almost says something—offers her another beer or makes some excuse—but he doesn't. Instead, he just nods, chest tight, fighting the urge to linger longer. “Well, glad you’re back inside,” he says, his voice a little rougher than he means it to be.

She gives a small nod, her smile still there, but it’s softened now, less certain. “Thanks again for dinner. I… appreciate it.”

Jay chuckles softly, rubbing the back of my neck. “No problem. Just glad your dinner covered some of the major food groups tonight” 

She rolls her eyes again as a soft laugh escapes her. “Yeah, I think I’m set.”

Jay takes a step back toward his own apartment, the weight of the moment settling on him. For a brief second, it feels like things could be easy again—like they could slip into something familiar, like old times. But it’s fleeting. 

Hailey deserves better. 

She gives him a small wave as she turns to go. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Goodnight, Hailey.”

As he closes the door behind him, the quiet settles in. He leans against it for a moment, eyes drifting shut, her smile still vivid and unshakable—etched into the edges of his thoughts like an echo that won’t fade. It clings to him—not just because it was real, but because a part of him can’t let it go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Chapter Text

Hailey leans back in her chair, rubbing her temples as she stares at her computer screen. The office is nearly empty, the hum of the overhead lights filling the silence. It’s been a long week—one that’s left her drained, frustrated, and itching for something she can’t quite name. 

Jay left a while ago, and the thought of going home, knowing he’s just across the hall, makes her chest tighten. She needs a little distance, just for a while longer.

“You need a break,” Nina announces, leaning against Hailey’s desk with her arms crossed. “Let’s grab a drink.”

Hailey exhales, shaking her head. “Not tonight.”

“Yes, tonight.” Nina pulls up a chair and settles across from her, determination gleaming in her eyes. “Look, there’s this bar just a few blocks away that does amazing drinks and even better food. I’m talking loaded fries, fresh jalapeños, real cheese—the works. It’s Friday, and you’ve been glued to this desk all week. One drink, Hailey. If it’s awful, we bail early, but trust me, you’ll feel a whole lot better once you’re out of this place.”

Hailey hesitates, her fingers tapping against the desk. She knows Nina won’t let this go, and she has to admit she could use the distraction. Maybe—just maybe—she doesn’t want to sit alone in her apartment, overthinking everything.

“Fine,” she mutters, closing her laptop. “One drink.”

Nina grins. “That’s all I ask.”

x

The bar is lively but not overwhelming, a perfect mix of background noise and breathing room. Hailey sips her whiskey, letting the warmth settle in her chest as Nina chatters about a disastrous date from last weekend. It’s nice—normal, even. A rare moment where she doesn’t feel the weight of anything pressing down on her shoulders.

They linger for a moment, letting the music and chatter wash over them. Nina takes a slow sip of her drink before setting it down with a thoughtful expression. "You know, I’ve been meaning to ask—what’s the deal with you-know-who? He’s been with us for a little while now, and I still can’t get a read on him."

Hailey raises an eyebrow, forcing a casual tone. "Please, let's not talk about him." She realizes immediately that might sound like she’s avoiding the topic, so she backtracks, adding with a small shrug, "Let’s not talk about work tonight."

"Jay’s not work, you know. He’s a person. A very attractive, very mysterious person.” Nina says, taking another sip of her drink, eyes glinting. "I mean, he’s polite enough, always professional, but he’s like a damn robot—seriously, does the guy ever let loose?" She tilts her head, studying Hailey. "What’s your read on him?"

Hailey shrugs, taking a slow sip of her drink. "I don’t know. He does his job, keeps to himself." She sets her glass down, eyes flicking toward the bar. "Maybe that’s just who he is." Hailey offers a faint smile, her chest tightening at the thought of how complicated everything surrounding Jay truly is. 

Nina smirks, swirling her drink. "Maybe he got burned before and decided to swear off women altogether. Honestly, whoever messed up that fine specimen must be straight-up ruthless."

Hailey lets out a quiet laugh. If only Nina knew—Jay didn’t get burned; he struck the match and set the whole damn thing on fire. Classic self-sabotage, and Hailey has the scars to prove it.

Before Nina can press for details, her gaze flicks to the entrance, and her expression shifts to one of mischief. “Well, well, look who just walked in, she murmurs with a playful twinkle in her eye “If it isn’t the mysterious devil himself.” 

Hailey follows her gaze, her stomach tightening the second she sees him—Jay, standing just inside the bar with Mark. He’s out of his work clothes, now in a fitted dark henley and well-worn jeans, effortlessly casual but still impossibly handsome. The soft lighting catches on the scruff along his jaw, making him look even more rugged than usual. 

Well, fuck. 

“Jay!” Nina calls out before Hailey can even process what is happening.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hailey hisses, leaning toward Nina. 

Nina grins, completely unfazed. "Relax, Hail. Besides, he’s got a hot friend. This is a win-win." 

Hailey considers slipping out, but it’s too late. She watches as Mark leans in, says something to Jay, and gestures in their direction. The moment Jay’s eyes find her she sees his body tense. There’s a flicker of something—surprise, maybe regret—before he exhales softly, scanning the bar like he’s already mapping out an exit strategy.

Me too, buddy, Haliey thinks. Me too.

Nina continues to wave them over, and Hailey grips her glass a little tighter, bracing herself—she might need more than just a drink to survive the night. With a resigned breath, she downs the rest in one gulp, the burn doing little to steady her nerves.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Nina teases as the guys reach the table. She eyes Mark with interest and grins. "And who’s your friend, Jay?"

Jay exhales, clearly reluctant, but answers anyway. "This is Mark." He nods toward Mark, who gives an easy smile. "Mark, this is Nina. We’ve been working together this past month.” 

Mark reaches out to shake Nina’s hand before turning to Hailey with a stupid grin. "And you, we don’t need introductions."

Nina raises an eyebrow, glancing between them.. “Wait—hold up. You two know each other?”

Mark, blissfully unaware, chimes in with a grin. “We all live in the same building.”

Nina’s eyes go wide as she whips her head toward Hailey. “All of you?” she asks, like Hailey’s been holding out on her. Then she throws a hand between Hailey and Jay, her voice rising. “You two are neighbors? Are you kidding me? And that didn’t seem like something worth mentioning?”

Hailey's stomach bottoms out, her fingers tightening around her empty glass. “Didn’t really seem important,” she shrugs, aiming for casual, but her voice is just a little too tight.

Nina leans back, crossing her arms. For a second, her expression is unreadable—then she smirks. “Huh. Well, that’s... interesting.” She clears her throat and flashes a bright, overly cheerful smile. “Since we’re all such good friends, why don’t you guys join us?”

Jay glances at Hailey, his jaw tight, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes. For a moment, she thinks he might say no. But then Mark claps him on the back, already pulling up a chair like the decision’s been made for him.

“Why not?” Mark murmurs, sliding into the seat  next to Hailey. 

And just like that, Hailey’s night out just got a whole lot more complicated.

To Hailey’s surprise, the conversation flows easily—mostly between Nina and Mark, who seem to have no problem filling the space with lighthearted banter. Nina throws out playful remarks, and Mark matches her energy, effortlessly keeping up. Hailey, on the other hand, feels like she’s barely present, nursing her second drink, nodding along at the right moments but unable to shake the tension in her chest.

This was supposed to be a break, a chance to clear her head and put some distance between herself and Jay. Instead, he’s sitting across from her, his presence a weight she can’t ignore.

Every now and then, she catches his eyes flicking to her, but she refuses to meet his gaze. She busies herself with her drink, tracing the rim of the glass with her finger, pretending she’s not hyperaware of every shift in his posture, every quiet breath he takes.

It’s awkward—painfully so. Maybe not to anyone else, but to her, it’s suffocating. And the worst part? The fact that she can still feel the pull, that damn invisible thread between them, no matter how much she tries to sever it.

She signals a waitress for another drink. 

Mark, ever the charmer, leans in slightly toward Hailey, flashing an easy grin. "So, Hailey, tell me—how is it that we’ve been living in the same building for a couple of months now and I’m only just getting the pleasure of having a drink with you? Seems like a missed opportunity."

Hailey forces a small smile, willing herself to stay relaxed. "Been busy.” 

"All work and no play? That’s no way to live—just like Jay here," Mark says, elbowing him. "I practically had to drag him out tonight."

"I swear, I tell Hailey this all the time," Nina chimes in, shaking her head with mock exasperation. "But does she ever listen? Nope."

Mark leans in a little closer to Hailey, his elbow resting casually on the table, a playful spark in his eyes. "A neighborly drink every now and then wouldn’t hurt, right?” he says, his voice low and smooth. “Just to break up all that serious work stuff."

Across the table, Jay shifts in his seat, jaw tightening as he lifts his glass. His grip is just a bit too tight, the glass hovering a second longer before he takes a slow sip. Hailey can feel the weight of his stare, but she refuses to look at him, refuses to acknowledge whatever is simmering beneath the surface.

"I don’t know, Mark,”  Hailey huffs a small laugh, shaking her head. “I think my definition of 'neighborly' might be different from yours."

Mark grins, undeterred. “That’s a shame,” he says, leaning in just a fraction more. “Because I’m an excellent neighbor. Super friendly, great company… and not to brag, but my homemade pasta sauce? Life-changing. Ask Jay.” He shoots a smug look across the table, clearly enjoying himself. “Right, man? I’m a fantastic neighbor, aren’t I?”

Jay sets his drink down with a thud, eyes locked on Mark. “The best,” he says flatly, his voice just this side of sharp.

“You see?” Mark chuckles, turning his attention back to Hailey. His voice dips just enough to be noticeable. “By the way, I like the pantsuit.” He flashes a grin, like it’s an afterthought. “Then again, you always look good, but this—”

Before he can finish the thought, Jay suddenly clears his throat, sharp and deliberate. “Anyone need a refill?” he asks, already halfway to standing, his hand wrapped around his empty glass.

“Yes,” Hailey says—too fast. She catches herself, clears her throat, and tries to play it cool. “Yeah. I could go for another.”

Jay barely hesitates. "Whiskey sour?" he asks smoothly, not even looking up.

Mark lets out a low whistle, shaking his head with amusement. "Whiskey sour, huh? Didn’t peg you for the classic type. Thought you’d be more of a wine or fancy cocktail kind of woman."

Hailey just pops a shoulder in a half-shrug, keeping her expression unreadable. “Nope. Just a simple Whiskey sour will do.” 

“Nina, you good?” Jay asks. 

Nina’s head slowly swivels toward Hailey, eyes narrowing just a touch—but she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she lifts her glass with a casual flick of her wrist, eyes drifting to Mark with a hint of a smirk. ”I’ll take a lavender gin fizz. Extra lemon.”

A few drinks in, Hailey feels the warmth buzzing under her skin, loosening the edges of her thoughts. She doesn’t mind it—not one bit. The stress of the week, the weight of everything, it all feels a little softer now, a little less sharp. Even Mark, with all his cocky charm, is starting to sound less like a guy who enjoys hearing himself talk and more like... someone who’s actually kind of fun. 

She leans back in her chair, letting herself relax as Nina and Mark continue to carry most of the conversation. Somewhere in the mix, Mark says something—some joke or offhand comment—that actually makes her laugh, a real one, not the tight, forced kind she usually manages. The sound of it surprises her. And from the way Jay’s fingers go still around his glass, it surprises him too.

Nina suddenly pushes back from the table, giving Hailey a pointed look. "Come with me to the restroom?" she says, her tone leaving little room for argument.

Hailey blinks at her, then glances at the barely half-finished drink in her hand. She knows exactly why Nina is doing this—why she suddenly wants to talk away from the table. And Hailey is not in the mood to be interrogated, especially when she barely has the answers herself.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Nina replies, already standing. "Girl code, let’s go."

In the restroom, Nina wastes no time. The second the door swings shut behind them, she rounds on Hailey, arms crossed, eyes sharp with curiosity.

"Okay, spill. What’s the story with you and Halstead?"

Hailey groans, rubbing a hand over her face. "Nina, come on—"

"No, no, no," Nina cuts her off, pointing a finger at her. "Don’t even try to wiggle out of this. The tension between you two can light the whole damn bar on fire.”

Hailey exhales, leaning against the sink. The alcohol is making it harder to think of a clean way out of this conversation. "There’s nothing to spill. We worked together before, that’s all."

Nina narrows her eyes. "You expect me to believe that?"

Hailey shrugs, gripping the edge of the counter. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

Nina watches her for a long moment, then sighs, shaking her head. "The truth?" She pauses before fixing Hailey with a pointed look. "So… spill it."

Hailey exhales, leaning harder against the sink. "It’s... complicated. And I don’t know how to explain it."

Nina scoffs, crossing her arms tighter. "That’s the worst non-answer I’ve ever heard. Try again."

Hailey exhales, rubbing her temples. "Nina, it's not that simple."

"Oh, come on," Nina says, arms crossed as she leans against the bathroom counter. "You think I just noticed the tension between you two?" She scoffs. "Please. I’ve seen the lingering looks, the way you two practically speak in Morse code with your eyes. And don’t even get me started on Jay—walking around the office like some sad, brooding puppy every time you’re not in the room."

Hailey exhales, eyes dropping to the tiled floor as she leans back against the sink. "It’s just... history. Messy history."

"Oh, so there’s history?” 

Hailey hesitates, the alcohol making her thoughts hazy, her guard weaker than it should be. She meets Nina’s gaze but says nothing.

Nina softens, just slightly. “You don’t have to tell me everything… but don’t pretend–” 

The bathroom door swings open, and a woman steps inside, heading toward a stall. The sudden intrusion forces both of them into silence.

Nina lowers her voice, her eyes still locked on Hailey. "This conversation isn't over.” 

Hailey gives a small nod, pushing off the sink. “Didn’t think we were.”

Before walking out of the bathroom, Hailey straightens, checking her reflection in the mirror before sighing. "We should get back before Mark starts thinking he’s charming."

Nina grins, a little too quickly. "Too late for that—he’s actually kind of charming."

Hailey eyes her, smirking slightly. "How many drinks have you had?”

The night stretches on, the drinks flowing easier than Hailey realizes. She’s not sure when she stopped keeping track, but the warmth of the alcohol settles deep, making everything feel even lighter, more softer. All the tension she carried earlier completely dulled now, replaced with an easy buzz she doesn’t mind in the slightest. Even Mark, with all his usual bravado, sounds less like a cocky flirt and more like someone she can actually tolerate.

At some point, Nina leans into Mark, whispering something in his ear that makes him grin. "Looks like we’re getting another round," Mark announces, pushing back from the table. "We’ll be back."

Nina shoots Hailey a look, one that’s all too knowing. "Don’t get into too much trouble without us."

And just like that, they’re gone, leaving Hailey and Jay alone at the table, the empty glasses between them feeling heavier than they should.

Hailey exhales, leaning back in her chair, her fingers lazily tracing the rim of her glass. The conversation around her fades into the background as her gaze drifts to Jay. He’s staring at his drink like it might hold the answers to something he’s been avoiding.

Just as she’s about to look away, his voice cuts through the noise. "You don’t have to stay," he mutters, still not looking at her. "I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else."

Hailey tilts her head, studying him. "You want me to go?"

Jay exhales, his fingers tapping against his glass. "That's not what I'm saying."

Hailey watches him, the alcohol dulling her usual restraint, making it easier to push. "Then what are you saying?"

Jay’s gaze flicks to hers, unsteady, unreadable. "Nevermind. Forget I said anything."

She lets out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Typical."

His jaw tightens. His grip on the glass goes rigid. "Hailey, I don’t want to–”

"Just come out and say it," she cuts in, leaning in slightly. "You always leave things half-said, like I’m supposed to just... figure it out."

Jay leans in too, his eyes locked on hers—like he’s turning the words over in his head, weighing each one—until she’s almost certain he’s not going to say anything at all.

Then, finally, his voice breaks through. “You leaving is the last thing I want,” he says, his tone low and rough, scraping against something raw inside her. “Hell, Hailey, I’d beg you to stay if I thought it’d make a difference.” 

He reaches for his glass, taking a long sip, like he’s trying to steady himself. “And it’s not just about having you here,” he says, quieter now. “It’s more than that.”

A beat.

“I want more than that.”

Her breath catches, and that raw edge in his voice sends a slow, deliberate shiver down her spine. The weight of his words is thick with implication, sobering her in a way nothing else can. For a moment, neither of them moves. The air between them grows heavier, charged—like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap. She swallows, her pulse unsteady.

"That’s not… you don’t get to—" She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "You don’t get to say that to me."

Jay’s gaze drops briefly to her lips, then snaps back to her eyes—tired and unfiltered. “You said I leave things half-said? Fine. I said it.” He lets out a bitter breath, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“I already fucked it all up,” he mutters, voice now frayed with alcohol and regret. “So what’s the point in holding back now?”

He meets her eyes, unwavering. “Hailey, I want you. I never stopped. And I don’t give a damn if that scares you.”

Her breath comes too fast, chest tight, pulse thrumming. She clenches her jaw, fists tight at her sides, because if she doesn’t hold herself together, she’ll break. And she can’t break. Not in front of him.

”I hate you.” 

The words push their way out of her mouth, thick with something raw. It’s not loud. It’s not a scream. It’s a quiet, shattered thing, the kind of hate that’s tangled in love, in grief, in the unbearable pull of something she can’t fucking escape. 

She sees it land—the way his face barely shifts. But his eyes... God, his eyes. They know. They know she doesn’t mean it. Not the way she wishes she did.

He swallows hard, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he looks at her. His head tilts slightly, studying her. “You don’t mean that.”

"Screw you." It’s all she can manage, her voice tight, unsteady. She hates that he can still do this to her—still make her feel like she’s standing on the edge of something dangerous, something she knows better than to fall into again.

"I need some air."

She doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, she pushes back from the table, yanking her coat from behind her chair as she stands. The movement sends a slight sway through her, the alcohol humming warm in her veins, but she steadies herself quickly.

She doesn’t look back. Can’t. With her heart pounding, she forces herself to walk away before she does something she’ll regret.

As she rounds the corner, she nearly collides with Nina and Mark, who are just returning, Mark balancing a tray with a round of shots and a smirk on his face.

"Whoa there, Hails," Nina says, reaching out instinctively to steady her. Her expression shifts as she studies Hailey’s face. "You good?"

Hailey exhales, forcing a tight smile. "Yeah. Just need some air."

Nina doesn’t look convinced. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Hailey nods, already moving past them. 

She steps outside, the crisp night air biting at her flushed skin. The contrast is almost jarring, shocking her senses back into focus. But her mind is still spinning, the alcohol making everything feel a little too slow, a little too intense.

She paces near the curb, dragging in deep breaths, but it doesn’t help. The weight in her chest only grows heavier, fueled by the way Jay said those words—like he had any right to.

Her jaw clenches, her hands curling into fists. He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to sit there and act like he knows what she is feeling, like he’s allowed to pull her into his orbit after everything. After he fucking left.

Because that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? He left. He walked away without a word. And now he shows up like she’s the one who gets to decide what happens next—as if he didn’t already make that choice for both of them.

A bitter laugh bubbles up, but she swallows it down, blinking up at the dark sky. Maybe she should just go home, sleep this off. Maybe, in the morning, none of this will feel so raw.

Hailey steps back inside, her movements slower now, her body buzzing from the alcohol and the lingering frustration. She spots the group easily, the table still full of empty glasses and easy conversation.

She exhales, pulling her coat tighter around herself. "I think I'm going to head out," she announces, her voice even, though everything feels off-kilter, like the ground’s shifting beneath her.

Mark’s grin falters for half a second before he pushes the tray of shots toward her. "One for the road?" 

Hailey eyes it for only a second before grabbing a glass and knocking it back in a single go, the burn rushing straight through her. She sets the empty glass back down with more force than necessary. "Thanks."

She exhales, blinking past the heat in her chest. 

Nina frowns, her gaze flicking over Hailey like she’s trying to read her. "You sure?" She hesitates for half a second before lowering her voice. "Want me to come with you?"

Hailey exhales sharply, shaking her head. "No, no. You guys enjoy. The long week just caught up to me, that’s all." She offers a small nod, already moving past them. "I’ll see you guys Monday."

And with that, she’s out the door, the cold air wrapping around her as she walks away, needing distance. Needing space. Needing anything but the way Jay Halstead still makes her feel.

x

Jay watches her go, the door swinging shut behind her, the last glimpse of her blonde hair disappearing into the night. His stomach twists, a weight sinking deep in his chest. He takes a sip from his glass, but the drink tastes bitter now—like regret clinging to his tongue

“What, did you bore her that fast, man?" Mark jokes, half-laughing as he looks toward the door. “We were gone five minutes and you blew it? Damn, man—your game’s gone rusty.”

Jay exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "I don’t know,” he lies. “She seemed tired.” 

Nina’s glare burns into the side of his face, sharp and silent, like she knows exactly how full of shit he is.

“What the fuck did you do?” she asks, her voice low and pointed.

Jay doesn’t look at her. “Nothing,” he says flatly.

He knows exactly what he did—it was years of unresolved tension snapping at the worst possible moment, words slipping out before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to say half the shit he did, but alcohol had loosened his tongue, and emotions had done the rest.

Mark shakes his head, leaning back. "She might be done, but I’m just getting started,” he says, lifting his drink with a grin. 

Jay lifts his glass—mockingly, like he's toasting to his own failure—and downs the rest in one bitter swallow, setting it on the table with a little too much force. His eyes stay fixed on the door, on the empty space where Hailey used to be.

He had spent the last month keeping his distance, convincing himself it was the right thing to do. But the moment he was around her outside of work—the moment the tension became too much—he opened his mouth and let the words spill out.

The worst part? He isn’t drunk enough to use that as an excuse. He remembers everything, every sharp edge of the conversation, every unspoken thing lingering between them. Hailey had looked at him like she was done—like whatever fragile, professional truce they had was over. 

And Jay had let it happen.

Fuck. 

He pushes off the chair abruptly, ignoring the way Mark raises an eyebrow at him. His legs are steady as he moves toward the door, but his pulse is anything but. He steps outside, scanning the sidewalk, searching for any sign of her. But she’s already gone. He exhales sharply, running a hand over his face, the chill of the night air doing nothing to settle the frustration simmering beneath his skin. He’s too late—just like always.

Later, when he can’t sleep—long after the city has gone quiet—he finds himself sitting on the edge of his couch, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ice has melted. The amber liquid is watered down, untouched since he poured it.

His head is still spinning—not from the alcohol, but from the look on Hailey’s face before she walked out of that bar. That look hasn’t left him. He’s not sure it ever will.

For a brief, reckless moment, he considers crossing the hallway and knocking on her door. Maybe she’d answer, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d slam the door in his face. He has no idea what he’d even say if she did open it. Sorry? That feels weak. Sorry for what, exactly? For leaving? For coming back? For not knowing how to exist around her anymore?

But then a sudden knock on his door makes him jolt, pulling him out of his thoughts. His heart stutters in his chest, and for a second, he wonders if he imagined it. But then it comes again—firmer this time. He stands slowly, crossing the room with careful steps, his pulse pounding in his ears. When he looks through the peephole, his breath catches.

Hailey is standing there.

Jay hesitates for only a moment before he unlocks the door and pulls it open, meeting her gaze. She looks slightly unsettled, her eyes sharp despite the alcohol he knows is still lingering in her system. There’s a flush to her cheeks, a tension in her stance, but it’s not hesitation—it’s anger, barely restrained. Her jaw is tight, her hands curled into loose fists at her sides, like she’s still replaying whatever fight just happened in her head. 

Neither of them speaks at first, the air between them thick, electric. Then, Hailey exhales, and he can feel the barely controlled fury in the way she stares at him, eyes burning, jaw clenched like she’s holding back a storm. 

"You left me.” 

Each word comes out measured, punctuated by a breath, like saying them out loud costs her something. “You disappeared. You didn’t say a damn thing. You didn’t fight for me.”

He glances up and down the hallway, and without thinking, he reaches for her wrist and gently tugs her inside, shutting the door behind her. 

"Hailey—"

"No," she cuts him off. "You don’t get to 'Hailey' me right now. You don’t get to come back and act like I’m still that Hailey. And say things—" she gestures vaguely, exasperated, “And now I’m supposed to just—what? Go home, pretend I didn’t hear it, sleep it off like—like it’s nothing? Like none of this—" she huffs out a breath, dragging a hand through her hair. "God, Jay!"

He exhales sharply, watching the fire in her eyes, the way she’s swaying just slightly—whether from anger or alcohol, he’s not sure. 

"Hailey, I’m sorry—"

"Don’t. Just don’t," she cuts him off, her voice sharp, unwavering. "I don’t want to hear it.”

"I know you don’t." His voice is quieter now, but no less firm. "That’s why I haven’t said it—any of it. Because words are not enough. They won’t change what I did or undo the way I hurt you. But that doesn’t make it any less true."

She lets out a sharp laugh, incredulous. "Right. And what exactly are you sorry for? There’s a long fucking list." She steps closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. "You think you can just come back into my life, drop some half-assed, drunken confession, and that somehow fixes everything? It’s three years too late, Jay.” 

Jay watches her come undone in front of him, and it guts him. The way her finger shifts from jabbing his chest to pressing against her temple, the restless pacing like she’s trying to outrun something she doesn’t want to say—it’s all too familiar. He knows that feeling. Hell, he’s been living in it.

Then she stops, exhales sharply, and when she finally speaks, her voice is quieter but cuts deeper than anything she could have shouted.

“You said I was the love of your life.”

It slams into him, knocking the breath from his lungs, because—God. 

"That’s a really fucked-up thing to say to someone you were going to abandon," she adds, her voice sharp with something almost like betrayal.

“Hailey—” He takes a step closer, but she lifts a hand, instinctively—meant to stop him. It lands flat against his chest... and then it lingers. Her fingers twitch, like they can’t decide whether to shove him or curl into his shirt.

He watches her closely—the rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips part like there’s more she wants to say—more anger waiting to spill out. And maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the way she looks up at him—defiant, furious, so damn beautiful—or the fact that the space between them is too damn charged, but then her eyes flick to his mouth, just for a second. It’s quick, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. 

His last shred of control unravels, and his mouth crashes against hers like a man with no restraint left. His hands cradle her face, as if anchoring himself to her—like he’s drowning, and she’s the only thing keeping him afloat. 

For a heartbeat, she goes still. 

His heart stutters, already bracing to let go, to step back—

But then—she kisses him back.

Just as fiercely. Messy, desperate, like every emotion they’ve been holding back is pouring out all at once. The taste of whiskey and anger lingers between them, but none of it matters. For a brief moment, the words stop, the fight ceases, and all that’s left is this—this impossible pull between them that neither of them ever truly escaped.

When they finally break apart, breathless, her forehead rests against his, her fingers still curled into his shirt.

"That’s not fair," she whispers.

Jay swallows hard, his own breath uneven. "I know."  He searches her face, voice low. "I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have..."

"I hate that you can still do this to me," she says, eyes locked on his, her voice barely above a whisper. There's no heat in it—just raw honesty, like it hurts to admit.

"I know," he says again, softer this time. "Me too."

And then, just as suddenly, she pulls him in again—frantic, hungry, desperate. Like she’s trying to erase the past, to drown out every hurt with the press of her lips against his. Her hands slide up, twisting into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, her body pressing into his like she can’t stand the space between them. And he lets her—because he can’t stand it either.

His hands find the hem of her shirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, pressing against warm skin. Hailey shudders at the touch, but she doesn’t stop him. Instead, she tugs at his zip-up sweater, pushing it off his shoulders in a rush, her lips never leaving his. Buttons fumble, fabric bunches, layers are peeled away between desperate gasps for air.

It’s not careful. It’s not slow. It’s years of longing and anger colliding in the only way they know how.

Jay backs them up, guiding her blindly toward the bedroom, his hands gripping her as if afraid she might slip away, but Hailey isn’t pulling back. She’s meeting him head-on, reckless and wanting, just as lost in this as he is. It’s madness, but maybe that’s the only way it’s ever been with them. No control, no restraint—just gravity pulling them into something neither of them can fight.

The remainder of their clothes disappear in frantic, desperate motions—his shirt, her bra, the sharp sound of a zipper, the rustle of fabric hitting the floor.

And then, when he finally has her beneath him, bare and vulnerable, something shifts. The urgency is still there, simmering beneath his skin, but there’s something else now, something slower. Reverent.

He pulls back just enough to take her in, his breath catching like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. And maybe he is. Maybe this is different. Maybe it means more.

Jay dips his head, pressing his lips to her shoulder, then lower, trailing soft, lingering kisses down her collarbone, across the swell of her breasts. His mouth ghosts over her ribs, his hands mapping every inch of her, fingers tracing every curve, every dip, memorizing her—worshiping her.

Because he’s missed her. God, he’s missed her.

His lips continue their slow descent, leaving fire in their wake. He kisses her hip, her stomach, letting his tongue tease, letting himself feel —every shiver, every hitch in her breath.

When he finds the faint, round scar on her abdomen, he stills.

The fire dims for a second, replaced by something softer, something heavier. He brushes his fingers over the scar, then presses a gentle kiss to it—the one he wasn’t there to stop. Hailey stiffens slightly beneath him, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she exhales, her fingers threading into his hair, holding him there for just a second longer.

He rests his forehead against her skin, breath unsteady, voice barely a whisper. "I’m sorry I wasn’t there."

Hailey doesn’t say anything. But when he lifts his head, her blue eyes shine with something raw, something he can’t name. It holds him there as he searches her face, his hand drifting up along her side. 

“You sure?” he murmurs, voice low, careful.

She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she pulls him back up to her, her lips finding his—urgent, certain, leaving no room for second-guessing.

Then her hand slips between them, fingers wrapping around him. A low, guttural moan escapes him, unbidden, as she guides him to her with an urgency that knocks the breath from his lungs. There’s nothing uncertain in her touch—only raw need and something aching, wrapped in desperation, like she’s been waiting for this just as long as he has.

He enters her slowly, a sharp gasp slipping from her lips as she arches against him. And it’s more than just coming home—it’s like reclaiming something precious he lost, something he was never meant to be without. He buries himself in her, and she takes him in like she was made for this, for him.

He moves slowly at first, savoring the way she feels, the way she clings to him—nails digging into his back, her teeth grazing his shoulder before she bites down—not hard, but enough to make him gasp. It’s wild and desperate. He hopes she leaves marks—wants her to. Needs to feel her on his skin tomorrow, a reminder that this was real.

His lips find hers again, swallowing every gasp, every broken sound she makes as they move together, their bodies speaking in ways their words never could.

“You make a mess of me,” he rasps, pressing his forehead against hers, his hands steadying her even as his body moves.

Hailey’s breath hitches, her fingers tightening around his biceps. "Good," she murmurs, her voice breaking. "Then we’re even."

The tension coils, sharp and overwhelming, building between them like an unstoppable force. Her body tightens around him, and Jay groans, burying his face against her neck as the world tilts—crashing into oblivion.

Hailey follows, her body trembling beneath him, gasping his name as she shatters in his arms. Her fingers dig into his back, her breath hitching, and he loves this—has always loved this. The way she falls apart, clings to him, like she needs him just as much as he needs her.

And God—he fucking needs her.

For a long moment, neither of them move, their bodies tangled, their breaths uneven. The world outside doesn’t exist—just the warmth of her skin against his, the way her heartbeat thrums beneath his. He should say something, but the words don’t come. Maybe they don’t need to.

Instead, he presses a lingering kiss to her shoulder, tightening his hold, because letting go isn’t an option. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He’s never had control when it comes to Hailey—not over the way she makes him feel, not over the way she undoes him with just a look, a touch. And if this is all they get—if she leaves, if everything falls apart after tonight—he already knows: he’ll still be lost in her.

Exhaustion eventually pulls them under, their bodies still tangled, breaths evening out as they drift into sleep together, neither willing to let go.

Chapter Text

The first thing Hailey registers is warmth. The kind that seeps into her bones, lulls her back toward sleep, makes her forget—just for a second.

Then, the second thing. His touch.

Faint, rhythmic, heartbreakingly familiar.

Jay’s fingers trace lazy patterns along her bare back, slow and absentminded, the way he always used to. Like muscle memory, as if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Without opening her eyes, she can picture him sitting against the headboard, one hand fiddling with his phone, the other trailing over her bare skin as if last night never ended.

As if they’re still them.

And for one more stolen moment Hailey keeps her eyes closed, and lets herself pretend. Because the second she opens them, she knows everything will come rushing back like a gut punch, reminding her that it’s not their bed. Not their life. Not anymore.

But then, his fingers still. The warmth lingers, hesitation bleeding into his touch. A soft shift in movement follows—his hand brushing her hair aside, fingertips grazing the nape of her neck. And then—a kiss. Featherlight. Unhurried. Placed gently on her shoulder.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

Before she can process it, she feels the bed dip. The loss of heat as he pulls away. Then the rustle of fabric, the creak of floorboards beneath his weight. She doesn’t open her eyes. Just listens. Because it would hurt too much to look.

Footsteps. Slow, steady. The soft creak of a door opening. Then the flush of a toilet, the quiet rush of a faucet running. The footsteps drift out—into the living room, maybe the kitchen—a quiet rhythm that feels achingly familiar. He moves through the apartment like he belongs there. Because he does. 

She? Not so much.

And maybe that thought is what finally pushes her to do it. She exhales, slow and steady, forcing herself to open her eyes, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the blinds, her gaze slowly adjusting to the unfamiliar space around her.

Jay’s room is exactly what she expected—simple, clean, nothing unnecessary. The kind of place that serves a purpose rather than makes a statement. Function over aesthetics. Very Jay.

The furniture is minimal—a dark wood dresser, a small desk pushed up against the far wall, a neatly made bed that is, until last night. A few personal touches catch her eye—a watch resting on the nightstand, a folded-up sweatshirt draped over a chair, a pair of running shoes tucked beside the door.

But there’s nothing else. No clutter, no decorations, no framed photos to fill the empty spaces. Just clean lines and muted tones. 

She exhales slowly, her fingers curling into the sheets, when the scent reaches her—warm, rich, unmistakable. Coffee. The aroma drifts through the cracked door, weaving into the quiet, pulling her fully into wakefulness.

It’s such a simple thing, making coffee, and yet it makes her chest tighten all over again. Because for a moment—just a fleeting second—it feels like another life. And she hates how easy it would be to pretend. To slip back into them, even if only for a moment.

She blinks up at the ceiling, her body still heavy with sleep, still wrapped in the warmth of his sheets. The scent of him—of sweat, sex, and them—lingers in the air, stirring up fragments from the night before.

But she doesn’t want to think about it—not yet. So she forces herself up, swings her legs over the edge of the bed, the cool air brushing against her skin as she rises. Her body feels slow, reluctant to move, but she pushes through it. She’d half-expected a pounding headache—some physical punishment for the choices she made—but it doesn’t come. Her head is clear. Too clear. And somehow, that makes it worse

She reaches for the nearest discarded shirt—Jay’s, she realizes when the fabric slips over her skin. It’s soft, worn, smelling faintly of him, and she ignores the way her chest tightens at the thought.

Barefoot, she follows the scent of coffee into the kitchen.

Jay stands with his back to her, dressed in nothing but a pair of dark boxers. His broad shoulders are tense, muscles shifting beneath freckled skin, scattered with sunspots and old scars—and now, her marks too. The morning light catches on the faint red lines along his shoulder blades, a bruise blooming at the base of his neck, the mess of his hair still shaped by her hands.

All of it, quiet, unspoken evidence of last night’s recklessness.

She watches him wrap one hand around his mug, the other resting loosely on his hip, fingers drumming against the fabric of his waistband. His movements are easy, familiar—like this is just another morning. Like nothing is different.

The coffee maker hums softly, filling the quiet space between them, and she lets herself watch him move, the way he fits so naturally into the moment, like this isn’t something fragile, like they aren’t standing on the edge of something dangerous.

Jay must sense her, because he turns, catching sight of her in his shirt. His gaze flickers over her—just a brief second, nothing lingering—but something shifts in his expression. It’s boyish and unguarded, all easy charm and quiet confidence, still too damn handsome for her own good.

“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. He reaches for another mug, already filled, and holds it out to her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Two creams, two sugars, and a dash of cinnamon.”

Hailey arches a brow, and Jay huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Kidding. Black, no sugar.” His tone is light, but there’s a careful edge beneath it. 

Hailey hesitates, just for a second, before stepping forward and wrapping her hands around the cup. The warmth seeps into her fingers, steadying her.

She takes a sip. It’s perfect. Her throat tightens, but she forces herself to meet his eyes. 

Without a word, Jay slides a bottle of water and a couple of painkillers across the counter toward her. She glances at them, then back at him. He must’ve figured she’d need them after last night.

“I’m good,” she says softly, her voice just above a whisper. “Surprisingly.”

Jay doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches her, leaning against the counter, his own mug cradled in one hand. The silence between them is thick—not uncomfortable, not tense. Just… waiting.

Then, finally, he smirks. Small. A little hesitant. He nods toward her. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you stealing my shirts again.”

Hailey glances down—bare legs, his worn fabric draped over her like it belongs there. Like she belongs here.

Her grip tightens around the mug. "Didn’t really think about it," she mutters, shrugging. A lie.

Silence lingers. Hailey takes another sip of her coffee, giving herself a second to think. To breathe. Then, because the weight of the moment feels too heavy—too close to something she can’t handle—she glances around the apartment. Her eyes drift over the space: everything in its place, not a thing out of order.

“Clean. Minimalistic. Organized,” she says, peering over the rim of her mug with a smirk. “Shockingly on brand for you.”

Jay lifts a brow, taking a slow sip of his own coffee. “Yeah, well… turns out when you don’t have a partner leaving coffee cups and bowls everywhere, it’s easier to keep it tidy.”

The words are light, teasing, but they land heavier than they should. Hailey exhales a small laugh, but it barely reaches her eyes. “I was not that bad.”

Jay gives her a look. A classic, full-fledged ‘seriously?’ look. “Hailey, you used to leave half-full mugs in places I didn’t even know existed.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, because—okay, fine, maybe she did.

The banter is easy. Familiar. Like slipping into an old routine, muscle memory guiding them through the awkwardness of whatever this is. And for a second, it feels okay—like they could stay in this bubble where things are simple, where the past doesn’t press down on her like a weight she can’t escape.

But then, as the moment stretches, her own thoughts begin to turn against her. What are you doing? What does this mean? What happens when you walk out that door?

Her chest tightens. Her grip on the coffee mug turns white-knuckled before she even realizes it. Her breathing feels shallower, like there’s not enough air in the room. Last night was reckless. Intoxicating. But this—this is worse.

Because this feels real.

She swallows hard, blinking past the spiral, past the rush of thoughts clawing at the edges of her mind. She watches Jay’s easy smirk fade, replaced by something softer. Something careful.

"Hailey."

Her name, just that. Simple. But it lands like a weight in her chest. She blinks at him, her breath just a little too shallow. He sees it. Of course, he does. 

His voice stays steady, grounding. "You okay?"

She swallows hard, tries to push past the tightness in her throat, the way her thoughts keep pulling her under. "Yeah," she lies. "Just… coffee’s strong."

His brow twitches, like he doesn’t buy it. Like he’s debating whether or not to call her on it. But then, he just nods, giving her that one-second-out-of-sync delay that tells her he knows. And yet, he lets her out.

She exhales, staring down at the dark liquid in her cup. She should shut this down. Walk away. Pretend last night didn’t happen. But when she speaks, her voice is quiet. Careful. “Look, I don’t know how to process this. Last night… I don’t know how to make sense of any of it right now.”

The words feel small in the space between them, and it’s not the whole truth—not even close—but it’s honest enough. And right now, it’s all she can give him. 

He nods, sets his coffee down, and takes a step closer. Close enough that their fingers nearly brush against the counter. Close enough that she feels him.

"You don’t have to make sense of it right now," he says simply with a one-shoulder shrug. "Just—stay."

Hailey exhales, her chest tightening. She wants to argue. To tell him that it’s not that simple.

But she doesn’t. 

Leaning against the counter once more, Jay watches her, his expression unreadable. “You hungry?”

The question is so normal, so effortless, that it knocks something loose inside her. She hesitates. Because this isn’t their life anymore. He doesn’t get to make her coffee. She doesn’t get to sit at his counter. They don’t get to do… this.

And yet, when he quirks a brow with that sleepy, effortlessly grin that tugs at something deep and familiar inside her, she hears herself say—

“I could eat.”

Jay nods like her answer doesn’t mean anything, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But it does mean something. She can feel it in the way his shoulders relax just a little, in the way he turns toward the cabinets without another word, moving like this is something they still do.

Hailey watches as he starts pulling out ingredients—flour, eggs, milk, sugar. The telltale clatter of a waffle iron being set on the counter makes her chest tighten.

Waffles.

Her stomach clenches. It’s not just breakfast. It’s deliberate. 

She takes another sip of coffee, her fingers curling a little tighter around the mug. “You’re making waffles?” Her voice is quieter than she meant for it to be.

Jay doesn’t look at her right away, just cracks an egg into a bowl like it’s nothing. Like it’s not a punch to the gut. “Figured you’d still like ‘em.”

Her throat goes dry. Because she does. She always has.

It was their thing. Jay’s waffles were better than any diner’s, and she used to insist on them after long shifts, lazy Sundays, mornings when they needed a reason to slow down.

She exhales, setting her coffee down a little too hard. “You don’t have to.”

Jay finally looks up, brows pulling together, like she’s just said something ridiculous. “I know.” A beat passes. “But I want to.”

Her stomach flips, and she hates that it does. Hates that this feels too easy.

He turns back to whisk the batter, and she watches, the moment stretching between them, filled only by the soft sounds of metal against ceramic. Familiar. Intimate. Too much.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at her. His voice is quieter this time, the teasing gone—replaced by something else. Something careful. Concerned.

She inhales. Exhales. Nods. “Yeah. I’m okay.” Another lie.

Jay doesn’t press, but she knows he hears it. A beat passes before he turns to face her, the whisk still in his hand, waffle batter clinging to the sides of the bowl. “You’ll tell me if that changes, right?”

Her chest tightens. She looks up, meets his eyes. And for a second, the silence stretches.

Then her voice cuts through it. “You really want the truth?”

Jay doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes.”

She exhales slowly, fingers toying with the handle of her mug like she needs something—anything—to hold onto. 

“It’s more than just being confused about what happened last night,” she says, voice low but steady. “It’s that I don’t know how to sit here, drink coffee, eat waffles, and pretend I haven’t spent the last couple of years trying to move on from you.” She lets out a soft, bitter laugh, eyes still on her cup. “Clearly, I did a shit job at that.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. “Hailey, I’m not asking you to pretend. And like I said, you don’t have to make sense of any of this—not right now.” His voice is steady—too steady—like he’s holding himself together one word at a time. “I just... I don’t want to go back to whatever the hell we were before last night.”

Her stomach twists. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? There is no before. There’s only what they had and what they lost. So what the hell are they supposed to do now?

“I don’t want to go back to that either.” The words slip out before she can stop them.

Jay studies her, like he’s trying to read between the lines. Like he’s trying to figure out if she’s ready to let herself feel it. She doesn’t know. 

A long silence stretches between them, filled only by the sound of Jay pouring waffle batter into the iron, the sizzle loud in the quiet.

Finally, he asks the only question that matters.

“So... what do you want to do?” His voice is low, careful. 

Hailey exhales, rubbing her fingers against the bridge of her nose like she’s trying to ease the pressure in her head. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. A pause. Then, barely above a whisper, “Or… do you want to leave and pretend it didn’t happen?” Another beat, quieter now. “Or do you want to stay? Because I—” he exhales, eyes locked on hers, steady and open. “I want you to. But only if you want that too.”

Hailey lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. “I don’t know,” she admits, shaking her head. “I don’t have answers.”

Jay doesn’t move, just leans back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. Another beat of silence. The waffles sizzle in the iron, the scent of vanilla and butter thick in the air. 

“Do you regret it?” His voice is quiet, controlled—but there’s something beneath it, something that makes her stomach drop. ”Last night?” 

She looks up at him then, really looks at him. The tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw is locked like he’s bracing for impact. Like he’s already expecting her to say yes. And she feels too much all at once. A tangled mess of emotions. But regret? It isn’t one of them. Well–

“I regret how easy it was,” she says, her voice steadier than she feels.

Jay’s brow furrows, but she continues, gesturing between them. “I mean, we just… did it. Like no time had passed. Like none of the shit between us mattered. That doesn’t alarm you?” 

His gaze darkens, his expression unreadable. “No.” 

Hailey swallows. “It scares the shit out of me, Jay.” 

“I know.” Jay falls quiet for a moment, then pushes away from the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Can I tell you about my regrets?” he asks, voice low. Then, almost as if realizing how heavy the question sounds, he adds quickly, “Only if you’re ready to hear them.”

Hailey hesitates, her eyes flicking to her mug before meeting his gaze again. She’s not sure she’ll ever truly be ready—but she nods anyway.

His hands drop to his sides, and when he looks at her, there’s no hesitation. “Leaving.”

Her breath catches.

His voice stays even, but there’s an undercurrent of something in it—something that sounds so much like pain that it physically hurts. 

“Walking away, thinking it was the right thing, telling myself it was better for both of us.” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I regret every second I spent convincing myself that staying out of your life was what you wanted.” He pauses, jaw tight, fingers curling against the edge of the counter. “I regret signing those damn divorce papers.”

The confession lands like a punch, knocking the air straight from her lungs.

“Jay—”

“You were right. I didn’t fight for you.” His voice is rough, low, but unwavering. “I should have pushed back, made you look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t want this anymore. But I didn’t. I let you walk away, and I told myself I was doing the right thing, even when it felt like it was killing me.”

Her chest constricts, because he’s saying the thing she’s wanted to hear for so damn long. But now? Now, when everything is already broken? What is she supposed to do with this?

The waffle iron beeps, breaking the silence, but neither of them move. Neither of them look away.

Because this—this is the real thing between them. Not last night. Not waking up in his bed.

This.

The past. The choices. The damage.

Her breath shakes as she exhales, staring at him, words pressing against her ribs, but none of them make it out. Jay doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything else. Maybe he’s waiting. Maybe he’s already said everything he needed to.

Finally, Hailey forces a breath and shakes her head, her voice quiet but unsteady. “I waited. I—I waited for a sign, for a text, for something…” She swallows hard, the words catching, sticking in her throat. “If you had just…if you had reached out, if you had shown even the smallest bit of…of resistance, I—”

She swallows hard, because God, this still hurts.

“And you know what I regret?” She lets out a humorless laugh, blinking up at the ceiling like it might keep the tears at bay. “I regret that I was the one who had to end it. That I had to file those damn papers when it was you who left.” 

Jay flinches—actually flinches. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Finally, his voice comes out low, like it’s been scraped raw. “Receiving those papers tore me apart.” 

His fingers flex against the counter, his shoulders tense like he’s bracing for a hit that already landed years ago. “I stared at them for hours. Just… sat there, holding them, reading your name over and over like it wasn’t real.” His jaw tightens, his voice turning rough. “It was the first time I really understood what I’d done.”

He rubs a hand over his face, looking away for a second before forcing himself to meet her eyes again. “And I thought about calling you. A hundred times. A thousand. I picked up my phone, I wrote the words—‘Hailey, I’m sorry, I don’t want this’—but I never sent it.”

She swallows hard, blinking down at her coffee, but she doesn’t interrupt.

"Because I told myself it was what you wanted." His voice wavers slightly, but he pushes through it. "I convinced myself that signing the papers was the only thing I could give you. That if I didn’t—if I tried to fight it—I’d just be making it worse."

The air between them is so thick, so suffocating, but he doesn’t look away. He lets it hang there, lets himself be vulnerable. And it’s the first time she sees it. The regret. The grief. The way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for her, but doesn’t.

The worst part?

She wants him to.

She also wants to be mad at him, to hold onto the anger, because it’s easier than admitting that she still cares. That despite all of it—despite everything he did—she’s still standing here in his kitchen, wearing his shirt, drinking the coffee he made for her.

The waffle iron beeps yet again, sharp and insistent, breaking the silence. 

Jay doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at her. He just turns, opening the iron and carefully lifting the golden-brown waffle onto a plate, moving with deliberate ease, like nothing just happened. Like he didn’t just lay everything out in front of her.

Her chest is too tight, her pulse hammering in her ears, but still, she stays rooted in place. 

Jay grabs syrup from the counter, sets it down next to the plate, then finally—finally—looks back at her. 

"Eat." His voice is steady, casual, like the past five minutes haven’t cracked something wide open.

Hailey blinks at him, then at the plate. Like eating waffles is even possible after all of this.

She huffs a short laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “That’s it? You drop all of that, and now we’re just… eating waffles?”

Jay shrugs, grabbing his own plate. "You still like ‘em, don’t you?"

Her stomach clenches.

Of course, she does. The waffles. Him. That’s the problem.

The quiet truth in his question lingers longer than it should, and for a moment, the weight of everything presses into her skull. 

“Jesus, Jay,” she mutters, rubbing her temple.

He doesn’t respond right away. Just grabs the coffee pot and refills her mug, like this is any other morning, like they’re not standing in the wreckage of what used to be them.

Finally, he leans against the counter, meets her eyes, and asks again, “What do you want to do, Hailey?” 

It’s not sarcastic. Not defensive. Just honest.

“I don’t know,” she answers, her voice strained, almost frustrated. It’s the same answer she gave him before, and it still feels just as useless—because she really doesn’t know.

Jay nods, taking in her words. “Hailey, last night wasn’t nothing.” His voice is low, a little rough. “You might be trying to convince yourself it was just physical, but it wasn’t.” He looks at her, eyes steady. “And I think you know that.”

The words land heavy. Because she knows he’s right. Last night wasn’t a mistake. It was a spark—one that still burned despite the wreckage, despite the years apart. And now, she’s terrified of what that means for her going forward. 

She exhales, shaking her head, voice quieter now. “Knowing doesn’t make this any easier.”

“I know it doesn’t,” Jay says, his voice soft and steady. He watches her closely, like he’s doing his best not to push. “Look, like I said before—we don’t have to figure it all out today.”

Then, without a word, he grabs his plate, scooping up his waffle, and takes the seat next to her at the counter. The stool scrapes softly against the floor, the only sound filling the thick silence between them.

He picks up his fork, nodding toward her plate. “Eat. You don’t like soggy waffles.”

It’s said casually, like this is any other morning, like they haven’t just ripped open old wounds that neither of them knows how to close.

And maybe that’s why she picks up her fork. Because it’s easier than figuring out what to do next.

x

The door clicks shut, the sound far too final for something so small.

Jay exhales slowly, forehead pressing against the cool wood for a second before he lets himself lean back against it, eyes slipping shut.

His mind is a mess—a tangled, chaotic reel of the last twelve hours. He can’t erase the way she looked at him this morning—conflicted, torn, but…still there.

He drags a hand down his face, shaking his head like it might clear the thoughts spinning relentlessly in his skull. Because what the hell is he supposed to do now?

His apartment feels too quiet now that she’s gone, like even the walls know something’s missing. And maybe that’s what haunts him the most—the way she fits so easily back into his world… and then just as easily, slips out again.

Jay lets out a sharp breath, pushing off the door, but the weight in his chest doesn’t move with him.

Because this isn’t over.

It can’t be. 

But Hailey needs space. She needs to sort through everything in her own way, on her own terms. And pushing her—demanding answers she’s not ready to give—won’t do anything but send her running faster. But if last night is anything to go by… her heart is still in this. Still his. 

She may not have said the words, but he felt it. In the way she reached for him, the way she didn’t pull away, the way she stayed just a little longer even when everything in her probably told her to leave.

So he’ll wait.

As long as it takes.

x

Hailey spent the rest of the weekend keeping herself busy.

By Sunday night, every unopened box is gone—unpacked, sorted, put away. Her closet is perfectly organized, her kitchen spotless, her laundry done. She meal-prepped for the week, lining up her containers in neat little rows as if proof that she has it all under control.

She ignored Nina’s calls, too—every single one. She didn’t even bother coming up with an excuse. She knows exactly what Nina wants to talk about, and she told herself she’d deal with it on Monday. One crisis at a time.

She filled every hour, every minute, with something productive—something that made her feel like she was moving forward. Because if she stops, even for a second, the memories creep in.

His hands. His mouth. The way his eyes drank her in like he couldn’t get enough. The way he—

No.

Hailey shuts it down, forces the thoughts away before they drag her under. She can’t do this. Can’t let herself drown in the familiar longing, in the need thrumming beneath her skin like an ache that refuses to fade. 

So she throws herself into distractions, convinces herself it’s working.

And it does.

Sort of.

Until Monday morning. Until Nina Reyes, human lie detector, professional meddler, and the one person Hailey hoped to avoid this morning—corners her before she can even take a full sip of coffee.

“Conference room. Let’s go.”

Hailey pauses mid-sip, blinking at Nina, who stands in front of her desk with a familiar glint in her eyes and an unmistakable mission in her stance.

“What?”

Nina lifts a brow. “I let you get away with crumbs Friday night. I want the whole damn pie.”

Hailey exhales, already exhausted. “Nina—”

“Nope.” Nina’s already walking, tossing a playful smirk over her shoulder. “You’re either going to tell me voluntarily, or I’m gonna start using my analyst skills. And trust me, they’ll be dramatic.”

"Nina, I just got here," Hailey protests, though she already knows it’s useless.

“And you can drink your coffee in there just fine. C’mon, Hails.” Her tone softens slightly, teasing but warm.

Hailey mutters a curse under her breath, grabs her coffee, and with a resigned sigh she follows Nina into the empty conference room. The second the door clicks shut, Nina leans against the table, arms still crossed, expression expectant.

“Okay. Gimme everything.”

Hailey sighs, sinks into a chair, rubbing her temple. “There’s nothing to—”

“Please. I let you off the hook at the bar, but that was before I witnessed the Jay-and-Hailey showdown while Mark and I were waiting for shots—which, by the way, was right before you stormed out for some air. Then you ghosted me all weekend—real subtle, by the way. And I already know that whatever you’re about to say is going to be a massive understatement.” 

Hailey stares at her cup, avoiding eye contact. "It’s complicated."

Nina chuckles softly. “Yeah, no kidding. I’ve cleared my morning for exactly this kind of complicated.” She tips her head, gentler now. “So, what’s the deal with you and Captain Intesity? I am clearly missing an entire chapter—no, an entire book—of messy history."

Hailey exhales slowly, fingers tightening around her cup. She knew this moment was coming. But now that it’s here, the words catch in her throat.

“You’re my friend, Hailey,” Nina says gently, uncrossing her arms and leaning in a little. “And I can tell you’re carrying something big. I’m here. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Another breath, heavier this time. Hailey stares down at her coffee. “Jay and I worked together.”

Nina’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, I figured as much. But something tells me this wasn’t just a ‘we crossed paths on a case’ kind of thing.”

Hailey hesitates, then sighs. "We were in the same unit back in Chicago. For nearly five years."

Nina’s lips part slightly, her head tilting as the pieces start falling into place. "Five years ?" She blinks, clearly thrown. "That’s—okay, wow. So, you two weren’t just coworkers then—"

Hailey shifts uncomfortably. "We started out as partners."

Nina’s eyes widen. "Like, riding-in-the-same-car-every-day kind of partners?"

Hailey nods.

Nina lets out a low whistle. "That’s a hell of a lot of history to keep quiet about, Hails."

Hailey presses her lips together, fingers tightening around her cup. "Yeah. It is."

Nina watches her for a beat, her sharp gaze softening just a fraction. "And I’m guessing that’s just the tip of the iceberg."

Hailey doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to.

Nina exhales sharply, then reaches for the nearest chair and drags it over with a soft scrape against the floor. She sits down beside Hailey, fixing her with a steady look. “Alright,” she says, folding her hands in her lap. “Keep going.”

Hailey exhales sharply, staring down at her coffee. She could fight this, dodge Nina’s questions like she did at the bar—but what’s the point? Nina isn’t going to let it go, and honestly… Hailey’s tired.

So, she gives in.

"Fine," she mutters, leaning back against the table. "You want the story? Here it is."

The words pour out quieter than she expects. Hailey keeps it vague, skimming over some details, but it’s enough. Enough for Nina to see it, to understand this was something real. That it meant something.

Something that broke her. 

And admitting the history that still lingers in every glance, every word exchanged with Jay—feels like peeling open that old wound. Because it wasn’t supposed to end this way. 

“And here we are,” Hailey finishes, dragging a hand over her face. 

Silence settles between them.

Hailey swallows, her throat tight. She hates that it still feels like this—unresolved, unfinished. Raw.

"And it’s—complicated," she adds. 

Nina studies her for a long moment, like she’s weighing her words carefully. Then, with a small shake of her head, she exhales—some of the edge in her posture fading.

“Yeah,” she says finally, her voice quieter now. “No kidding.” She leans in just a little, her tone softening. “That’s… a hell of a heartbreak, Hailey.”

Hailey lets out a breath, dry and uneven. The corner of her mouth lifts, but it’s not quite a smile—more reflex than anything real. “Zero out of ten,” she mutters. “Would not recommend.”

The words land somewhere between humor and pain, hanging in the air like they’re not sure which way to lean. And honestly, neither is she.

Hailey glances at Nina, arching a brow. “You satisfied?”

“For now,” she says softly.

And Hailey knows this isn’t the last time she’ll have to answer questions—but for today, at least, it’s enough. She exhales, leaning back in her chair, desperate to shift the focus off herself. “What about you and Mark?” she asks, forcing a smirk. “You two looked like you were having fun.”

Nina mirrors the expression, hers far more effortless. “We exchanged numbers,” she says with a shrug, tapping her nails against the table. “Hasn’t reached out, though.”

Hailey snorts. “Idiot.”

Nina raises a brow.

“He doesn’t deserve you anyway,” Hailey adds, tone light but sincere. “You’re way too good for him.”

Nina waves a hand, unfazed. “Please, I wasn’t exactly holding my breath. I’ve got options—no time to wait around for a guy to call.”

Hailey huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Typical Nina.

And just like that, the weight of the conversation shifts—not completely gone, but lighter.

As Hailey and Nina step out of the conference room, Hailey still feels the weight of everything she just disclosed pressing against her chest. She doesn’t know what she expected—maybe some relief, maybe regret—but there’s no time to process it before they nearly collide with Jay in the hallway.

Her stomach flips. It’s the first time she’s seen him since Saturday—since she woke up in his bed, tangled in his sheets, his fingertips tracing soft, absentminded patterns along her back. Since they let their walls down and said the kind of truths they’d spent years burying.

"Oh, Reyes, there you are," Jay says casually, holding out a folder in Nina’s direction. "Got some intel for you to—"

He doesn’t get to finish.

Nina’s glare is instant and cutting. Without hesitation, she yanks the folder from his grip with more force than necessary, her jaw tight, her expression unreadable except for the clear fury simmering just beneath.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve, Halstead," she mutters, low and sharp, before shouldering past him—bumping into him hard enough that it’s definitely not an accident.

Jay stumbles a half step, blinking after her, completely thrown. His gaze shifts to Hailey, confused. "What the hell was that about?"

Hailey barely registers the question, finally allowing herself to really look at Jay. It’s almost irritating how effortlessly handsome he is—clean-cut, composed, like he hasn’t been scrambling her thoughts for days. Navy slacks, rolled sleeves, that faint scruff—he looks unfairly good, and for a moment, her knees threaten to give. But she straightens, steadying herself. This is work. She’s a professional… even if her brain is still buffering.

“Hailey?” Jay’s voice cuts in, pulling her back to the present. His brows pinch slightly as he jerks a thumb in the direction Nina stormed off. “What’s going on with her?”

“Oh, uh…” Hailey stumbles—just a little—then exhales. “She knows.”

Jay frowns, confused. “Knows what?”

She meets his eyes, her expression tired—defeated. “Us. All of it."

Jay stills, his posture shifting just slightly, but Hailey doesn’t miss it—the way he tenses, the way his throat bobs.

His voice dips, quieter now. “All of it?”

Hailey gives a small, steady nod. “Enough.”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping even lower. “Friday night?”

She shakes her head. “No… just the… before .”

Jay lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. That explains it.”

There’s a beat of silence. Hailey shifts slightly, caught in the strange mix of clarity and uncertainty that clings between them.

“I’m sorry,” she says, not even sure what exactly she’s apologizing for—just that the moment seems to call for it.

Jay gives a soft shake of his head. “Hey—nothing to be sorry for. It’s fine.” He holds her gaze for a second longer, his voice gentler now. “You good?”

Part of her wants to snap, How could I be?

But she catches herself. “Yeah,” she says, with a shrug. Because the truth is messy, and she’s not ready to unpack it in a hallway. At work.

Jay watches her for a beat, like he’s trying to read between the lines—trying to decide if she really means it. His eyes linger on hers, thoughtful. Then he nods once, slow. “Okay,” he says softly. “Good.”

He doesn’t push. Just continues to look at her—not panicked, not regretful. Just steady. There’s something in his eyes that almost feels like reassurance. Like he’s silently saying, It’s messy. I know. But I’l be here. Not going anywhere.

And maybe—for the first time in a long time—Hailey believes him.

Chapter Text

Hailey isn’t avoiding Jay. Not really.

But she’s also not going out of her way to run into him either. 

What happened between them wasn’t planned. It wasn’t logical. But it happened. And now, she’s stuck in the aftermath, caught between what she should feel and what she actually does.

She tells herself that keeping her distance is just the easiest way to keep a clear head. That if she keeps things professional, keeps things simple, she won’t have to deal with the mess of emotions still tangled up inside her. But it’s getting harder to pretend when every glance, every accidental moment in the same space, threatens to pull her right back in.

And no matter how much she tries to keep her distance, the universe—or maybe just bad luck—keeps finding ways to put Jay in her path.

Just the other day, she had stepped out of her apartment, coffee in hand, her mind already on the case waiting for her at the office. But the second she closed the door, she spotted him, standing  across the hall, locking his door. The soft click of the deadbolt sounded deafening in the quiet corridor.

For a second, neither of them moved. Neither spoke.

Then, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Jay gave her a small nod. “Morning.”

Hailey swallowed. "Morning."

Then they stepped toward the elevator at the same time, hesitating awkwardly knowing they were heading in the same direction. Hailey pressed the button, her grip tightening around her coffee cup, suddenly hyper-aware of the silence stretching between them.

When the doors slid open, they stepped inside, standing shoulder to shoulder, too close in the small space.

Jay didn’t look at her, but she could feel him there—the warmth of him just within reach. It was suffocating.

When the elevator dinged, he stepped aside, motioning for her to exit first. "See you at work, Hailey."

His voice was quiet, steady, but something in the way he said her name made her chest tighten.

She didn’t respond. She just walked to her car.

Then there was that time in the laundry room. 

It was late, and Hailey just wanted to throw her clothes in the dryer and be done with it. The hum of the washing machines was the only sound in the basement laundry room—until footsteps echoed behind her.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

"Didn’t take you for a late-night laundry person," Jay remarked, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

Hailey exhaled, keeping her eyes on the dryer as she tossed in her clothes. "Didn’t take you for one either."

He shrugged. “Not quite the same people anymore, are we?”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. She isn’t the same woman—life changed her, sharpened her edges. And Jay… he seems different, too. Softer in some ways, more grounded. But is he really? Or is that just what she wants to see?

Jay moved past her, reaching for a detergent bottle on the shelf. His arm brushed against hers, just a brief touch, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

She tensed, her breath catching before she forced herself to move, unintentionally closing the dryer door a little too hard.

Jay didn’t say anything else, but when she turned to leave, she felt his gaze on her—heavy, lingering.

She didn’t dare to look back.

Then yesterday, after most of the team had already cleared out for the night. The bullpen had settled into its usual late-hour hush—the hum of computers, the occasional voice from security echoing down the hallway.

Hailey stayed rooted to her desk, eyes skimming the same line of text for the fifth time. She wasn’t ready to give in to the clock.

Then— thud—a folder landed on her desk.

"You’re still here," Jay said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

She didn’t glance up. "Kettle, meet pot."

Jay pulled out the chair across from her, sitting without invitation. "You shouldn’t make a habit of this."

That earned him a look. "Neither should you."

Jay shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. "Old habits." He leaned back, arms folding over his chest as he studied her. "You’ve been dodging me."

She snorted. "Please. We work in the same building. That’s prime dodging real estate."

"Yeah, but you’ve got it down to an art form. Impressive, really."

Her breath caught—not at the words themselves, but at the way he said them. Light, almost casual. But she knew there was weight behind his words.

Hailey twirled the pen between her fingers, voice dry. "If I were dodging you, you'd never catch me sitting here."

Jay grinned, easy. "So you admit it—dodging, just with style."

She shook her head, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the slightest twitch.

He tilted his head. "Just wondering if this weird thing between us is the new normal, or if you’re just keeping me on my toes."

Hailey gripped her pen tighter, willing herself to stay unaffected. "What do you want me to say?"

Jay didn’t push, didn’t move closer—but his presence was suffocating in the best and worst ways.

"Go home, Halstead," she said, standing up, needing space.  

But just as she was walking past, his voice followed her—softer now, but no less clear. “I don’t want us stuck in a loop.”

She paused—just for a second—but didn’t turn around. Because if she did, she wasn’t sure what she’d see in his eyes. Or worse, what he’d see in hers.

These moments keep happening. Unplanned, unavoidable. Each one brief, but never insignificant.

The tension between them is thick, wrapping around her like a vice, unrelenting in its grip. It lingers in every glance, every near-touch, every charged silence that stretches just a second too long. Her body reacts before her mind can catch up—her breath hitching, her pulse kicking up when his voice dips lower than it should. It’s infuriating. It’s undeniable.

And every time, without fail, she feels like she needs a cold shower just to clear her head.

But it never works. Because the next time it happens, it all starts over again.

x

"I slept with Jay."

The words leave Hailey’s mouth before she can second-guess them, before she can find a way to soften the edges of what she’s just admitted.

Dr. Morgan doesn’t flinch. Her expression remains calm, patient, the way it always is. "Okay," she says simply. "Tell me about that."

Hailey exhales, shifting in her spot on the couch, her laptop balanced on the coffee table in front of her. The glow of the screen is the only light in the dim room, casting long shadows against the walls. She tugs at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, suddenly too warm, too restless.

“It just... happened,” she says after a beat. “We ran into each other at a bar. We argued. I left. But later, I wanted to say my peace—to finally get it out of my system. That’s all it was supposed to be. I knocked on his door, but the next thing I knew—” She swallows hard, her voice trailing off. “It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t logical. But it happened.”

"And how do you feel about that?" Dr. Morgan asks, her tone even.

"Conflicted," Hailey admits, rubbing a hand over her face. "You know I spent the last couple of years trying to move on, trying to forget how badly he hurt me. I should hate him. I did hate him."

"But you don’t anymore?"

Hailey looks away from the screen, pressing her lips together before answering. "I don’t know. Maybe I never really did?"

Dr. Morgan nods, waiting for her to continue.

"I wanted to blame it on the alcohol," Hailey says, her voice barely above a whisper now. "And for a while, I did. But the truth is..." She exhales slowly. "I was sober enough. I knew exactly what I was doing.” Her shoulders drop slightly, a quiet surrender settling in. "I wanted it."

There it is. The truth she can’t ignore.

"And now?" Dr. Morgan prompts.

Hailey huffs out a humorless laugh. "Now I feel like I need a damn manual on how to make my brain and my body agree on something." She shakes her head, frustration creeping into her voice. "I keep telling myself that sleeping with him was a mistake, that it should’ve never happened. But every time I see him, every time we’re in the same space, it’s like I—" She stops, pressing her lips together. "It’s like I can’t turn it off."

"The feelings?"

Hailey doesn’t answer right away. "It’s not just physical," she says finally, voice quieter. "That’s the problem. It’s the way he looks at me. The way he still knows me, and I know him." She swallows hard, her throat tightening. "I tell myself I don’t want to fall into old patterns, but the second I’m near him, I feel like I’m right back where I started."

"And where is that?"

Hailey exhales, her chest tightening. "Wanting him. Even when I know I shouldn’t."

Dr. Morgan watches her carefully before speaking. "You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself to have this figured out right away, Hailey. You’re allowed to have complicated feelings. You’re allowed to sit in them without needing an immediate answer."

Hailey lets out a breath, barely a laugh. "Jay said the same thing."

Dr. Morgan smiles softly, a knowing kind of warmth in her expression."Then maybe you should listen—to both of us. It’s not a weakness to not have all the answers. Sometimes, it’s just being human."

"Yeah, well, tell that to my brain," Hailey mutters.

Dr. Morgan smiles gently. "That’s what we’re working on."

Hailey leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "So what am I supposed to do with all of this?"

"Instead of trying to shut it down, try to understand it. No judgment. No pressure to act or react. Just sit with what you feel and acknowledge it."

Hailey closes her eyes, letting the words settle. She isn’t sure she knows how to do that—because if she really sits with it, she knows where it’ll lead. Beneath all the anger and resentment, the truth is steady and unrelenting: she still loves him.And admitting that would mean giving up the illusion that she’s moved on.

"That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen," she says quietly. 

Dr. Morgan chuckles. "Or, it could be exactly what you need."

x

Jay sits on his couch, a half-empty beer bottle in one hand, his other hand gripping the back of his neck as he stares at the wall.

It’s useless. Trying to think about anything else, trying to focus on work, trying to go about his routine like nothing has shifted—it’s fucking useless.

Because everything has shifted.

Hailey is in his head, under his skin, in every breath he takes.

He spent years convincing himself that walking away was the right thing to do. That it had been necessary. That she was better off without him. But now, sitting here in his apartment, just across the damn hall from her, he knows one thing with absolute certainty.

He isn’t over her.

And he never will be.

His fingers tap against the glass bottle, his mind running through the same loop it has been stuck on for days—how to fix this. How to get her back. How to make her believe that the guy he used to be—the guy who hurt her, the guy who left—isn’t who he is anymore.

But he can’t overwhelm her. He knows that. Hailey isn’t the type to be won over by grand gestures or relentless pursuit. She needs space. She needs time.

And yet, staying away from her is driving him insane.

Every time he tells himself to back off, to let her have the space she needs, he finds himself in her orbit anyway. A run-in in the hallway turns into him offering a teasing smirk, his voice dropping into something softer, something warmer, just to see if she’ll look at him longer than a second. A quiet moment in the laundry room becomes an opportunity—his arm brushing against hers, a subtle, knowing touch that lingers longer than it should.

It’s stupid. Reckless.

But he doesn’t care.

Because even if she doesn’t admit it, he can feel it—the tension, the pull, the way she hesitates just a second too long when she walks away.

It’s not enough.

But it’s something.

Jay exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He can’t rush this. Can’t push too hard. But God, he needs her to see it—to see him, the way he is now. To see that he isn’t the broken man who left her.

But the question that gnaws at him is simple.

Will she ever believe it? Will she see it?

Over the next few weeks, Jay makes a conscious effort to ease the tension between them. He stops pushing, stops leaning into the moments when the air between them grows too charged. Instead, he simply shows up—not in grand, sweeping gestures, but in the quiet, consistent ones. He doesn’t force conversations she’s not ready to have. Doesn’t flirt, even when the pull is there.

He just stays.

And for now, that has to be enough—because barging into her apartment and kissing her senseless isn’t exactly an option.

One morning, the bullpen is buzzing with early morning chatter, agents filing in with tired eyes and coffee cups in hand. He sees that Hailey barely has time to sit down. 

Jay doesn’t think. He just does it.

He sets the cup of coffee on Hailey’s desk without a word, not waiting for a reaction, not expecting one. She stares at it for a second before looking up at him, her expression unreadable. 

Jay shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Figured you could use it."

She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t ask how he knew. Instead, she picks up the cup, takes a sip, and he catches the subtle way her shoulders ease, the quiet pause before she sets it down.

It’s not much.

But it’s something.

The next time he finds a way to just be there for her, it’s after she storms away from her desk, cursing under her breath. Her damn drawer is jammed again, and Jay doesn’t hesitate. He waits until she’s gone, grabs a screwdriver, and fixes it himself. He doesn’t like seeing her frustrated, even over something small.

The next morning, she tugs the handle and the drawer glides open smoothly. She pauses, her brows knitting together.

Jay keeps typing, not looking up.

Hailey lingers for half a second before she walks and drops  a file onto his desk. "You really couldn’t let me suffer?"

Jay smirks, finally glancing at her. "Never."

She shakes her head, muttering as she walks away. "You’re impossible."

He just smiles.

A few days later, they’re out on surveillance. It’s colder than she expected, but Hailey won’t admit it.

Jay doesn’t need her to.

She crosses her arms a little tighter, shifts her weight from foot to foot, and before he even thinks about it, he’s already moving. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders.

She stiffens immediately. "Jay—"

"Just take it," he says, already turning back to the warehouse they’re watching, acting like it’s nothing. Because if he looks at her—if he sees the way she hesitates before gripping the lapels—he’ll lose every ounce of restraint he has left.

She keeps it on.

That’s all he needs to know.

And then, the worst happens. 

It was supposed to be controlled, calculated—an easy extraction of their CI before the cartel could get to him. A few hours earlier, they’d gotten word that a bounty had been placed on his head, but by the time they got there, it was too late. Their CI was dead. The tension in the bullpen was thick, the weight of failure pressing heavy on everyone. But no one was carrying it more than Hailey.

Jay watched as she sat at her desk, barely moving, her fingers clenched around a pen so tightly he thought it might snap. She hadn’t spoken much since they got back—hadn’t even looked at him.

He didn’t hesitate.

"You good?"

Jay doesn’t know why he asks. Maybe because he needed to hear her voice. Maybe because it’s her, and he can’t help it.

"Yeah, I’m fine." It’s automatic, clipped, like she doesn’t even think before answering.

He doesn’t buy it. "You sure?"

This time, she hesitates.

For a second, he thinks she’s going to shut him down, tell him to mind his own business. But instead, she just exhales, dropping her gaze back to her notes. "Yeah," she mutters. "I’m sure."

Jay doesn’t push. He just nods.

But he doesn’t walk away either.

And after a moment, she glances at him again. Brief, fleeting.

But there.

x

Hailey continues to tell herself that things will even out. That if she keeps her head down, keeps her focus on the job, the tension between her and Jay will settle.

But it doesn’t.

Because Jay has stopped pushing. Stopped letting the moments between them stretch too long, stopped giving her anything to latch onto. Instead, he just shows up—not in big, dramatic ways, but in the quiet, frustrating ones.

He doesn’t press when she keeps her distance, doesn’t needle her with words heavy with meaning. Instead, he’s just… there.

And somehow, that’s worse.

Because it means she can’t ignore him.

No matter how much distance she tries to put between them, he’s still there—in the small moments, in the quiet gestures that slip through the cracks of her carefully built walls.

Another late night. Another stack of paperwork waiting to be sorted through before she can even think about leaving.

Hailey barely registers the sound of Jay grabbing his jacket, the soft rustle of movement as he stands. He doesn’t say anything as he walks away, and she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in the case file in front of her.

The bullpen is nearly empty now, the distant hum of computers and the faint voices of the night shift the only sounds filling the space. She exhales, rubbing at her temple before reaching for her pen—

And pauses.

A small protein bar sits beside her files, next to a folded sticky note in Jay’s handwriting.

At least eat something. –J

Her fingers hover over it, hesitant, before finally brushing over the wrapper.

She doesn’t know why she just stares at it, why the simple act of him leaving it there unsettles something deep inside her. It’s nothing—just a protein bar. A casual gesture.

But it’s not.

Because Jay knows her. Still knows her. Knows she’s been running on caffeine and stress, knows she won’t stop long enough to take care of herself, knows exactly how she operates even when she hasn’t given him the space to.

And that realization makes her chest feel tighter than it should.

She tells herself it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just who Jay is—thoughtful, irritatingly observant.

But she doesn’t throw it away.

And later, when exhaustion wins and she finally unwraps it, she doesn’t let herself think about the fact that it’s her favorite kind. Because if she does, she might have to admit that he never really stopped paying attention.

And that scares her more than anything.

The next day, Hailey slams her door shut behind her, the sound echoing through her apartment after returning from work. She exhales sharply, pacing to the kitchen, then to the window, then back to the door, her body thrumming with restless energy.

She needs to do something.

She could go for a run—pound the pavement until her legs burn and her mind clears. Or she could go to the gym and hit the punching bag, throw every ounce of frustration into something she can control.

Or—

She could walk across the hall.

Her steps falter at the thought.

She could knock. Could close the space between them with three simple raps of her knuckles against his door. Could let herself feel instead of fighting against it.

But what would that mean?

Her heart pounds, her body wired with something she can’t name— or maybe she can, and that’s the real problem .

And then, like a whisper at the edge of her consciousness, Dr. Morgan’s voice creeps in.

"Or, it could be exactly what you need."

Hailey clenches her jaw.

Because what if it is?

Her fingers flex at her sides, her pulse a steady drumbeat in her ears. She turns toward the door, muscles tensed, every part of her teetering on the edge of go.

But then—

She exhales.

Shakes her head.

Takes a step back.

No.

Not tonight.

She’s not ready for that. And she’s not sure if she ever will be. Instead, she turns away and grabs her running shoes. Because right now, she needs an outlet. And Jay Halstead is the kind of energy she can’t afford to burn through.

By the time Hailey returns, sweat clings to the back of her neck, her lungs burning from the run. It wasn’t enough to clear her head—not even close—but it was better than the alternative.

She slows her steps as she heads toward the mailroom, tugging out her earbuds. She doesn’t expect to run into anyone this late, but as she rounds the corner, there’s Mark, flipping through his mail.

He looks up, his usual easygoing grin spreading across his face. "Hey, out for a late-night run?"

Hailey lets out a small breath, nodding her head as she opens her mailbox. "Something like that."

"I’ve been looking for a running partner," he says, leaning casually against the counter. "Someone to push me, keep me accountable." He glances at her, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Maybe we should team up sometime?"

It’s smooth. Friendly. Nonchalant enough that if she outright says no, she’d feel like she’s making a bigger deal of it than it is.

"I’m not great at running with other people. I tend to go quiet and zone out. Not exactly partner material" she replies, keeping her tone light as she flips through her mail.

Mark chuckles. "Then maybe we could just grab a drink again instead. The other night was fun, right? We could do it again—maybe just the two of us this time."

Hailey exhales slowly, already moving toward the elevator, hoping the conversation will fizzle out if she doesn’t feed into it. But Mark follows, falling into step beside her.

"I mean, I get it," he says, grinning. "Busy schedule, federal agent, all that. But you gotta have a little time to relax. Just one drink?"

Hailey knows guys like him—persistent but ultimately harmless. Saying no again will just lead to another round of Aw, come on, so she does the thing she knows will make him back off fastest.

"Yeah, I can check my schedule," she says vaguely, pressing the elevator button.

It’s not a yes. It’s not a no. Just enough of an answer to make him think she’ll consider it—though she already knows she won’t. She doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with this right now, not with everything else already crowding her head. She just wants him off her back, wants the conversation to be over before it becomes another thing demanding her energy.

Mark brightens, satisfied. "That’s all I’m asking."

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

Jay steps out.

Hailey stills, her pulse skipping for reasons that have nothing to do with her run.

Jay looks unfairly good, like he just stepped out of a hot shower, hair slightly damp, his t-shirt clinging to his frame in a way that makes it impossible not to notice. His stance is relaxed, hands in his pockets, but his sharp green eyes flick between her and Mark, assessing the situation with quiet precision.

And yet, despite the cool air of the lobby, warmth spreads through her—deep and slow, curling low in her stomach. It’s instinct, the way her body reacts to him, the way it always has. The way it shouldn’t anymore. But she doesn’t push it down this time. She lets herself feel it—just like Dr. Morgan told her to. To sit with it. To acknowledge it.

Jay’s expression stays neutral, but Hailey knows him too well—knows the subtle shift in his stance, the way his eyes briefly land on Mark before sliding back to her.

"Hey, man!" Mark greets cheerfully, clapping Jay on the shoulder as he steps past him. If opposites really do attract, then Mark and Nina might actually work—because where he misses the tension thick in the air, Nina would’ve clocked it in an instant. “You heading out?” 

“Just a grocery run,” Jay answers, and Hailey doesn’t miss the way his jaw ticks.

She steps into the elevator without another word, pressing the button for her floor. Just before the doors slide shut, she catches the tail end of Mark’s voice— “...gotta shoot my shot, right?”

And then—

Jay looks at her.

It’s barely a second, but it’s enough. Enough for her to see all of it in his eyes. The flash of something sharp. Something barely contained.Something that looks a hell of a lot like betrayal and hurt. 

The doors slide shut before she can process it.

Once back in her apartment, Hailey shuts behind her, but doesn’t move. She stands there, her heartbeat slightly uneven, her skin too warm from something that has nothing to do with the run. So much for burning off restless energy— what a useless idea that was. If anything, she feels worse now, more wound up, her thoughts running even faster than before.

She rakes a hand through her damp hair, exhaling sharply before forcing herself to move—to do anything but stand there and let her thoughts catch up to her. But it’s too late.

Because the second she stops, her mind replays his face.The way Jay looked at her before the elevator doors closed. The flicker of something raw, something tense. Something that looked too damn close to jealousy.

She doesn’t have to guess what happened. Mark said something—probably something cocky, something about maybe taking her out, shooting his shot. And Jay?

And now, standing in  her apartment, her pulse hammering against her ribs, she feels awful.

Because if the situation were reversed? If she had been the one stepping out of that elevator and another woman had been standing there, casually mentioning a date with Jay? She would have felt the same way. 

And that’s the fucking problem. Because she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t feel anything.

Jay is not hers.

And she is not his.

So why the hell does it feel like she just lost something?

The knock on her door comes exactly when she expects it. Hailey exhales, pressing her fingers to her temples before dragging a hand down her face. She doesn’t even hesitate. Doesn’t bother pretending she’s not home.

When she pulls the door open, Jay is standing there, looking all kinds of flustered, his hands braced on his hips like he just paced the hallway before finally giving in. His damp hair is slightly tousled now, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths like he’s trying—and failing—to get his emotions under control.

She barely parts her lips to speak before he cuts her off.

"I know I have no right to ask for… anything," he says, his voice low, edged with something raw. His jaw clenches, his eyes searching hers, frustration barely contained. "But Mark? Seriously?"

Hailey blinks, caught off guard by the sheer frustration laced through his words. And just like that, the tension between them snaps back into place, thick and unrelenting.

For a second, she just stands there, staring at him. Jay—frustrated, flustered, standing in her doorway like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like he stormed over here on impulse, and now that he’s here, he can’t take it back.

Hailey exhales sharply and steps aside, wordlessly letting him in.

Jay walks past her, his movements tense, like there’s something coiled tight inside him, ready to snap. The air in the apartment shifts the second he’s inside, thickening, charged with something unspoken.

Hailey shuts the door, pressing her back against it, lingering there for a second longer than she should.

And then—anger.

It begins to flare inside her, hot and immediate, washing over the guilt that had been sitting heavy in her chest just minutes ago. Because who is he to be standing here like this? Looking at her like that?

She pushes off the door, crossing her arms, her voice sharp. "You’re right, Jay. You don’t have the right to ask."

His eyes snap to hers, but this time, there’s no fight in them. His shoulders drop slightly, the tension in his jaw fading as he exhales, shaking his head. "I know," he agrees, quieter now, like he’s admitting something to himself as much as to her. 

And that should be it—that should be the end of this conversation.

But it’s not. And that’s what makes her angrier—the fact that he’s still standing in her apartment, acting like he’s the one who’s hurt, like she’s the one doing something wrong.

Her frustration bubbles over before she can stop it. "Then why the hell are you here?"

Jay lets out a sharp breath, his frustration bleeding into every movement. "I don’t fucking know, Hailey." His eyes snap to hers, conflicted, wild, like he’s just now realizing what he’s done. He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. "I want—" He stops, swallows hard. "I want to not feel like this. Like I’m losing my goddamn mind."

The words hit her harder than they should. Because it’s the way he says them—not just frustrated, not just possessive, but wrecked.

"You don’t get to feel that way," she reminds him, her voice lower now, but no less sharp. 

"I know," he bites out, his breathing uneven, his eyes dark with something unreadable. He drags another hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. "I shouldn’t be here."

Hailey exhales sharply, forcing the words out. "Then go, Jay.” 

He flinches like she’s just shoved him, his jaw clenching tight. "I can’t just walk away..." The words are barely more than a mutter, almost like he’s saying them to himself, like she wasn’t supposed to hear. But she does.

Something tightens in her chest, an ache she refuses to name. The air between them is already too thick, her emotions too raw, but the words are out before she can stop them. "You did once."

She knows it’s petty. Knows it will hurt him.

Maybe that’s why she says it, but the bitterness clings to her tongue the second the words leave her lips, twisting in her stomach like regret before she even sees his reaction.

She watches as the weight of her words settles over him, knocking the breath from his chest like a blow he should’ve seen coming—but still wasn’t prepared for. Then something dark flickers in his expression—something wrecked, something barely held together. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “I’m not that guy, Hailey. Not anymore.” 

But then he takes a step closer. 

Then another.

And suddenly, he is too close.

His hands find her waist, gripping, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me you don’t feel this," he murmurs, his voice low, desperate. His fingers tighten, just barely, before he exhales sharply, his forehead nearly brushing hers now. "Hailey," he says, softer this time, like saying her name alone might ground him. "If you don’t feel it, just say it. Just—just tell me, and I’ll walk away."

"Jay…" She exhales his name shakily, like a warning.

"Say it," he presses, his voice more urgent now. "Tell me I’m misreading this. Tell me I’m wrong."

She doesn’t answer. She can’t.

The air shifts—charged and unrelenting—his breath warm against her skin, his body so close it feels like the world has narrowed down to just this.

"Hailey..." His voice softens, cracks just slightly. "I don’t want to mess this up. But I want to kiss you."

Something catches in her chest. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But she doesn’t step back either.

And that’s enough.

He leans in, slow, careful, giving her every chance to change her mind.

But she doesn’t.

The kiss lands soft at first—intentional, steady—like he’s still asking, even as he moves. Her breath hitches, her fingers curl slightly in the fabric of his shirt, and for a split second, her heart stumbles under the weight of it all. Then she’s kissing him back, sinking into it, into him , like something she’s been holding back for far too long.

When the kiss finally breaks, Hailey gasps for air, her hands tightly fisted in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered. Her body is flush against his, the heat between them unbearable, consuming. His forehead rests against hers, his breath warm and ragged, and she feels every exhale like a brand against her skin.

They’ve been here before. She knows exactly how this will go—and the physical part? That’s the easy part. What she’s not sure of is whether she’s ready to admit what it means to still want him like this.

“Hailey,” he murmurs, his voice rough, needy. He’s searching her eyes, waiting for something—for her to stop him, to tell him this is wrong. "Tell me if this isn’t what you want," he says, barely above a whisper. "Because I don’t want to get this wrong."

Her grip on his shirt tightens slightly, and for a moment, she just looks at him—like she’s weighing it all, letting herself really feel it.

"You’re not," she says quietly. Her voice is steady, but there’s something in it—raw, honest. "You’re not getting it wrong."

And that’s all he needs.

He leans in, surging forward and capturing her mouth again, hungrier this time, his hands moving down her back, fingertips digging into her hips like he can’t get her close enough. She exhales sharply, fingers sliding beneath his shirt, skimming over taut muscles, feeling the way he shudders beneath her touch. His response is immediate, a low groan vibrating against her lips as he backs her into the wall, pressing into her like he needs this to breathe.

His lips leave hers, trailing fire down her jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Hailey gasps, her head tipping back as his hands move under her shirt, fingers dragging along her bare skin, leaving heat in their wake. He lifts her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pins her to the wall again, his mouth never stopping, never slowing.

“You can still tell me to stop,” Jay murmurs against her collarbone, voice rough with restraint, but his hands are anything but patient. They grip her thighs, pressing her closer, dragging her against him in a way that makes her dizzy. 

She should. She knows she should. But instead, she tilts her hips, pressing against the hardness of him, reveling in the way his breath stutters. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, her lips parting as she whispers, “Bedroom.” 

Jay groans, capturing her lips in a kiss that is pure desperation, pure need. He pushes off the wall, carrying her effortlessly as they stumble toward the bedroom. They barely make it, crashing into the doorframe, laughter bubbling between kisses before Jay kicks it shut behind them.

They collapse onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs, hands pulling at clothes with impatient urgency. Jay yanks her shirt over her head, his lips immediately finding the newly exposed skin, his tongue teasing, his teeth grazing. Hailey gasps, arching into him, her nails raking down his back as he settles between her legs, his body pressing her into the mattress, heavy and solid and everything she needs.

“Jesus, Hailey,” he groans, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he tries to catch his breath, his hands gripping her waist like he’s holding on for dear life. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She huffs a breathless laugh, dragging his face back up to hers, eyes dark and unwavering. “Then die happy.”

His answering growl is the only warning she gets before he kisses her again, rough and consuming, his hands moving lower, his body pressing deeper.

Then suddenly, he pulls away. Just enough to look at her. His gaze flickers over her face, reading every inch of her expression before he shifts, pressing a lingering kiss to her sternum, then lower, his lips trailing a scorching path down her stomach.

Hailey stills, her breath catching in her throat as she realizes what he’s doing. “Jay—”

“Let me,” he murmurs against her skin, voice hoarse with need. “I want to.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, his lips curve slightly against her stomach as he adds, “We were in such a hurry last time—we skipped this very important part.”

A shiver runs through her at the words, at the rough, teasing promise in his voice.

Her pulse pounds in her ears as his hands skim down her sides, slow, deliberate. He tugs at the waistband of her leggings, his fingers teasing at the fabric before he pulls them down with aching patience, his eyes never leaving hers.

She’s trembling before he even touches her.

Jay presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, his stubble scraping against her skin in a way that makes her stomach clench, makes her toes curl. His hands settle on her hips, holding her down as he leans in, his mouth pressing against her core with devastating precision.

A strangled sound escapes her throat, her fingers twisting into the sheets. “Jay—”

He hums against her, the vibration sending shockwaves through her entire body. His tongue moves with slow, intentional strokes, coaxing, teasing, pushing her higher with each flick, each press. Hailey’s back arches, her hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as pleasure sparks like electricity through her veins.

He’s relentless, determined, like he’s making up for lost time—like he needs this just as much as she does.

And when he finally pushes her over the edge, her whole body seizes, her breath stuttering as she gasps his name, her grip tightening in his hair.

Jay doesn’t stop. He stays with her, lapping at her gently, drawing out every last wave until her body starts to settle—until her breathing evens out and her grip slowly loosens. Then he presses a final kiss against her before moving back up, his body settling over hers, his mouth finding hers again.

She can still taste herself on his lips, and the thought alone makes her shudder.

He smiles against her mouth—wicked, self-satisfied.

"You okay?"

Hailey nods, her breath catching as she feels him—hard and ready—pressing into the heat between her thighs. The ache inside her sharpens, every nerve on edge, everything in her reaching for him.

His forehead rests against hers, his breath unsteady as she tightens her grip on his hips, her body arching to meet him—silently urging him.

He pushes into her in one slow, deep stroke, stealing the air from her lungs. Their breaths leave them in unison, their bodies molding together like they were always meant to find their way back to this.

Jay stills for a second, his hands gripping her hips, his head dropping to her shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “God,” he rasps, his voice wrecked. “You feel so—”

But the words die in his throat as Hailey moves beneath him, rolling her hips just enough to make him curse under his breath, his grip on her tightening as he starts to move.

This time is slow at first, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second, but the restraint doesn’t last long. Their bodies fall into an all-too-familiar rhythm, raw and desperate. Her nails dig into his back, her gasps mingling with his ragged groans, the heat between them rising until it’s unbearable.

“Look at me,” he murmurs against her lips, and when she does, when their eyes lock, something shifts—something deeper, heavier than just need.

Jay kisses her then, swallowing her moans as he drives into her, his movements turning rougher, more urgent. Hailey clings to him, her legs tightening around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer as the pressure coils low in her stomach, threatening to snap.

“Jay—” she gasps, and he knows. He feels it.

“Let go,” he murmurs, his voice wrecked and desperate. “I’ve got you.”

And she does.

Pleasure crashes over her, white-hot and consuming, her entire body tensing before shattering around him. Jay follows moments later, burying himself deep as he groans her name, his body trembling with release.

For a long moment, neither of them move. Their breathing is ragged, their bodies tangled, slick with sweat, hearts hammering in sync.

Jay presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, his hands still gripping her waist like he’s not ready to let go. 

Neither of them speak. Because right now, there are no words.

There’s only this.

Only him.

Only her.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, the restless energy inside Hailey is quiet—calm. Like her body finally understands what her heart has been trying to say all along.

Chapter Text

A slow, hazy warmth drags Hailey from sleep. At first, it’s subtle—the weight of a hand resting low on her hip, the soft press of lips skimming over her skin, the faintest rasp of stubble against her thigh.

She shifts slightly, still caught between dreaming and waking, her body stretching beneath the sheets. It takes a few seconds for her mind to fully catch up with what her body already knows.

Then she feels it.

A slow, deliberate lick, followed by the hot exhale of breath between her legs.

Her eyes snap open.

The room is steeped in the faint light of too-early morning, the sun barely beginning to rise. The sheets are tangled around her waist, her bare skin exposed to the warmth of Jay’s mouth as he settles between her thighs, his shoulders keeping her legs open.

She’s still drowsy, but the lazy pleasure winding through her veins is impossible to ignore.

“Jay,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep, the syllable barely forming before he flattens his tongue against her again, slow and deliberate, tearing the breath from her lungs.

His answer is a low hum against her, vibrating through her entire body.

Hailey’s head falls back against the pillow, a sharp gasp slipping past her lips as his hands tighten on her thighs, holding her open, keeping her right where he wants her.

“Morning,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice rough with sleep and something darker, something more possessive.

She barely has time to respond before he’s back at it, his tongue teasing, circling, tasting. His pace is torturous—unhurried, patient, like he has all the time in the world to pull her apart, piece by piece.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, hips shifting instinctively, but Jay only chuckles against her.

"Stay still," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh before dragging his tongue over her again. "Let me take my time."

God, he’s fucking enjoying this. She can feel it—can hear the quiet satisfaction in his voice, the way his fingers flex against her skin, how he groans against her when she lets out a breathy moan. He’s savoring every reaction, worshiping her in the quiet morning light like he needs this.

Like he needs her.

Her thighs tremble as he keeps going, relentless in his slow, thorough attention. Her breath turns ragged, her grip on his hair tightening.

"Jay," she gasps, her back arching, the pleasure winding tight in her stomach, threatening to snap.

"Mmm," he hums against her, the vibrations sending her dangerously close to the edge. He flicks his tongue again, then presses deeper, like he wants to drown in her.

It’s too much. And it’s not fucking enough.

She feels herself unraveling, spiraling into the pleasure he’s so expertly building, her body tightening around the heat of his mouth.

And Jay knows. He can feel it, can hear it in the broken way she gasps his name, in the way her legs start to shake.

“Come on, Hailey,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something sinful. “Let me feel it.”

That’s all it takes.

Pleasure slams into her, sharp and all-consuming. She cries out, fingers gripping the sheets, her entire body arching into him as she shatters.

Jay groans against her, like he’s the one coming undone, like he lives for this—for her pleasure, for the way she falls apart beneath him.

He keeps lapping at her with slow, deliberate strokes until her breathing begins to ease, the tension melting from her limbs. Only then does he press one last, lingering kiss against her, his hands running soothingly over her thighs before he moves back up, settling over her—his weight warm and solid and home.

He kisses her softly, slowly, his mouth still tasting like her. All she feels is warmth and satisfaction curling deep in her chest.

Jay smirks against her lips. “Morning,” he murmurs again, lazy and entirely too pleased with himself.

Hailey lets out a breathless laugh, still catching her breath, her body buzzing, skin warm and tingling. “You—” She starts, but the words stall, so she just runs her fingers through his hair, grazing the back of his neck, then down to his jaw, where the rough stubble makes her smile. “You look way too smug for this early,” she mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

Jay just grins, completely unbothered. He props himself up on one forearm, then dips his head to her neck, nuzzling that spot just below her ear—the one he knows makes her shiver. “Can’t help it.”

She scoffs softly, but her body arches into his, like every part of her is reaching for more. She can still feel the ghost of his mouth on her, the way he’d taken his time—soft, then purposeful, then devastating. 

“That’s one way to wake me up,” she says, voice a little raspier now, and she feels his quiet laugh rumble through his chest.

His hand rests low on her hip, thumb brushing her bare skin like he’s not quite done touching her. “Told you we were in too much of a hurry that first time,” he says, voice low, a touch teasing. Then, after a beat, he adds, “I’m nothing if not thorough, Hailey. Rushing’s never really been my thing.”

Hailey shakes her head, unable to fight her own smile as she pulls him down for another kiss, her fingers sliding over the muscles in his back. She shifts—and that’s when she feels him. Hard against her thigh. 

Her eyes flick down, then back up, a slow smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She leans in, brushing her lips over his, her words a whisper against his mouth.

“Need a little help with that?”

Before he can say a word, she flips them easily, straddling his hips. His breath stutters, hands instinctively finding her thighs, but she doesn’t rush. Instead, she trails a line of kisses along his jaw, down his neck, then lower still—her touch unhurried, reverent.

He exhales sharply when he realizes what she’s doing.

“Hailey,” he says, already half-gone, but there’s no protest in it—just awe.

She glances up at him with a wicked little grin, eyes soft, voice like silk. “I’m just returning the favor.”

And just like that, the morning is far from over.

x

The room is still now.

The sun has climbed higher, and late morning light spills through the blinds, casting rich, golden streaks across tangled sheets and bare skin. The air is warm and still, heavy with the scent of sex, the quiet rhythm of their breathing moving in sync.

Hailey is curled against him, her head resting on his chest, her body half-draped over his. The heat of his skin seeps into hers, grounding her in a way she doesn’t want to question. She can hear his heartbeat—steady, reassuring.

Everything about this moment feels fragile, like one wrong move could shatter whatever delicate thing is holding them together. She should be thinking about what this means. About what happens next. But she’s so fucking tired of thinking.

So today—just for today—she lets herself pretend. Pretend that this is okay. That they’re okay. That it doesn’t have to mean anything more than what it is. Just a release. Just comfort. Something physical to quiet the ache. She tells herself it can be that simple—no strings, no expectations. But even as she thinks it, a part of her knows better.

Because beneath the quiet, her mind churns. The alarm bells are still there—warning her she’s drifting too close to something she won’t come back from. But she drowns them out, focusing on the slow drag of his fingers along her spine, the steady rise of his chest, the way his hand rests on her thigh like he doesn’t even realize he’s still holding on.

She closes her eyes.

She lets herself breathe. Lets herself exist in this moment, wrapped in warmth, in quiet.

Jay’s fingers continue their slow path up and down her back, a grounding touch, absentminded but steady. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable but thick with something neither of them is ready to address.

It’s her stomach that breaks the silence first. A low, rumbling protest.

Jay chuckles, the sound vibrating against her cheek where it rests on his chest. “Guess that answers what we’re doing next.”

Hailey groans, burying her face against his skin. “I don’t want to move.”

His fingers still for a second before resuming their path. “We could stay in,” he offers, voice still thick with sleep. “Order something. There’s gotta be a decent breakfast place that delivers.”

She lifts her head slightly, eyeing him. “You’ve lived here for over a year. You don’t have a go-to spot?”

Jay shifts, stretching an arm behind his head, looking entirely too comfortable in her bed. “Haven’t really explored much,” he admits.

Hailey frowns. “At all?”

He shrugs. “Been busy.”

She studies him, something tugging at her chest. Of course, he’s been busy—he throws himself into work the same way she does. But still, a whole year in DC, and he hasn’t even taken the time to see the city?

“That’s crazy,” she finally says, propping herself up on an elbow.

Jay smirks. “What, and you have? You’ve been here, what—six months?”

“Try ten,” she corrects, ignoring the way his smirk deepens at her mild defensiveness. “And yeah, I’ve seen some things. Not much, but more than you, apparently.”

“Then maybe you should show me around.”

She freezes for half a second—because this is where the line starts to blur. Going out. Spending the day together. Acting like they’re… something.

But then she remembers—no thinking today.

So instead of dissecting it, she just shrugs. “Fine. Let’s do it.” 

Jay grins, flipping the covers off of them as he sits up. “Breakfast first, though. You get mean when you’re hungry.”

Hailey scoffs softly, tugging the sheet back up around her chest, but she doesn’t argue.

Jay pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his already messy hair, then scans the room like he’s only just now realizing the chaos. Clothes are scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs—evidence of last night’s urgency.

“Where the hell…” he mutters, bending to grab a pair of boxers dangling from the nightstand. One sock near the foot of the bed. His pants draped over the back of a chair. He keeps muttering as he pulls things together, mildly amused but not in any rush.

Hailey watches him from the bed, still curled beneath the sheet, sunlight slipping across her shoulders. There’s something almost lazy in her smile as she takes him in—shirt half-on, hair a mess, moving through her space like he belongs there. 

He glances over, gaze lingering. “I’ll head over to my place. Shower and change.”

“Right,” she says, nodding—as if she just remembered they don’t actually live together. Because for a moment, it had almost felt like they did.

Jay hesitates, like he’s debating something, then steps toward her and presses a lingering kiss to her temple. “Give me ten minutes.”

She watches as he grabs his keys from her dresser before slipping out the door. It’s barely a few steps across the hall, but the second he’s gone, the space around her feels bigger. Emptier.

Shaking off the thought, she heads to the bathroom and step under the hot spray of the shower.

The moment the water hits her skin, it all comes rushing back—Jay’s hands on her, his mouth worshiping every inch like he was making up for lost time. Then this morning—how he woke her slowly, lazily, savoring every sound she made, like he had all the time in the world. And later, when she pulled him in, took her time with him—how he unraveled beneath her, breath catching, fingers fisting in her hair, gasping her name like it wrecked him. Like it was only ever her.

Her fingers press against the cool tile as she exhales, eyes fluttering shut as shiver runs through her, and it has nothing to do with the temperature.

She turns, letting the water cascade down her face, trying to wash away the weight of those memories. Because if she thinks about it too much, she’ll start asking the dangerous questions—the ones she can’t afford to answer.

What are we doing? What does this mean? What happens–

No.

No thinking today.

She inhales sharply, grabbing her shampoo and working it through her hair, focusing on the simple, mundane task. Step by step, she forces herself back into the present.

By the time she steps out, wrapping a towel around herself, her pulse has steadied. The worries are still there, just beneath the surface, but she shoves them down, tucking them away for later.

She dresses quickly, slipping into jeans and a fitted sweater before running a brush through her damp hair. She’s lacing up her boots when a knock sounds at her door.

Opening the door, Hailey finds Jay standing there, freshly showered, his damp hair pushed back in a way that makes him look effortlessly good. He’s wearing a clean, fitted t-shirt that clings to his frame just enough to remind her of the muscles beneath, paired with well-worn jeans that hang low on his hips. The scent of him drifts toward her—fresh soap, faint traces of his cologne, something warm and undeniably him . 

She exhales before she even realizes she was holding her breath.

"Ready?" he asks, sliding his hands into his pockets, watching her with an unreadable expression.

She nods, stepping out and locking up behind her.

By the time they step outside, the sun is warm, the city humming with life.

Jay glances over at her. “So, where to first, tour guide?”

And just like that, they fall into step—heading into a city Jay has lived in, but never truly seen

x

Jay can't even begin to describe what he's feeling. Happy. Light. Free. He can't remember the last time he felt like this—like something inside him isn’t weighed down by guilt or regret, like he’s allowed to just be . It’s strange. Disorienting, even. But it’s also addictive, the way his chest expands with something other than tension, something dangerously close to hope.

They walk side by side down the quiet streets, the city slowly coming to life around them. The air is crisp, the kind of cool that wakes you up, and sunlight spills between the buildings, bouncing off windows, casting everything in a golden glow. It almost feels like a new beginning. Like maybe, just maybe, things don’t have to be so damn complicated.

He wants to reach for her hand. Wants to lace their fingers together, to feel the warmth of her skin against his. He wants to pull her close, press a kiss to her hair, remind himself that she’s real, that this isn’t just some fleeting moment he’s going to wake up from.

But he doesn’t.

Not yet.

Because Hailey, for all the calm she’s projecting, is still battling through her feelings. He can see it in the way her shoulders stay tense, in the way she keeps a careful distance between them, like she’s still deciding how much she’s willing to let him back in.

And Jay— for once —won’t push. He won’t risk shattering whatever fragile thing is building between them by moving too fast, by taking too much. So, he keeps his hands tucked in his pockets, forcing himself to be patient. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s that Hailey won’t be rushed. Not with this. Not with them.

Instead, he steals glances at her as they walk, watching the way the wind catches the ends of her hair, the way the morning sun brings out the blue in her eyes. She’s so beautiful. But it’s not just that—it’s the way she exists, the way she moves, the way her presence has always made him feel like he can breathe a little easier.

He never should have left. He knows that now. Maybe he’s always known it. But right now, she’s here, next to him, willingly walking toward breakfast like they’re two people who haven’t spent years tangled in heartbreak. And Jay will take whatever this is, for as long as she lets him have it.

“This place better be good,” he teases, breaking the silence between them.

Hailey glances at him, her lips curving slightly. “It is. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let you waste your first real breakfast outing in D.C. on a bad spot.”

Jay smiles, tilting his head. “That’s a lot of confidence. What if your taste in breakfast is as questionable as your taste in dinner choices?”

Hailey rolls her eyes, nudging him with her elbow. “That was not my dinner,” she states. 

He grins, catching the ghost of a smile before she looks away. And damn , he wants to see more of that. Wants to be the reason she smiles like she used to—effortlessly, without the weight of everything between them dulling the edges.

Maybe today, they can pretend. Just for a little while. Maybe today, they can just be.

The breakfast spot is tucked into a quieter street, a little off the beaten path, but it’s charming—brick exterior, big windows, the scent of fresh coffee spilling into the air as they step inside. It’s the kind of place that feels warm, familiar, lived-in. Jay can already tell Hailey’s been here before.

She doesn’t hesitate, leading them to a small table near the window, sliding into the seat across from him. A waitress comes by quickly, pouring coffee without even asking, which tells him Hailey’s a regular. That realization sits somewhere deep in his chest, settling in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

Jay watches her over the rim of his mug as he takes his first sip, savoring the rich, bold taste. She seems comfortable here, more at ease than she was on the walk over. He wonders if it’s the routine of it, the familiarity of this place, or if she’s just choosing not to overthink this morning.

“So,” he says, setting his mug down, “How have I lived a couple blocks from this place and never known it existed?”

Hailey grins. “Because you don’t explore. You’re worse than me. You find a routine and stick to it.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “That obvious?”

She nods, eyes glinting with something that looks a lot like amusement. “Yeah. But you’re lucky I’m nice enough to introduce you to civilization.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, he lets himself soak this in—the easy teasing, the quiet comfort between them. It’s not perfect. It’s not fixed. But it’s something.

The waitress returns, taking their orders, and for a while, they just drink their coffee, letting the morning settle around them. The conversation stays light—Hailey points out her favorite things on the menu, Jay makes a comment about how he still doesn’t trust her food recommendations, and she kicks him under the table for that one, and he grins, because for a second, it feels normal.

And maybe—just maybe—normal is exactly what they need.

When their food arrives, the conversation shifts. Slowly, cautiously, they step into deeper waters.

Hailey takes a bite of her toast before glancing up at him. “How did you end up in DC? And I already heard the vague answer you gave Nina. I want the details,” she asks, her voice careful but direct.

Jay pauses for a moment, his fork hovering over his plate. He exhales, setting it down. “It wasn’t exactly planned,” he admits. “After Bolivia, I took some time off. Needed to reset, figure out what was next. Richard, my boss, worked a case with us in Bolivia and he reached out when my tour ended. He helped me get my head right, and recruited me into his unit here in DC.” He shrugs, and  there’s more beneath his words, things he’s not sure how to explain yet. “Didn’t think I’d stay, but… I did.”

Hailey studies him, like she’s piecing together what he’s not saying. “Do you like it?”

Jay smirks faintly. “It’s different.” Then, after a beat, he adds, “It feels familiar in some ways. And new in others.”

She nods like she understands that feeling all too well.

Jay leans back slightly, tilting his head at her. “And you? How’d you end up here?”

Hailey takes a sip of her coffee, considering her words. “I needed a change,” she says finally. “I wasn’t sure where I wanted to be, but I knew it wasn’t Chicago anymore. So I tried out a few places first.” She pauses for a beat, her gaze drifting briefly toward the window. ”Then I ran into Isobel Castille—you remember her, the Special Agent in Charge in New York? She told me about an opportunity with the Bureau, and…” Her voice trails off. She looks back at him, a small shrug lifting her shoulder. “I took it. A week later, I was in Quantico, training like my life depended on it.”

Jay watches her carefully, recognizing the weight in her words. She’s keeping it simple, but he knows there’s more to it—more to why she left Chicago. He wants to ask, to dig deeper, but he doesn’t push. Not yet.

Instead, he just nods. “Guess we both just… ended up here.”

Jay catches the moment her shoulders loosen just slightly before she exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah. Guess we did.” She shrugs. “Small world.”

Jay smiles, leaning back in his chair. “If I had a dollar every time I heard someone say that.”

Hailey lets out a real laugh this time, shaking her head. “God, right? I feel like I hear it at least once a day.”

Jay leans forward slightly, spearing a bite of his food with his fork, resting his forearms on the table. "So, tell me something I don’t know about you. Something new."

Hailey tilts her head, considering. "Something new?"

"Yeah. Since we last saw each other. Doesn’t have to be big. Just… something."

She exhales, taking another sip of coffee, thinking for a moment before a small smile tugs at her lips. "I took up running. Like, actually running. Long runs, training schedules, all of it."

Jay raises an eyebrow. "You? A distance runner? Didn’t think you had the patience."

Hailey smirks, sipping her coffee. "Neither did I, but it turns out it helps clear my head. Gets me out of my own way."

Jay watches her carefully, the way her fingers trace the rim of her mug, the way her expression shifts ever so slightly when she talks about needing to get out of her own way. He wants to ask more, but once again he lets it sit for now. He grins. "Guess that means I should never challenge you to a race."

She shrugs. "Unless you like losing."

Hailey leans back in her chair, studying him for a moment before tilting her head. "Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you. Something new."

Jay exhales, running a hand over his jaw as he thinks. "I learned how to cook. Like, actually cook. Not just scrambled eggs and takeout-level survival meals."

Hailey raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, as she slices into her eggs. "Seriously? What brought that on?"

Jay shrugs, cutting into his pancakes. "Had to do something with my time. Figured I might as well learn how to make something decent. Turns out, I’m not half bad."

Hailey smiles. "Alright, what’s your best dish?"

Jay grins. "Homemade pizza. From scratch."

Her eyes widen slightly as she pops a piece of toast into her mouth. "No way."

"Way," he says, leaning back with a smug expression. "Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it. Unless you want proof?"

Jay watches as Hailey pauses, her fork hovering over her plate. He’d meant the offer to be casual, but now that the words hang between them, he feels the unspoken weight of it. Proof would mean spending more time together, edging closer to something they haven’t quite defined. And for a second, it sounds a little too much like a date.

Hailey tilts her head, searching his face, and Jay can see the hesitation flicker across her expression. He smirks, taking another sip of his coffee, acting casual even though he knows exactly what she's doing.

Jay watches her carefully as she speaks. "I don’t know," she says slowly, as if testing the words. "That sounds a lot like an invitation."

Jay shrugs, his smirk deepening. "Maybe it is. Or maybe I just take a lot of pride in my cooking."

Hailey exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "I’ll think about it."

"Sure," Jay says easily, keeping his tone light, but inside, he waits.

They finish the rest of their breakfast in comfortable silence, the occasional glance exchanged between bites. The conversation has slowed, but not in a way that feels awkward—just measured, careful. Like neither of them wants to push too hard, too fast.

When Jay sets his fork down, leaning back in his chair, he lifts a brow at Hailey. "Alright, tour guide, what's next?" 

Hailey glances out the window, thinking for a moment before she finishes the last sip of her coffee. "How do you feel about a walk?"

Jay lifts a brow. "A walk? That’s the best you’ve got?"

She beams. "Not just any walk. The Tidal Basin. It’s quiet, scenic. You might even learn something."

Jay chuckles, tossing a few bills onto the table before they head out. "Alright, lead the way."

x

The Tidal Basin is calm this time of morning, the crowds minimal compared to the peak of cherry blossom season. Hailey tucks her hands into her sweater as they walk, her gaze drifting toward the bare branches lining the water.

"If we’d been here a few weeks earlier, we would’ve caught the cherry blossoms," she murmurs, a note of disappointment in her voice.

Jay glances at her, catching the way her expression shifts. "You big on cherry blossoms?"

She shrugs, kicking at a stray pebble on the path. "Not big on them, but… I don’t know. It would’ve been nice to see. It’s one of those things you always hear about when you move to DC, but I guess I just missed it."

Jay watches her for a beat, debating whether to tease her about getting sentimental over flowers, but something about the quiet wistfulness in her voice makes him hold back. Instead, he nudges her shoulder lightly. "Guess that just means you’ll have to stick around long enough to see them next year."

Hailey huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. Guess I will." 

They walk in silence for a moment, the breeze drifting off the water. Jay feels the breeze ruffle his hair as they walk, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches Hailey tilting her head slightly, studying him. "So… what’s with the longer hair?"

He blinks at her, a little caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

She gestures vaguely toward his head. "It’s longer than I remember. You always kept it short." Her voice is casual, but there’s a trace of curiosity there, like she’s noticed but waited until now to bring it up.

Jay runs a hand through his hair, smirking slightly. “Didn’t really think about it. Guess I just stopped caring about keeping it military short. Besides, I don’t have a hair guy anymore.” 

She hums, like she’s considering that. Then, to his surprise, she says, "Not complaining. I like it."

Jay glances at her, caught off guard for the second time in under a minute. "Yeah?"

She shrugs, looking back at the water, like it’s not a big deal. "Yeah." 

His smile fades into something softer. Then, before he can overthink it, he adds, "I know I said this before, but I like your hair short too."

A sly grin appears on her face. "Yeah? Because last time you said that, you could barely get the words out."

Jay groans, shaking his head. "Yeah, okay, keep laughing. But when all your clothes stayed the right color, did you think of me? Because you should’ve."

Hailey snorts, shaking her head. "Oh, so now you’re a hero?"

"Damn right," Jay says with a chuckle. "That red sock would've ruined your entire wardrobe. You should be thanking me."

She laughs, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "Not a chance."

Time slips by in a way Jay doesn’t bother keeping track of. They keep walking, moving through the city with no particular agenda. It’s easy, the way they fall into step, like they’ve done this a hundred times before (and they have). And maybe that’s what gets to him the most—how natural it all feels, despite everything.

By the time they decide to grab lunch, the sun is higher, warming the streets just enough to take the edge off the crisp air. Hailey leads them to a burrito cart tucked into a quiet corner, ordering without hesitation, clearly familiar with this place, too. Jay just smirks, following her lead, watching as she unwraps the foil and takes her first bite, nodding in approval like it’s exactly what she expected.

"Alright, I’ll admit it," Jay says, taking a bite of his burrito. "Solid choice."

Hailey lifts a brow. "See? Maybe one day you’ll learn to trust my food recommendations."

Jay hums, pretending to consider it. "We’ll see. Still not over your dinner choices."

She groans, nudging him again, and for a moment, everything feels light. Simple.

They eat as they walk, making their way back toward their apartment building. The streets are busier now, people weaving through sidewalks, the energy of the city picking up. 

Jay steals a glance at Hailey, catching the way her expression has shifted—just slightly. It’s in the set of her shoulders, the way her eyes drift over the familiar streets, like something is pressing in on her. Like she’s not here, not fully.

Nostalgia. He knows it when he sees it.

He doesn’t call it out right away. Just slows his pace slightly, giving her space to process whatever’s going through her head. When they finally enter their building and step into the elevator, the air between them feels quieter—heavy with the weight of the day. Jay presses the button for their floor and leans back against the wall as the doors slide shut. Hailey stands beside him, arms crossed, eyes flicking up to the changing numbers above.

The silence isn't uncomfortable, but it carries something unspoken. Something Jay doesn't know how to put into words.

When the doors open, they step into the hallway, pausing outside their respective doors. Hailey shifts slightly, fingers curling around her keys.

"Hey," he says, keeping his voice even. "You good?"

Hailey blinks, like she’s snapping back into the present. "Yeah. Just—" She exhales, shaking her head. "It’s been a day."

Jay doesn’t push. He just nods, understanding more than he lets on. "Yeah."

A beat passes. Then Hailey clears her throat, shifting toward her door. She hesitates for a second, fingers tightening around her keys, then turns back to him. Her voice is quiet, but steady.

“What are we doing, Jay?” She swallows, eyes searching his. “Because it feels like…” The rest trails off, hanging in the space between them.

Jay holds her gaze, the weight of her question settling between them. He exhales, voice steady. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

Hailey doesn’t answer right away. She just looks at him, something flickering in her expression—uncertainty, hesitation, maybe even a trace of fear. Then, with a quiet breath, she shifts her keys in her hand. “I’ll see you later, Jay.”

Jay watches her for a beat. She’s not ready—not yet. He nods, lingering as she disappears inside her apartment before finally stepping toward his own door. “See you later.”

And just like that, his day with Hailey comes to an end. But Jay carries with him the easy moments, the laughter, the way her eyes softened just enough to make him think maybe.

x

The following Monday, the shrill beeping of her alarm drags Hailey from restless sleep. She groans, blindly reaching out to smack the snooze button, silencing it with a sigh. Blinking against the early morning light filtering through her curtains, she lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Her body is still, but her mind is already moving—racing through everything that awaits her today.

Work.

Jay.

She exhales sharply, running a hand over her face. The last 48 hours replay in her mind— their night, the morning after, breakfast, the walk, the teasing, all the moments that felt dangerously close to something. The way she let herself forget, let herself have him again, even if just for a moment.

But today, she has to go to work, stand in the same room as him, and pretend none of it happened. Pretend he doesn’t still linger in her thoughts, in the way her body remembers his touch, in the way her pulse stumbles every time she looks at him. Pretend he doesn’t affect her—when, in reality, he always has. 

The sharp beep of her alarm cuts through the silence again, a harsh reminder that she’s wasted too much time lost in her head. Hailey curses under her breath, throwing the blankets off and forcing herself into motion. She rushes through her routine—showering quickly, yanking on clothes, barely touching her hair before grabbing her bag. There’s no time for coffee, no time for anything except getting out the door.

But the moment she opens it, she freezes.

Sitting on her doormat is a single cherry blossom—a fake one, soft pink petals carefully placed beside a small folded note.

Her breath catches as she leans down, picking it up with careful fingers. Unfolding the paper, she already knows who it’s from before she even reads the words.

Some things don’t have to be missed. - J 

Her heart stumbles in her chest.

Chapter Text

The day had been relentless—long hours, strategy meetings, a case tightening on all sides. Hailey kicks off her boots, adrenaline still humming through her, too wired to rest. She’s not tired, not really. Just restless.

So when the knock comes—firm and deliberate—she doesn’t need to ask. She already knows.

A small smile tugs at her lips, her pulse quickening, heat blooming beneath her skin as she crosses the room. But for a beat, she hesitates—not because she doesn’t want him here—God, she does—but because she wants him too much. Because part of her has been waiting for this—for him—all day.

Her hand closes around the doorknob as she draws a breath, steadying herself like she’s about to step off a ledge—then opens the door.

Jay stands there, chest rising and falling like he’s just sprinted all six flights of stairs. His eyes, dark and locked on hers, hair tousled, jaw sharp. All heat and tension, like he’s barely holding himself back.

He’s at her door because he can’t stay away.

And she’s opening the door because she doesn’t want him to.

“Should I be concerned,” she says, lips curling into a slow, teasing smirk, “or is the out-of-breath thing part of the charm?”

Jay lets out a breath of a laugh, his grin lazy and unbothered. “Depends. Is it working?”

She arches a brow, her mouth curving in a way that’s pure challenge. But before she can get a word out, a slow smirk tugs at his lips, and he steps in—his hands framing her face, rough and reverent all at once. Then he’s kissing her—hard enough to send her stumbling back into the apartment.

The door clicks shut behind them, lost somewhere in the haze, but Hailey barely registers it because Jay is already pressing her back against the wall, pinning her there with his body, all solid heat and need.

She gasps against his mouth, her fingers fisting in the front of his shirt like she can’t pull him close enough. Jay is everywhere—consuming, overwhelming—in the best possible way. His hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips like he’s just as desperate to close the space between them.

“I forgot how much work it takes—being around you all day,” he mutters against her lips, voice rough and unsteady. “Trying to stay focused. Trying not to look at you every five seconds. Trying not to imagine dragging you into the nearest closet.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, her smile brushing against his mouth. “A closet? How romantic.”

Jay presses his forehead to hers, his breath warm between them, his thumb skimming under the hem of her shirt.

“With you?” he says, voice low and steady now, threaded with something deeper. “I’d take my chances.”

A beat.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

She manages a smirk, barely, her breathing just as wrecked. “Maybe I do.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, eyes shining with something darker. “Then you’re trying to kill me slowly.” His thumb keeps moving, tracing patterns across her skin. “And I’d let you.”

He untucks her shirt, fingers grazing bare skin, sliding higher, unbuttoning it with practiced ease. His hands push her blazer from her shoulders, letting it fall forgotten to the floor, his grip possessive—like he’s staking a claim he knows he shouldn’t but can’t stop himself from making.

But Hailey doesn’t push him away. 

She wants this. Wants him. Desperately.

His mouth is back on hers, hungrier now, as his hands slide lower, gripping her thighs and lifting her effortlessly. She wraps her legs around his waist, locking him against her, and he presses her harder into the wall, the weight of him grounding her, undoing her.

His hips roll against hers, slow, deliberate, and Hailey moans into his mouth, the sound slipping free before she can catch it.

Jay swallows it like he’s starved for it. The rest of their clothes are shed in a messy, frantic trail, their bodies tangling, his hands grasping, lips crashing, as they lose themselves in the gravity of each other—surrendering to a pull neither of them has the strength to fight. They fall into bed in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, the night closing in, soft and certain.

This is what it has become—blurred lines, giving in, pretending. 

It’s almost laughable—the way they spend all day trying to ignore the pull, only to come home and rip each other apart. Like trying to hold back a wildfire only to throw gasoline on it the second they’re alone.

Can it even be called friends with benefits? They’re not friends—not really. They’re exes, tangled in history and heartbreak, with too many memories and not enough distance. It’s not casual. It never was.

But they never talk about it. Never name it. They just go through the motions, and the motions always lead them back to each other. To locked doors and desperate hands. Tangled sheets and ragged breaths. A rhythm that is familiar.

Hailey knows it’s reckless. Knows it’s dangerous.

But every time Jay shows up at her door, breathless, looking at her like she’s the only thing keeping him upright, she doesn’t hesitate.

And every time, she lets him in.

x

At the office, Hailey stands by the coffee machine, watching the last drops fill her cup. Despite everything shifting around her, she feels… settled. Or at least as settled as she can be, given the circumstances. Work is chaotic, and the lines with Jay are blurred beyond reason, but at least she’s not spiraling like before.

Then again, settled might be too generous—not when it’s only been a couple of weeks since she and Jay started… benefiting. It’s not clarity, but it’s better than unraveling. And for now, that’s enough. Still, she knows better than to trust it. This feeling—this calm—it’s temporary. A fleeting illusion before everything inevitably unravels. 

“Alright, it’s been a minute,” Nina says, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the breakroom. She glances over her shoulder to make sure they’re alone, then turns back to Hailey, eyes sharp. “Time to fill me in.”

Hailey sighs, not even bothering to turn around. “Good morning to you, too. Oh, how was my morning? Well, Nina, thanks for asking—pretty uneventful, except for this pain in my neck that doesn’t seem to go away.” She throws a pointed glance over her shoulder. 

Nina scoffs, stepping closer, arms crossed. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve been suspiciously… relaxed lately. Not as grumpy. Not as tense. Something tells me a tall, handsome, former ‘I do, but actually, I don’t’ situation might have something to do with that.”

Hailey lets out a dry laugh, “And here I thought it was just the extra shot of espresso in my coffee,” she says, taking a sip, her expression flat.

Nina narrows her eyes, unfazed. “Oh, please. You’re walking around like you’ve actually gotten a full eight hours of sleep for once. That alone is suspicious .” She leans in, lowering her voice. “So, is this the part where you keep pretending nothing’s going on, or are we finally admitting that something is?”

Hailey exhales, pressing her lips together. “Nina.” It’s meant as a warning, but it holds no real weight. “Nothing is going on,” Hailey mutters, turning away. But Nina is already moving to block her escape.

“Bullshit. You think I haven’t noticed the way you two orbit around each other? The way he looks at you?” She leans in, eyes sharp, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “And the way you pretend like you don’t care, only to somehow leave at the same time as him after work?”

Nina lets out a low, knowing laugh. “What happened to Hailey ‘first-one-in, last-one-out’ Upton? Guess someone found a better reason to punch out early.” She takes a slow sip of her coffee, tilting her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Come on, Hailey. Don’t look so surprised—I’m the best damn Reporting Analyst for a reason.”

Hailey rolls her shoulders, schooling her expression. “There are no updates, Nina. Things are still…complicated.”

Nina scoffs. “No shit it’s complicated,” Nina says, unimpressed. “The guy is your ex-husband who ghosted you—complicated is literally the bare minimum.” She waves a hand vaguely. “But are you two—you know?”

Hailey shifts, feeling her cheeks grow warm, betraying her even as she tries to keep her expression neutral.

Nina lights up, practically bouncing. “Oh my God, you so are.” She points a finger at Hailey, eyes gleaming. “I knew it.”

Hailey sighs, rubbing her temple. “It’s not—it’s nothing. We haven’t talked about it. It just… happens.”

“It just happens?” Nina echoes. “What, like he knocks on your door and five minutes later you're riding him on the couch?”

Hailey shoots her a look. “Jesus, Nina.”

Nina lets out a slow, exaggerated whistle. “Well… at least one of us is getting laid.” She studies Hailey for a beat, her tone shifting slightly. “Is it strictly physical, or…?”

Hailey hesitates. That’s the question, isn’t it?

It’s easier to pretend it’s just physical—that it doesn’t mean anything. But every time Jay kisses her like she’s the only air left, the facade cracks a little more, and she doesn’t know what to do with it. Not yet.

Nina narrows her eyes, reading Hailey’s silence like a book. “I’m not judging, Hails. Just… be careful, okay? That kind of history doesn’t stay casual for long.” 

Hailey exhales sharply, her eyes flicking to the hallway as a couple of agents walk by, their footsteps heavy against the tile. She crosses her arms, voice dropping. “Can we not do this here?”

Nina holds up her hands. “Fine, fine. I’ll back off. For now.” She grabs her own coffee and narrows her eyes. “But you might want to make a decision before it all implodes—because pretending it’s not a thing? That’s exactly how it will blow up in your face.”

Hailey is just about to make her escape, grabbing her coffee and turning toward the door, when it swings open—and of course, Jay walks in. He strides inside, making a beeline for the coffee machine, completely unaware he’s just walked straight into a minefield.

Hailey exhales through her nose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. At this point, she’s convinced these so-called coincidences aren’t coincidences at all. The universe is just fucking with her—shoving Jay into her space, into her thoughts, like some cruel joke she can’t escape.

Jay doesn’t look up at first, but when he does, his gaze flickers to Hailey, holding for a beat before shifting to Nina. If looks could kill, Nina would’ve taken him out on sight.

Silence.

The kind that stretches just long enough to be noticeable.

He exhales quietly, like he already knows what’s coming. “Good morning,” he says, voice neutral as he reaches for a mug.

Nina crosses her arms, leaning against the counter, eyes narrowing. “Is it?” she muses. 

Jay stills for half a second, then sighs, pressing his lips together. “Rough morning, Reyes?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Nina tilts her head, her expression deceptively sweet. “Just enjoying this lovely morning, surrounded by good, decent people who make stellar life choices.” She takes a sip of her coffee, eyes locked on him.

Jay exhales through his nose, clearly trying to keep his cool. “Right.” He turns back to his coffee, stirring in a splash of oat milk like this isn’t the most passive-aggressive cup of coffee he’s ever made.

Nina scoffs, shaking her head as she looks over at Hailey. “I’ll see you later.” But not before she turns back to Jay with one last parting shot. “Try not to screw anything up today, Halstead.”

Jay exhales, shaking his head as he watches Nina disappear down the hall. 

“She’s subtle,” he mutters.

Hailey snorts, finally bringing her coffee to her lips. “Yeah, real delicate touch.”

Silence settles between them—not tense, but not quite easy either. It crackles with unspoken words, charged in a way that neither of them seems ready to acknowledge.

Jay finally glances at Hailey, brow lifting slightly. “I take it you’ve given her an update?”

Hailey huffs out a laugh, setting her cup down. “Didn’t even have to say it.”

Jay smirks, leaning casually against the counter. “Want me to talk to her? I’ve been told I can be quite charming.” 

Hailey rolls her eyes, lifting her cup to her lips. “Oh, I know you can be charming.” She takes a slow sip, then sets the cup down, leveling him with a look. “But no, thanks. Last thing I need is you making this worse with that smug smile of yours.” 

Jay smirks, completely unbothered. “Smug? I prefer effortlessly charismatic.” He takes a sip of his coffee, and his grin lingers for a beat before his expression softens, a hint of sincerity slipping through. “Look, I’m here on a temporary basis, but you’re going to have to keep working with her. If you want, I can talk to her to  try to make it a little easier for you.” His voice is quieter now, less teasing—just a genuine offer.

“I can handle Nina,” Hailey says with a small shrug. “Yeah, she oversteps sometimes, but she means well.”

Jay watches her for a beat, his expression unreadable, then nods—like he’s accepting her answer, even though she can tell he doesn’t believe it. He shifts slightly, resting his hip against the counter, fingers drumming against his coffee cup.

"Everything else good?" he asks, casual enough that anyone listening wouldn’t think twice about it. 

But Hailey knows better—Jay is not just asking about her day. He’s checking in about this blurred, unspoken thing they’ve fallen into. Making sure she’s okay with it. With him.

She exhales, fingers tightening around her cup. “I’m managing. Probably just tired or something.”

Jay studies her, his gaze steady—seeing too much, like always. He shifts his weight, exhaling.

“I mean, unless you’ve been faking those eight hours next to me…” His lips twitch, just enough for her to catch it. “Pretty sure sleep deprivation isn’t the issue.”

The joke lands, light enough to pass, but his eyes linger. “Seriously though... all good?”

The way he asks again—his voice softer this time—not teasing, not casual. Just him —checking in, because he can’t not. And the truth is, she doesn’t know. She’s balancing on a thin, fraying rope, always aware of the way he’s there, how he’s slipped back into her space so seamlessly, how he still has the ability to make her want things she shouldn’t.

Instead of admitting any of that, she lifts her cup, takes a slow sip, and nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Jay doesn’t call her out on it. He just exhales, nodding as if he’s letting it go—for now. He pushes off the counter, but before he leaves, his eyes find hers again, softer this time.

“You don’t need to pretend with me,” Jay says quietly, his gaze holding hers. “I just… I’d rather have the truth. Even if it’s messy.”

Hailey’s grip tightens on her cup. “I know,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t quite meet his gaze.

Jay lingers for a second, like he’s waiting for something she can’t give him. Then, without another word, he nods and walks away, leaving her standing in the breakroom with a coffee that’s suddenly gone cold.

x

A few days later, Hailey stirs before the sun has fully risen, the faint glow of early morning casting soft shadows across the room. For a second—just a second—she doesn’t remember where she is.

Then she feels the weight of his arm draped across her waist.

She blinks, her gaze landing on the mess of tangled sheets, on the familiar stretch of bare, freckled skin beside her, on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply, still lost in sleep.

And then it settles—Jay’s bedroom.

Shit. She hadn’t meant to stay.

Something had clicked the last couple of days, a line she’d drawn in her head. She could do this—whatever it was. She could give in to the pull, lose herself in the heat of his skin, as long as she kept it strictly physical. As long as it didn’t start to feel like something more. No soft mornings. No shared routines. Nothing that resembled their previous life.

That is the rule. Because once it starts to feel domestic, that’s when her mind spins out. That’s when the past creeps in—memories, emotions, all the things she thought she’d dealt with. And she can’t afford that.

The physical? She can handle. It’s easy. Manageable. A need, like any other.

But the second it becomes more—familiar, intimate—she knows she needs to pull back.

Carefully, so carefully, Hailey shifts, inch by inch, testing the weight of Jay’s arm. His breathing stays steady, undisturbed. She swallows, gently easing his arm off her, every movement quiet, controlled, deliberate.

She’s almost free.

Then—

“Where you going?”

She freezes.

Jay’s voice is rough with sleep, his grip tightening instinctively around her wrist before she can pull away completely. She doesn’t look at him, staring straight ahead like if she just stays still enough, maybe she can rewind time, undo this moment.

She exhales, forcing a small, careful smile as she finally turns to face him. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jay blinks, still half-asleep, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, something stirring in the way his fingers brush over her skin. He studies her, taking in the way she’s already halfway off the bed, already halfway gone.

“You don’t have to go. It’s still early.” His grip tightens, fingers warm against her wrist—not holding her there, not stopping her, just asking. Because if he had made it a demand, she could have resisted. If he had said something smug or teasing, she could have rolled her eyes and walked away. But this? This was something else entirely.

She clenches her jaw, her fingers curling against her thigh. “I know. That’s why I have to go,” she says quietly, not looking at him. “I’ve got a million things I need to finish before today’s meeting.”

It’s not a lie. Not exactly.

Jay shifts behind her, and suddenly, the warmth of him is closer, his body pressing just slightly into her back. His fingers trail up her arm, slow, lazy.

“You sure?” His voice is softer now, sleep-rough and coaxing. 

Hailey swallows, her resolve flickering. Damn it! 

She feels him before she sees him—his breath against her shoulder, the way his fingers graze lightly over the curve of her waist, just enough to make her stomach clench. He’s not trying to stop her. Not really.

He’s just there.

“Jay…” She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.

His lips brush against the spot just below her ear, his voice a whisper. “Mmm.” It’s not a word, just a quiet hum—low, pleading—his breath warm against her skin.

Her throat tightens. She swallows against the lump forming there. He’s not playing fair. And part of her hates how easily he knows exactly where to touch, exactly how to make her want to stay.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” she mutters.

Jay exhales a quiet laugh, his lips ghosting along her skin. “Am I?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something else beneath it—something knowing.

She turns her head slightly, just enough to catch the faintest glimpse of him—his messy hair, the sleepy warmth in his green eyes, the softest trace of a smirk at his lips. He looks too good like this, too unguarded. Too much like something she wants to get used to.

Her fingers press lightly against his forearm. “This isn’t a good idea.”

Jay hums, the sound deep and lazy, like he’s too comfortable to really argue. “What’s not a good idea?”

Hailey exhales, her fingers flexing against his skin like she’s trying to steady herself, searching for the right words.

“It’s just—” she trails off, the rest caught somewhere in her throat. Her voice drops, rough with something she can’t quite name. "I still don’t know how to be... like this with you."

The words stumble out, uneven and uncertain, betraying everything she’s trying to keep in check.

Jay shifts slightly, propping himself up just enough to look down at her. She looks over her shoulder again and his gaze searches hers—steady, unflinching—but when he reaches for her hand, his touch is achingly gentle. He threads his fingers through hers, then brings the back of her hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her knuckles.

 Not demanding. Again, not pushing. Just... there.

“It’s still so early,” he repeats against her skin.

There’s something in his voice—something quiet, something vulnerable. It tugs at something deep in her chest, something she doesn’t have the strength to push away. 

She knows if she stays, it’ll be harder to walk away next time. Harder to convince herself this is just physical. But then Jay’s other hand moves to her hip, his thumb tracing a slow, absentminded circle against her skin. Not possessive. Not demanding. Again, just there.

She hates how good it feels.

She closes her eyes. “This is a bad idea.”

Jay shifts again, his forehead pressing lightly against the back of her shoulder. “Maybe.” A pause. Then, quieter, “But does it really matter right now?”

Her stomach twists. Because it should matter. She made a rule—and breaking it is exactly how things spiral. But when he presses a slow, lingering kiss to the column of her neck, when his hand tightens just slightly against her hip—

It doesn’t.

It does not matter.

Jay tilts her chin up, his gaze steady, patient. He’s not asking, not pushing—just waiting . And despite every rule she’s made, every line she swore she wouldn’t cross, she leans in anyway.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, like neither of them wants to break the moment. His hands skim down her back, pulling her closer, anchoring her against him. There’s no urgency, no desperation—just heat, building in the space between them, in the way his lips linger, in the way her fingers slide over his freckled skin, tracing familiar paths.

Jay shifts over her, pressing her back into the mattress, his mouth dragging along her jaw, down the curve of her throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Hailey’s breath catches, her fingers flexing against his shoulders, like her body’s bracing for what’s coming.

He pauses, the heat of him pressed against her, and for a beat everything stills—just the sound of their breathing, the weight of anticipation thick between them.

She feels his hand slide between them, fingers slipping lower. Hailey gasps, her hips twitching as he finds her already wet, already aching for him. She watches, unblinking, catching the low, guttural sound he makes—the way his mouth curves, the way his fingers lift to his lips. Helpless to do anything but watch, she sees him taste her, his gaze never leaving hers, like he’s savoring it—savoring her.

Then he presses forward, slow and steady, pushing into her inch by inch. Hailey’s lips part on a shaky breath, her back arching as he fills her—like this was inevitable, like no matter how many lines she drew, they were always going to end up right here.

Inevitable. That’s what it feels like.

When he begins to move, it’s unhurried, deliberate—like he’s savoring every sound she makes, every way her body responds. Hailey exhales sharply, her nails digging into his back, her body rising to meet his in a rhythm that feels natural, theirs.

He groans against her skin, forehead pressing to hers, his grip tightening as if he still can’t get close enough.

Each slow thrust pulls her deeper under, her body tightening, her heart pounding. She’s close—too close—the pressure building fast, warmth spreading low in her belly.

And then, with a soft, barely-there murmur against her ear, Jay shifts his weight.

His hands find her hips, guiding her gently, coaxing her to roll onto her stomach. “Come here,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, full of heat and something almost tender.

Hailey moves with him, trusting him without thinking, letting herself follow the quiet pull of his hands and the low, almost pleading sound in his breath.

"That's it," he breathes, his palms gliding over her skin as she moves, encouraging. She ends up on all fours, her cheek pressing into the pillow, his body sliding with her, staying close, staying inside her. "Just like that, baby." 

Jay leans over her, chest to her back, his mouth pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder blade as he settles into her again, deeper this time, slower, achingly tender.

The new angle is devastating. It leaves her breathless— completely his.

Jay stays pressed to her back, his hand smoothing down her side, steadying her. His pace stays slow, measured, every movement dragging her closer to the edge, making it impossible to hold herself together.

Then his mouth brushes against her spine, his voice low, rough against her skin. "God, you feel so fucking good."

The words punch through her, raw and unguarded, sinking deep. She turns her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him—hair mussed, pupils blown, a rough, desperate look etched across his face. God, he looks wrecked. Devastating. Hers.

It undoes her.

She comes apart with a soft, broken gasp, her body trembling beneath him, her fingers curling helplessly into the sheets.

Jay follows seconds later, a low, guttural curse slipping from his mouth as he drives into her once, twice more, then stills—his body shuddering against hers as he loses himself.

For a long moment, neither of them moves. Just the sound of their breathing, steadying against each other.

Slowly, Jay pulls out of her, a soft, shuddering breath leaving him as he does. He shifts down beside her, his arm immediately curling around her waist and tugging her back against him. He presses a lingering kiss to the bare skin between her shoulder blades, his hand splaying wide across her stomach like he’s trying to anchor her there, to him.

Hailey forces herself to breathe, to keep her heart steady, even as warmth seeps into every broken part of her.

She tells herself she’ll leave soon.

But when his fingers brush lazily over her hip, when he presses the softest kiss to the curve of her neck, she lets herself stay.

Just a little longer.

x

Jay is fully awake now. 

His body hums, the aftershocks of pleasure lingering in his limbs, warmth sinking deep into his bones. He exhales slowly, soaking in the feel of her against him—the damp heat of her flushed skin, the faint, salty taste of sweat clinging to her, the way she’s completely boneless in his arms.

It coils low in his chest, a fierce, quiet satisfaction thrumming through him.

Morning sex with Hailey might be his favorite thing.

When she’s sleep-warm and pliable, still quiet around the edges, open to everything he gives her—it’s when she lets go without overthinking, when she’s his without question. There’s no rush. No desperation. No pent-up emotion clawing its way out.

It’s slower. Softer. More intimate—the kind of closeness that belongs to a husband and wife.

His arm tightens around her waist instinctively, holding her closer, as he buries his nose in her hair, breathing her in. Hailey doesn’t pull away. But he can feel it—the tension, the hesitance lingering just beneath the surface.

She’s here, but she’s holding back.

Jay shifts slightly, gently turning her in his arms until she’s facing him, their bodies fitting together without effort. He presses a slow kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment before trailing his lips lazily down to her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.

Hailey sighs softly, tilting her chin up like she’s giving him permission, and that’s all it takes—his lips find hers again, slow and deep, his fingers tightening at her waist as he pulls her even closer.

For a moment, she melts into it.

For a moment, it’s easy.

But then, just barely—she tenses again.

Jay feels it immediately, the way her breath catches, the way her body stiffens ever so slightly. It’s not hesitation, not desire— it’s retreat.

And just like that, he knows. He’s pushing too hard.

Jay exhales through his nose, forcing himself to ease up. His fingers slide from her waist, a little more careful now, a little less desperate to keep her close.

He leans in one last time, pressing a softer kiss to her temple, before bumping his nose gently against hers—a small, almost playful touch that makes her lips twitch in spite of herself. “I’ll make coffee,” he mutters. 

It’s not what he wants to do.

What he wants is to pull her even closer, to show her she doesn’t have to keep bracing for the worst with him—that she doesn’t have to pretend this is just some casual, physical thing they stumbled into. Because he knows that’s exactly what she’s doing.

But that’s his problem, not hers.

So, instead, he forces himself to move.

The second he pulls away, she exhales—just barely, but he catches it. Like she’s relieved. Like she needed the space but didn’t want to be the one to take it.

That shouldn’t sting.

But it does. 

Jay swings his legs over the edge of the bed and pushes himself up, not bothering to reach for clothes. The air is cool against his skin as he walks through the apartment, but he doesn’t care.

Frustration creeps in with every step—low, steady, impossible to ignore. Because he just wants his girl back. And no matter how many nights and mornings they end up tangled in each other, it doesn’t feel like he’s winning her back. It feels stagnant. Like they’re stuck in this quiet, heavy limbo—caught somewhere between what they used to be and what she’s too scared to name now.

He makes it to the kitchen, runs a hand through his hair, and exhales slowly, gripping the counter for a second before reaching for the coffee beans. He needs a minute.

By the time the coffee brews, he already feels like a fucking idiot. He shouldn’t have asked her to stay. He shouldn’t have let that moment stretch too long. He should’ve just let her leave. But he can’t help himself. He never fucking can. And it’s not just the physical part of this. Every time she’s close, every time she lets her guard down even a littler, something inside of him wants to hold on.

And that’s dangerous.

Because he can feel she’s not ready.

He doesn’t turn around when he hears footsteps behind him. Doesn’t turn when he hears the quiet rustle of her moving closer, lingering just at the edge of the kitchen. But then—movement, out of the corner of his eye.

Hailey, standing in the doorway. Wearing his shirt.

He fucking loves when she takes his clothes, when she walks around in something that’s his—something that shouldn’t look better on her, but does. It’s ridiculous how much it gets to him, how it does something to his pulse.

Jay keeps his expression neutral as he grabs a mug, pouring the coffee like this is normal, like they do this every day. And truthfully, for the past few weeks, they have been. Waking up together, moving around each other in the quiet of the morning, sharing space in a way that feels easy.

When he finally turns to face her, he holds out the cup, his gaze steady. “Black?”  He knows the answer. But he asks anyway.

Hailey looks at him, then the coffee, then him again. And for just a second, she lingers. Her eyes flick lower, taking in the bare stretch of his body, the way he hasn’t made a move to cover himself. Her throat moves as she swallows, but she doesn’t react otherwise—at least, not outwardly.

Jay lets her look. He wants her to. In his twisted head, he craves it—the way her eyes linger, the way she takes him in like she’s memorizing him, like she feels this just as much as he does. It’s reckless. It’s selfish. 

She nods, fingers brushing against his as she takes the mug. “Yes,” she murmurs. 

Jay nods, watching her carefully. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t ask if she’s okay. But he wants to. Instead, he just grabs his own coffee, taking a slow sip, trying to read her in the quiet.

“You always watch people drink their coffee, or is that just a me thing?” she asks, raising an eyebrow over the rim of her cup.

Jay smirks, taking a slow sip of his own. “Just you.”

Hailey hums in response, shaking her head slightly before looking down at her coffee. She takes another slow sip, like she’s giving herself a second to collect her thoughts, to settle into the quiet before the inevitable rush of the day.

Jay watches her, noting how she looks softer like this—bare-faced, hair still slightly messy from sleep, standing barefoot in his kitchen wearing his shirt.

For a moment, he lets himself imagine that this isn’t complicated. That they do this all the time. That she’s his again—and he’s hers.

But then Hailey shifts, adjusting her grip on the mug like she’s suddenly restless. “We should get ready,” she murmurs, eyes flicking toward the clock on the microwave.

Jay nods, not arguing. Because of course she wants to move on, push forward. She’s always been good at that. 

He says, “Shower’s free.” Then, without really thinking, his mouth moves faster than his brain. “We could save some time… and water.”

It comes out casual. Easy. Like it’s just a practical suggestion. But Hailey stills mid-sip, fingers tightening around the mug for just a second too long.

Yeah. She heard exactly what he meant. Her throat moves as she swallows, her gaze flicking toward him before she quickly schools her features into something unreadable. “Are you environmentally conscious now?”

Jay smirks, leaning back against the counter. “Trying to be efficient.”

She exhales a quiet scoff, but she still doesn’t move. Instead, she lingers, mug cradled in her hands, shoulders tense. 

Jay knows the signs. He watches the way her fingers tap lightly against the ceramic, the way her lips press together like she’s weighing the pros and cons. And for a second, he really thinks she might say yes. Might let herself stay a little longer. Might let this morning stretch into something neither of them is supposed to want.

But then she exhales, shaking her head, like she’s forcing herself to remember the rules she made up in her head. “Tempting, but I’ll just head back to my place.”

And there it is. That little wall, sliding up between them again.

Jay keeps his expression easy, reaching for his coffee again. “Okay.”

Hailey huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh. 

Jay’s smirk falters for half a second before he recovers, tilting his head. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to start the day.”

Hailey rolls her eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “I think we already kicked the day off pretty well, don’t you?”

Jay leans back against the counter, tapping his fingers idly against his mug. “Yeah,” he says lightly, keeping his voice even. “But this would be a bonus.”

Something flickers in Hailey’s expression, but she hides it quickly, schooling her face into something unreadable. She sets her empty mug in the sink, brushing past him as she moves toward his room. 

A moment later, he hears the quiet rustle of fabric—Hailey picking up her clothes from where they’d been scattered across the floor the night before.

She reappears a minute later, dressed, composed, like a switch has flipped. As she passes him, her voice is even, careful. “I’ll see you at work.”

Jay doesn’t stop her.

Doesn’t push.

But as she disappears across the hall, he exhales slowly, running a hand down his face.

Because fuck, he doesn’t know how much longer they can keep pretending this isn’t something more. He’s not built for this— friends with benefits, or whatever this has become. Not with her.

Not when every look, every touch, every goddamn breath feels like something he’s scared to lose all over again.

Chapter Text

Steam curls in thick ribbons around them, the steady pulse of hot water muffling the sound of her ragged breathing. Hailey braces her hands against the cool tile, her head tipped forward as Jay's hands grip her thighs, lifting her slightly as his mouth works her over with devastating precision.

Her knees threaten to buckle, the heat from his mouth rivaling the water cascading down their bodies. 

"Jay—" Her voice shatters on a moan, her fingers clenching into fists against the wall.

He hums against her, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure ripping through her. His grip tightens, fingertips pressing into the flesh of her thighs as he pulls her even closer, like he can’t get enough. And maybe he can’t. Maybe she can’t either, because she doesn’t stop him, doesn’t push him away—just lets herself sink into the overwhelming sensation of his mouth, his tongue, the way he’s undoing her piece by piece.

Her breath is quick, shallow, her heart hammering against her ribs. She forces her eyes open, looking down, catching the way Jay’s gaze flicks up to hers, dark and hungry. He likes watching her fall apart, and she’s too far gone to care.

It builds fast—hot, all-consuming. The pressure coils deep in her belly, her body tensing, trembling. Jay senses it, grips her tighter, drags her even further into the fire until she breaks, a sharp cry escaping as she shatters against his mouth.

She sags against the wall, her legs unsteady, her chest rising and falling in uneven pants. Jay presses a kiss to her hip, then another, before standing to his full height, his body flush against hers.

Water slides over the ridges of his muscles, down the sharp lines of his jaw. His eyes are molten, burning into her.

“You good?” he murmurs, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.

She nods, though her body still hums from the aftermath. Jay’s hands find her waist, then her hips, fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp. His mouth brushes her ear, his voice low and teasing. “I told you it wouldn’t be the worst way to start the day.”

A shaky laugh escapes her, but it’s cut off when he presses her front against the cool tile. A sharp contrast to the heat radiating between them. His hands splay against her stomach, pulling her flush against him.

“Jay—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his lips finding the curve of her shoulder, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there. His hands skim lower, teasing, taking his time, and she arches into him, desperate for more, for everything.

And then he’s there, pushing into her, stretching, filling, until there’s nothing but him—the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, the way he moves inside her, slow and deep, like he has all the time in the world to ruin her.

She clings to the tile, to him, to the way his hands tighten on her hips, pulling her back against him. The pace builds, each thrust pushing her higher, pulling her deeper into him until she’s gasping his name—until her body breaks apart around him, trembling, her fingers digging into the wall like she’s trying to anchor herself against the force of it.

His breath is ragged against her ear, his rhythm faltering as he chases the edge right along with her. He thrusts once more, deep, before his body tenses against hers, his head dropping to the crook of her neck as he lets go, the sound of his release swallowed by the water pouring down around them.

For a long moment, neither of them moves. Their breaths are uneven, their bodies slick with water and heat and exhaustion. Then Jay presses a lazy, lingering kiss to her shoulder, his arms tightening around her like he has no intention of letting her go just yet.

She closes her eyes, lets herself sink into the moment. Into him.

Eventually, the cooling water forces them to move. Jay turns off the shower, and Hailey shivers as the heat fades, his hands steadying her as they step out. He grabs a towel, wrapping it around her before using another to dry himself off. His touch is soft as he squeezes the excess water from her hair, his fingers carding through the damp strands with a familiarity that makes something in her chest tighten.

She doesn’t stop him. Not when he gently tucks the towel around her shoulders, not when he rubs another down her arms, warming her up. Everything feels... easy. Thoughtless.

Too domestic.

She swallows hard as she turns to the mirror, fingers tightening around the towel—holding it like armor. Jay steps in behind her, his hands resting lightly on her hips, his lips brushing her temple. The gesture is soft. Intimate in a way that makes her chest tighten.

And that’s when it hits her. The weight of it. The familiarity, the tenderness—it feels too much like the past, too much like the pieces of a life they lost. A life he left. A life she barely survived without him.

Her body stiffens before she can stop it. Jay notices immediately, his hands stilling, his gaze meeting hers in the reflection.

"Hailey," he says gently, like he already knows what’s happening—because he’s seen it before, and lately, it’s been happening more and more.

She forces a smile, shaking her head. “We should probably start getting ready.”

She knows what he wants—what he’s really asking—but she can’t make herself say it. Can’t explain that something as simple as standing in a bathroom with him, toweling off and moving around each other, feels like too much.

So she steps away, clearing her throat. “I’ll meet you out there.”

Jay doesn’t stop her. He just watches, silent, as she crosses the room to gather her clothes. She can feel his gaze on her—steady, unreadable, filled with something she doesn’t have the energy to name.

She tells herself it’s fine. That she just needs space.

But as she pulls on a pair of underwear, the ache in her chest says otherwise.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she can already feel it—the slow unraveling. Nina’s words echo quietly, uninvited but impossible to shake: pretending it’s nothing is exactly how it all falls apart.

And Hailey hates how right she might be.

x

At work, Hailey keeps busy. It’s easier that way—simpler to drown in case files and checklists than deal with the feelings she refuses to name.

But eventually, she hits a wall. Energy flagging, she swings by the breakroom, needing a quick hit of caffeine to push through the last stretch of the day. She pushes the door open and stops cold. Jay’s there, leaning casually against the counter, coffee in hand, talking to someone from Cyber. His laugh, low and easy, carries across the room like it belongs there.

Instinct kicks in before she can even think. She pivots, letting the door swing closed behind her, moving like she was never there at all.

Not avoiding him, she tells herself. Just not in the mood for small talk. Just focused. Focused on bigger things.

But later that afternoon, while waiting for the printer to spit out a report, Hailey’s gaze drifts across the bullpen—and snags without warning.

Jay, bent over a file, deep in conversation with Garcia, his brow furrowed in focus. He bites his lip in concentration, one hand braced on the desk, the other flipping through pages. Her pulse jumps before her brain can catch up. 

And just like that, she knows: she can lie to herself all she wants. But her body isn’t fooled.

Hailey tears her eyes away before he can glance up, snatching the freshly printed pages without waiting for the stack to finish. She makes a beeline for her desk, barely breathing until she’s back in her chair.

The pile of freshly printed reports is the perfect excuse to bury herself in something— anything—other than the tangled mess in her head.

“Hey,” Nina says, sliding into the chair next to her.

Hailey doesn’t look up right away. She finishes highlighting a line on the report in front of her, then offers a clipped nod. “Hey.”

Nina watches her for a second. “You got a minute? I wanted to ask you about the Mercer ops.”

“Sure.” Hailey gestures vaguely to the papers scattered across her desk. “Just catching up.”

But even as the words leave her mouth, she hears it—that edge in her voice. Too flat. Too fast. She forces herself to slow down, to breathe through it, but the damage is done.

“You good?” Nina asks, voice light but curious.

“Fine.” It comes out the same way—mechanical, a little too sharp. Hailey clears her throat, adds a quick smile that barely grazes her face. “Just tired. Long night.”

Nina arches a brow, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And do these long nights happen to involve a certain analyst who keeps glancing over here like he’s waiting for you to look back?”

Hailey doesn’t bite. She calmly flips to the next page in her report, her tone even. “Not everything is about Jay.”

Nina leans back, arms crossing loosely. “So it is about Jay.”

Before Hailey can shut her down, movement in her peripheral vision catches her eye. She glances up—just in time to see Jay heading her way, a folder in hand, eyes already locked on her.

Her shoulders stiffen instinctively.

As he reaches the desk, he offers a quick nod. “Nina.”

Nina doesn't miss a beat. “Halstead.” Her tone is dry, not unfriendly—but definitely not warm.

Then he turns to Hailey. “Hailey, can I get your eyes on this?”

Slowly, she looks up. He’s standing just a foot away, holding out a file. His face is unreadable, but his eyes give him away—cautious, searching. Like he’s testing the waters.

Hailey keeps her expression neutral as she reaches for the folder, her fingers barely brushing his. One glance at the contents confirms what she already suspected—she gave him feedback on this same report yesterday. This isn’t about intel. It’s just an excuse to come over, to talk to her—and despite everything, some stubborn part of her doesn’t hate it as much as she knows she should.

“What am I looking at?”

“Updated intel from the wiretap,” he says, his voice steady. Professional. Like he wasn’t pressing her against a shower wall hours ago, making her come apart in his mouth.

She swallows, keeping her grip firm on the file, on herself. “I’ll go through it.”

Jay hesitates, like he wants to say something else, but she doesn’t give him the chance. She averts her eyes to the folder, flipping it open, effectively ending the conversation.

Jay lingers for a second before walking away. Nina watches the whole exchange, her brows drawing together.

“Okay…what the hell was that?” she asks, once Jay is out of earshot.

“What?” Hailey feigns indifference, but again, Nina isn’t fooled.

“You went all weird and stiff—like you glitched.” Nina leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “You sure you’re okay? Because that didn’t look like one of your usual awkward moments. That looked like something else.”

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there.” Hailey sighs, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “I’m just tired.”

Nina watches her for a beat. “Tired, I believe. But this—” she gestures loosely at Hailey, “this isn’t just lack-of-sleep vibes.”

Her voice softens. “Look, I’m not trying to get in your business. I just hate seeing you like this. You have real feelings for the guy, but whatever’s going on between you two? It doesn’t seem good for you. You’re hurting, Hailey, and—”

The sharp click of dress shoes on the tile floor cuts her off. Someone from Admin walks by, close enough to overhear. Nina smoothly flips open the top file on Hailey’s desk, pretending to skim it. They both fall silent until the footsteps fade down the hall.

Then, quieter now, she continues, “I’m just saying—sometimes love isn’t worth it if all it does is leave you bleeding. No matter how strong the pull is, if it keeps breaking you down... maybe it’s not worth the climb back up every time.”

Hailey exhales, eyes fixed on the report in front of her but not seeing a word of it. That ache in her chest—the one she keeps trying to outrun—tightens. Because Nina’s not wrong. And that’s what makes it harder to hear.

“Just think about it, okay? And for the record, if he hurts you again, I’m not responsible for what I’ll do to him. I mean it. No jury would convict me.”

Nina flashes a small smile, but the warning in her voice is real.

Hailey doesn’t say anything. Not out loud. She just watches the corner of the folder, her thumb worrying the edge like it might give her clarity if she pressed hard enough.

Nina’s words echo long after she walks away, because she’s right. She told herself keeping things physical would keep her safe. That if she didn’t name it, it wouldn’t hurt.

But it does. It already does.

The worst part? She doesn’t know what’s harder—risking the fall, or letting him go.

Because if she’s honest, she’s not sure she can survive losing him twice.

x

Hours later, Jay and Hailey ride the elevator up to their floor—together, but silent.

Jay leans back against the wall, arms loose at his sides, eyes fixed on the glowing numbers overhead. Each floor ticks by slower than the last. His jaw is tight—has been all day, clenched around everything he wants to say to Hailey. But he doesn’t trust himself to speak—not when every word feels tangled in guilt and frustration.

Beside him, Hailey stands stiffly, arms crossed, her posture like armor. She’s angled just enough away from him to make it clear she’s keeping space on purpose. But he sees it—the tension in her shoulders, the way her grip tightens slightly when the elevator shifts. She’s unraveling. Quietly. Carefully. Like she’s holding herself together one breath at a time.

And the worst part is, he doesn’t know if he should reach for her—or stay exactly where he is.

Jay exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to push. But this? This silence, this weight between them—it’s driving him insane.

He already knows something’s shifted—but he needs to hear it from her. Needs her to say the words out loud.

His voice is quieter when he finally speaks—direct, no longer sidestepping. "Hailey... can you just tell me what’s going on?”

There’s concern in his tone, but also an edge of something he can’t quite hide—something raw and unresolved.

Hailey doesn’t even look at him. “Nothing’s going on.”

Jay scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. “Hailey, you don’t have to pretend with me. I can handle the truth.”

She finally glances his way, her expression unreadable. “It’s not your problem.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. He steps closer, his voice low—not angry, just steady. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Hailey swallows, arms folding tighter across her chest. He watches the flicker in her eyes—the hesitation, the quiet war she’s fighting with herself. He’s seen this look before. Knows how she shuts down when things start to feel too real. But he also knows her. Knows this—whatever it is—is eating her alive.

“Hailey,” he says again, softer now. Like he’s not trying to press her. Like he’s just trying to meet her wherever she is.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, it looks like she might say something— really say something. But then the elevator dings. The doors slide open to their floor, but neither of them moves.

Jay doesn’t even glance at the hallway. He blindly hits the button to hold the doors open.

“Hailey…”

Still, no response.

Another chime sounds, the elevator trying to close. Jay lifts a hand, catches the door before it can shut again, and curls his fingers gently around her wrist. Then, quietly, he guides her out into the hallway.

“Hey,” he murmurs once they’re clear, stepping in front of her, but giving her space to retreat to her apartment if she wants to. “Just… be honest with me. Rip the Band-Aid off if you have to. I can handle it. Whatever it is, I’d rather hear the truth than be left guessing.”

She still doesn’t answer, instead, something in her breaks. It flashes across her face—raw and real—and this time, she doesn’t shut it down.

Slowly, like she’s still deciding, she takes a step toward him. Her hand lifts, fingers brushing against the front of his blazer, then curling lightly around the lapel. She doesn’t pull, not yet—just holds on. Like she needs something solid. Like he’s the thing steadying her.

Jay doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just watches her, heart pounding in his chest. 

This is it, he thinks. This is the moment she ends it. 

But then, without a word, she leans in.

One second they’re standing apart, the next her mouth is on his—urgent, searching. He doesn’t try to lead or question it—he just lets it happen, meeting her with the same quiet ache, the same need as instinct takes over. His hands find her waist—anchoring her, anchoring himself.

When they pull apart, breathless, Jay rests his forehead against hers, eyes studying her face—the flush in her cheeks, the flicker in her gaze, the way her breathing’s just a little too fast.

He softens, brushing his thumb gently along her jaw. “Talk to me, Hailey. What’s going on?”

Her eyes drop for a moment. And when she looks back up, they’re glassy—filled with something he doesn’t have a name for. Loss? Fear? Something raw enough to leave him aching.

Jay exhales, his voice low. “If you want to pull away, I need to know. I can’t—” He swallows, choosing his words carefully. “I just don’t want to misread where you are. Not with us. Not this time.”

She shakes her head—just barely. “You’re not misreading anything,” she murmurs. Her voice is stripped down to the truth now—raw, quiet, exhausted. “That’s the problem.” She lets out a soft, dry laugh, more tired than amused. “I wish you were. God, I wish this was just some leftover thing I could shake off.”

Her fingers shift, smoothing the front of his shirt again like she’s grounding herself there. Like her body’s already made the decision her mind keeps fighting.

“But I’m not pretending,” she says again, softer this time. “And right now… I just don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Jay watches her closely as her eyes lift to meet his—really meet his—and for a second, it knocks the air from his lungs.

“I just want…” Her fingers curl slightly against his chest. “To make it quiet. Just for a while.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need her to.

He nods, gentle and sure. “Okay,” he says softly. Even though every part of him is screaming for more—for answers, for clarity, for something that sounds like hope.

But this moment isn’t about him.

So instead of reaching for what he wants, he reaches for her—leans in and kisses her. Soft. Steady. Not desperate or demanding—just real. Honest. The kind of kiss that says, I know you’re breaking. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.

His arm slips around her, holding her like he means it. Not just to be close—but to let her lean into him, if she needs to. His other hand finds hers, fingers lacing without thought, without hesitation.

And then they’re inside her apartment, the door slamming shut behind them, lost in something too big to fight.

x

The room is quiet except for the hum of the city outside and the rhythmic breathing between them. The sheets are tangled at their waists, the warmth of their bodies still lingering in the air. The scent of them—of sweat, of sex, of something deeper and unshakable—clings to the space between them. Hailey lies belly down, her face turned away from him, the tension still in her frame making it impossible for Jay to ignore.

He feels it in the way she holds herself, in the rigid set of her shoulders. She’s fighting something, something she isn’t saying, and he knows he’s the reason why.

Over the past few days, he’s noticed a shift. A quiet distance, subtle but unmistakable, like Hailey is trying to put space between them without actually stepping away. And Jay can’t shake the feeling that if they keep avoiding it, they’re heading for a crash they won’t come back from. 

Jay runs a slow hand down her spine, barely grazing the bare skin of her back. She shivers but doesn’t move away. His touch lingers, tracing gentle, aimless patterns along her back—like he’s trying to ease whatever is eating away at her, trying to hold her without crowding her.

Then his fingers find it—the bullet scar. The sister to the one on her front. He exhales, his thumb brushing over the mark. 

“Through and through,” he murmurs, the words barely more than a breath.

Hailey stills for a moment, then exhales softly. “Yeah,” she says, her voice flat, unreadable. “Clean entry, clean exit.” She shrugs slightly, as if that makes it any less significant. “Lucky me, right?”

Jay exhales sharply, his fingers still resting against her skin. “That’s one way to put it,” he mutters, then, slowly, shifts closer, his palm flattening against her back, warm and steady, “Hailey, can we please talk?”

She doesn’t answer right away. And when she does, it’s barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

It’s not a deflection. Not this time. It’s the closest thing to honesty she can offer—because everything inside her feels tangled, blurred at the edges, impossible to name. And the worst part is, he has no one to blame but himself.

Without a word, he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of her bare shoulder. It’s soft, barely there, but weighted. 

“You’ve been tense,” he says, his words gentle but steady. “Quiet. Avoiding me during the day, and pretending like you’re fine.” His hand moves slightly against her back. “And I get it. I do. But I need you to talk to me, Hailey. Because if this doesn’t feel okay anymore, I need to know. Babe just…” 

The pet name slips out before he can stop it—too natural, too intimate. And the shift in her is instant.

Hailey exhales sharply and shifts, pushing herself up. “I—I just need some water,” she mutters, already moving.

Jay sits up halfway, guilt flashing across his face. “Shit—Hailey, I didn’t mean to... I—It just slipped out.”

But she’s already pulling on his shirt, the fabric draping loosely over her frame. She grabs a pair of pajama shorts from the dresser, tugging them on with sharp, efficient movements before slipping out of the room.

For a moment, Jay stays where he is, running a hand over his face, trying to sort through the emotions twisting in his chest. Then, after a minute, he pulls on his boxers and follows her.

When he steps into the kitchen, he finds her standing by the sink, fingers curled around a glass, her posture still tight. The moonlight spills in through the window, casting a soft glow over her.

Without thinking, he moves behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. He presses his chest to her back, his hand gently brushing her hair aside before tugging the collar of his shirt down just enough to expose her skin.

He knows it’s not entirely fair—this closeness. Not when she’s clearly trying to stay guarded. But he needs her to let him in. Needs her to talk to him, to open up, to see that he’s here and not walking away this time.

He leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her flushed skin. For a moment, she softens, her body losing some of its tension, almost leaning back into him—like a reflex, like something she doesn’t even realize she’s doing—before she stills again.

“I wasn’t trying to mess with your head. It just... slipped,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her shoulder. 

Hailey exhales, staring down at the water in her glass. "I know."

Jay stays close behind her, his hands resting lightly on her waist. “Hailey, something’s bothering you—and you’ve been holding it in for days. You can’t keep pushing it down. Just… talk to me.”

She’s silent for a long time, and he doesn’t push. He can wait. He owes her that much. Finally, she sets the glass down on the counter and leans further against it, her fingers tracing aimless patterns on the cool surface.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says, her voice tight, fraying at the edges. “It’s like…I don’t even trust myself anymore.” She exhales sharply, the frustration clear as she shakes her head. “It’s just…hard. Trying to figure out what I should want versus…what I actually want.” Her voice falters, the words coming slower now, quieter. “I’m just… I’m scared.”

A sharp pang settles in Jay’s chest—heavy and unrelenting. He did this. He wrecked her life, shattered everything they had, and now he’s just here —in her space, in her bed, in her head. Like he has any right to be.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice thick with regret, the words barely more than a whisper against the skin of her neck.

Hailey sighs, her body softening. “Don’t,” she says quietly, shaking her head just a little.

His hands slide from her waist to her arms, slow and deliberate, as he gently turns her to face him. When her gaze finally lifts to his, he sees it—that flicker of uncertainty, of something broken—and it tightens something deep in his chest.

“Keep going,” he says gently, his hand brushing softly over her cheek. He knows if he doesn’t coax her now, she’ll just keep burying it. “I’m listening.”

Hailey exhales, palms flattening on the edge of the counter as if grounding herself. “I don’t even know how to keep going,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jay nods, giving her space, but he doesn’t step away. “Start anywhere," he says quietly. “What’s weighing on you the most?”

She watches him for a long moment, like she’s searching his face for something steady. “That you’ll just leave again.” Her eyes flick away, and she lets out a quiet breath. “And I don’t think I could come back from that a second time.”

Jay’s chest tightens at her words. He reaches up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know I don’t get to erase what I did. And I’m not asking you to forget it.” He takes a breath. “But I need you to know—I’m not going anywhere this time. No running. No shutting down. I’m here, Hailey. For real.” 

His hands slide down to her waist again, his grip tightening slightly, just enough to ground them both. "I’m not that guy anymore. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure about this. About you. About us."

“But I’m not sure,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m struggling with all of it. I keep going in circles—wanting you close, then remembering how much it hurt. And I don’t know if that pull is enough to build something on… or just enough to break me again.” She hesitates, eyes flicking away for a moment. “Maybe I just need time to figure out which it is.”

Jay swallows, nodding. “Take all the time you need.” His voice is steady, but raw—unguarded. “Because if we do this again, I want to do it right. No half-truths. No avoiding the hard stuff. Just us—the way it should’ve been.” He holds her gaze, unflinching. “I’m in it, Hailey. All of it—all of you. Whatever it takes. But you have to want it too. You have to be in it with me. All the way.”

The words hang between them, heavy with meaning. He holds his breath, waiting, hoping that she trusts him—that she can see he means it. But the silence stretches, heavy and uncertain, and it makes something inside him twist.

“Hailey, do you need time ?” he asks pointedly. When she doesn’t respond, he presses on. “Do you need me to pull back? Put some distance between us?” The question scrapes at his throat. “If that’s what helps you breathe again… just say it. I’ll do it.” 

Hailey doesn’t say anything, so he reaches out, his fingers curling gently under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. His touch is light, careful—giving her the space to pull away if she wants to. She doesn’t.

“You’re calling the shots here, Hailey,” he says quietly, his voice steady despite the weight pressing against his ribs. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Hailey still doesn’t answer. Instead, she lifts her hands, running them slowly up and down his bare chest, her touch light, almost hesitant. Jay sucks in a breath, his muscles tensing under her fingertips.

He watches her for a moment, then gently catches one of her hands, his thumb tracing over her knuckles before he lifts it to his lips. Pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her fingers, he murmurs, “Hailey?” His voice is quiet, coaxing. 

Her eyes lift to his, uncertain and guarded, and it tugs at something deep in his chest. 

“What do you want?” he asks, his gaze steady and unyielding. “I mean really think about it. Picture your life a year from now, five years from now… what does it look like?”

He watches the flicker of emotion cross her face—hesitation, fear, maybe even longing. “If it’s without me… I swear I’ll accept that. I will.” His voice is rougher now, his hand still brushing over her knuckles. “But this?” He gestures between them, his fingers still laced with hers. “This in-between… it’s just taking the easy way out.”

Her eyes flash with something sharp, defensive. “Easy way out?” she echoes, shaking her head. “There is no easy way, Jay. No matter what I do, somebody gets hurt.”

Jay’s grip on her hand tightens just slightly, just enough to keep her anchored. His gaze doesn’t waver. “Stop thinking about what I want.” His voice is low and unyielding. “What do you want, Hailey?”

He studies her—the way her hand lingers against his chest, the way her breathing falters, caught between hesitation and want. And he knows. She wants this. She wants them . But she’s not sure if she can trust him with her heart again.

So he makes the decision for her.

He nods, stepping back just enough to let the cool air rush between them. "You get that head clear, and when you have an answer, you come tell me."

As the words leave his mouth, he lifts his free hand, cupping her cheek. The second his fingers graze her skin, Hailey stills. He watches her eyes glass over, something unspoken passing between them before she leans into his touch. It’s instinctual—the way she softens, the way her eyes flutter shut for just a second. 

“Whatever you decide,” he murmurs, his voice tight, eyes glimmering with something dangerously close to tears. “Just know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You are the love of my life.” 

Jay takes a step back, increasing the space between them. But the moment he does, he sees it—the flicker of something breaking in her eyes, the way her breath hitches, the sudden desperation in her touch as she reaches for him.

Her fingers curl into his wrist, tugging him back toward her. Before he can react, she pushes up on her toes and her lips find his—slow at first, hesitant, then deeper, more desperate. It’s not just need; it’s something else, something raw. A plea. A question. Perhaps, a goodbye.

Jay exhales into the kiss, his hands settling on her waist before lifting her onto the counter, handling her like she’s something fragile, like this moment could slip through his fingers if he’s not careful.

She exhales against his lips, her hands slipping into his hair, holding him close. His fingers skim over her skin beneath the fabric of his shirt, slow and reverent, memorizing every inch of her. When he grips her thighs and slowly spreads her open, a shudder rolls through her, her body arching into his touch.

"Jay," she breathes, her voice barely steady.

The sound of his name on her lips, like that—full of need, full of trust—hits him hard. His grip tightens, bruising. He kisses down her jaw, the curve of her neck, taking his time, letting himself melt into her. He drags her shirt higher, pressing his lips to every inch of newly exposed skin, worshiping her with his mouth.

His hands find the waistband of her shorts, slipping beneath, tugging them down, watching them fall to the floor. He drops to his knees, his hands sliding up her thighs, spreading her for him.

Her breath hitches. He feels her tense, then relax, fingers curling in his hair.

"Let me," he murmurs, voice rough, gaze locked onto hers.

She doesn’t say a word, just nods. That’s all he needs.

He presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then another, dragging it out, watching the way she reacts—how her breathing stutters, how her fingers tighten in his hair. Then his mouth is on her, warm and slow, savoring the way she melts for him.

He shifts slightly, tilting his head, and draws the flat of his tongue in one long, deliberate stroke.

She jerks, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. He holds her steady, hands firm on her hips, anchoring her in place as he works her open. Every flick of his tongue, every movement is purposeful, coaxing her higher.

"Jay," she whimpers, a sound so desperate it nearly undoes him.

He groans against her, the vibration making her shudder. His fingers slide into her, curling just right, and she comes undone with a sharp cry, her whole body trembling as she falls over the edge. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t stop—not until she’s spent, breathless, slumped against the counter.

Jay rises to his feet, brushing the back of his hand across his mouth before kissing her, deep and slow, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She’s still catching her breath when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down and kicking them aside before lifting her hips, guiding her legs around his waist.

Their eyes meet as he pushes into her—slow, unrelenting. A sharp inhale. A quiet gasp. Neither of them moves for a second, caught in the weight of it. His forehead presses to hers, their breath mingling in the space between. He cups her face, his thumbs brushing softly over her cheekbones, grounding her. Grounding himself.

The words slip out before he can stop them. “Tell me this isn’t the last time.” His voice is barely a whisper, raw and unguarded—like he knows he shouldn’t ask, but can’t help it. Not with her like this.

His eyes search hers, desperate for something—anything—that looks like hope. Like a promise.

Hailey’s eyes flutter closed, her breath hitching as she swallows hard. Her fingers tighten slightly against his back, holding him there. “I don’t…” The words catch, and she shakes her head, voice breaking. “I just… I need you right now.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

His mouth is back on hers in an instant, his fingers pressing into her skin, holding her tight. She clings to him, nails biting into his back, her breath warming against his neck. He moves slowly, savoring every second, stretching out every moment like he can make this last forever.

She feels like home. But there’s something else, too. He can feel it in the way she kisses him, in the way she trembles against him— the sadness. The quiet heartbreak laced in every touch.

God, he doesn’t want this to be the last time.

But if it is, he’s going to make sure she remembers. That she knows exactly how much she means to him.

Chapter Text

Hailey pulls her apartment door shut, locking it behind her with a quiet click. She hesitates before turning, her eyes drifting to the door across the hall. It stands still, unmoving, but somehow it feels louder than the ache sitting heavy in her chest.

It’s only been a few days since they agreed she needed space.

And she knows she does—if she’s ever going to figure out what comes next, she needs a clear head. Needs to see things for what they are, without him standing so close it scrambles her thoughts.

So why does it already feel like she’s starting to regret it?

Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she tears her gaze away and walks toward the elevator, her shoulders stiff as she forces herself to move forward.

When she arrives at the office, she tosses her bag onto her desk and lets out a slow breath. It’s still early, the bullpen quieter than usual. But as she glances toward Jay’s desk, his things are there—his coffee mug, the stack of neatly arranged files, the jacket slung over the back of his chair.

But no Jay.

He’s been keeping his distance—as much as he can, anyway, with them working together. He shows up, does his part, but never lingers. Never pushes. It’s clear he’s making good on his promise to give her space. 

An hour passes, the quiet rhythm of the office unfolding around her—but there’s still no sign of Jay. He hasn’t stopped by his desk. Hasn’t shown up in the briefing room. Not even in the observation area, where he’s been keeping to himself lately. She’s not sure what to make of it, but something about his absence unsettles her. 

She shakes it off, forces the feeling down, and buries herself in work.

Later, as Hailey steps out of the meeting and into the hallway, the low hum of conversation trails behind her. Jay hadn’t shown—she noticed. Tried not to.

She shifts the folder in her hands, about to head back to her desk, when movement at the far end of the corridor pulls her up short.

Jay.

He’s just leaving Daniels’ office, posture rigid, expression unreadable. Daniels follows him out, offering a handshake as they part ways.

“It was really good having you, Jay. Your insight, your experience—it made a real difference here,” Daniels says, his voice just loud enough for Hailey to catch. “We’d be lucky to have you again.”

She freezes. 

Jay says something in response, his voice too low for her to hear. Then Daniels gives him a nod before heading back into his office, leaving Jay standing there, looking at nothing in particular.

Is he leaving?

Before her heart can stumble, she reminds herself it makes sense. Creating distance was part of the unspoken plan. And going back to his job—the one that kept him traveling for weeks at a time, always somewhere else, always just out of reach—fits neatly into that.

Right?

But knowing that doesn’t quiet the twist in her stomach or the ache creeping into her chest, the kind that feels far too familiar. Like she’s bracing for a goodbye she never actually agreed to.

Then as if sensing her, Jay turns, and the moment his eyes land on Hailey, he stills. His gaze sharpens, searching, and she knows he’s reading her face like a book, seeing every crack she’s trying—and failing—to conceal. 

He crosses the hallway toward her, his steps measured, then with a subtle tilt of his head, he motions toward the conference room behind her. 

As soon as the door clicks shut behind them, he clarifies, “I'm not leaving. Just switching departments."

Relief hits hard, but she masks it with a quick nod, arms folding across her chest like armor. The tension in her shoulders eases—just slightly. It’s barely visible, but with it comes a quiet, unsettling truth: she’s not ready to watch him walk away. Not again.

Jay leans against the table, watching her carefully. "I'm moving over to the tactical side full-time. No more intel work."

"So you won’t be in my bullpen anymore?"

“No,” he confirms, his voice steady. He holds her gaze for a beat before continuing, softer now. “I was going to tell you earlier, but I wanted to make sure the move was approved first. I didn’t want to say anything until it was real.”

She nods, and internally tells herself this is good. It’s what she asked for—the space, the room to think without him constantly hovering nearby. But even as she repeats the words in her head, trying to believe them, a hollow ache settles in her chest.

Jay watches her, his gaze softening. “After we talked, I reached out to my boss. Pulling me out from the Bureau wasn’t on the table yet, but moving to tactical full-time… that was the compromise.”

Hailey nods slowly, forcing a small, tight smile. "No, you're right. That's good. Yeah."

Jay tilts his head slightly, studying her. "Plus, look at it this way—at least Nina won’t be on your case anymore. I will be out of sight, and hopefully out of her mind. Consider it a gift to your sanity."

Hailey exhales a small laugh, but it fades quickly. She knows her real feelings are probably still written all over her face—and maybe that’s what prompts Jay to reach out. His fingers brush against hers before quietly closing around her hand, his thumb moving gently over her knuckles. It’s subtle, almost hidden between them, but after days without a single touch, it feels seismic.

The contact sends warmth rushing through her, startling in its simplicity, in how much she’s missed it.

"I'm not leaving, Hailey," he says again, softer this time, as if willing her to believe it. Then, with a faint, crooked smile, he adds, "I'm still steps across the hall. Can’t exactly make a dramatic exit.” 

Hailey rolls her eyes and lets out a short, breathy laugh—though her chest tightens with each heartbeat. The words are there, just beyond her lips: I don’t want you to pull away. But she clamps her mouth shut, biting them back and letting the moment slip away in silence.

x

Days later, as Hailey finishes up some reports at her desk, her eyes drift across the room—to Jay’s desk. It’s empty. Has been for days. Stripped of the little things he’d slowly collected over the past few weeks. 

She hadn’t realized how much she’d gotten used to him being there—how, despite everything, working with him again had felt... good. Familiar. Even comforting.

She only recognizes it now that he’s gone.

But the feeling is different now. Not like before, when everything inside her felt like it was crumbling. She can’t explain it, not fully, but it feels different. 

Before she can linger on the thoughts, Nina appears at her side, arms crossed, one brow arched. "So… Jay is not coming back."

Hailey barely looks up, flipping a page in her report. "I know."

Nina tilts her head slightly, her voice even. “Hailey, he left.”

Hailey’s jaw tightens. “Not technically. He just moved to tactical full-time.”

Nina hums, clearly unconvinced. "Mmm-hmm. So, what? He just randomly decided to switch to tactical? Totally unrelated to your messy little friends-with-benefits situation blowing up in your faces."

Hailey shakes her head, her tone clipped. "Jay’s amazing on the field. Tactical makes sense for him, especially now that all the intel is solid. Things need to be planned and executed on their side, and he’s the best person for that." She keeps her tone even, matter-of-fact—offering a perfectly logical explanation that neatly sidesteps the very thing Nina just called out.

Because Nina’s not wrong.

And now Jay’s gone, and she’s pretending that’s normal.

Nina studies her for a long moment before smirking. "Right. Totally. That explains why you look like someone just stole your lunch."

Hailey shoots her a glare. "I do not. And besides, we still live in the same building, so it’s not like he disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Sure," Nina drawls, plopping into the chair across from her.

Hailey leans back in her seat, running a hand through her hair. “Not everything has some hidden meaning. You don’t have to over analyze every little thing. Jay made this decision because it makes sense for the team."

"Uh-huh," Nina hums, unconvinced. She leans forward, tapping a pen against the desk. "And what team is that, exactly?"

Hailey exhales sharply, shaking her head. "The actual team, Nina. You know, the one working this cartel case?"

Nina smirks. "Mmm. If you say so.”

Hailey rolls her eyes and sets her pen down, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You know, Nina, maybe it’s time you picked up a new hobby—something other than treating my life like your favorite TV drama.” She leans back slightly, voice laced with amusement. “Or better yet, find yourself a new boytoy to keep you entertained. You should give Mark a call.”

Nina snorts. "Oh, honey, don’t project just because yours lives across the hall."

Hailey shakes her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just saying—maybe it’s time you found your own drama to obsess over.”

Nina grins, completely unbothered. "Oh, I always find my fun. But this? This is way more interesting. Besides, I have a vested interest in this storyline."

Hailey feigns exasperation. "There is no storyline."

"Oh sure. No storyline at all," Nina hums, clearly unconvinced. “Just a couple of leads trying to turn a messy divorce arc into a surprise second-chance finale. Bold choice.”

Hailey rolls her eyes. So much for Jay leaving to get Nina off her case—if anything, it’s only made her more fixated.  “Nina, if my life were a show, it should've been canceled after that disaster of a plot twist ending.” 

Nina smirks. “Well, lucky for you, the audience loves a good redemption arc.”

With that, she saunters off, leaving Hailey rolling her eyes—yet unable to shake the quiet thought that if this is some second-chance finale… maybe it deserves a better ending.

Or at the very least, one she can finally live with.

x

In the days that follow, no matter how hard she tries, Jay’s absence is impossible to ignore. But instead of relief, it only makes her realize how much she’d gotten used to him being there—not just at work, but in the quiet moments, woven into the rhythm of her day.

And she hates that she’s noticing his absence this much.

So, she ends up stationed at an off-site surveillance point, eyes fixed on the live feed of Jay and the tactical team moving in formation through an industrial yard. She signed up for this—volunteered, even—telling herself it was about staying involved, about keeping eyes on the mission.

But deep down, she knows the truth.

And it’s not one she’s ready to say out loud.

"Jay, what’s your visual?" Daniels' voice crackles through the comms, steady and authoritative.

Jay responds immediately, his tone clipped but calm. "Two guards at the east entrance, rotating patrol. No sign of the target yet. We’re moving into position."

Hailey shifts slightly in her seat, eyes fixed on the screen. "Surveillance picked up movement inside ten minutes ago," she interjects. "They could be relocating. Be ready for a shift."

"Copy that," Jay replies, his voice unwavering.

Garcia, stationed beside her, leans forward. "We’ve got another angle from the alleyway camera. Looks like a possible secondary exit. If they bolt, that’s where they’ll go."

Daniels nods, watching the monitors. "Jay, keep the team sharp. If they use that exit, we need containment. No one gets past the perimeter."

"Understood," Jay says, his figure barely visible now as he moves into the shadows.

The operation is controlled, methodical—Jay at the center of it all, giving quiet commands, signaling the team with precision. He moves like he was made for this, confident and composed. She watches as he clears a section, his presence unshakable.

A familiar ache creeps into her chest. She’s seen him like this before—back when they were partners, back when they trusted each other without hesitation. He was always good at this, always the one she could count on to have her back. And now, as she watches from a distance, she feels further away from him than ever.

Her fingers tighten around the edge of the desk, pulse unsteady. Watching him like this, she wonders if she made a mistake. Because nothing about this feels like clarity. It just feels like losing him all over again.

Then, as if sensing her, Jay glances toward the surveillance camera—just for a second. Her breath catches. It’s almost like he knows she’s watching. A flicker of something in his expression before he turns away, disappearing into the shadows with his team.

Minutes later, Garcia exhales beside her. "And that’s a wrap. Target secured, no casualties. Clean operation."

Daniels nods in approval. "Good work, everyone."

Jay’s voice filters through the comms one last time, steady and firm. "Tactical is clearing out now. Heading back."

Hailey releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. "Copy that," she says, keeping her voice even, professional. But deep down, something unsettles her. The job went perfectly—so why does it still feel like something is slipping away?

x

Jay steps out of the elevator, rolling his shoulders as the doors slide shut behind him. The operation had gone smoothly, but the hours of adrenaline had left his muscles tight, his mind wired even as exhaustion pulled at him. The cut on his forehead throbs dully beneath the tape he slapped on it back at the site. Nothing serious, but enough to sting every time he moves his face.

As he rounds the corner to his apartment, he stills.

Hailey is standing in front of her door, keys in hand. It’s the first time they’ve been this close in days—really close. It takes him half a second to realize she’s looking at him. More specifically, at his forehead.

His instinct is to brush it off. "It’s nothing," he says before she can even ask, already anticipating the concern written all over her face. Because he knows that look—he's seen it before, countless times.

Her lips press together, eyes flicking from the cut to his eyes. "That’s not nothing."

Jay huffs a quiet laugh, shifting his weight onto one foot. "Trust me, I’ve had worse."

She doesn’t look convinced. "Did you at least clean it properly?"

His silence is answer enough.

Hailey exhales, shaking her head as she unlocks her door. "Come in."

He hesitates. This— this —is dangerous territory. Being alone with her, in her space, after weeks of trying to keep his distance? The pull is there, unrelenting. And she’s already stepping inside, leaving the door open just enough for him to follow.

Jay swallows hard and steps inside after her, fully aware that crossing this threshold is a test of his resolve—one he’s not sure he wants to pass.

"Sit," Hailey says, nodding toward the couch as she heads down the hallway. "I’ll grab the first aid kit."

Jay sighs but does as she says, lowering himself onto the couch. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, watching as she disappears into the bathroom. It's strange, being back in her apartment. Memories flood his mind—moments when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, every corner of this place marked by breathless whispers and quiet, pleading whimpers. The kitchen, the hallway, even right here on this couch. 

The images linger like ghosts, reminders of something he still aches for—something he knows he shouldn’t want but can't seem to let go of.

A moment later, she returns, flipping open the small plastic kit as she moves to stand in front of him. "Lean back," she instructs, already pulling out antiseptic wipes and gauze.

Jay smirks slightly, muttering under his breath, "So bossy."

Hailey arches a brow, unimpressed. "And you’re still bad at taking care of yourself. Some things never change."

He chuckles but obliges, leaning his head back slightly so she can reach the cut. Her fingers are warm as she tilts his chin, and the second her touch grazes his skin, something tightens in his chest. He forces himself to focus on the ceiling, on anything but the way her face is just inches from his.

"So," she says, voice lighter now, "the operation went well."

"Yeah," Jay replies, clearing his throat. "Textbook, mostly. We secured the target before things got messy. Tactical worked like a well-oiled machine."

Hailey hums, dabbing at his cut with the antiseptic wipe. "You looked solid out there."

"Thanks.” He glances at her, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, it's weird hearing your voice in my ear. We used to be side by side for this kind of thing.” He pauses, then adds, “Part of me kept waiting to feel your hand on my shoulder.” 

She doesn’t meet his gaze, focusing on her work. "This is my job now." After a beat, she adds, softer, "But yeah… it’s different."

"Yeah, I know. Things are just different now, "Jay huffs a quiet sigh, shaking his head slightly.

"Hold still," she murmurs, her voice soft but firm, fingers carefully brushing the hair away from his forehead.

She keeps working, gently smoothing gauze over his wound before taping it down. He watches her hands, steady and sure, and something about it—about her reply—unsettles him in a way he doesn’t know how to name.

After a moment of quiet, Jay tilts his head slightly. "Do you miss it? The action?"

Hailey hesitates, her fingers pausing for just a second before she presses down the last piece of tape. "I don’t know," she admits. "Sometimes I think I do, but then I remember I’m not getting shot at anymore. And honestly? I’m okay with that.” 

Jay studies her, considering her words. "Yeah, I get that."

She snorts. "Do you? Because you’re still out there."

Jay shrugs, smirking. "Someone’s gotta do it."

Hailey shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she tucks the first aid kit away. When she looks back at him, her expression softens. "Try not to get hurt, okay?" Then, after a beat, she adds, "And if you do, at least clean it properly next time. No shortcuts."

Jay smirks. "Yes, ma’am."

Hailey rolls her eyes and exhales softly, running a hand through her hair before meeting his gaze again. "You should get some rest."

Jay pushes himself to his feet, the space between them suddenly feeling smaller than it should. "Yeah. Guess I should."

For a moment, neither of them move. The air shifts—something lingering, something unsaid. Jay watches as Hailey exhales softly, then turns toward the door. His chest tightens as she walks away, her movements slower than usual, almost hesitant. He wonders if she’s feeling it too—the weight of whatever this is, whatever it’s always been. Then, with a quiet breath, she pulls the door open, the unspoken moment slipping away as easily as it came.

"Goodnight, Jay."

He nods, stepping into the hallway. "Goodnight, Hailey."

And as he walks back to his apartment, he knows without a doubt that staying away is only going to get harder.

x

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Hailey exhales sharply, shifting on the couch. Her laptop sits open on the coffee table, Dr. Morgan’s familiar face steady on the video call screen.

Dr. Morgan tilts her head, voice gentle. “What’s going on? It’s been a little while.”

Hailey offers a faint, guilty smile. “Yeah… I know. I’ve been avoiding this.” She shrugs, eyes dropping to her lap. “Avoiding a lot of things, actually.”

Dr. Morgan nods, not pushing, just steady. “Avoidance is a form of self-protection,” she says, her voice calm but knowing. “We’ve talked plenty about this, Hailey—how it helps you survive in the short term, but over time, it isolates you from the things you care about.” Her voice softens further. “So tell me—what’s feeling too heavy to face right now?”

Hailey drags a hand through her hair, staring at the screen. “Last time, I told you I slept with Jay.”

Dr. Morgan nods. “You said it wasn’t planned. That you were conflicted. You still felt something for him, even if your mind hadn’t caught up yet.”

Hailey nods slowly, arms crossing over her chest. “Yeah. That hasn’t changed. If anything... it’s gotten worse.”

Dr. Morgan waits, letting the silence stretch just enough.

Hailey sighs. “We kept sleeping together. And it sort of... turned into this thing…” She gestures vaguely. “Like a friends-with-benefits situation. At least, that’s what it looked like on the surface.”

Dr. Morgan doesn’t look surprised, which somehow makes it worse—like Hailey was walking straight into something she should’ve seen coming. “But it wasn’t that simple to you, was it?”

Hailey lets out a soft, bitter laugh. “Not even close. I kept telling myself it was casual, that I could handle it—that it was  just physical.” She exhales, another dry laugh slipping out. “But every time I was with him, it got harder to keep pretending I didn’t care—like the line I drew kept blurring until it wasn’t there at all.”

Dr. Morgan studies her. “Sounds like this situation was taking a toll on you.” 

Hailey huffs. “That’s putting it mildly.” She leans back against the couch, frustration etched into her features. “Of course Jay noticed I was struggling, and we agreed to cool things off. We figured I needed space—because how am I supposed to figure out what I want when I keep getting pulled into his orbit?”

Dr. Morgan nods thoughtfully. “And that was definitely something you wanted? The space?”

Hailey hesitates, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I said I did. And I meant it, I think. I just... I don’t know. It felt like the right call. But now everything feels off. Like I’m waiting for something and I don’t even know what.” She exhales, her voice dipping with guilt. “I’m sorry—I know I’m making this more confusing than it needs to be.”

Dr. Morgan gives a small shake of her head, waving off the apology with a gentle look. “There’s no need to apologize. But let me ask you this—do you think it’s the distance that feels off… or the idea that he’s not reaching for you anymore?”

Hailey stiffens, the muscles in her jaw tightening. “That’s not—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I mean, I asked for space. I don’t get to be upset about getting exactly what I said I wanted.”

Dr. Morgan offers a calm, steady look. “Actually, it’s okay to feel both. You can want space and still feel the ache of distance. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.” She lets that settle, then leans in slightly, her voice quiet but clear. “Hailey, I’m going to be honest with you. From everything you’ve said—and from my professional experience—it doesn’t sound like the distance is what you’re really struggling with.”

A pause, deliberate.

“It’s what that distance is showing you. What it confirms.”

Hailey’s gaze flickers, but she doesn’t look away. Her throat tightens as the truth presses in—quiet, undeniable.

Because Dr. Morgan’s right. The distance hadn’t brought peace. It hadn’t brought clarity. If anything, it had only made her more aware of what she still felt, what she still wanted—and how terrifying that is.

“So maybe the question isn’t whether you should get back together with him,” Dr. Morgan continues, watching Hailey closely. “Maybe the real question is—are you ready to admit that you still want him? Because wanting him again isn’t just about love, Hailey. It’s about trust. Forgiveness. It’s about letting him in, knowing what happened before, and choosing to open your heart anyway.”

The words sit between them, sharp and tender all at once. And they land—right where she’s been avoiding.

Hailey spent so long trying to convince herself she was over it—over him—that admitting otherwise feels like undoing all that work. But maybe that’s the point.

She and Dr. Morgan keep talking, gently peeling back the layers—fear, guilt, hope. What she’s been avoiding. What she’s still carrying.  And somewhere in that quiet unraveling, the thought begins to settle.

Maybe it’s not about undoing the past. 

Maybe it’s about choosing differently this time. 

About giving their story a better ending.

x

Jay pushes open the door to the small community center, the familiar scent of old wood and coffee hitting him the second he steps inside. The room isn’t packed—just the usual group of veterans scattered around in folding chairs, some engaged in quiet conversation, others just sitting in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

It’s been a while since he’s come here. Too long. And judging by the looks he gets as he steps in, he’s not the only one who notices.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," a voice calls from the side. Jay turns to see Mike, a former Marine, leaning back in his chair with an amused smirk. "Long time no see, Halstead. Thought you fell off the face of the earth."

Jay exhales a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, been busy. Work’s been... a lot."

Mike scoffs. "It’s always a lot. That’s the job. But you still gotta show up for yourself, man."

Jay nods, taking an empty chair near the edge of the circle. He doesn’t know why he’s here tonight, not exactly. Maybe it’s the weight of the last few weeks, maybe it’s the silence, the waiting. And if there’s any chance of getting her back, he needs to be the man she deserves—which means getting ahead of the thoughts that keep threatening to drag him somewhere darker.

The meeting gets started, the conversation weaving through different struggles—reintegration, old ghosts, bad habits creeping back in when no one’s looking. Jay listens, absorbing the stories, the frustrations, the small victories. He usually stays quiet in these things, but tonight, something nags at him.

“How do you earn back someone’s trust after you’ve lost it?” His voice comes out quieter than he intended, but it still carries. A few heads turn his way. 

“Depends on how deep the damage runs,” an older vet, Greg, replies. “Trust’s not like a light switch—you don’t just flip it back on.”

Jay exhales, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I reenlisted without telling her. Said it was just for eight months. But my head wasn’t right, and I kept extending—again and again…” He pauses, jaw tightening. “I didn’t just break her trust. I chipped away at it, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.”

A beat.

“But now… by some miracle, I think I have a chance. And I just don’t know how to fix it—or if I even can.”

Across the circle, Mike lets out a low whistle. He tilts his head, studying him. “You talking about your ex?”

Jay tenses slightly but doesn’t deny it. "Yeah."

A beat of silence settles over the group, thick with unspoken understanding, before Greg finally speaks. “You want the truth?” He meets Jay’s gaze, steady and unflinching. “You can’t fix it. Because you don’t get to decide if it gets fixed. She does."

Jay swallows, staring at the floor. He knows that. Deep down, he’s always known that. But hearing it out loud makes it feel heavier, more real. Out of his control. 

Before Jay can respond, another voice cuts in. Tom, an older Army vet, shifts in his chair, running a hand over his graying beard. “My first wife left after my third tour,” he says, voice low but steady. “That was years ago.” He pauses, glancing down at his hands. “I came back different. Angry. On edge all the time. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t talk about what was going on in my head—not in any real way.” 

The room falls quiet, the weight of Tom’s words settling over everyone. It’s a feeling they all know too well—one way or another.

Tom exhales slowly and continues, “She tried to stick it out, God knows she did. But I made it easy for her to go. Told myself she deserved better than someone still living in a warzone in his head.” His voice roughens, just slightly. “Too proud to ask for help. Too ashamed to admit I needed it. So I pushed her away before she could walk. Thought it’d hurt less that way.” 

He looks up at Jay, eyes clear but tired. “It didn’t.”

Jay nods slowly, his eyes still on Tom.  “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I get that. That’s why I left, honestly. Told myself I needed space to get my head straight. Thought if I could just fix myself first, maybe I’d come back better.” His voice dips. “She deserved better.” 

Tom exhales, shaking his head gently. “That’s the thing, kid. You don’t get to decide what she deserves.” His tone isn’t harsh—just honest. Worn from experience. “The reason I’m sharing this isn’t to make you feel worse. It’s to tell you what I wish someone had told me.”

He looks Jay in the eye.

“All you can do now is show up. Prove to her—with time, with action—that you’re not the same guy who left. That’s the one thing I’d change if I could go back.”

Jay presses his fingers against his jaw, nodding slowly. He came here looking for answers, hoping someone might hand him the fix, the step-by-step path back to Hailey. But all he got was the truth he already knew: There’s no shortcut. No magic fix. All he can do is show up. Be steady. Be different.

And wait.

Not with pressure. Not with expectation. But with patience. With consistency.

Because if there’s even a chance she might choose him—then he has to be someone worth choosing.

And when she’s ready...

She’ll come to him. Or she won’t.

But either way, he’ll be there.

x

Back home after the session, Jay makes a quiet detour to the mailroom before retreating to his apartment. He exhales slowly, running a hand over his face as the weight of the evening settles in.

The session weighs on him more than he expected, thoughts still circling in his mind. He barely registers the stack of mail in his hands, flipping through it absently—credit card offers, a utility bill—when a subtle shift in the air catches him.

That familiar pull.

He doesn’t have to look to know she’s there.

The door creaks open behind him, and instinctively, he glances up—just as Hailey steps inside.

She halts for half a second, surprise flickering across her face before she schools her features into something neutral. Something unreadable. “Hey,” she says, tucking her keys into her pocket.

“Hey,” he replies, shifting his weight as he pulls another envelope from his slot, using it as an excuse to avoid meeting her eyes right away.

She moves toward her mailbox, twisting the key before glancing at him. “Long day?”

Jay exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Something like that.”

She studies him for a moment, her brows knitting slightly. “You okay?”

He hesitates, then shrugs. “Yeah. Just got back from a veterans' support group.”

He sees Hailey still, the sharp edges of her expression softening slightly. “Oh. I didn’t know you went to one.”

“I don’t go often,” he admits, shifting the mail in his hands. “Used to go more after I came back from Bolivia, but then work got busy, and I just… stopped going as much. Probably should make more time for it, though.”

She nods, considering him. “That’s… good, Jay.”

He swallows, not expecting her to say much more, but there’s something in the way she looks at him—not pity, not judgment, just quiet understanding. And somehow, that unnerves him more than anything else.

After a beat, Hailey exhales, shifting the envelopes in her hands. “I go to therapy, too.”

Jay looks up, meeting her gaze. “Yeah?”

She gives a small nod, her voice even. “Yeah. Sometimes it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who doesn’t expect you to have it all figured out.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “It took me a while to admit I needed it. But now... I don’t know how I ever got by without it.”

Jay lets that sink in for a second before offering a small smirk. “Feels like every time I start talking, I have to go back and unpack everything all over again.”

Hailey huffs a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s therapy.”

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then Jay glances down at his mail again and notices a small white envelope tucked between the bills—his name written in Natalie’s familiar handwriting.

His brows furrow slightly as he flips it over, already guessing what it is.

“Invitation?” Hailey asks, nodding toward it.

Jay slides a finger under the flap, tearing it open. “Yeah,” he murmurs, pulling out a pastel-colored card and showing her. A big number one printed on the front, surrounded by tiny pink balloons. Olivia’s first birthday party.

He hears Hailey’s breath catch slightly.

“Wait—” she blinks at the card, then back at him. “Will and Natalie have a kid?”

Jay glances up at her, momentarily thrown. “Yeah. Olivia. And she’s turning one. Jay huffs a quiet laugh. “Crazy, right?”

Hailey shakes her head, like she’s still processing. “I mean… I knew Will left to be with Nat in Seattle. I just—” She exhales, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Guess I lost track of time.”

Something in her voice makes Jay pause. Because it’s not just about his family—it’s about everything they lost track of.

She shifts slightly, eyes still lingering on the invitation. “She’s probably adorable.”

Jay softens. “Yeah, she is.” 

Before he can stop himself, he pulls out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll before turning the screen toward her.

Hailey leans in slightly, and the moment stretches between them.

The picture is of Will holding Olivia in one arm, Owen perched on the other, grinning at the camera. Olivia is all round cheeks, big brown eyes, and wisps of red hair curling over her forehead, a tiny fist grabbing onto Will’s shirt.

Jay watches as Hailey’s lips part slightly, her gaze softening.

“She looks like Will,” Hailey murmurs, tilting her head slightly. Then, a softer smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “But she’s got the Natalies’ eyes.”

Jay smirks. “Yeah. She’s already got my brother wrapped around her finger.”

Hailey’s smile lingers, but there’s something else in her expression—a quiet, flickering sadness she doesn’t bother to hide.

Jay sees it now. Feels it.

It’s more than just losing track of time—it’s the ache of being on the outside of something she once belonged to.

The door swings open again.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice says casually.

Jay looks up just as Meghan from 2A steps inside. She’s tall and blonde, dressed in her usual post-gym attire—leggings and a fitted hoodie, earbuds slung around her neck. Her cheerful expression brightens further when she notices him, her eyes briefly lingering on the fresh bandage on his forehead.

“Ouch,” Meghan comments lightly, gesturing at his injury as she moves toward her mailbox. “Rough day at the office?”

Jay touches his forehead lightly, shrugging. “Occupational hazard.”

Meghan hums sympathetically. “You know, I have a great essential oil blend, and there's also this wound energy practice I swear by. Both really speed up healing and help balance things out.”

Jay offers a polite smile, a hint of humor glinting in his eyes—but from the corner of his eye, he catches Hailey rolling hers. “Appreciate it, but I’ll stick with the band-aid.”

She laughs good-naturedly, pulling open her mailbox. “Suit yourself. Haven’t seen you around lately, though. Watching the games alone?”

“Yeah, schedule’s been a little crazy,” he admits.

Meghan nods thoughtfully, flipping through her mail. “Makes sense. The party’s quieter without you.”

Jay lets out a light chuckle—but he notices it immediately. The way Hailey stiffens beside him, her posture tightening just slightly. It’s subtle, but not lost on him.

“Doubt that. Mark’s still there, right?”

Meghan huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, he’s there alright. But hey, a few of us were thinking about grabbing drinks this weekend if you feel like catching up. You should come.”

Jay keeps his tone neutral. “I’ll see how things go.”

“No pressure,” Meghan says casually, eyes twinkling. She slips an envelope into her hoodie pocket, smiling warmly. “By the way, you’ve gotta see my new doormat—spring flowers. It's adorable.”

Jay raises an amused eyebrow. “Another one?”

“What can I say?” Meghan shrugs playfully, her smile bright as she reaches out and gives Jay’s arm a light, friendly squeeze. ”They make me happy.”

Jay nods, then sneaks a glance at Hailey. She’s focused on sorting through her envelopes now with just a little too much concentration.

She closes her mailbox a little harder than necessary, the metal clanging shut with a thud. He doesn’t miss it—or the slight purse of her lips, the tension in her shoulders.

She’s irritated.

But it’s not just that.

There’s something else flickering beneath the surface. Something sharp and fleeting.

And Jay feels it land somewhere deep in his chest—not as a triumph, not even as relief. Just... confirmation.

She still cares.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. He just watches her, something softer edging into his expression.

“Something wrong?” he asks gently.

Hailey doesn’t look up. “Nope.”

His voice stays quiet, careful. “You sure?”

She exhales sharply, stuffing the mail under her arm like she’s trying not to let it show. “All good. See you around, Jay.”

And then she’s gone—turning on her heel, walking out of the mailroom a little too quickly, her steps a little too pointed.

Jay watches the door swing closed behind her, the echo of her departure lingering longer than it should.

He exhales, gaze dropping to the envelope still in his hand.

That flicker of jealousy—small as it was—sits with him. Not because it stung, but because it meant something.

Because maybe, beneath all the noise and history and heartbreak... she’s not done with him either.

Chapter Text

Hailey shuts her apartment door a little harder than necessary, the sound echoing in the quiet space. She leans against it, her fingers tightening around the stack of mail she picked up from the mailroom as she stares blankly at the floor. Her pulse is still slightly erratic, and she knows exactly why.

The woman—blond-haired, effortlessly pretty, all smiles and flirty laughter—was clearly flirting with Jay. Leaning in just a little too close, laughing a little too loud. And Jay? He didn’t flirt back, didn’t even encourage it, but he also didn’t stop it. Not that he has to. He’s free to do whatever he wants.

He isn’t hers.

The thought makes her stomach churn.

She tosses the mail onto the counter and makes a beeline for the fridge, yanking it open without any real intention of grabbing something. She stares at the contents, eyes unfocused, her mind replaying the scene. 

Jay was polite. Friendly. He has that natural ease about him that people gravitate toward. The woman—what was her name again? Melanie? Morgan?—was all too eager to soak up his attention. And Hailey? She did a shit job at pretending it didn’t bother her.

She shuts the fridge with an exasperated sigh and presses her hands against it. What the hell is wrong with me? She has spent weeks— months —trying to keep herself detached, and yet one interaction, one moment of watching another woman try to get Jay’s attention, unraveled her composure completely.

The worst part? He noticed. The flicker of confusion in his eyes when she cut her gaze away too quickly, the way he shifted like he wanted to say something but held back. He read her, the way he always has, and she hates that he can still do that so easily.

She pushes away from the fridge, pacing her small kitchen as frustration bubbles up inside her. He doesn’t get to still have this hold on me. But no matter how many times she tells herself that, it doesn’t change the reality that he does —in ways she isn’t ready to admit.

She runs a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. Maybe a run will help. Something to clear her mind before she does something reckless—like knock on his door and demand an explanation he doesn’t owe her.

Yeah, a run. That’s exactly what she needs.

She changes quickly, slipping into her running clothes and tying her sneakers with more force than necessary. The second she steps into the hallway, she pauses, rolling her shoulders back, willing the lingering frustration clawing at her insides to leave.

But as soon as she pulls her door shut and turns toward the elevator, the doors slide open. And there he is.

Jay steps out, pausing when he sees her. His gaze flickers down to her clothes, then back up to her face. "Going for a run?"

Hailey forces  herself to keep her expression neutral. "Yeah."

He nods, shifting on his feet like he wants to say more, but she doesn’t give him the chance. She exhales sharply, mutters a quick, "See you around," and moves past him toward the stairs instead.

She doesn’t look back, but she feels his eyes on her the entire way.

The run helps. The steady rhythm of her feet hitting the pavement, the cool evening air against her skin, the burn in her muscles—it all helps her settle the mess of thoughts in her head. By the time she returns to the building, she feels lighter, calmer. The weight in her chest isn’t entirely gone, but it’s manageable now, just a small gnawing feeling in the back of her mind.

Back in her apartment, she peels off her sweaty clothes and steps into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the tension lingering in her body. As she stands under the stream, she remembers she has no food in the fridge. I really need to get back to meal prepping. She used to be better about it, but lately, takeout has been her default.

She dries off, throws on comfortable clothes, and pulls her phone off the counter, scrolling through her usual takeout options. Just as she’s about to place an order, a knock sounds at her door.

After a second, she sets the phone down and steps quietly toward the door. Pausing, she leans in and looks through the peephole—

Jay.

Of course.

She exhales slowly, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

He stands there, that familiar, charming smile in place, holding a brown bag in one hand. The scent of warm food drifts into her apartment, rich and inviting.

"Figured you could use a hot dinner after the run," he says casually, lifting the bag slightly.

Hailey crosses her arms, arching a brow, determined not to let him see the way her heart stutters in her chest. "You didn’t have to do that."

Jay smirks, unfazed. "I know. But I figured a hot meal after a run wouldn’t hurt." He shifts his weight, tilting his head toward the door. "Just dropping it off."

Something flickers in her chest—disappointment, maybe—but she tamps it down, keeping her expression even. She reaches for the bag, noting its unexpected weight. Her eyes lift back to him. 

"Did you already eat?" The question leaves her mouth before she can think better of it. She glances down, shifting the bag in her hands. “Because this feels heavy enough for two.”

Jay hesitates, studying her for a beat, searching. "You sure? I didn’t bring this expecting an invitation. I just figured you’d like it." His voice is casual, but there’s something genuine underneath it.

She pauses, something about the way he says it, making her stomach tighten. "But… There’s a lot of food, so you might as well eat too,” she says, stepping back to let him in.

He doesn’t argue. With a small smile, he steps inside. As Jay takes a seat at her kitchen table, Hailey watches him, a small voice in her head whispering, What are you doing? She knows she’s probably giving him mixed signals, and it’s not fair—not to him, not to herself.

Still, she grabs plates, setting them down before reaching into the bag and pulling out the containers. As she pops one open, the rich aroma of tomato sauce and herbs fills the air. Actual pasta—not just some generic takeout, but real, hearty pasta. Her brows lift slightly as she glances up at Jay.

Sliding into the chair across from him, she quirks a brow. "So… pasta?"

Jay nods as he opens the other containers. "Apparently, it's a good post-run meal."

She smirks slightly, shaking her head. "You read that somewhere?"

"Maybe." His lips twitch. "Or maybe the guy at the restaurant said so when I picked it up."

They fall into easy conversation, the tension from earlier easing slightly. Hailey asks about the tactical side of the operation, and Jay returns the question, asking how things are going for her on the intelligence side. It’s familiar—work talk, something they both understand. But underneath it all, there’s something else lingering, something neither of them is ready to address.

Before she can stop herself, she clears her throat, feigning casual interest. "So…" She hesitates, pushing a piece of pasta around her plate. "How do you know… Morgan?"

Jay glances at her, a knowing smile already playing at his lips. "You mean Meghan?"

Hailey lifts a shoulder, feigning indifference. "Right. Meghan."

Jay smirks, clearly amused. "I’ve met her a few times. Mark hosts watch parties whenever there’s a big football or hockey game, and she’s usually there." He pauses, then adds with a small shrug, "Pretty sure he’s invited you to a few of those, too."

Hailey nods slowly, poking at her food. "She seems... friendly."

Jay huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. "She’s nice. But if you’re asking if anything has happened there, the answer is no."

Her grip on her fork tightens slightly, but she forces herself to keep her expression even. Her eyes flick up to his, debating for half a second whether to deny that’s what she was asking. But Jay knows her too well.

"Weren’t you?" he teases, eyes glinting with amusement.

She rolls her eyes, setting down her fork. "I wasn’t."

Jay leans back slightly, still smiling, but his voice softens just enough to cut through the teasing. “Good. Because Meghan’s not really my type.” He pauses, eyes lingering on hers a beat longer than necessary. “Already got someone else on my mind.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s half-hearted at best—more instinct than irritation. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before she can stop it. “Yeah, well... your taste must’ve taken a hit somewhere along the way.”

It comes out lightly, meant to deflect, but there’s a familiar undercurrent to it—something a little raw, a little too honest. She doesn’t look directly at him when she says it, as if it might make the words feel too real.

But then he speaks, and it knocks the breath out of her.

“Nah.” His voice is lower now, closer. “My taste just got sharper. You think I’d be sitting here if I didn’t know exactly what I was looking at?”

Her heart stumbles a little in her chest. She doesn’t know what to say to that—so she says nothing, letting the warmth of his words settle between them, heavier than she expected. And maybe… exactly what she needed to hear.

“So… how’s the tactical team treating you?” It’s clumsy, the shift, and they both know it. But Jay lets her have it—for a moment.

“Everyone has been very welcoming,” he says, then tilts his head, studying her with that quiet, perceptive look that always sees too much. “Are you overthinking this dinner?”

She scoffs slightly. "What?"

"Are you debating whether asking me to join you was a mistake?"

The question lands softly, but it lingers.

Hailey doesn’t answer right away. She just looks at him—really looks at him. The easy way he’s settled into the chair across from her, the quiet steadiness in his eyes, the way he’s not pushing—just showing up . 

And no, she doesn’t think it was a mistake.

If anything, having him here feels… steadying. Familiar. Like something inside her finally stopped spinning, even just for a second.

She’s scared, sure. She’s still sorting through everything. But she doesn’t regret this.

Not even a little.

Jay exhales, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re having dinner.” He hesitates, then lets the truth slip out before he can overthink it. “I miss this,” he says quietly. Then, after a beat, his eyes lift to hers. “I miss having dinner with you.”

The words land with more weight than she expects. Not dramatic. Not overplayed. Just honest. And that makes it harder to ignore.

He shifts slightly, like he’s aware of the line he’s toeing—maybe even stepping over it. “And yeah, I know that probably crosses some unspoken boundary we’ve been trying to tiptoe around.” He gives a faint shrug, no pressure behind the words. “You can call me out on it if you want.”

She swallows, her fingers brushing the rim of her glass. She could call him out. Could throw up another wall and pretend none of this is getting to her.

But she doesn’t.

For a second, she considers brushing it off, making a joke, but the way he’s looking at her—earnest, steady—makes it impossible. Instead, she clears her throat, forcing herself to keep her voice even. "Yeah," she says, her gaze flickering away before meeting his again. "I miss this, too."

Jay holds her gaze, something unreadable passing through his expression. Then, just when it feels like the air between them might crack under the weight of it all, he smirks. "At least this way, I can make sure you’re not just surviving on coffee and protein bars."

Hailey huffs, grateful for the comic relief. “For the record, I do meal prep—I just ran out. I eat decent meals, okay?"

Jay grins, leaning back in his chair. "Uh-huh. And by ‘meal prep,’ you mean throwing together a sad excuse for a meal and calling it a day?"

Hailey narrows her eyes. "No, actual meal prep. I cook, portion, the whole deal."

Jay tilts his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Without setting off a smoke alarm?"

She scoffs. "Wow, okay. First of all, that happened once —and it was the oven’s fault, not mine." Then she levels him with a look. "And you of all people know I can cook. You practically inhaled every meal I made."

Jay chuckles, holding up his hands. "Alright, alright. I admit it—you did make a damn good pastitsio."

Hailey lifts a brow. "And?"

Jay sighs dramatically. "And your spanakopita wasn’t bad either."

Hailey shoots him a playful glare. "Not bad ? You begged me to make extra every time I did."

Jay leans in slightly, grinning. "Alright, fine. It was great. But I had to keep you humble."

She shakes her head, muttering, "Unbelievable," before picking up her fork again. "I like cooking, I just don’t always have the extra time to grocery shop for elaborate meals—especially when it’s just me."  

Jay nods, understanding. "So what’s on the menu these days? Let me guess—grilled chicken, rice, and veggies?"

Hailey lifts her chin. "Actually, yes. And sometimes pasta. And stir-fry."

Jay watches her for a moment, something softer in his expression, but doesn’t say anything. 

Hailey lifts a shoulder. "It makes things easier. Long days, unpredictable hours… at least I know I have something hot to eat."

Jay nods, his gaze lingering. "That makes sense." There’s no teasing now, just quiet understanding. "It’s good—you taking care of yourself."

She exhales, stirring her pasta idly with her fork. "I just haven’t this past week. Turns out working non-stop doesn’t leave much room for grocery shopping, or Sunday prep sessions."

Jay nods knowingly. "Tell me about it. I think I’ve eaten more takeout this past couple of months  than I did in the last five combined."

She raises a brow. "You? The guy who actually learned to cook?” 

"I know,” he says, grinning. "Maybe we both need to get our act together."

The words settle between them, heavier than they should be.

She is sure he means the small things—eating better, keeping up with their own lives. But Hailey hears something else, something deeper. We both need to figure this out. What we’re doing. Where this is going.

She swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of the space between them, of how easy it would be to close it.

"Yeah," she says finally, her voice softer now. "Maybe we do."

Jay studies her, like he’s waiting for her to say more. But she doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she picks up her fork and takes another bite, pretending the weight of his words isn’t still lingering in the air between them. For a beat, silence stretches—not uncomfortable, but heavy. Hailey can feel it pressing in, threatening to pull her into a conversation she isn’t sure she’s ready for.

Then Jay clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "So, how’s Nina? Still keeping you in check?"

Relief flickers in Hailey’s chest. She welcomes the shift. She exhales, a quiet chuckle slipping out. "She tries. She’s been side-eyeing me a lot lately, though."

Jay tilts his head, smirking. "Why’s that?"

She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "I think she’s suspicious of me."

His lips quirk. "Suspicious how?"

Hailey hesitates for a second, then lifts her fork, pointing it at him. "Because you left, and she thinks it had something to do with… us."

Jay lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well… she’s not entirely wrong. She’s sharp."

Hailey takes another bite, keeping her expression neutral, though her stomach tightens slightly. "Yeah, she is," she mutters. "Too good, honestly. She doesn’t let things go." She exhales, shaking her head. "And now that she knows? She’s invested—like, fully committed to figuring it all out."

Jay tilts his head, amused. "Figuring us out?"

Hailey huffs, stabbing at her pasta. "Yeah. And trust me, she’s relentless."

Jay tilts his head, watching her. "What is even there to figure out?” 

Hailey hesitates, her fork hovering over her plate. She keeps her eyes down, pretending to focus on her food, but she can feel Jay’s gaze on her, steady and unrelenting. 

"Too much," she says finally, voice quieter. "And too complicated."

She reaches for her water, taking a slow sip, using the moment to steady herself. Then, with a forced lightness, she mutters, “Nina would love this conversation.” A wry smile tugs at her lips as she sets the glass down.  “She’d want nothing more than to be a fly on the wall, listening in.” 

Jay chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds about right. Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t bug the salt shaker just in case we ever ate in the breakroom together.”

Hailey snorts, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

The words slip out easily, and for the first time tonight, she actually means the smile that follows.

Jay’s gaze lingers on her, something softer passing between them. For a second, she wonders if he’ll push. But then he exhales, nodding as he shifts the conversation back to work—to something easier, safer.

And she lets him.

Not because she doesn’t want more—but because this, whatever this is, feels like a beginning.

A quiet dinner. A little honesty.

And the smallest, most terrifying step toward something she hasn’t let herself want in a long time.

This is her starting to let him in.

Knowing what happened before. Remembering how much it hurt. And still—choosing to open her heart anyway.

She’s not sure where it leads. But tonight, she doesn’t need to know.

And for once… she’s okay with that.

x

For nearly a week, Hailey goes without seeing Jay. No run-ins in the hallway, no shared elevator rides, no unexpected moments in the laundry room. It’s like the universe pressed pause on whatever pull had been dragging them back into each other’s orbit.

At first, she tells herself it’s a good thing—space is good, clarity is good. But by day four, she catches herself listening for his door when she gets home. Day five, she almost texts him, then deletes the message before she even types out the words.

By day six, she convinces herself she’s overthinking it.

Then, on day seven, she comes home late, exhaustion pressing into her bones as she reaches her door. That’s when she sees it—two brown paper grocery bags sitting neatly by her threshold.

Hailey stills, blinking at them. A small sticky note is attached to the top bag. She plucks it off, her pulse kicking up slightly as she reads the words.

What happens next is up to you - J 

Hailey exhales sharply, pressing her lips together. She stares at the note for a moment longer before setting it down, her eyes flickering back to the bags of groceries, checking what’s inside.

And sure enough, when she peeks into the bag, she finds phyllo dough, spinach, feta, and fresh herbs. She lets out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

Spanakopita.

Of course.

She picks up the bags but hesitates, her fingers curling around the handles as her gaze drifts toward Jay’s apartment door. It’s closed, silent, giving away nothing.

For a second, she considers knocking. Saying thank you, acknowledging the quiet gesture in some way.

But something stops her.

Instead, she exhales, shifting the bags in her arms as she unlocks her door and steps inside. The quiet hum of her apartment feels louder than usual as she sets the groceries on the counter, her fingers lingering on the edge of the bags, staring at the ingredients in front of her.

It’s such a Jay thing to do. Thoughtful in a way that sneaks up on her.

Her fingers graze the sticky note again. What happens next is up to you. 

A choice. Left entirely in her hands.

Hailey exhales, leaning against the counter. She could ignore it, pretend it means nothing.

But it does.

She could overthink it, let herself spiral into all the complications, all the reasons she should keep her distance.

Or she could just… cook.

For herself.

Maybe for him.

Before she can think twice, she’s already rolling up her sleeves.

x

Jay nearly trips over the container when he steps into the hallway.

It’s late—he’s only now getting home after a long day, his brain fogged with exhaustion. But the moment he sees it, sitting neatly in front of his door, he knows exactly who it’s from.

His lips twitch as he crouches down, picking up the container. There’s a note stuck to the lid, Hailey’s handwriting unmistakable.

You started this. Here’s your share. - H

Jay huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he glances toward Hailey’s door, debating. He could knock, say something, acknowledge the gesture.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he steps inside his own apartment, setting the container on the counter. He peels back the lid, and the scent of buttery, flaky pastry mixed with feta and herbs fills the air. He exhales, something warm settling in his chest.

For a moment, he just stands there, staring at it. Then, he pulls a fork from the drawer, leaning against the counter as he takes his first bite. It’s exactly like he remembers—perfect layers, just the right amount of crisp, the kind of food that hits somewhere deeper than just hunger. It’s comfort. It’s memory.

It’s her.

Hailey didn’t have to do this. She could have ignored the groceries, ignored him. But instead, she left this—her way of answering whatever silent conversation they are having now.

Jay swallows and sets the fork down, his gaze drifting toward the door. He has a choice to make—and deep down, he already knows what he’s going to do.

A few days pass before he acts. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he knows himself. Knows her. Knows how easy it would be to fall back into old patterns—to become something again before she’s ready.

He doesn't rush.

But the idea lingers.

By the time Friday morning rolls around, he doesn’t wait anymore.

Jay moves through his apartment with quiet purpose, grabbing his keys and shrugging into his jacket before reaching for the small takeout container he picked up on his way home the night before.

Inside, a single slice of baklava.

He hesitates for only a second in front of Hailey’s door before crouching down and setting the container neatly against the threshold. Then, pulling a sticky note from his pocket, he scrawls out a message in quick, deliberate strokes before pressing it onto the lid.

He straightens, glancing at her door one last time before heading down the hallway. 

By the time he reaches work, his mind has already shifted gears. 

Today, they are finally targeting one of the cartel’s major safe houses—a critical strike after weeks of meticulous planning. The team has gathered intel, mapped out the perimeter, and accounted for every possible outcome. But every agent knows—there’s no such thing as a perfect raid.

Jay stands at the back of the tactical van, fingers tightening around the straps of his vest as he triple-checks his gear. The weight of his rifle is familiar against his chest, grounding him as Garcia runs through final instructions. The air inside the van is thick with quiet tension, the kind that settles just before the chaos.

His earpiece crackles. Comms are live, feeding them real-time updates from their eyes in the sky.

The target: a cartel safe house—one of their biggest yet. Weeks of surveillance, wiretaps, and informant leads have led to this moment. More than just a drug operation, this location is suspected to be holding hostages— children .

The objective: get in, secure the hostages, neutralize the threats.

It should be by the book.

It isn’t.

The moment the front door blows open, the world erupts into chaos.

"Shots fired! We have movement inside!" someone shouts over the comms.

Gunfire explodes around them, the deafening crack of rounds ricocheting off concrete walls. Flashbang smoke lingers in the air, distorting shadows as their suspects scatter like cockroaches in the dimly lit space.

Jay moves with precision, leading his team through the breach. Boots pound against the floor as they clear room after room, adrenaline surging through his veins.

"West hallway clear!"

"Moving to secure hostages!"

The shouts are controlled, efficient—until a scream cuts through the comms. A different scream. Close.

Jay pivots sharply, heart hammering, eyes sweeping the corridor. That’s when he sees it—Garcia, a step ahead, exposed. And a figure emerging from the shadows, weapon raised, taking aim.

Jay doesn’t think. He lunges, shoving Garcia hard to the side—just as the muzzle flashes.

Pain explodes through Jay’s side, sharp and immediate. His body jerks from the impact, a searing heat tearing through him as he drops to the ground, the echo of the shot still ringing in his ears.

"Agent down! Agent down!"

The words echo in his earpiece, distant and distorted. His legs buckle, and he staggers, pressing a hand to his side. His fingers come away wet and slick. Blood. Too much of it.

"Halstead’s hit!" another voice confirms. "We need medics now!"

Jay blinks hard, fighting to stay upright, but the walls tilt around him. The gunfire, the shouting—it all starts to blur, his body suddenly too heavy, too weak.

"Jay! Talk to me!" someone yells, but the voice barely registers.

His ears ring, his pulse a deafening roar in his head. His vision swims, the edges going dark, but something anchors him— Hailey.

Her voice. Her touch. The way she looked at him the last time they spoke.

He wants to tell her he remembers it all—every quiet moment, every stolen glance, every feeling he thought he had buried.

But the words never form.

Strong hands grip him, dragging him toward safety. Someone is shouting his name, but it feels like it's coming from underwater.

"Stay with me, Halstead!"

The floor rushes up to meet him.

And then—nothing.

x

Hailey has been sent home early. 

Well— early for her. Which means on time for everyone else.

She’d wanted to stay longer. To be part of the surveillance team, watching the raid go down tonight. The raid—the big one they’d been planning for weeks, the one that could shift everything in their favor.

And more than that, she had wanted to see it.

See him .

Jay would be front and center, leading the tactical side—steady, controlled, precise. She told herself it was about the mission. About making sure everything went according to plan. But deep down, she knew better.

She just wanted to make sure he was alright.

But Daniels had clocked her tension hours ago—the clipped tone, the way she snapped at Reyes over a minor miscommunication, the restless pacing between briefing rooms. She’d been all nerves lately, fraying at the edges. He didn’t say it outright, but she saw it in the way he looked at her—concerned, measured, decisive.

“Go home, Agent Upton,” he’d said, his voice even but firm. “Everything’s under control. Rest up.”

Rest.

Right. Like that was something she was good at.

Still, she hadn’t argued. Just grabbed her things, stepped out into the cold drizzle, and made the drive home.

By the time she reaches her apartment door, she’s already pulling out her keys, bracing for the familiar silence that waits on the other side.

And then she sees it.

A small takeout container, sitting neatly in front of her door.

Hailey stills, a slow smile creeping onto her lips, hesitant at first but growing with a quiet intensity. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who left it. She exhales, dropping her keys into her bag as she bends down, picking up the container. A sticky note is pressed against the lid, his handwriting quick and deliberate.

Figured we should keep this going -J 

Her fingers linger over the note, tracing the ink absently.

Her gaze instinctively flickers toward Jay’s door. He’s not home. He’s still out there, somewhere probably in the middle of the raid, moving through chaos while she’s here.

She steps inside, setting the container on the counter before peeling back the lid.

Inside, a single slice of baklava. A quiet chuckle escapes her lips before she even realizes it.

Jay had always had a way of speaking without words, of weaving meaning into the simplest things.

She picks up the sticky note again, reading it once more before setting it aside.

This game they are playing—no, not a game. Something else. A conversation without speaking. A slow unraveling of everything that had been left unsaid.

She doesn’t text him. Not yet.

Maybe she’ll pay him a visit later—under the guise of getting the full rundown on the raid. That’s what she’ll tell herself, anyway.

She leans against the counter, taking the first bite of baklava. She closes her eyes briefly, savoring the familiar taste, letting it settle deep inside her. There’s something grounding about it, something steady in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. This… this is what she wants.

Not avoidance. Not pretending it doesn’t mean anything.

She wants this connection.

She wants him.

The realization settles over her like a slow, creeping warmth—unexpected, yet undeniable. It’s not something she fights, not this time. Because the truth is, she’s known it for a while. Maybe she’s always known.

It’s been buried beneath years of anger, hurt, and the sharp edges of what they used to be, but sitting here now, tasting the familiar sweetness of baklava, holding onto the note he left like some kind of unspoken promise—she finally lets herself feel it.

No more pretending. No more excuses.

She wants him.

Not just in fleeting moments, not just in the lingering glances or the unresolved tension crackling between them. She wants him in all the ways that matter. In the quiet moments. In the chaos. In the spaces they’ve never fully figured out how to navigate. 

She’s choosing him—despite everything.

Choosing to trust again.

To open the parts of herself she’s kept locked away, even knowing how much it hurt the last time.

She exhales, pressing her fingers against the small note again, feeling the weight of it, the weight of everything.

This isn’t just about the past. It’s about what comes next. About choosing differently this time.

They are going to keep this going. 

Hailey is nearly finished with her baklava when her phone rings.

For a split second, she thinks it’s him.

Her heart jumps—just a little—as she wipes her fingers on a napkin, reaching lazily for the phone. But the moment Nina’s name flashes across the screen, the feeling shifts—tightens, curdles into something sharp and wrong.

She swipes to answer. “Hey—”

“Hailey.” Nina’s voice is rushed, edged with something she’s never heard from her before. Fear. “Something went down during the raid.”

A chill snaps through Hailey’s spine. She bolts upright. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know everything, but—” Nina’s breath hitches, winded, like she’s moving. “Jay was hit.”

The words knock the air out of her. No time to process. Just impact.

“They’re taking him to the hospital,” Nina says, voice lower now. But it doesn’t matter—nothing softens the blow.

Hailey is already moving. “Which hospital?” she demands, snatching her keys with trembling fingers.

“I think GW—I’m waiting on confirmation—”

“I’m going.” She cuts her off, already halfway to the door.

Her eyes land on the counter. The sticky note Jay left. She grabs it, crumpling it into her fist and shoving it into her pocket without stopping.

Her jacket barely makes it onto her shoulders before she’s out the door, feet pounding down the hall.

No hesitation. No more second-guessing.

 She can’t lose him. Not again.

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead—too bright, too harsh. The emergency room reeks of antiseptic and something metallic, a sharp tang that lingers in the air. Distantly, Hailey registers the squeak of rubber soles against linoleum, the low murmur of doctors, but it all fades into the background, distant and unimportant. Her focus narrows to the pounding in her chest, the way her breath feels too tight, too shallow, as if she’s gasping for air that won’t come.

She has been here before.

Not here exactly, but in this moment. The fear, the helplessness—the terrifying, gut-wrenching realization that Jay is hurt and she can’t do anything about it.

She pushes through a second set of sliding doors, her FBI badge clutched in her trembling fingers as she approaches the front desk. “Hi—” Her voice catches. She swallows hard, forcing herself to focus. “Jay Halstead. He was brought in—just now, I think. He’s a cop–”

“Are you family?” The nurse barely looks up, typing something into the computer.

Hailey stills. Family. That word feels wrong and right all at once. She doesn’t know what she is anymore. Ex-wife. Partner. Something else entirely.

“I—” She swallows, pulling out her badge, flipping it open to show the nurse. “I’m with the FBI.”

The nurse hesitates, eyes flicking to Hailey’s badge before shifting uncomfortably. “He was brought in with a gunshot wound. The doctors are with him now.” She glances at the screen again, then shakes her head gently. “Someone will come out with an update as soon as they can. In the meantime, there’s a waiting room just down the hall.”

Haliey’s doesn't move. Her body is locked in place, muscles straining like she might snap. She stands there, hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms, but she barely registers the sting. She wants to move, scream, demand answers—but she can’t. It’s like her limbs won’t cooperate, like her brain is buffering through the panic.

The nurse clears her throat, pulling Hailey from her spiraling thoughts. "Ma’am,” she says gently, voice softening, “The trauma team here is one of the best. They’re doing everything they can. As soon as there’s an update, someone will come out and talk to you. But for now…” She gestures down the hall. “I would suggest going to the waiting room.”

Hailey still doesn’t move. Can’t. She needs more, something solid to hold on to. She swallows, forcing her voice steady, but the crack in it betrays her. “Can you at least tell me—” She stops, gritting her teeth. She knows pressing won’t change anything, but standing here, helpless, is unbearable. “Was he—" She hesitates, hating the tremor in her tone. "Was he stable when they brought him in?”

The nurse’s lips press into a thin line. “I can’t say.” The nurse’s expression softens, but she still shakes her head. “The doctors are working on him. As soon as there’s any updates, I’ll let you know.”

Hailey exhales sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead. The sterile scent of the ER clings to her lungs, suffocating, while the fluorescent lights remain too harsh, too bright. It’s unbearable. 

Thoughts ricochet inside her skull, sharp and relentless, slicing through her composure like a blade. She barely registers the sound of her name being called.

“Hailey.”

She turns sharply, heart still racing, and finds Nina and Garcia approaching.

Nina’s dark eyes are filled with concern, her brows pinched together, tension radiating from every inch of her. Beside her, Garcia stands stiffly, his jaw locked, his worry evident even in his silence.

Without hesitation, Nina steps forward and pulls Hailey into a tight hug. It’s firm, grounding—offering comfort without needing words. Hailey stiffens at first, her body still wired with tension, but then, as the weight of everything crashes over her, she exhales shakily and lets herself sink into it. Let’s herself cry. 

Nina doesn’t speak. She just holds on, steady and unwavering.

Hailey pulls away from Nina, her gaze immediately shifting to Garcia. She wipes at her eyes, swallowing hard before forcing out the words. “What happened?”

Garcia exhales, running a hand over his face. “We had a plan. SWAT was locking down the front, we moved in through the back. Jay and I were sweeping the second floor when it all went to hell. The target wasn’t alone like we thought. One of his guys came out of nowhere—aimed right at me. Jay didn’t hesitate. He pushed me out of the way, took the hit before I even saw the guy.”

Hailey’s stomach clenches.

“He went down,” Garcia says, voice tight and uneven. “Didn’t even have time to fire back. I got the shooter, but Jay—” He breaks off, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He was bleeding. I—I didn’t even know where it was coming from at first, and…” He trails off, jaw clenched, eyes darting away. Hailey’s gaze drops to his hands—fingers trembling slightly, stained faintly red. He must’ve tried to wash it off, but the blood still clings to his skin, settled into the creases like a memory that won’t let go.

She swallows, her throat burning. “How bad, Garcia?”

Garcia doesn’t answer right away.

“Garcia,” Hailey’s snaps, then exhales sharply, regret hitting instantly. She presses her fingers to her temple. “Just—please,” her voice drops, almost pleading. “How bad?”

He exhales heavily. “The bullet went through his side. No exit wound. They had to stabilize him in the field before transport. There was a lot of blood.”

Hailey squeezes her eyes shut.

Nina places a hand on her arm, her grip gentle but firm. “He’ll pull through.”

Hailey nods, but she doesn’t trust herself to speak. The weight in her chest is suffocating, pressing down harder with every passing second. Nina nudges her gently, and they follow Garcia down the hallway toward the waiting room.

Inside, the room is already packed with FBI agents. The second Hailey walks in, all eyes land on her. Conversations hush, tension thick in the air. She feels the weight of their concern, their unspoken questions, but she has no answers to give.

Behind her, a chair scrapes against the floor. Garcia sinks into it, rubbing a hand down his face. “I keep replaying it. If I had just looked—”

“Don’t,” Hailey cuts in, again sharper than she intends. Her eyes snap to his, burning with emotion. “We’re not doing that.” She swallows hard, her voice softening. “Jay would’ve taken that bullet a hundred times over if it meant someone else didn’t have to.”

Garcia exhales but doesn’t argue. He just nods, his jaw tightening.

Hailey presses her lips together and steps away, moving toward an empty chair. But she doesn’t sit. She can’t. Her body is wired, buzzing with restless energy she doesn’t know what to do with—like she needs to run, to do something, anything, but all she can do is wait.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. She doesn’t know. She paces, fingers gripping the edge of Jay’s note in her pocket, her mind spiraling through worst-case scenarios she can’t stop.

The waiting room remains eerily quiet except for the occasional rustle of papers, the hushed murmur of agents exchanging quiet words. Hailey keeps moving, unable to sit still, the tension in her limbs refusing to settle.

Then, the waiting room door opens, but it’s Daniels walking in. His face is unreadable as his gaze sweeps over the room before landing on her. He strides over, his expression a careful mix of concern and control. “Upton,” he greets, his voice low. “Any news?”

Hailey swallows hard and shakes her head, because she doesn’t trust herself to say anything.

Daniels nods, glancing at Garcia and Nina before exhaling. “We’re keeping things tight on the investigation end. No leaks, no unnecessary chatter.”

Hailey barely nods, her focus still caught in the uncertainty of the moment. She expects Daniels to move on, but then another figure steps into the room.

No one else seems to recognize him, but Daniels does. He gives a slight wave, gesturing him over. “Richard,” he greets, his tone carefully neutral.

The older man’s presence commands attention. He doesn’t hesitate as he walks straight toward them, his expression unreadable. “Michael,” comes the reply with a nod before glancing at the others.

Daniels clears his throat, shifting slightly. “This is Sergeant Richard Donavan,” he says, addressing Hailey, Nina, and Garcia. “Jay’s overseeing supervisor.” 

Then, turning to Donavan, he gestures toward them. “Rich, this is Special Agent Hailey Upton,” he says first, his tone measured.  Donavan’s gaze settles on Hailey for a moment, as if assessing her. “Agent Nina Reyes, report analyst.” Nina nods in acknowledgment. “And Agent Marco Garcia, tactical operations,” Daniels finishes, with a nod toward Garcia.

Donavan takes it all in before returning his attention to Hailey. “I take it no updates yet?”

Hailey shakes her head, pressing her lips together. “Not yet.”

Donavan nods slowly, his gaze flicking to Daniels before settling back on the team. “Jay’s a damn good cop,” he says, matter-of-fact. “He’s too damn stubborn to stay down. Built like a damn tank. It’d take more than a bullet to keep him down.”

Hailey nods—once, barely—but her eyes flick away, blinking fast, like she’s trying to force down the swell of emotion tightening her chest.

Daniels exhales, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Has his family been contacted?” he asks, glancing at Donavan.

Richard shakes his head. “He’s got a brother in Seattle.”

Before she can think twice, Hailey speaks. “I can call him.”

The words slip out without hesitation, and the moment they do, she feels the weight of several pairs of eyes shifting to her. A quiet beat of silence follows, heavy with unspoken questions.

But Hailey is too wired to care. Too strung tight to deal with the fact that her having Jay’s brother’s number should raise questions. Right now, it doesn’t matter. She swallows hard, already reaching for her phone. “It will be better if he hears it from me.”

Hailey steps out into the hallway, gripping her phone tightly as she dials Will’s number. The moment he answers, she forces herself to speak, to break the news as steadily as she can, but it’s harder than she expected. Saying the words out loud makes them feel heavier, more real. 

She keeps it brief—Jay was shot, he is in surgery. There’s a long pause on the other end before Will responds, his decision immediate. He’s getting on the first flight out. Before hanging up, he asks her to keep him updated, to call the second anything changes. She promises she will, even though the thought of making another call like this twists something deep in her chest. 

When the line goes dead, she exhales shakily, swallows back the emotion pressing at her throat, then turns and heads back into the waiting room.

Minutes stretch into an eternity. She continues to pace, restless, unable to sit still. Nina and Garcia remain nearby. Donavan eventually lowers himself into a chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Daniels steps aside to take a call but doesn’t go far. 

After a while, Nina exhales, watching Hailey make another pass across the waiting room. “At this rate, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” she says lightly, but there’s a thread of concern beneath the attempt at humor.

Hailey barely hears her.

Nina stands, brushing her hands down her jeans. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.” 

Hailey shakes her head immediately. “I don’t want to miss anything.” Her eyes flick toward the door, sharp with tension. “In case the doctor comes out—I want to be here.”

Nina hesitates, then nods, not pushing. “Okay,” she says simply, but she doesn’t sit back down either. Instead, she stays close, arms crossed, like she’s standing guard with her.

Time blurs.

Hailey doesn’t know how long it’s been when finally, the doors swing open. The sharp sound cuts through the tense air, and everyone in the room stills. A doctor steps inside, scanning the room before spotting their group. He walks toward them with measured steps, flipping through a chart as he approaches.

Hailey’s heart slams against her ribs. She feels Nina shift beside her, Garcia straighten. Donavan stands. Daniels returns, his gaze sharp.

The doctor stops in front of them, tucking the chart under his arm. “You’re here for Jay Halstead?”

“Yes,” Hailey says instantly, her voice tight.

The doctor nods, his expression calm but serious. “He’s made it through surgery.”

The words hit like a sudden gasp of air after being underwater too long. Hailey’s knees nearly give out.

“But,” the doctor continues, his tone measured, “his condition remains critical. The bullet was lodged deep, and the surgery was complicated. We were able to control the bleeding and repair the damage, but he lost a significant amount of blood.” He pauses just long enough to let it sink in. “He’s stable for now, but we’ve admitted him to the ICU for close monitoring. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial.”

Hailey sways slightly, trying to process it all. Nina reaches out, steadying her with a hand to her arm.

Hailey swallows hard. “Is he awake?”

The doctor shakes his head. “Not yet. He’s still sedated to manage pain and give his body time to rest. But I’d like to start easing off the sedation as soon as it’s safe. Barring any complications, he should begin to wake within the next several hours.”

A beat of silence follows, the air still heavy with tension—though a thread of relief begins to settle in.

The doctor shifts slightly, his tone softening. “If you'd like to see him, we’re allowing brief visits—but only one person at a time while he’s in the ICU.”

No one moves at first. Then Nina glances at Hailey and says softly, “You should go first.”

Hailey hesitates, feeling the weight of the eyes on her, but no one argues. So she swallows hard, steadies herself, and follows the doctor down the hall—her pulse hammering louder with every step. With each footfall, the dread sinks deeper into her chest, her breath tightening as she braces for whatever she’s about to face.

When the doctor pushes open the door, she hesitates for just a second before stepping inside.

The room is dimly lit, the only sounds are the steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft hiss of oxygen. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic stings her nose, and her stomach twists at the sight of him—Jay, lying motionless against the stark white sheets.

A thin nasal cannula rests beneath his nose. An IV is taped to his hand, connected to a bag of clear fluid hanging beside the bed. Another line feeds into his other arm, the deep red of a blood transfusion slow and steady. Wires run from beneath his hospital gown to the cardiac monitor, the green line pulsing with each beat.

He looks fragile in a way she’s never seen before—too pale, too still, like one wrong breath might break him. Even before, it wasn’t like this. She remembers finding him sitting up in bed, talking, stubborn and sharp despite everything. But now, he’s silent. Still. And that terrifies her more than anything.

Hailey pulls in a slow, uneven breath—then her legs give out beneath her, and she sinks into the chair beside the bed before she even realizes she’s doing it. The adrenaline that kept her pacing the waiting room for hours has finally burned out, leaving her drained.

For a long moment, she just sits there, frozen, eyes locked on the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Reassuring herself that he’s breathing. That he’s still here.

Her fingers twitch against her lap. She wants to reach for his hand, to feel the warmth of his skin against hers—but she hesitates. Instead, she clasps her hands together, staring at him, forcing back the spiral of dark thoughts. She refuses to go there. Refuses to think the worst—that after everything…

No. She won’t.

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper. “And here I am, facing the same realization as before—just hoping I’ll get the chance to finally say the words out loud to you.”

The words feel too raw, too much like a confession. She exhales shakily, shaking her head at herself.

Her gaze drifts to the monitors, the IV, all of it keeping him tethered to this room. Keeping him here . 

“You’re gonna hate this,” she says softly, forcing out a weak, humorless huff. “Being stuck here, hooked up to all these machines.” She swallows, a faint smirk ghosting across her lips despite the tightness in her chest. “I wonder how long it’ll take before you ask me to break you out.”

Her throat tightens. Slowly, she rises to her feet, the chair scraping softly against the floor. She lingers there for a moment, unsure—then takes a small step closer. Her fingers twitch at her side before she lifts a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes, trying to steady herself. She exhales, the sound soft and shaky.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she whispers, her voice just barely holding steady. “Again.” 

She finally reaches for his hand then, hesitating just briefly before her fingers wrap around his. He’s warm, solid. Her thumb brushes gently over his knuckles.

“So just… stay, okay?” she whispers, her voice low but steadier now. “Because this… whatever this is—it’s not over. We still have more to figure out.” She swallows hard, then adds quietly, “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

x 

Jay drifts toward consciousness like he's swimming against a heavy current, his body sluggish, his mind foggy.

The first thing he registers is the sound—soft murmurs just beyond his reach, the distant beeping of machines, the quiet hum of something mechanical. The next is the pain. It’s dull at first, a distant ache threading through his body, but the more he wakes, the sharper it becomes—a deep, burning pull in his side, like something heavy is pressing down on him.

He tries to move, but his limbs feel disconnected, weighed down by exhaustion. A low groan escapes him before he can stop it, his throat raw and dry, like he hasn’t spoken in days.

The voices nearby shift—someone moves, a chair scraping lightly against the floor.

“Jay?”

The voice is familiar, cutting through the haze in his head, but it takes him a second to place it. Feels like his brain is working through molasses, everything slow and unsteady.

He forces his eyes open, but the light is too much, stabbing into his skull. He winces, blinking hard against the glare. Everything is blurred at first—just shapes and shadows shifting around him—but then, gradually, things come into focus.

The sterile white of the ceiling. The dull blue of the walls. The IV line taped to his hand.

Hospital.

Memories flicker in and out, fragmented and distant. The mission. The second floor. A flash of movement. Then—nothing. 

A fresh wave of pain rolls through him, forcing his breath out in a slow, shaky exhale. He tilts his head slightly, blinking against the dryness in his eyes. A figure moves into view, and this time, he recognizes her immediately.

Hailey.

She’s leaning forward, her face tight with something unreadable, but there’s relief there too—hidden in the way her shoulders lose some of their tension, in the way her lips part slightly, like she’s exhaling a breath she’s been holding for too long.

Jay blinks again, his thoughts still sluggish, struggling to piece everything together. His voice comes out hoarse, barely a rasp.

“H-Hey…” A pause. A swallow. His brow creases. “W-What… happened?”

Hailey exhales, something breaking in the sound, and then he feels it—her hand wrapping around his. It’s warm, steady, but there’s a slight tremble in her grip, like she’s holding on too tightly, like she needs this just as much as he does.

“You were shot,” she says, voice thick but even. “You remember the raid?” 

Shot.

Raid. 

The words echoes in his mind, tugging at the fragments of memory still just out of reach.

The raised gun.

Instinct.

A muzzle flash.

His gaze drifts to Hailey, taking her in through the haze still clouding his mind. She looks exhausted—but not the kind that comes from a long day. It’s deeper, heavier, like the weight of the past few hours—or days; he doesn’t know how much time has passed—has settled into her bones. And there’s something else, too. Something raw in her eyes, like she’s still trying to convince herself he’s really here.

He tries to squeeze her hand, but it’s weak—his body still too drained to cooperate. Still, it’s enough. Enough to make Hailey inhale sharply, her grip tightening even more, her thumb brushing absently against his skin like she’s memorizing the feel of it.

“For a while…” she starts, then trails off, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallows hard, eyes flicking away. “We didn’t know…You were…” The rest doesn’t come. She doesn’t need to say it—he hears it anyway, in the silence that follows.

Jay doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that she had to sit with that uncertainty, that she had to wait —helpless, stuck in limbo, just like before. He knows what that does to a person.

“I’m here,” he rasps, forcing the words out despite how rough they sound. 

Hailey blinks rapidly, swallows hard. She nods. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Yeah, you are.”

Jay blinks sluggishly, his body heavy, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. His thoughts are slow, unfocused, but Hailey’s presence cuts through the haze, grounding him.

She exhales softly, fingers still wrapped around his, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “By the way,” she says, voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I got the baklava.”

It takes him a second to process. Then it clicks. Jay swallows, his throat dry. “Yeah?”

A faint smile ghosts across Hailey’s lips. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “It was delicious.”

Something about the way she says it—soft, careful, like it means more than just the words—settles something in his chest.

He exhales a slow, shaky breath. “Good.”

A beat. Then, his voice rasping with dryness but threaded with familiar stubbornness, he adds, “So... when can I get out of here?”

Hailey lets out a soft breath—part scoff, part laugh—as she shakes her head. “There it is,” she says, a trace of a smile tugging at her lips. “Didn’t take long.” She squeezes his hand gently. “Get some rest, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Jay doesn’t fight the pull of exhaustion this time. With her hand still in his, he lets his eyes drift closed.

x

The world comes back once again in pieces.

Jay blinks against the morning light filtering through the half-closed blinds, his vision hazy, everything soft and blurred around the edges—and God, he hates it. He knows the fog in his head is from the meds, whatever cocktail they’re pumping into him to dull the pain, but it’s twisting his memory, distorting time and thought. Nothing feels steady, and that loss of control gnaws at him.

He tries to shift, but it’s like gravity has tripled—his limbs too heavy, his body refusing to cooperate. He exhales, slow and shaky, and turns his head slightly.

That’s when he sees her.

Hailey.

She’s slumped in the chair beside his bed, one arm tucked under her head, the other still wrapped loosely around his hand. Her body is curled awkwardly, like she fought sleep until the very last second and lost. A soft strand of hair falls across her face, and for a long moment, Jay just stares at her—taking in the lines of exhaustion on her face, the tension still clinging to her even in sleep.

She stayed.

Even after everything, the unresolved chaos between them—she stayed.

Jay swallows thickly, his throat still dry and scratchy, and tries to move his fingers. He thinks the effort is small, barely noticeable, but somehow she feels it.

Her brow twitches. Then her eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the light of the hospital room. She doesn’t startle, doesn’t jerk away. She just lifts her head, eyes meeting his like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

Relief crashes across her face in a quiet wave.

“Hey,” she says, her voice still rough with sleep, but it’s soft. Careful. Like she’s afraid to speak too loud.

Jay tries to speak, but all that comes out is a dry rasp. He clears his throat and tries again. “You’re still here.”

Hailey lets out a breathy laugh—barely a sound, but he hears the emotion buried in it. “Of course I’m still here.”

A quiet pause settles between them. The hospital fades—the steady beeping of monitors, the sterile bite in the air, the pale wash of morning light. All of it slips away as Jay’s eyes drop to their joined hands. 

“I thought maybe…” he begins, his voice low and scratchy, the words catching before he can finish. But then his eyes find hers again, softer now. “You didn’t go,” he murmurs. “You stayed.”

Hailey’s eyes don’t leave his. Then she leans forward, and when she speaks, it’s so soft he almost doesn’t catch it. “Where else would I be?”

Jay exhales, a faint, disbelieving huff slipping out. “Home. Sleeping in your bed. Not stuck in this place with me.”

Her gaze flicks to the IV line in his arm, then back to him, and the corner of her mouth curves just slightly.

“I know how much you hate hospitals,” she says gently. Then, with a small lift of her brow, her voice turns lighter, teasing. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep tabs on you—make sure you don’t sneak out with an IV pole and a half-baked escape plan.”

Jay manages a smirk, his voice rough but playful. “Please. I'd rip the IV out first. Go full rogue—I’m not exactly a rookie.”

Hailey arches a brow, her lips curving into a mock challenge. “Yeah? And then what—hijack a wheelchair and charm your way past the nurses?”

Jay lets out a breath—part groan, part laugh—but the sound catches in his throat as a jolt of pain shoots through his side. He winces, and just like that, her teasing disappears.

“Pain?” she asks quickly, already glancing toward the call button.

“I’m okay,” he lies, even as the burn in his side pulses, sharp and insistent. But the truth feels too heavy, too real. He just wants to stay here—in this moment—with her.

Her eyes linger on him, skeptical and searching, worry just beneath the surface. She doesn’t push—but it’s clear she wants to. Instead, she sinks back into the chair, her fingers still wrapped around his. Jay feels the faint tremble in her touch, the slow drag of her thumb over his knuckles, like she’s trying to steady herself.

The guilt hits hard. He hates that he’s the reason she looks like she hasn’t exhaled in hours. 

“I’m sorry, Hailey,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

Hailey’s head snaps up, her eyes locking on his. “Why are you apologizing?”

He swallows. “Because I don’t deserve you being here.”

Her jaw tightens. She stares at him for a long second, emotion flickering behind her eyes.

“Maybe you don’t,” she says softly. “But I’m here anyway.” She holds his gaze—steady, unflinching. Then exhales, the sound low and even. “I know you’re probably feeling all kinds of things right now. But don’t try to push me away—Not when I’m here, choosing to stay.”

Jay’s eyes search hers, something shifting behind them—grief, pain, longing, all tangled together. He swallows hard. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, thick with emotion.

“I just… I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away.”

The words hang heavy between them, not a challenge—just a truth. Quiet and broken.

Hailey once again doesn’t answer right away. She shifts in the chair, leans in a little closer, and laces her fingers more firmly through his. Her grip steadies—warm, grounding.

“I’m choosing to stay. With you.”

Simple. Certain.

Something shifts between them—subtle at first, then sharp and insistent. Jay’s heart picks up, every beat louder than the last. Her words echo in his mind, looping over and over, weighted and quiet.

He opens his mouth, fingers tightening faintly around hers— 

But before he can speak, the door clicks open. The sound is soft, but it slices clean through the moment.

A nurse steps inside, tablet in hand and a practiced, polite smile on her face.  “Sorry to interrupt,” she says quietly. “Just need to check his vitals.”

Hailey slowly pulls her hand away—reluctant, almost hesitant—and rises from her chair to give the nurse space. Jay’s eyes stay on her, tracking every movement. Her expression has shifted—calmer now, more composed—but not closed off.

Not this time.

Before stepping back fully, she meets his gaze again. And just for a second, something flickers—warmth, steadiness, something that looks an awful lot like hope.

Jay holds onto it like a lifeline.

Because whatever this is—messy, complicated, still unresolved—it’s not gone.

It’s here.

And this time, so is she.

x

Hailey stands just a few feet away, arms loosely crossed, watching as the nurse adjusts the monitors and jots something down on her tablet. At one point, the nurse leans in, murmuring a quiet question that Hailey can’t quite hear—but she catches Jay’s slight shake of the head, the subtle tightening of his jaw. He’s refusing more pain meds. Stubborn, even now. 

As Hailey silently tracks the nurse’s movements, her mind drifts back to the words that had slipped from her lips just moments ago.

I’m choosing to stay. With you. 

And it’s the truth.

She’s not staying because it’s easy. Not because everything between them has magically healed. She’s here because she’s done pretending—and for the first time in a long time, she’s letting herself feel it.

It’s terrifying.

But it’s also something close to peace.

The nurse offers Hailey a polite smile before slipping out, her footsteps light against the tile. The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence that follows feels different now. Softer. More deliberate.

Jay lifts his hand toward her, palm open.

Hailey doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, settles back into the chair beside him, and threads her fingers through his. His touch is warm, grounding—familiar and new, all at once.

His thumb brushes lightly across hers. Barely there, but enough to settle something inside her that’s been restless for far too long.

She meets his eyes. There’s something steady in the way he looks at her—quiet, open. No pressure. No demands. Just presence. 

"You meant it? You want to stay—with me?" he asks, voice low, almost disbelieving.

“Look,” she begins, her voice low but sure, “I don’t have all the answers right now.” The words feel heavy—but not in a bad way. Just honest. “And I don’t know what comes next. But…” Her throat tightens as she searches for the right words. “I just know I don’t need space anymore. I want to be here.”

It’s not just want—it’s need. It's that quiet, unshakable pull that’s been there since the moment she saw him again. The ache she’s spent years trying to bury has never really left. And now that she’s allowed herself to feel it again, she realizes how much she missed this— him. The stillness he brings. The way just being beside him makes the world feel a little less sharp. 

 She swallows, her gaze steady despite. “I’m choosing this…. I’m choosing you.”

It’s the most vulnerable thing she’s said in a long time.

Jay exhales, something breaking loose in his chest. The emotion in his eyes is unmistakable—relief, gratitude, maybe even awe. Like he never expected her to say any of it, and now that she has, he doesn’t know how to hold it all.

“That’s enough. That’s everything,” he whispers.

Hailey nods slowly, her thumb mirroring the motion of his. She leans back just slightly, still holding his hand. Her heart remains uncertain, her thoughts a tangle—but beneath it all, there’s a quiet stillness she hasn’t felt in years.

She doesn’t need all the answers.

Just this—choosing him.

And for once, that’s more than enough.

Chapter Text

“I told him.”

Hailey doesn’t look at the screen right away. Her eyes stay on her hands, fingers absently tugging at the edge of the throw blanket, but there’s something different in her voice. Not fear. Not uncertainty. Something steadier. Lighter. Like she’s exhaling after holding her breath too long.

Dr. Morgan doesn’t speak. She just waits, calm and quiet, letting the moment stretch, as if she doesn’t need the details to fill in the blanks.

“I told him I was choosing him,” Hailey elaborates, her voice soft but sure. “It wasn’t some dramatic moment or anything. I wasn’t trying to fix everything all at once. I just… finally said what I meant. That I didn’t have all the answers—but I wanted to be there. With him.”

She finishes and lets the memory settle, then slowly lifts her gaze to the laptop screen.

Dr. Morgan nods, voice even. “That’s a big step. Telling the truth.To him and to yourself.”

Hailey glances at the laptop screen, and for a second, she feels it, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. But it doesn’t last. Something heavier is already pushing in behind it, curling around the edges of her chest. The same weight that’s been creeping in all week. The reason she reached out. The reason she needed to talk to Dr. Morgan today. 

“So what’s making you second-guess it?” Dr. Morgan asks gently, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “That’s why you reached out, isn’t it?”

Hailey lets out a quiet laugh, more exhale than sound. Of course she picked up on it. She always does.

“I don’t know why I’m second-guessing it. My brain’s doing that thing where it tries to ruin a good thing.” The words hang there, sharp and familiar.  She exhales, slow and frustrated. “What if I didn’t mean it the way I thought I did? What if it wasn’t clarity, just the fear of losing him talking?”

The admission makes her chest tighten. She hates the uncertainty, hates that she’s even questioning it, but it’s there, sitting heavy in her gut. Like some part of her will always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, ready to sabotage the good before it has a chance to stay.

“Looking back, everything felt heightened in that room,” Hailey continues. “He was hurt. I was scared. And for the first time in years, I let myself feel everything all at once. It was like the walls I’d built up just—collapsed.” Her voice softens. “But now that the dust has settled, I’m just… trying to figure out if what I felt was mine, or if it was fear.”

Hailey lets out another breathy chuckle, more bitter than amused. “God,” she mutters. “Am I permanently broken or something? I finally let myself feel—really feel—and now all I can do is question if any of it is even real.”

Dr. Morgan doesn’t rush to respond. When she does, her voice is calm, reassuring. “You’re not broken, Hailey. What you’re feeling right now—it’s uncertainty, not damage.”

Hailey’s eyes flicker toward the screen. 

“Fear can bring clarity,” Dr. Morgan says gently. “It strips everything down to what truly matters. “You’ve been here before, Hailey, questioning if your marriage was doomed because you proposed during a time of uncertainty and chaos. And I told you then, just as I’ll tell you now—maybe fear played a part. But it also showed you what you didn’t want to lose. I think it’s doing the same now.”

Hailey presses her lips together, nodding slowly. A beat of silence passes between them before she speaks again.

“I know I meant what I said to him at the hospital, just like I meant it when I asked him to marry me. I’m just… sitting with all of it now. Trying not to make the same mistakes.” She hesitates, then adds softly, “I don’t want to mess this up. Not when it finally feels like we’re in a place where it could be good.”

“That’s okay,” Dr. Morgan says gently. “You’re allowed to live in the in-between, it’s part of the process. It gives you space to feel things before you try to name them or fit them into boxes. And maybe Jay doesn’t fit into a box right now—not a new love, not quite a boyfriend or your husband…” 

Hailey’s brow furrows slightly as she glances back at the screen. “How long can someone stay there?” she asks quietly. “In the in-between.”

Dr. Morgan’s expression doesn’t shift, but her voice is thoughtful. “As long as you need to. The in-between isn’t a failure to act. Sometimes, it’s where true healing starts.”

Hailey exhales, slow and heavy. “It just feels like I’m circling something I don’t quite have the words for. Like I’m too far in to pretend I don’t care, but too scared to say what I really want.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admits. “That’s the hard part. There’s a version of me that wants to just dive back into it. Head first. To forget everything that went wrong and just… start over.” Her voice softens. “But there’s another version of me that’s afraid I’m not built for that kind of hope anymore. That maybe too much has happened.”

Dr. Morgan tilts her head slightly. “Both versions of you can exist at once. You’re allowed to want, and still be cautious. What matters is that you’re not pretending either version doesn’t exist anymore.”

Hailey nods, slowly. This is not a neat answer. But she feels seen. And that’s something.

Just as she’s about to speak again, her phone buzzes against the edge of the coffee table, breaking the moment. She glances down and sees Jay’s name light up the screen.

Finally free. Don’t make me walk home.

A soft laugh escapes her. “Jay’s being discharged,” she says, setting the phone down. “He probably annoyed the nurses so much they caved and let him go. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.”

Dr. Morgan smiles. “How do you feel about him coming home?” 

Hailey doesn’t answer right away. She just lets the question settle before offering a small, honest shrug. “Butterflies,” she says quietly. “And not in a bad way.”

There’s something fluttering in her chest, nerves tangled with something warmer. It’s not fear—not really. It’s possibility. 

The session wraps with a quiet nod from Dr. Morgan, no final breakthrough, just the kind of steady reassurance Hailey didn’t realize she needed.

She stands, smoothing out her sweater and tugging her keys from the bowl by the door. As she heads out, she doesn’t overthink it. Doesn’t try to script the next conversation or plan how this will go.

She just goes.

Because today, she’s choosing him again.

x

Jay winces as he leans forward, trying—and failing—for the third time—to get his shirt over the bandaged wound on his side. The pain isn’t blinding, just sharp and persistent, like a hot knife sliding under his ribs every time he moves wrong. He exhales slowly, eyes narrowing at the shirt bunched in his hands.

“Need a hand?” Will’s voice comes from the chair by the window, where he’s been pretending to read some medical journal.

“Nah, I’m good.” 

He’s not—but Jay pushed hard to get discharged, insisted he was ready. And now, struggling to get a damn shirt on, it’s painfully obvious he’s not. Still, staying another day in this hellhole isn’t an option.

Jay bites down the pain and keeps going. “I can do it.”

Will snorts. “Right. That’s why you’ve been wrestling with it for ten minutes like it personally offended you.” 

Jay grits his teeth as he finally shrugs it over his shoulder. “I’m not staying here another day.”

“You’re lucky they’re letting you go at all,” Will says, standing and stretching. “If I were your attending, I’d sign you up for another forty-eight hours of Jell-O and nurse check-ins.”

Jay shoots him a look. “Exactly why I’m relieved you’re not.”

Will just raises an eyebrow, watching him struggle with the bottom hem. “You still can’t bend right. I saw you nearly pull something grabbing your bag earlier.”

Jay sits back down on the edge of the hospital bed, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling too quickly. “If I stay in here one more minute, I’m gonna lose it.”

Will softens, but only slightly. “I know. But hating hospitals doesn’t make you magically healed.”

“I’m not going to magically heal sitting in this bed either.” Jay zips up his backpack slowly, trying—and failing—not to show how much it hurts. “I just… I need to be home.”

Will watches him for a beat, clearly wanting Jay to give in. He won’t. He keeps tugging at the shirt, jaw tight, ignoring the pain—until he finally gets it over his head with a strained breath and a wince.

Will glances toward the door, then back at his brother. “Is Hailey the one coming to get us?”

Jay nods once. “Yeah.”

Will exhales and leans back in his chair, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.. “She’s been around nearly every day.”

“Yeah,” Jay says quietly, a flicker of warmth rising in his chest, an unsuspecting smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Will lifts an eyebrow, noting the subtle shift in his brother’s demeanor. “Did not see that coming.”

Jay exhales, tone even. “We’re… in a good place.”

“Like back together?”

“I don’t know. It’s... complicated.” Jay exhales. “We’ve been circling each other for months. Then this happened and—” He shrugs, immediately regretting it as pain flashes across his face. “I think it cracked something open for her.” He pauses, eyes dropping for a second. “It’s weird, though. This sort of happened the last time I got shot too.”

Will raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Man, you really need to stop using near-death experiences as relationship strategy.”

Jay huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah, well… not exactly a plan.” But his smile fades almost as quickly as it came. “Last time, she backtracked and pulled away.” He swallows hard. “I’m scared it’s gonna happen again. That once things stop feeling urgent... she’ll change her mind.”

Will doesn’t joke this time. He just watches him, the teasing gone from his face. “Is that why you’re so eager to get home? To find out if Hailey’s feelings hold up outside the chaos?”

Jay doesn’t answer—not out loud. But yeah. That’s a big part of it. More than the sterile walls and beeping monitors, it’s the not knowing that’s eating at him. He needs to know Hailey’s feelings are real. And stuck in this miserable hospital, nothing feels clear. Not yet.

Will nods, his voice softer now. “Look, maybe it was the shock. But that doesn’t make it any less real. I see it all the time at the hospital—people don’t always know what matters until they’re standing on the edge. That kind of clarity’s hard-earned. But it’s real. And it’s honest.”

He pauses, watching Jay carefully before adding, “You remember when Dad was in the hospital?”

Jay glances up, and Will continues, his voice quiet. “You were so angry with him. Barely talking. But when it got bad, when he was gone—you couldn’t let go. Because all that shit didn’t matter anymore. You still cared. You still loved him.”

Jay’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing. Will presses on, gently. “That’s what these moments do. They strip everything down. All the noise, all the pride, all the fear—it falls away. And what’s left... is usually the truth.”

Will leans forward slightly. “Hailey didn’t run. She’s still here. And maybe that’s not everything, but... it’s a damn good place to start. Or, I guess, re-start.” He smirks, then spreads his arms like he’s unveiling a marquee.“A sequel no one saw coming.”

Jay huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah… I’m hoping for a better ending this time.”

“You still love her, right?”

Jay doesn’t hesitate. “Never stopped.”

Will nods. “Then stop second-guessing her reasons for being there and  stop circling each other. If she’s choosing you, meet her halfway.”

Jay smirks. “You always this good at relationship advice?”

Will shrugs. “Just stating the obvious. Someone’s gotta.”

Jay reaches for his shoes, nudging them closer with the toe of one foot. Pain flares sharp and sudden, but he grits his teeth and pushes through—no way he’s asking for help.

“She’s good for you, man,” Will says. “Even when you were being an idiot. You’ve got a second chance here—don’t screw it up. I’m running out of sympathy.”

Jay lets out a low, amused breath. “Will try not to,” he says and leans forward, gritting his teeth as he reaches for his shoe again. His side screams in protest, white-hot pain lancing through his ribs. He pulls in a breath, trying to hide the wince. He gets the shoe halfway on before—

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jay freezes.

He looks up just in time to see Hailey in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, the kind of look that used to make rookie patrol officers shrink. 

“Good morning,” Will murmurs, clearly enjoying himself.

Hailey strides in, zeroing in on Jay. “Seriously? You're not supposed to be bending like that.”

Jay starts to straighten, already wincing.

She shoots Will a half-annoyed look, but he just lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I tried. You know how he is—like arguing with drywall.”

“I was just—” Jay starts. 

“—being stubborn,” Hailey finishes, crouching down easily in front of him. “Let me.”

Jay sighs but doesn’t argue as she slides the shoe on for him, tying the laces with care. His eyes drift down—she’s in a soft gray sweatsuit, hair down and a little messy, no makeup, completely unbothered. Just her. And somehow, that’s what always gets him. This version of her. His heart squeezes in his chest, unexpected and stupidly tender.

“I’m fine,” he mutters. “I can put on my own—”

“You keep saying that like it makes it true,” she replies gently. “You were shot, Jay. Less than a week ago. Honestly, I’m not even sure they should’ve discharged you yet.”

Will grins from the corner. “Man, I really did miss this.”

Jay rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it—just quiet affection. Having Hailey fuss over him like this? It still feels surreal.

Hailey straightens and glances at the chart on the table. “Wait—did they actually discharge you?” She lifts a brow, half-teasing. “You’re not tricking me into being your accomplice, are you?”

Will chuckles under his breath. “Nope. Not officially discharged. Still waiting on the paperwork.”

As if on cue, a nurse steps into the room with a clipboard in hand and a knowing smile. “Mr. Halstead,” she says, “the moment you’ve been campaigning for since the minute you opened your eyes—your discharge papers.”

She waves the clipboard like it’s a golden ticket.

“I just need your signature, and you’re officially no longer our problem.”

Jay takes the clipboard without argument, scribbling his name across the bottom.

The nurse stays put, flipping to another page. “Okay, now that you’re free, a few quick reminders. You’ve got stitches in your side that need to stay dry for at least another few days. Change the dressing once a day—unless it gets soaked, then obviously sooner. Keep an eye out for redness, swelling, or any funky drainage.”

Jay nods, jaw tight—a silent yeah, yeah, I got it. No need to drag this out.

“Pain meds are optional,” she continues, “but considering you’ve been Mr. Tough Guy all week, I’m guessing you’ll ignore those anyway. Still—take them if you need to. There’s no medal for suffering.”

She hands over a small white bag. “Supplies and instructions are all in here. But if you start feeling feverish or the pain gets worse instead of better, come back.”

Jay mutters, “Noted.”

The nurse gives him a once-over and smiles again. “You were a handful, but the charming kind. Mostly.”

Will lets out a laugh. “That's the nicest thing anyone’s said about him all week.”

With a wink, she turns to Hailey. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything crazy.”

Hailey gives a soft smile. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good luck,” the nurse quips, turning toward the door. “I’ll be right back with the whee—”

Jay barely hears the rest. His mind’s already locked on the exit.

Hailey holds out his jacket and gently helps ease it over his shoulders before grabbing his backpack from the chair.

“I’m driving,” she says firmly, slinging it over her shoulder like it’s not twice her size.

Jay gives her a look, soft and amused. “Wasn’t exactly going to offer.”

“Sure you weren’t,” she shoots back. 

Will chuckles, clearly enjoying the show.

Just as Jay takes a careful step toward the door, thinking he might actually make it out of there with a sliver of his dignity intact, the door swings open again.

The nurse reappears, all smiles, wheeling in a standard-issue hospital chair like it’s some kind of grand prize. “Here we go! One quick ride and you’re free to go.”

Jay stares at the chair. Then at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Hospital policy. No negotiations,” she says brightly, completely unfazed. “Everyone gets wheeled out after discharge. Liability reasons.”

Jay turns toward Will, hoping for backup.

Will sips from his water, barely hiding his grin. "Come on, man. You knew this was coming. It’s policy—everyone gets wheeled out, even tough guys like you."

Jay shifts his gaze to Hailey next, but she raises her hands, suppressing a grin. “Honestly? I think it’s a great idea. You’ve got stitches in your side and a pain tolerance that’s been questionable. Let the chair do the work.”

“This is so unnecessary,” Jay mutters, but the nurse is already locking the wheels in place and patting the seat like she’s inviting him into a five-star lounge. 

“Take your time. But we’re not letting you leave on foot.”

Jay hesitates, his pride flaring. But his side throbs hard, like it’s actively mocking him, and he knows—deep down—if he tries to walk the whole way, he’ll probably pay for it later.

He lets out a long breath through his nose and sits down—slowly, carefully, every movement tugging at the edges of the wound.

“Comfortable?” the nurse asks, adjusting the footrests.

Jay gives her a flat look. “Living the dream.”

Will grins, lifting his phone. “Smile for the camera.”

Jay doesn’t.

Hailey steps behind him, grabbing the handles. “Want me to push, or are you holding out for your brother?”

Jay glances back at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’d rather be pushed by someone who actually likes me.”

Hailey smirks. “I do. But don’t test it—I’ve walked these halls enough times to know exactly where the bumps are.” She throws him a quick wink, playful and just soft enough to make his heart stutter.

Will opens the door with a mock bow. “Please keep your hands and arms inside the ride at all times.”

Jay groans. 

Just before Hailey wheels him into the hallway, she pauses, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder—a brief, grounding touch. Her palm lingers, warm and steady. Jay instinctively lifts his hand, covering hers with a quiet squeeze.

Then she lets go, both hands returning to the chair handles as she pushes him forward.

Jay still hates hospitals. 

Still hates this damn chair.

But with her behind him, he doesn’t mind it quite as much.

Not really.

x

Jay exhales as soon as they step inside his apartment, like the air here hits different—less sterile, more real. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the silence of his own place until now. Hailey helps him out of his jacket, her touch gentle but not pitying, and he murmurs a quiet thanks as she hangs it on the back of a chair.

Will trails behind them, already pulling out his phone. “Alright, patient’s home, dignity mostly intact, and I’m gonna grab food. I need something deep-fried to make up for the five days of vending machine dinners I’ve survived on.”

 “You’re a saint,” Jay mutters.

Will points at him. “No lifting. No bending. No being stubborn. I want zero texts saying you pulled your stitches trying to pretend you’re fine.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Duly noted.”

Will smirks, already heading for the door. “Text me what you want.”

As the door clicks shut behind him, quiet settles over the apartment like a blanket—soft and warm, but a little heavy too.

Jay walks into his room slowly, every step a reminder that he’s not quite whole yet. His muscles ache, his side pulls, but he pushes through it, one foot in front of the other. He finally reaches the bed and sinks down with a quiet wince, easing himself back against the pillows one breath at a time.

He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his head sink back against the pillow. His body feels like concrete—stiff, sore, weighed down. Then he cracks one eye open and glances to the side.

Hailey stands there, shifting her weight like she’s not sure whether to sit, hover, or walk away. Her jacket’s still on, hands buried in the pockets, eyes on him with an expression he can’t quite name—something caught between tired and concerned, familiar and faraway.

Jay lifts his arm slightly and pats the space beside him on the bed. “Sit with me?”

Hailey hesitates for a beat, like she’s weighing something.

“It’s better when you’re close,” he adds softly.

She lets out a quiet breath, the corner of her mouth lifting. “That was ridiculously cheesy,” she murmurs, moving toward him anyway. “But… I’ll allow it.”

She climbs in beside him, careful not to jostle him, and settles against the headboard.

Jay shifts just enough so their shoulders touch, letting the silence stretch. It doesn’t feel awkward—it feels... earned.

“Much better,” he murmurs.

Hailey glances sideways at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He closes his eyes again—not to sleep, just to be. The quiet wraps around them, gentle and unhurried. For a while, neither of them speaks, and the stillness feels like something sacred—like breathing the same air is enough.

Then, beside him, Hailey shifts slightly. Her voice is soft, almost tentative. “I have a confession… I also discharged myself against doctor’s orders. When I got shot.”

Jay’s eyes flicker open. He turns his head just enough to look at her, not surprised. “Yeah?”

She nods, her gaze fixed on a spot across the room. “They wanted to keep me, to monitor me for internal bleeding, infection, all the usual stuff. But I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t breathe in that place.”

Jay watches her, her profile calm but distant.

“So I signed the paperwork, told them I was fine, walked out with a bandage and a lie,” she says with a small, humorless smile. “It wasn’t as bad as yours. No surgery, just stitches. Surface-level, mostly.”

Jay turns his head toward her, eyes scanning her face. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Were you alone?”

Hailey nods once, not looking at him.

He swallows hard, something tightening in his chest. “I hate that.”

The guilt is written all over his face—undeniable, unspoken, and heavy. Hailey sees it.

She gives a small shrug, her gaze dropping before a faint smile lifts the corner of her mouth. “Again, it wasn’t that bad. Not like this.” She nods toward his side. “I didn’t even earn the wheelchair exit.”

Jay catches the flicker of something in her expression—just enough to know she doesn’t want to linger there. So he lets it go, doesn’t apologize, doesn’t say anything more.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Still not over that, by the way.”

“Clearly,” she says and smiles, her features back at ease as she shifts a little closer, thighs brushing. “Guess we’re both stubborn.” 

Jay huffs a soft laugh. “Guess so.” Then, quieter, more honest—like it slips out before he can stop it: “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He reaches for her hand—no hesitation, just a quiet, deliberate movement as his fingers find hers. And before he can stop himself, he brings their joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Like, really glad.”

They sit in that soft silence for another minute, Jay’s fingers laced with Hailey’s, her hand resting gently in his. The warmth of her touch—of her—makes the dull ache in his side a little easier to ignore.

Then, like he’s just remembered something, Jay shifts slightly.  “Will said to text him what we want to eat.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She pulls her phone from her pocket and nudges him lightly. “So? What do you want?”

Jay thinks for a second. “Something with actual flavor. No more broth or bland eggs.”

“So… a burger?”

“With fries,” he says. “And none of that baked nonsense. Real fries. Extra crispy.”

Hailey pauses mid-type, eyebrows lifting. “Who are you and what have they done with health-conscious Jay? Blink twice if you’ve been body-snatched.”

He smirks. “I’ve earned it, okay?”

She chuckles. “Alright, rebel. Anything to drink?”

“Something cold. Whatever he gets, as long as it’s not diet anything.”

She types it in, still eyeing him like he’s a stranger before she shoots off the message and sets her phone on the nightstand. “This might be the most shocking part of this week.”

Jay lets out a quiet huff of a laugh. “That’s saying something, considering I got shot and you voluntarily sat through daytime TV with my brother.”

He watches as a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Just full of surprises, huh?” she murmurs.

He shifts slightly, careful of his side, then reaches over and intertwines their fingers again. “Stick around,” he murmurs. “I might have a few more.”

Her smile lingers, soft and steady. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I think I will.”

The conversation drifts for a moment, the quiet stretching comfortably around them again. Jay closes his eyes, letting the warmth of the moment settle in.

Then Hailey shifts slightly on the bed, turning more toward him. “You know, it’s still kind of weird.”

Jay cracks one eye open. “What is?”

“Living across the hall from you,” she says. “Like… of all the buildings in all of DC.”

Jay exhales a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Took me three weeks to stop checking the peephole every time I left my apartment.”

Hailey smiles. “You did not.”

“Oh, I did,” he says, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. “Usually just to make sure I had my shit together in case I ran into you.”

She laughs under her breath, shaking her head. “And here I was, avoiding taking the trash out if I thought you were in the hallway.”

Jay turns his head toward her, eyes a little warmer now. “Why?”

Hailey shrugs, a little shy but still honest. “Wasn’t ready to see you again. Not like that. Not… casually.”

“Yeah,” Jay says quietly. “I get it.”

Their eyes meet for a second too long before Hailey breaks it with a soft breath and leans back against the headboard again.

He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “You ever regret moving into that place across from me?”

Hailey’s brows lift slightly, but she doesn’t answer right away. She lets out a soft scoff, more to herself than him. “Regret’s a soft word.”

Jay turns his head toward her. “Really?”

She nods, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “That day that I found out you lived across the hall, I nearly packed up my things. I pulled out my laptop and started searching for new rentals like it was an emergency. I also tried to get out of my contract the very next day.”

That catches him off guard. “Seriously?” 

“I did.” Her tone isn’t harsh, but there’s an edge to it—frustration, maybe at herself more than anything. “Called the office, told them I couldn’t stay in the apartment - made up some bogus reason. Asked if there was a unit in another building. Or another floor. Anything.”

Jay watches her closely, something tightening in his chest.

“I didn’t want to see you in the hall, or the elevator, or hear your door close late at night and wonder what the hell you were doing. I wasn’t ready for that,” she says with a small, almost bitter laugh. “It felt like some kind of cosmic joke. Like, of all the places on the face of this damn planet...” Her voice trails off. 

She glances over, her voice softer now. “But the leasing office told me no. That I signed a year lease. Said I could break it if I paid a ridiculous fee and waited thirty days.” She huffs a breath. “I thought about it.”

Jay stays quiet, taking that in. It’s not surprising. But it still stings. Jay’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “But you didn’t break your lease.”

She looks at him. “No. I didn’t.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long second—raw, quiet honesty settling between them. And maybe, for the first time, it’s not painful. Just… real.

Jay watches her, the words sitting heavier than he expects. “Do you still regret it?”

Hailey’s quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting down from the ceiling to their hands resting between them. “No. I don’t.” Hailey exhales, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Because… we wouldn’t be here? And I’m not saying that I’ve figured it all out, but…” She glances at him. “I think the universe knew I wasn’t ready to walk away either. Not really.”

She pauses, her voice softer now. “And honestly… staying forced me to see just how much I hadn’t dealt with. Being across from you—being reminded of everything—it brought all of it back. Made me realize I still had a lot of work to do.”

Jay’s eyes don’t leave her face.

“But maybe that’s not a bad thing,” she adds quietly. “Maybe it was time.”

“You’re not the only one,” he says quietly. Then, after a beat, he adds, “Unlike you, when I learned you’d moved  across the hall… I honestly thought it was the best thing that could’ve happened.”

Hailey looks at him, surprised—not at the words exactly, but maybe at the honesty in them.

“I thought I was ready to see you again,” he continues. “In my head, I’d gone through every scenario—what I’d say, how I’d act, how we’d maybe… figure it out again…” A breath leaves him, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“But then it all went to shit. Every time I saw you, it felt like the air got punched out of me. And I realized I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was. I was a mess.” His voice drops lower. “And after I found out what you’d been through... I started questioning if I even had the right to want to be part of your life again.”

He glances down at their hands, voice quieter now. “And… just—sorry again. For going digging. I know I had no right.”

Hailey doesn’t say anything right away. She just watches him, her expression open and unreadable in a way that makes his chest tighten. Then, quietly, she nods—just once. 

“After that, I kept telling myself to give you space. That it was the right thing. That if you wanted me in your life, you’d make that clear.” He pauses. “But the truth is… I think I was just scared.”

He looks down at their hands, still laced together. “Scared that maybe I’d already lost you for good.”

Hailey’s quiet for a moment, her thumb brushing lightly along his as she processes everything he just said. Then, a slow, knowing smile tugs at her lips.

“You were flustered as hell,” she says, amusement flickering in her voice. “I’m talking full-on, nervous energy, boyish stammering. It was kind of… weirdly adorable.”

Jay groans and tilts his head back against the pillow. “Oh no. Please don't.”

“I mean it,” she grins. “You’d see me in the hallway and forget how to speak. But the laundry room?” She shakes her head, biting back a laugh. “You could barely get through telling me I had a red sock mixed in with my whites.”

Jay covers his face with one hand. “Not this again. Are you ever going to let me live that down?” 

“And you were so serious about it too. Like it was an emergency.”

“It was,” he mutters. “Laundry disasters are no joke.”

Hailey bumps her shoulder gently against his. “You kept looking everywhere but at me. I thought you were having a stroke.”

Jay drops his hand and looks at her, his smile soft despite the embarrassment. “I was trying not to look like I was watching you… which I was”

Hailey lets out a laugh. “You were so obvious, but in a charming way.”

“I was subtle,” he protests, clearly joking.

“You were lurking by the dryer like you were casing the place.”

Jay shrugs. “I was making sure your whites survived.” He lets out a breathy laugh, covering his face with one hand. “You were terrifying. With your fierce short hair.” 

“I wasn’t terrifying,” she says, nudging his arm gently. “You were just panicking.”

Jay reaches out, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from her face before his free hand falls back to his lap. His smile softens. “Yeah, well… seeing you again did that to me.”

Hailey doesn’t respond right away. The teasing fades just a little from her expression as she inches closer, resting her head gently against his shoulder.

A flicker of pain pulls at Jay’s side, sharp and immediate—but he does everything in his power not to flinch. Not when she’s this close. Not when it feels this good.

“Well,” she murmurs, “you kind of did that to me too.”

The moment hovers—quiet, warm, full of something unspoken—

—and then the front door opens with a thud.

“Hey, I’m back! And I bring grease, sugar, and terrible decisions!” Will’s voice carries into the room like a wrecking ball made of takeout.

Jay leans back slightly as Hailey sits up, the closeness between them shifting but not disappearing.

Will walks into Jay’s bedroom and doesn’t notice a thing. “Two burgers, extra crispy fries, two mystery sauces, and a milkshake I absolutely did not need to buy but wanted anyway.”

He sets everything down on the bed and starts unpacking. “Hope nobody passed out from hunger while I was gone.”

Jay huffs a quiet laugh. “Close.”

Will tosses a wrapped sandwich toward him without looking. “Catch.”

Jay barely gets a hand on it, grimacing as the movement tugs at his side.

“Careful,” Hailey says, reaching for the drink tray before Will can fumble it.

“Alright, dig in while it’s hot. I didn’t survive a lunch rush full of indecisive adults for nothing.”

They eat quietly at first, the comforting scent of warm food filling the space. Jay leans back against the pillows, burger in one hand, trying not to wince every time he shifts. Hailey is still beside him on the bed, cross-legged, picking at her fries while listening to Will rant about the chaos inside the burger place like it’s a war story.

Jay doesn’t say much, but he watches her. The way her eyes crinkle when Will says something ridiculous. The way she steals one of his fries without asking, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The food’s mostly gone now—wrappers balled up on the tray, drinks half-finished. Jay sinks a little deeper into the pillows, the adrenaline from earlier fading fast. His body’s starting to feel it—the dull ache in his side, the weight in his limbs, the way his eyelids are beginning to drag.

Next to him, Hailey glances at the clock, then at him. He can see it on her face—the hesitation.

“I should go,” she says softly. Then, gentler still, “You should rest.”

Jay’s brows draw together. “You don’t have to go.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “But you need sleep. Real sleep.” 

He wants to argue—wants to tell her that it’s better when she’s near, that her leaving feels heavier than it should. But then he sees it: the faint lines of exhaustion around her eyes, the way her shoulders haven’t quite relaxed all week.

He swallows whatever protest he had.

She moves slowly, grabbing her coat from the back of the chair. “You’ve got Will here. He’ll make sure you don’t do anything crazy.”

Will barely looks up, a mouthful of milkshake slowing his response. “That’s a full-time job.”

Hailey smiles at that—soft, almost wistful—then looks back at Jay. “Text me if you guys need anything, okay?”

Jay nods once. “I will.”

She lingers for just a second longer, then steps closer. Her hand finds his—just a brief squeeze—and then she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, but warm, steady.

By the time she pulls back, he’s barely had time to react—but it lingers, grounding him in a way nothing else has.

He watches her turn and walk out of the room, listens to the soft sound of the door opening… then closing again.

And somehow, that quiet click feels louder than it should.

x

Hailey closes the door behind her with a soft click, letting the quiet settle around her like a blanket. Her shoulders ache, not from anything specific, just the weight of the day, the week—of everything she’s held in, and everything she’s let out.

She toes off her boots, leaves her coat draped over the arm of the couch, and walks straight to the bathroom without turning on any lights beyond what she needs.

The water hits her skin a moment later, hot and steady, steam curling around her face as she leans against the tiled wall. For once, her thoughts aren’t spiraling. Not swirling. Just there—soft around the edges. Mellow.

She thinks of Jay. His voice. His fingers interlaced with hers. The way he looked at her like maybe he still could.

And instead of chasing down what it all means, instead of dissecting every moment, she just lets herself feel it.

She remembers what Dr. Morgan said about the in-between. That it’s okay not to have everything figured out. That the space between clarity and chaos isn’t failure—it’s necessary. It’s part of the work.

She leans into the warmth of the water, closing her eyes. For so long, she’s been bracing for something. The next heartbreak. The next fight. The next goodbye.

But today, she’s just here.

In the in-between.

And for once, that feels like enough.

Chapter Text

Hailey doesn’t plan it. She’s halfway home from the office when she realizes she’s pulling into the lot of a Thai place she’s passed a dozen times but never tried. The line’s short, and her stomach’s growling, so she figures—why not? As she waits for her order, something nudges her: maybe Jay and Will haven’t eaten yet. It’s late, and she knows how easy it is to forget meals when you're in caretaker mode.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she adds two more orders and grabs some spring rolls for good measure.

It’s not a big deal—but it kind of is. It means she gets to spend more time with Jay, something that’s been limited lately with her back in full work mode and trying not to intrude on the little time he has left with Will before he heads back to Seattle tomorrow.

The elevator hums as it climbs toward the sixth floor, warm takeout bags in her hands, the scent of lemongrass and garlic wrapping around her like a quiet comfort. When the doors open, she steps into the familiar hallway, her boots quiet against the floor. She doesn’t rush. There's no anxious flutter in her chest, no overthinking. Just a quiet ease.

When she reaches his door, she pauses, shifts the bags in her grip, then knocks twice with the side of her hand.

A few seconds pass before the door opens, and Will stands there in sweats and a worn hoodie, his red hair slightly disheveled like he’s been chasing time all day.

“Hailey,” he says, and there’s a brightness in his voice like he wasn’t expecting her but is genuinely glad to see her. His eyes drop to the bags in her hands. “Did you—?”

She lifts the bags a little, her smile casual. “Grabbed dinner for myself and figured you two might want in.”

Will grins, stepping back to let her in. “You have no idea how perfectly timed this is. I was debating whether we could survive on leftovers for one more night. Please, come in. You’re saving us.”

She smiles, stepping inside. “Crisis averted.”

The apartment smells faintly like detergent and something herbal—maybe the heating pad Jay’s been using. She catches sight of him on the couch, reclined against a pile of pillows, blanket over his legs. His face is a little pale, but he looks better. Rested. Healing.

His gaze lifts when she walks in, and he sits up a bit, wincing as he shifts—but then he smiles. Soft and warm, the kind of smile that’s all hers, and Hailey’s heart does a few stupid flips before she can stop it.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s all this?”

Hailey holds up the bags again, a smile mirroring his tugging at her lips. “Hope you’re in the mood for Thai.”

Jay’s brows lift, amused. “That place on 7th?”

She nods. “First time trying it. Smelled good.”

He huffs a short laugh. “It’s actually my favorite.”

She smirks. “Well, look at me—accidentally nailing dinner.”

Will’s already pulling out containers in the kitchen, stacking napkins and grabbing forks like a man on a mission. “You staying to eat?” he asks, barely looking up.

Hailey glances at Jay—at the way he’s watching her, hopeful but not pushing. Then at Will, who’s already setting a third plate without waiting for her answer.

She smiles faintly. “Yeah. I can hang for a bit.”

They settle in the living room with plates balanced on their laps, the coffee table serving as the makeshift dining space. Will takes a seat on the floor with a throw pillow under him, already digging into the pad see ew like a man who hasn’t eaten in days.

“God,” Will mumbles with a mouthful, “This is amazing. You seriously nailed it, Hailey.”

She smiles. “Glad I guessed right.”

Jay nudges at a spring roll with his fork, not quite ready to admit he’s still struggling to sit upright. Hailey notices without making a big deal out of it—just shifts a throw pillow a little closer so he can lean into it more comfortably.

“Will, you’re flying out tomorrow morning, right?” Hailey asks, settling beside Jay on the couch, cross-legged with her plate in hand.

“Crack of dawn,” Will says, nodding. “Natalie’s already warned me that Olivia’s teething and Owen has a school project that’s somehow my responsibility.”

Hailey chuckles. “Sounds like you’re walking right back into the chaos.”

Will grins. “Yeah. And honestly, I miss it. FaceTime’s not the same. Olivia’s gonna act like I’m a total stranger.”

“She won’t” Jay says, voice low but certain.

“I know, but still..” Will replies, and something softer passes between the brothers—unspoken, but felt.

They eat, and the conversation drifts. Will recounts a ridiculous story about Owen bringing a frog into the kitchen last summer, and Jay, in between bites, groans at the memory of visiting the same summer and nearly stepping on the thing. Hailey listens, smiling, shaking her head as they banter back and forth.

Jay glances her way, casual but curious. “How’s work?”

She shrugs. “Same as usual. Still sorting out the mess from last week. Garcia and Nina are pushing for warrants, but the judge wants more.”

“Anything I should be looped in on?” Jay asks, trying for casual—but she hears the edge of curiosity underneath, the part of him that hates being benched.

Hailey lifts an eyebrow, not even looking up from her plate. “Eventually,” she says, tone even. “When you’re back on your feet.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches him shifting, the way his fingers fidget near his plate. 

“Not sure I can sit out that long.”

Will cuts in, pointing his fork at his brother. “You can, and you will. You almost passed out trying to microwave soup yesterday.”

Hailey’s head snaps toward Jay. “Wait—what?” Her eyes narrow, the line between concern and frustration razor-thin.

Jay winces, clearly caught. “It wasn’t that dramatic.” 

“You blacked out standing,” Will mutters through a bite of food. “That counts as dramatic.”

Hailey exhales sharply, setting her plate down. “Jesus, Jay.” 

Jay raises his hands in surrender, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I stood up too fast. Got lightheaded. Soup didn’t stand a chance.”

Hailey doesn’t laugh. She just stares at him, unimpressed—and worried. Then, with a sigh, she shifts closer, nudging her knee against his beneath the blanket draped across his legs.

 “You could’ve fallen and cracked your head open over a can of chicken noodle.”

Jay gives her a pointed look. “Technically, it was tomato.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Glad we’ve clarified the soup.”

Hailey shakes her head, grabbing her plate again—but not before her hand briefly brushes Jay’s, a small touch that lingers longer than necessary. “You need to be more careful.”

Jay softens, the grin fading from his lips. “I know.” He watches her for a beat, voice dropping lower. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

She doesn’t say anything—just holds his gaze for a second longer. Something in her chest eases at the sincerity in his eyes.

Jay lets the quiet stretch, then bumps his shoulder lightly against hers, testing the waters. “So... anything interesting happen at work?”

Hailey rolls her eyes, but there’s a trace of a smile pulling at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“But mildly entertaining, right?” he says, leaning a little closer, his tone teasing but tentative.

She doesn’t answer. Just takes a bite, barely suppressing the smile at the corner of her mouth—because as much as he drives her crazy, part of her doesn’t mind it. Not really.

 “Debatable.”

Will watches them both, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Do you two ever talk about something that isn’t work?”

Hailey lifts a brow. “Says the guy who scheduled a conference call during his birthday dinner.”

Jay turns to Will, grinning. “And muted it just long enough to blow out the candles.”

Will lifts his glass in mock victory. “Strategic genius.”

Hailey shakes her head, smiling as the memory surfaces—Will’s birthday dinner, the three of them tucked into a corner booth at Gene & Georgetti, like the rest of the world didn’t exist..

“That night? Jay and I had the worst hangover the next day. We still don’t know whose brilliant idea it was to order that second bottle of red.”

Jay raises a hand, mock-serious. “Not mine.”

Will laughs. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who toasted to the wine .”

“Still not an admission of guilt,” Jay says.

Hailey just laughs, sinking a little deeper into the couch, the memory settling between them like something warm. Like something still alive.

And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t ache.

There was a stretch—longer than she’d ever admit—when memories of her and Jay felt like bruises. Like reminders of something she lost. But now? It doesn’t sting.

It just is.

A good night. A stupid hangover. 

The air between them is light. Happy. Hailey leans back a little, plate nearly empty, and lets herself relax into the couch cushions. It’s easy with them—like all the mess in the middle hasn’t made them strangers. Like this is just another night.

Like, they’re a family again.

After dinner, Will stretches his legs out and groans like a man twice his age. “Alright,” he says, patting his stomach, “if I don’t start packing now, I’m gonna end up throwing stuff into a bag at 3 a.m. and forgetting half of it.”

Will pushes himself up with a dramatic grunt and collects the empty plates. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for my goodbye speech,” he tosses over his shoulder as he carries them to the kitchen.

Hailey watches him go, listening to the clatter of containers and then the distant sound of a suitcase being unzipped in the other room. The apartment settles into a comfortable quiet. Soft light from a lamp pools across the floor. Jay shifts beside her, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table, careful not to tug at his side.

“Thanks for dinner,” Jay says after a beat. “Seriously.”

She glances at him. “You’re welcome.”

Jay looks tired, but in a different way than before. Not weighed down. Just worn out in the way people are when they’ve been through something heavy.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. It’s not awkward—just full.

“Will’s good at pretending he’s not sentimental,” Hailey says, glancing toward the hallway. “But I think he’s gonna miss you.”

Jay nods slowly. “Yeah. He won’t say it, but he’s been worried about leaving. Kept asking if I was good enough to be on my own.”

“Are you?”

His eyes meet hers. There’s a pause, something thick hanging in the air—but then he offers a quiet, honest: “Getting there. Or at least... getting closer. Feeling a little better each day.”

Hailey shifts, turning slightly toward him, one arm draped along the back of the couch. “Good,” she says, meeting his eyes. “Just… don’t be an idiot about it. And now that your brother’s leaving and you’re on your own, call me. Or yell down the hallway.”

Jay huffs a soft laugh, and it pulls at something in her chest. That sound. That look. She hasn’t seen it in a long time.

“I’ll try,” he says.

Hailey lifts an eyebrow. “That’s the best I’m gonna get, huh?”

“That’s the best I’ve got,” Jay says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But for you, I’ll mean it.”

They both smile—hers a little softer now, his a little steadier.

The smile lingers between them, easy and quiet, before Hailey glances toward the table. She leans forward to gather a few of the takeout containers.

“Don’t even try. I’ve got this,” she says, her eyes cutting sideways to him—already catching the subtle shift in his posture, that familiar, stubborn set to his shoulders. “I know you’re about to ignore everything the doctor said.” 

Jay pauses. “But I can help.”

She gives him a look over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t even be leaning forward, let alone helping clean up.”

“I’m not an invalid, Hailey.”

“No,” she says, standing with a small smirk. “You’re just stubborn.”

She rises and walks the containers into the kitchen. From behind her, she hears Jay lean back into the couch with a quiet sigh, and she knows she was right—he’d been about to push himself, just to prove he could. And somehow, that thought doesn’t frustrate her the way it once did. It just... settles. Familiar. Maybe even a little comforting that he is acting like himself. 

When she returns, drying her hands on a paper towel, Jay shifts slightly on the couch, eyes following her.

“Please don’t go just yet?” Jay says, shifting slightly on the couch, careful with the movement. “I’ve only had Will to talk to all day. I need to hear from someone who doesn’t sound like a walking medical journal.”

Hailey tilts her head, amused. “That bad?”

He sighs. “I mean, if I have to hear one more lecture about inflammation markers, sleep cycles, or gut health?” He shakes his head. “I’m out.”

She laughs, soft and unexpected, and his smile follows, just a little slower. “He’s just looking out for you,” she says.

Jay nods. “I know. But I swear, if he tries to sneak another probiotic into my smoothie, I’m pulling the plug on this whole brotherly bonding thing.”

Hailey smiles, her expression easy. “So I’m your reprieve.”

“Pretty much,” he says, then his voice drops, steady and sincere. “Seriously... yeah. You are. It’s always good having you here. Feels right.”

She lets out a soft exhale and sinks back into the couch beside him, this time just a little closer than before. Close enough that their shoulders brush, her arm pressing gently against his for a beat before settling there like it belongs.

The silence stretches—comfortable now, easy. There’s no need to fill it.

Then Jay clears his throat. “By the way… you’ll never guess who stopped by.”

Hailey raises a brow, and Jay’s already looking at her with that quiet look of his—soft, a little amused.

“Who?”

Jay nods, deadpan. “Mark.”

Hailey groans, tipping her head back against the couch dramatically. “Of course he did. How does he even know you’re hurt?”

“I guess he ran into Will in the hallway,” Jay says. “They apparently got into a ten-minute conversation about anti-inflammatory foods and grilling techniques.”

Hailey snorts. “Of course.” 

Jay leans back, clearly enjoying himself now. “But the best part? Mark asked about you.”

She groans again, louder this time. “You’re kidding me.”

Jay shakes his head, clearly enjoying this. “He said—and I quote—‘Hailey hasn’t reached out about our date yet. Should I be worried?’”

Hailey laughs, really laughs, and shakes her head. “God, I told him ‘maybe’ one time just to get him to stop asking.”

Jay smirks, playing with the edge of the blanket over his lap. “So… you gonna call him?”

Hailey lifts her head and gives him a look—dry, pointed, the kind that says don’t even start .

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Thought I should know if I’ve got competition.”

She rolls her eyes. He’s not serious— not really —but she can tell he’s watching her a little too closely for it to be just a joke.

“Please,” she says, her voice full of mock sincerity. “You could be comatose and still come out ahead.”

Jay laughs, head dropping back against the couch for a second. But there’s something quieter underneath it, something that lingers in the way his eyes find hers again—soft, green, and impossibly familiar. 

And the truth is, she hasn’t even thought about finding anyone else. Jay ruined her for every man who might ever try to take his place. No one would ever measure up. No one would ever feel like him.

Like home. 

Hailey settles even deeper into the couch. She watches him for a second, like she’s weighing her next words—not because she’s unsure, but because she wants to say the right thing.

“I told you,” she says softly. “I’m choosing to stay. With you.” 

Jay doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at her, like the words are still settling in his chest. Then, slowly, he reaches over and takes her hand—gentle, deliberate—his thumb brushing over her knuckles. 

“I know.” It’s barely a whisper, but the way he holds her hand—like it’s the only thing keeping him steady—says everything he can’t.

Hailey watches him, fingers curled around his. He’ll  probably need to hear those words again, just like she’ll need reassurances about other things. Maybe that’s the way forward: learning how to stay, one moment at a time.

Then Hailey clears her throat softly, and says, “Well, now that Mark knows, the entire building’s probably going to know by morning.”

Jay glances at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You think he’s that chatty?”

She gives him a look. “Jay, he once told me about his mother’s foot surgery in the elevator. Unprompted.”

Jay laughs under his breath, nodding. “Okay, fair.”

“So I’m guessing Morgan will be dropping by, too,” Hailey adds, casual as anything—but she knows her tone has just enough bite to make it clear she’s not totally joking. She needs her reassurances, too. 

Jay frowns. “Morgan?”

“You know…” She waves a hand vaguely. “Morgan. Or Meghan. Or Monica? Tall, blonde, weirdly enthusiastic about seasonal doormats.”

Jay’s grin is slow, amused. “Ah. Meghan.”

Hailey nods like she doesn’t care at all. “Yeah. I’m sure she’ll be bringing soup. Or cookies. Or some sort of holistic essential oil blend for ‘wound energy.’” She manages to keep herself from rolling her eyes—but just barely.

Jay chuckles, watching her a little too closely now. “You keeping tabs on the neighbors?”

She shrugs. “No. Just hard to miss when someone has a whole conversation with you and completely pretends I don’t exist.”

Jay lifts an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “So… you gonna warn her off? Or just let her bring the soup and hope it sucks?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling now. “You’re such an idiot.”

“And yet,” Jay says, leaning just slightly toward her, voice low and laced with quiet charm, “you’re choosing to be here.” His eyes lock on hers, warm and steady, and damn it—her heart does that stupid flutter thing. 

“Yeah. I am.” She shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant as she leans back. “Someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

Jay smiles, shifting a little closer, his free hand lifting—slow, unhurried—as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers graze her cheek, and for a moment, everything stills. His eyes linger on hers, the space between them narrowing just enough to make her breath catch.

She wonders—half hopes—if he’s going to kiss her.

But before anything else can happen, the low rumble of suitcase wheels cuts through the quiet. Hailey jerks back just slightly, and a second later, Will appears in the hallway, a backpack slung over one shoulder and keys in hand.

“Alright,” he says, glancing between them, “bags are packed, and I’ve triple-checked for chargers and snacks. I’m officially ready for tomorrow’s 5 a.m. disaster.”

She turns and calls out, “Just don’t forget the part where you leave the building on time,” her voice teasing.

Will grins. “That’s what the backup alarm is for.”

Hailey gently squeezes Jay’s hand, then meets his gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
“I should go,” she says softly. Part of her wants to stay, to lean into this softness between them. But the other part knows Jay should have this last bit of time with Will before he leaves.

“You should take the rest of the night,” she adds, voice quiet for only him to hear. “Be with your brother.”

Jay lets out a soft breath, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, can’t miss the chance to hear Will complain about TSA lines alone,” he says, loud enough for his brother to hear.

From down the hall, Will’s voice calls out, “I heard that!”

Jay smirks. “Just making sure you know how much I’m looking forward to it.”

Hailey shakes her head, amused, and looks back at Jay. There’s a flicker of understanding there—gratitude, too.

Hailey gives a small nod, then slowly rises to her feet. “Get some rest, Halstead.” 

Jay starts to push himself up, but Hailey gently places a hand on his arm. “Don’t. You don’t need to stand.”

Still, he does anyway. Slowly, carefully, he rises and opens his arms—and without a word, Hailey steps into them.

There’s a beat, a small adjustment as she fits against him, mindful of his side. But then his arms come around her fully, drawing her in. Not just gently—but with purpose. Possessive in a way that makes her breath catch. Something in her chest aches from the contact, but it’s not just emotion—it’s need, too.

They linger, longer than necessary. Her hands rest against his chest, not moving, not pulling away. The heat between them is quiet but undeniable.

His fingers shift against her back, slow and uncertain, like he’s fighting the urge to pull her even closer. And then, without thinking, he presses a kiss to the top of her head—soft, grounding, but it hums through her all the same.

She doesn’t move. Not right away. Her body stays pressed to his, and for a second, all she can feel is him—his warmth, his breath, the way everything between them fits. 

Then she pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, her voice quieter now. “Really though… get some rest.”

Jay nods, voice low. “Night, Hailey. And… again, thanks for dinner.”

Something soft flickers in her expression, but she just nods once.

“Night, Jay.”

She crosses the room and pulls Will into a hug—warm and quick. “Have a good flight. And tell Natalie and the kids I said hi.”

“Will do,” he says, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks for bringing dinner tonight.”

She lingers a beat longer before grabbing her coat and heading to the door. Her fingers tighten around the handle for a second—just a second—then she opens it and steps into the hallway.

And as the door clicks shut behind her, she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

x

Jay’s body aches, a dull, persistent throb centered around his side, but it’s not as sharp as it was a few days ago when Will left. The worst has passed. He can breathe easier now, move without gritting his teeth every time, but recovery has come with a new problem: boredom.

He’s restless. Stir crazy. Tired of the walls of his apartment and the silence that stretches too long between TV reruns and half-finished books. Hailey comes by when she can, but work’s been keeping her late. So for the first time since the shooting, Jay’s truly alone. He welcomed the quiet at first—now it feels like it’s closing in.

Fresh from the shower, steam still clinging to the mirror, Jay wraps a towel around his waist and starts digging through the kit on the counter—gauze, antiseptic, medical tape. He grabs what he needs, balancing it all awkwardly in one hand, then makes his way into the bedroom.

The mirror on the closet door offers a better angle, and at least he can sit down. He settles on the edge of the bed, muscles still sore, and sets everything beside him.

The dressing is halfway off when the pain sharpens. His fingers freeze, and he hisses out a breath through clenched teeth. He presses forward anyway, stubbornly peeling back the edge, trying not to wince at the tug against tender skin. He grabs the clean gauze with his left hand, tape already pre-cut and laid out on the nightstand.

It slips.

“Shit,” he mutters, low and rough, watching it fall to the floor.

He bends to pick it up, but the motion pulls at the wound, and this time, the pain bites deep enough to force him still. He stays hunched over, one hand braced on his thigh, breathing through it.

It’s stupid. This should be simple.

He used to patch himself up in the field. Used to get hurt, stitched, and back out again in under twenty-four hours. And now, here he is, nearly two weeks out and unable to tape a damn bandage to his side.

Pride claws at his throat. He doesn’t want to call anyone. But his hand trembles a little when he tries again, and he sags forward with a frustrated breath, elbows resting on his knees, lips pressed tight.

Defeated, he grabs his phone. He checks the time—just past six. 

Hey. When are you getting home tonight?

Haile’s reply comes a minute later.

Just got in. Wrapped up early for once.

He types.

Wait—you’re home already?

Her reply comes quickly. 

Shocking, I know. What’s up?

Jay looks at his phone, finger hovering over the keyboard. He runs a hand over his face, feeling a flicker of guilt—she probably finally has a moment to herself, and the last thing he wants is to burden her with this. But the truth is, he can’t do it alone.

Need a hand. Dressing this wound is a two-person job.

Seconds later, the three dots appear, dancing on his screen—followed quickly by her response.

Be right over.

Jay barely makes it into the living room before there’s a knock at the door. He glances down at the towel still wrapped around his waist, briefly considers grabbing a pair of shorts—but the sharp tug in his side makes him think twice. So he opens the door as he is.

Hailey’s there, still in her work pants but wearing a soft T-shirt instead of the usual blouse she keeps under her blazer. Her eyes widen for just a second when she takes him in—bare chest, towel slung low around his waist. Then her gaze drifts, and he can tell the exact moment it lands on his scar. It’s the first time she’s really seen it—no bandage, no dressing. Just the angry line cutting across his side, stark against his skin.

Hailey arches a brow, lips tugging into a smirk. “Is this how you greet all your visitors?”

Jay huffs a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Only the ones who live across the hall.”

She lets out a soft scoff, shaking her head. “Lucky me.”

A beat passes before Jay steps back and opens the door wider, his expression gentler now.

“Come in before someone files a complaint.”

“Please,” she says, brushing past him, “no one’s complaining.”

Jay blinks, caught somewhere between amused and flustered, then follows her down the short hallway.

“I have everything in here,” he says, motioning toward the bedroom. The supplies—gauze, tape, antiseptic—are all laid out on the nightstand, right where he left them after his failed attempts.

“You tried to do it yourself?” she asks, brow arched as she gives him a look that clearly says you’re an idiot—but a lovable one. Then she moves with that calm, focused energy she always slips into when she’s in caretaker mode. It used to drive him crazy in the best way.

Still does.

“Figured I could handle it.” He gestures vaguely toward his side. “Turns out, not so much.”

She gives him a look—half exasperated, half fond—before reaching for the gauze.

“Sit. I’ve got it.”

She sits beside him on the edge of the bed, focused and careful as she peels away the leftover bits of old tape still clinging to his skin. Her fingers are warm, sure and gentle against him. He doesn’t flinch, but his breath catches when her touch lingers a second too long, brushing just above the stitches.

“You’re healing,” she says, soft but not clinical. “Still tender, but it’s clean. No signs of infection.”

Jay watches her face as she works—the furrow in her brow, the way her bottom lip tucks in concentration. She’s close now, and even though they’ve shared space recently, something about this feels different. Closer. More intimate.

Heat coils low, blood rushing south before he can stop it.

He clears his throat, forcing his focus elsewhere—anything to rein it back in. “Thanks for doing this,” he murmurs.

Hailey glances up, her eyes meeting his. “You’d do the same for me.”

Yeah. In a heartbeat.

She finishes securing the new gauze in place, smoothing the edges with practiced care. But she doesn’t move back immediately. Neither of them does.

His chest rises and falls slowly. Her hands linger at his side, her presence steady and warm. Jay feels the shift in the air, the weight of her touch—and the familiar pull low in his body, blood surging south, yet again, uninvited but inevitable.

“You okay?” she asks quietly, her voice dipping into something softer.

He nods, silently scolding himself—Get it together, man. “Yeah. Better now with your help.”

But Hailey doesn’t move. Her eyes stay on his, steady. “No, I mean… really.”

Oh. She’s not just asking about right now.

Jay exhales, the weight of the question catching him off guard—not because she asked, but because it’s her. And because she means it.

He drops his gaze for a second, fingers flexing against his thigh before looking back up. He wants to be honest with her—completely. No hiding. No brushing things off. Not anymore. 

“I’m losing my mind a little,” he admits with a dry huff of a laugh. “I hate sitting still. The pain’s better, but it’s still there. Not just the physical stuff—just... everything.”

Hailey nods, like she understands exactly what he means. And  he knows she does. Her hand moves to his back, slow and steady—a quiet, comforting touch that says more than words could.

“Being alone with your own thoughts for too long—yeah,” she murmurs. “It gets loud.”

His eyes lift to hers again. “It does.”

The softness in her gaze makes something in his chest loosen just a little. Then, suddenly, Hailey straightens like a light just switched on.

“Have you had dinner yet?” she asks, already halfway to standing.

Jay hesitates. That’s answer enough.

Hailey rolls her eyes, but it’s fond. “Alright, then. Go put some clothes on.” 

He blinks. “What?”

“We’re going for a walk,” she says, rising to her feet. “We’ll pick up something to eat on the way.”

Before he can protest—before he can say anything about not wanting to take up more of her time tonight—she cuts in.

“You’re restless, bored out of your mind, and apparently planning to starve in here. Come on.” She gestures toward the window. “Fresh air, food. It'll do you good.”

Jay opens his mouth to protest again, but the truth is—he wants out. The apartment’s felt smaller since Will left, the silence heavier. He’s tired of the way time stretches endlessly between the same four walls.

And maybe more than anything, he just wants to spend time with her.

“Alright,” he says. “But only if you let me pay.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at her lips as she helps him up. “You’re not in a position to negotiate, Halstead.”

He laughs, a real one, and it feels good.

The moment lingers in his chest even after she retreats to the living room. He exhales slowly, then turns toward the dresser, grabbing the first T-shirt and pair of joggers he can manage without too much bending. 

When he walks out into the living room, tugging his shirt down over his still-bandaged side, Hailey is there. Not just waiting, but settled, like she belongs. One leg crossed over the other on the edge of the couch, her fingers idly picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

She looks up as he enters. “You ready?” 

“Yes.” 

As they step out into the hallway together, something in him eases. Just a little. But enough. She makes the pain duller, the air easier to breathe. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind being taken care of. Not if it’s her.

The air outside is cool but not cold, the kind of early evening breeze that feels good against his skin after being cooped up for days. Jay exhales as they walk, the sidewalk beneath their feet familiar, the street quieter than usual.

Hailey walks beside him, hands tucked into her jacket pockets. There’s a calm between them—not awkward, just... easy. Comfortable in the way that only comes from knowing someone inside and out.

“I was starting to forget what fresh air felt like,” Jay says, glancing at her with a faint smirk.

Hailey shoots him a sideways look. “You’ve only been home a week.”

“A long week.”

She smiles, and it softens everything. “Well, you look better than you did a few days ago. Less... ghostly.”

“High praise.”

Jay nudges her gently with his shoulder, and she lets out a quiet laugh. It's not a full-body laugh, not yet—but the sound of it does something good to his chest.

They reach the corner sandwich shop, a hole-in-the-wall place they’ve both passed a hundred times but rarely stopped at. The lights are still on, the sign in the window flipped to OPEN. Hailey pulls the door open and gestures for him to go first.

“Ladies first,” Jay says.

She rolls her eyes but smiles as she walks in ahead of him. “You’re lucky I’m too hungry to argue.”

The place is quiet—just a couple of booths occupied, soft music playing overhead. They order at the counter, trading light comments about what to get, and when Jay pulls out his card, Hailey just lifts a brow and lets him win this one.

They take a seat by the window while they wait, the glow from outside casting a warm hue across her face. She leans back slightly, her gaze drifting toward him.

“You really were going stir crazy, huh?”

Jay nods. “Didn’t realize how much I needed to get out until I did.”

She studies him for a second, quiet, her eyes softer than before. “Next time, don’t wait until you’re losing it. Just text me.”

He meets her gaze, something tightening in his chest at the way she says it—not as a throwaway offer, but something that matters.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I will.”

And there it is again—that space between them. Not quite dating, not just friends. But something.

Their food arrives, and they both lean forward, the spell breaking slightly as they unwrap their sandwiches. But every now and then, between bites and small talk, their eyes meet—and hold just a second longer than they probably should.

Like maybe neither of them is ready to name what this is.

But they’re both feeling it.

The walk back is slower. Not just because Jay’s still  healing, though he moves more cautiously than usual—but because neither of them seems in a rush to go home.

The sandwich shop behind them, the sidewalk stretches quiet and calm, streetlights flickering on as the sky deepens to a soft navy. Hailey walks close enough that their hands almost brush. Almost.

“You didn’t finish your sandwich,” she says after a beat, glancing sideways at him.

He shrugs. “Guess my appetite’s not all the way back yet.”

“You want me to yell at you about protein and healing and keeping your strength up?” she teases lightly.

Jay smirks. “Didn’t realize I was walking home with a nutritionist.”

“Only when necessary.”

There’s an easy smile on her face, and he lets himself look at it a little longer than he should.

Hailey is beautiful—he’s always known that—but in this quiet, unguarded way, it hits different. Blue eyes bright and open, blonde hair a little waxy and messy from the long day, probably still holding the faint crease of a ponytail. There’s a softness to her like this, one he doesn’t take for granted.

As they step into the lobby of their building, the warmth inside wraps around them, but Jay feels the shift instantly—the way the quiet settles deeper, like the moment’s thinning out, about to end.

They ride the elevator up in silence, but not an uncomfortable one. It’s filled with glances that say more than either of them does out loud.

Jay knows where they are headed. It’s no longer a question for him. God knows he’d marry her again in a heartbeat if she asked. But this time, he’s letting her set the pace. No pressure. No expectations. He’ll wait—however long it takes.

When they reach their floor, they walk side by side to his door. He slows, turning to face her.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “For... everything. The bandage, the walk. Talking me out of my own head.”

Hailey tilts her head slightly. “You sure you’re thanking me and not just relieved you got out of the apartment?”

He smiles. “Both.”

There’s a beat. Neither of them moves.

“I’ll let you rest,” he says finally, voice quieter now, as if the hallway itself requires something gentler.

Hailey nods, but she doesn’t open the door yet. “I meant what I said earlier,” she adds, eyes meeting his. “Don’t wait until next time. Just knock. Or text. Whatever. I’m across the hall—I’m not going anywhere.”

That last part hangs between them, and Jay feels it land somewhere deep. 

“I know,” he says. His voice is steady, but the words feel bigger than they sound. Then, quieter—more certain—he adds, “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Her eyes flicker, just for a moment. Like maybe she wasn’t expecting that. But she doesn’t look away.

She offers a small smile, soft and genuine, then takes a small step back toward her door.

Chapter Text

Hailey pushes through the front door of her building, her bag slung over one shoulder, boot heels clicking lightly against the floor. It’s been a long day—her hair’s falling out of its twist, her blazer’s thoroughly wrinkled, and her brain is still half-wrapped around case notes—but the sight that greets her as she rounds the corner toward the elevator brings her to a full stop.

Jay, emerging from the laundry room.

He’s tugging along a makeshift cart contraption—what looks like a laundry basket strapped to a folding luggage trolley with a bungee cord. It wobbles unsteadily, one wheel squeaking in protest with every step. But she's gotta hand it to him—it’s actually kind of genius.

“That your latest engineering project?”

Jay glances up, caught. He’s wearing a backwards hat, a worn gray T-shirt, and joggers that hang low on his hips. There’s a sheepish twist to his smile, but beneath it, he looks just a little too proud of himself—maybe even smug about the whole thing.

“Don’t judge me. Desperate times.”

Hailey takes a few steps closer, her amusement obvious. “Looks like it’s one pothole away from collapse though.”

“Not if I walk carefully.”

She snorts. “Honestly? I’m kind of impressed. It looks awful—but impressively awful.”

Jay starts rolling the cart toward the elevator, but Hailey doesn’t let it squeak more than a few feet. She steps beside him and casually takes the handle. “You shouldn’t be hauling anything heavy right now.”

“I’m not hauling,” he argues, weakly. “I’m rolling.”

Hailey shoots him a look as they stop in front of the elevator. “If you’d told me, I would’ve done your laundry with mine yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” he says, wincing slightly as he steps back to let her take over. “Plus, it gives me an excuse to leave the apartment.”

Hailey huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Well, we can’t have you going stir-crazy.” 

Jay tips his head at her, a crooked grin spreading. “See? Now you’re getting it.”

They step into the elevator together, the doors sliding shut behind them with a soft thud. As the floor number lights up, she adds casually, “I’m gonna change real quick, then I’ll come help you fold. I just need to get out of these and into something that doesn’t have buttons.”

She catches the way Jay shifts slightly beside her, like he’s about to protest—probably to tell her she doesn’t have to, that he’s got it. But then he glances at her and seems to think better of it. He just nods instead, a quiet acceptance settling between them.

And that’s how it’s been lately.

She comes home, and somehow, without either of them really saying it, they end up spending the evening together—talking, eating, watching something dumb on TV, or slipping out for a walk when the weather’s decent. It’s not dramatic. Not all-consuming. It’s easy. Comforting. Steady.

She finds herself looking forward to it. To him. To the warmth of his presence. The way he always lights up when she walks in—like she’s the one thing he’s been waiting on all day.

So after changing into something more comfortable, she heads over to his apartment and they settle beside each other, the laundry basket between them, warm clothes spilling over the sides. 

Hailey picks up a T-shirt, folds it neatly, and adds it to a growing stack. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him watching her as he folds too, slow and deliberate, his movements still careful.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he murmurs, not quite looking at her.

“I know,” she replies without looking at him. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to.”

It’s quiet after that. Just the sound of clothes shifting, fabric rustling, the hum of the refrigerator echoing faintly from the kitchen. But it’s not awkward—it’s soft. Familiar.

Hailey picks up one of his old T-shirts, the kind that looks like it’s barely survived another wash cycle. She holds it up, smirking. “I can’t believe you still own this thing,” she says. “It’s been through wars. Literally.”

Jay glances over, chuckling. “What can I say? It’s a classic.”

“It’s a relic,” she fires back. “It’s done its job. You should retire it with honors.”

“I’ll give it a medal ceremony later,” he mutters, shaking his head.

She grins. “Just promise me you’re not still wearing it in public.”

His groan earns a small laugh from her. “That sounds like a trap.”

“Because it is,” she says, and without thinking, tosses the shirt at him.

He catches it—barely—but the motion pulls something in his side. His breath hitches, just for a second, and he sets the shirt down with a soft sigh.

Hailey’s smile fades. “Hey... you okay?” she asks, her voice quieter now, eyes scanning his face. She shifts closer without thinking, her hand finding his forearm—warm beneath her touch, solid in a way that grounds her more than she expects. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t think–”

Jay shakes his head immediately, cutting her off. His fingers brush lightly over hers where she’s holding his arm, and he gives her a small, stubborn smile. “I’m fine. Just pulled it the wrong way.”

Hailey arches a brow. “You sure?”

He hesitates, like he’s weighing how honest to be, then shrugs. “The pain is manageable. Still reminds me it’s there when I try to do something stupid. Like, you know, lift my arm.”

Hailey's fingers slip from his arm slowly, the warmth of his skin lingering on her hand longer than she expects. She nods and folds the last pair of socks, placing them on top of the stack. “You need help putting it away?” 

“I can get it—”

She lifts a brow, cutting him off. “See, that was a test.”

Jay lets out a breathy laugh, already defeated. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Nope,” she says, unapologetically.

She carries the stacks to the bedroom, both of them quiet again as they move in sync—like they’ve done this before. Because they have, in another life, another home. And now, here they are, doing it again in a different context, but it still fits. Still makes sense.

She closes a drawer gently, fingers resting on the edge for a beat before turning back toward him.

Jay is sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain exactly, but he’s not fully at ease either—still carrying that tension in his shoulders, the kind that hasn’t really left since he came home from the hospital. 

“You’re cleared for folding clothes, but I wouldn’t push it,” she says lightly, leaning back against the dresser.

Jay smirks at her teasing, but it fades after a beat. An easy, warm smile replaces it as he looks at her—soft, almost too soft. He reaches out, palm open in silent invitation.

Hailey doesn’t hesitate. She pushes off the dresser and slips her hand into his, letting him guide her toward the bed. He holds on as she sits beside him, their hands still joined, fingers loosely intertwined, resting on his thigh—warm and steady between them.

Only then does he speak—quietly, like it matters more than he’s letting on. “Actually… I’m cleared for desk work now. Got the okay from Donovan earlier.”

Hailey straightens a little. “Yeah?”

He nods and his thumb brushes over hers once, slow, his gaze meeting hers. “I start in a couple days. Nothing physical, obviously. Just intel review, sitting in front of screens, trying not to screw up my posture.”

She doesn’t say anything at first—just watches him. There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Hope, maybe. Or restlessness. Probably both.

“That’s great, Jay,” she says finally, and means it. “You need something to do.”

Jay huffs out a breath. “Yeah, before I start reorganizing my spice cabinet again.”

Hailey laughs, the sound short and genuine. “God forbid.”

He shrugs, looking down at their hands for a second before glancing up at her again. “It’ll be good to get back into it. Even if it’s just behind a desk for now.”

She nods, understanding all too well how hard it is to sit on the sidelines. “One step at a time, right?”

“Right.”

For a moment, they just sit there—side by side on the edge of the bed. The light in the room is soft, casting a gentle glow over everything. The quiet between them stretches just enough to feel full, but not heavy.

Then Jay looks at her, something playful flickering in his eyes. He lifts an eyebrow, amused. “So, was this a formal laundry intervention?”

She chuckles. “Nothing as dire as a red sock in the whites, but it seemed urgent enough.”

“Clearly.” He grins but shifts with a small wince, adjusting his position. Hailey notices again the subtle tension in his shoulders, and the way he’s trying not to let it show.

“Lie back,” she says softly, giving his hand a gentle tug.

Jay hesitates—just for a second—and before he can say anything, Hailey reaches up and slides the backwards cap off his head, setting it aside. Her fingers slip through his hair, mussing it playfully before smoothing it back.

“You’ve done too much,” she adds softly, giving his hand another gentle tug.

He lets out a quiet breath, a smile tugging at his mouth, and together they ease back until they’re lying side by side across the bed, torsos on the comforter, feet still on the floor. Their shoulders touch. Their hands stay linked, resting between them.

The ceiling becomes their view, but Hailey glances over at him instead. He looks more at ease now, the lines around his eyes softening.

She shifts slightly, just enough to rest her head against his upper arm, her cheek brushing the soft sleeve of his T-shirt. He doesn’t say anything—just turns his head and presses his lips to the top of her hair. He doesn’t pull back right away; his mouth lingers there, warm and steady, and for a moment, everything else fades. 

The silence between them stretches again, but this time it feels like a cocoon—safe, still. She can feel his breath, slow and steady, the way his body sinks just a little deeper into the mattress. 

Then his hand slips from hers… only to settle gently on her thigh. His palm is warm through the fabric of her leggings, fingers curling slightly against her. The contact sends a quiet hum through her, settling low in her chest. She shifts just a little closer and lays her hand on top of his.

Jay doesn’t look at her. But his thumb moves—once, slowly—stroking over her thigh.

“Thanks for staying,” he says, voice quiet.

Hailey lets out a soft breath, her head still tilted toward him. “Wasn’t exactly a hard sell,” she murmurs. Then, after a beat, her lips curve just slightly. “And maybeI could be talked into staying longer… for the right bribe.”

Jay turns his head, just enough to catch her expression. “Oh yeah?”

She lifts an eyebrow, playful. “Mm-hmm. Something involving eating. I’m easily swayed by food, you know.”

Jay huffs a quiet laugh, pretending to think it over. “What’re you in the mood for?” he asks, voice low. “Your turn to pick—I’ll order. You did last night.”

Hailey hesitates, then gives a small shake of her head. “I don’t know… kind of over takeout. Don’t really feel like waiting an hour to eat.”

Jay tilts his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got everything you need for a grilled cheese—and you know I can make a pretty damn good one, if you’re up for it.”

Hailey’s eyes light up, and she laughs softly. “Now that’s a bribe worth staying for.” She taps her fingers gently against the back of his hand. “Can I be your sous chef?”

“You trying to supervise me now?”

Jay tilts his head, his grin crooked and a bit too charming, the warmth in his eyes making it clear he’s not really annoyed.

She shrugs, trying to keep her voice light. “Maybe I just don’t trust you not to overdo it the second I’m not looking.”

Jay rolls his eyes, but his thumb brushes affectionately against her thigh. “Fair enough,” he murmurs.

He shifts forward, carefully pushing himself up, and Hailey rises with him. As soon as they’re both standing, Jay tugs her gently toward him—not enough to make a scene of it, just enough to bring her close.

She steps in without thinking.

He leans in, presses a second  kiss to her hair—light, familiar. His hand settles briefly at her waist before he pulls back, eyes meeting hers with something quiet and sure.

“Let’s go make dinner,” he says.

x

Over the next few days, they fall into a rhythm. Most nights, they end up in the same apartment, splitting takeout or throwing together something simple. They spend their free time together without really planning to—it just happens. And it feels easy. Natural. Like something that’s always been theirs. 

And she feels good. Really good.

There’s a steadiness in her lately, something she hasn’t felt in a long time. Like her life is finally leveling out. All the anger, the resentment, the tangled mess of betrayal and heartbreak—it’s all dimmed. Things aren’t perfect, or entirely figured out (and maybe that’s a topic for another therapy session someday), but they’re settled enough that she can finally exhale at the end of the day instead of constantly bracing for the next hit.

She likes the way she feels when she’s with him. Not the chaos they used to fall into, but the quiet. The steadiness. 

She sees a path forward now.

Even if they haven’t named anything yet.

The conference room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the occasional shuffle of papers. Hailey sits at the head of the table, notes from her latest interrogation spread out in front of her. A cup of lukewarm coffee sits untouched by her elbow, long forgotten as she rereads an interrogation transcript, brow furrowed in concentration.

The office outside is winding down for the day. Most people have cleared out, the usual noise thinning to scattered footsteps and muffled phone calls. She should probably head out soon too, and a small part of her already looks forward to seeing Jay when she does—but something about this case won’t let her mind rest.

She doesn’t look up when she hears the door ease open.

Soft footsteps. A pause.

Hailey flicks her eyes toward the doorway, and there’s Nina—half-leaning on the frame, not quite in the room, not quite out of it. It’s the kind of lingering that’s less about the case and more about curiosity.

Hailey quirks an eyebrow. “You just gonna hover there, or...?”

Nina smiles, stepping fully into the room but still staying near the door. “Just making sure I’m not interrupting Agent Upton’s Very Intense Note-Taking Time.”

Hailey snorts and leans back slightly in her chair. “What’s up, Nina?”

Nina shrugs like it’s casual. It’s not. “Nothing, just… I’ve been good, right? Giving you space. Not prying. Not bringing up anything that rhymes with ‘Jay.’”

Hailey lets out a breath through her nose, lips twitching. “Right.”

“But,” Nina says, drawing out the word dramatically as she slowly makes her way to the seat beside Hailey, “the people want to know.”

“The people?”

“I’m the people.” She grins, eyes lighting up. “So… what’s new with you and Halstead? Any new developments? I mean—emotions were high after he got shot and all that, so… are we still in the ‘figuring it out’ phase, or…?”

Hailey shakes her head, smiling despite herself as she closes the file in front of her. “You’re relentless.”

“I’ve been patient,” Nina says, pointing a finger at her. “I gave you space. But now? Jay’s out of the woods—and you’ve been... calm. Lighter, even. Happier.”

Hailey blinks at that, and Nina gives her a knowing look. “I may not know what’s happening behind closed doors, but I know you. And something’s different.”

Hailey sighs, leaning back in her chair again and letting her head rest against the wall for a beat. “There’s nothing official.”

“But there is something.”

There’s no point in denying it. Not with Nina. Hailey shrugs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s... complicated.”

Nina lifts an eyebrow, deadpan. “Color me surprised. So… messy complicated or soft complicated?”

Hailey huffs a quiet laugh. “Right now? Soft. Very soft”

Nina raises her eyebrows, pleased. “That’s my favorite kind.”

Hailey sighs again, quieter this time, and picks at the edge of one of her files, not quite meeting Nina’s eyes. “It’s not like we’re jumping into anything. We’re just… spending time together. Nothing planned, nothing big. It just kind of happens.”

Nina watches her for a beat, softer now. “And how does that feel?”

Hailey hesitates. Then: “Honestly, it feels really good. Easy. Which is weird, considering how not-easy things used to be not too long ago.” She pauses, searching for the right words. “It kind of feels like... before. Back when we first started dating. Before everything from the job started creeping in. Before the dark stuff got too loud.”

She lets out a quiet breath, a small, almost shy smile tugging at her mouth. “It’s hard to explain—starting something old, but feeling like it’s brand new at the same time.” 

Nina doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches her, her expression softening. “You don’t have to explain it, Hails. Sometimes things don’t make sense until they do. People change. Timing changes. Maybe it’s just finally lining up for you two.”

Hailey glances at her, surprised.

“What?” Nina shrugs, smiling. “You think I can’t do emotionally well-adjusted?”

Hailey lets out a soft laugh. “Honestly? I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Rude,” Nina says, mock-offended. Then she leans back in her chair, arms crossed, gaze still on Hailey. “But seriously… if it feels right, don’t overthink it. You and Jay… that much is clear—you’re meant for each other. Just let it be good.”

Hailey sits with that for a moment. And maybe she doesn’t say it out loud—but she’s already been doing exactly that. Still, as Nina’s words settle, something else stirs beneath them. Something quieter. Heavier. She exhales, debating whether to give it a voice now. Maybe she shouldn’t wait until her next therapy session to say this. Maybe dragging it into the light now might make it feel a little less heavy.

Across from her, Nina doesn’t miss a thing. “What is it?” she asked gently. Her voice isn’t pushy, just steady. “Talk to me.”

“There’s just one thing…” Hailey trails off on a slow breath that carries more than just air, her fingers stilling at the edge of the file in front of her.

Nina tilts her head, waiting.

Hailey lifts her gaze, finally meeting her eyes. “I’m scared that… all the stuff I think I let go of—the resentment, the anger—what if it’s not really gone? What if it creeps back in and ruins everything?”

There. She said it. And the words land with weight, heavier now that they’re out in the open. 

“I really want this to be different,” Hailey continues. “And right now, it is. It’s so good. But part of me keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something to pull me back into that headspace.”

Nina doesn’t answer right away. She doesn’t try to brush it off. She just lets the silence hang there for a moment. 

Then, gently: “You’re not the same person you were back then. Neither is he. And yeah, maybe those feelings don’t just disappear overnight—but the fact that you recognize they’re still there, and you’re not running from them? That’s half the battle, Hails.” She pauses, then adds softly, “Have you told him any of this?”

Hailey shakes her head. “No. I haven’t.” She exhales, then adds quietly, “I haven’t brought any of it up because… I didn’t want to poke at it.” 

Nina doesn’t hesitate. “You should.” Her voice isn’t forceful, just steady—like she is offering a truth Hailey already knows deep down. “If you want this to work… really work… you’ve gotta let him see the whole picture. Even the messy parts.” She gives a small shrug. “Otherwise, you’re just holding your breath.” 

The moment stretches between them—quiet, but full—and just as Hailey lets the weight of it settle, Nina leans back in her chair, tilts her head, and says without a shred of warning, “Okay, emotional breakthrough aside… have you jumped him lately?”

Hailey blinks, thrown. “Wow. Whiplash much?”

“What?” Nina shrugs, entirely unbothered. “I let you have your deep emotional moment. Now I get to ask the important questions.”

Hailey rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches despite herself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know. But also, you didn’t answer.”

Hailey scoffs. “He is still recovering, Nina. I’m not gonna just… jump him.”

Nina raises both eyebrows, unimpressed. “There are other ways.”

Hailey stares at her. “Oh my God. Seriously?”

“I’m just saying,” Nina says, hands raised like she’s stating an undeniable fact. “The man is alive, breathing, looks like a Greek god—and you haven’t…?” She pauses, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. “You’re a saint.”

Hailey picks up a pen and tosses it her way with a teasing smile. “I’ll say it again for the people in the back: you desperately need a hobby.”

Nina catches it one-handed, grinning. “This is my hobby. And honestly, I deserve a medal for how patient I’ve been.” 

Hailey shakes her head, biting back a smile. “This conversation is officially over.”

Nina leans back, smug as ever. “Great. So here’s your action plan: tell him how you’re feeling about the whole shoe-dropping thing, then jump him—then tell me all about it.”

Hailey groans, grabbing the nearest folder to hold in front of her face. “I’m filing a formal complaint with HR.”

Nina just laughs, unbothered. “And I want details. None of that vague, emotionally-repressed bullshit you usually try to pass off as a summary.” 

Hailey peeks over the folder, deadpan. “You’re actually insane.”

Nina grins. “Insanely invested. So go, get laid, then text me the highlights.”

Hailey just shakes her head and pushes back from the table, gathering the file in her hands. She doesn’t say anything as she heads for the door, but there’s the faintest tug of a smile on her lips—because, as much as she hates to admit it, Nina’s action plan isn’t the worst idea in the world.

And that’s the part that really gets her. The part she can’t quite believe.

She’s actually agreeing with Nina.

God help her.

x

Jay’s halfway through scanning a briefing report when the knock comes—and an instant smile pulls at his lips, because he already knows exactly who it is.

He checks the time—barely after eight in the morning—and rises from the couch, setting his tablet aside. He’s dressed in a long-sleeve T-shirt and joggers, freshly showered and about as put-together as he can be without a badge clipped to his hip.

When he opens the door, Hailey is there, a small paper bag in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“Morning,” she says, casual but warm. “Brought backup.”

Jay’s mouth twitches into something between a smile and a smirk. “You’re saving me from instant oatmeal, aren’t you?”

She shrugs, stepping past him as he holds the door open. “Somebody has to.”

He follows her inside, closing the door behind them. The apartment is still quiet—no music, no news playing in the background. Just the soft sound of her setting the coffees down on the kitchen counter.

She pulls out two breakfast sandwiches and slides one across to him. “Eat. You’ll thank me later.”

Jay lets out a low laugh and takes a bite. 

They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, standing side by side at the kitchen counter, the occasional clink of a coffee cup or napkin filling the space between them.

Jay’s been feeling good lately—just restless from being cooped up. He’s been doing intel reviews from home, checking in with Donovan, quietly pacing his recovery. It’s progress, sure. But it’s not enough. He wants more. He wants back.

And Hailey seems to sense it, even without him saying a word. He knows that’s part of why she came over this morning—like she has most mornings and nights  lately—not just to bring coffee, but to check on him. To make sure he’s holding it together.

And the truth is... he doesn’t mind.

He likes it.

He likes that she’s here. That she is thinking of him. That she shows up—even if neither of them says it out loud. And it’s always been like that with them, even before they were a thing. Before anything ever happened, she just knew —how to find him in the silence, how to show up when it mattered.

“You’re getting close,” she says softly, not looking at him. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

Jay almost laughs—just a breath of it, quiet and dry. Of course. There she goes, proving his earlier thought without even trying. He swallows and sets down his coffee. “I just want to stop feeling like I’m waiting.”

“You’re not,” she says. “You’re healing. That’s different. Besides,” she adds, “you make a decent coffee date.”

He huffs a small laugh. “I’ll take the compliment.”

They fall quiet again, but the silence feels... good. Grounded. The kind you settle into, not run from.

Jay steals a glance at her—hair pulled back neatly, already dressed for work in dark slacks and a fitted coat. She stands there, effortlessly composed, the faintest crease in her brow hinting that her mind is already on the day ahead. But still, she made room for him. There’s a flush in her cheeks and the way the morning light hits her—low and warm—makes her look unfairly beautiful.

He holds her gaze a beat longer than he should, and for a moment, he thinks she’s about to say something—there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, the kind that usually comes just before words. But then she glances at the time—subtle, instinctive—and straightens slightly, brushing a hand down the front of her blazer.

“I should go,” she says, glancing toward the door. “I’ve got a meeting with Daniels—I can’t be late.”

Jay doesn’t push. Just nods, stepping back as Hailey grabs her coffee. But he can tell something’s on her mind—he’s sure of it. But whatever it is, she’s not ready to tell him. 

So he lets it go. For now.

“Thanks for breakfast,” he says. 

“You’re welcome,” she replies, walking toward the door.

Just before she opens it, she turns. “If you need anything—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I’ll text.”

She gives him a small smile—soft, familiar—and slips out the door.

Jay stands there for a moment longer, the warmth of her presence still lingering in the room. He moves back to the couch, reopening the tablet and pulling up the next batch of intel reports. He tells himself to focus—just a few more files to get through before his afternoon check-in with Donovan.

But his mind keeps drifting.

He needs to do more for Hailey than just say thank you at the door. Not because she expects it—she never does—but because she’s done a hell of a lot for him lately, and he wants to give a little of that back.

Something small. Personal. Thoughtful.

He leans back against the cushions, tablet forgotten on his lap, already turning over ideas in his head.

By the time he closes his laptop just after five, the plan has taken shape.

Reports? Done. Donovan’s check-in? Answered. Inbox? Cleared. On paper, he’s finished for the day. But the energy buzzing beneath his skin isn’t restlessness. It’s anticipation.

Because he knows exactly what he’s going to do tonight to thank Hailey—and the thought of it makes him feel almost... giddy. He’s going to make her his homemade pizza, the one he bragged about, the one that, when he first offered, sounded suspiciously like asking her out. She’d shied away from it then, but now—if he’s lucky—she’ll welcome it, and this low-key dinner will feel exactly like a date.

It’s ridiculous, maybe, but the quiet excitement curling in his chest feels good. Like a teenager with a crush. Like something he hasn’t felt in a long time—and didn’t realize he missed until now.

So he grabs his makeshift laundry cart, throws on a hoodie, and heads out—moving a little slower than usual, but steady.

He picks up everything he needs at the market—flour, yeast, olive oil—for the dough. Then fresh tomatoes, garlic, basil—ingredients for his homemade sauce. He adds the good mozzarella, the kind of pepperoni that curls and crisps at the edges, and grabs a bottle of red—the one he knows is her favorite.

Back at his place, he moves around the kitchen with careful precision—Mixing, slicing, stirring, preheating the oven. There’s a warmth in the apartment now that has nothing to do with the oven temperature. 

And when everything’s ready—pizza assembled, wine breathing on the counter—he doesn’t text. He just waits, a quiet anticipation buzzing in his chest.

She’ll be home soon. And maybe tonight is the quiet start of something old made new.

x

Hailey steps out of the elevator and turns down the hallway toward her apartment. She’s tired in that quiet, settled way—not burnt out, just ready to be home.

But halfway down the hall, she slows.

Something smells... incredible. Garlic, oregano, a hint of tomato—rich and comforting—and something else she can’t quite place. Melted cheese? It hits her like a memory. Like warmth she didn’t realize she’d been missing.

By the time she reaches her door, she doesn’t need to guess where it’s coming from. Across the hall, Jay’s door is slightly ajar, just enough for the scent to roll out in full force. Her keys pause in her hand.

She hesitates, just for a second, then lifts her hand and knocks gently against the frame.

“Jay?” 

He appears a second later, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, a streak of flour across the back of his wrist. The smell is even stronger now—comforting and rich, wrapping around her like a cozy blanket.

He gives her a smile—lopsided and a little sheepish, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and it makes him look so effortlessly charming it’s unfair. And damn it if it doesn’t melt her just a little.

“You’re cooking?” she asks, one brow arched.

“Yes,” he says, stepping back to let her in. “I’m going to prove to you that I make a damn good pizza.”

She smirks as she walks past him. “Bold move. You know my pizza standards are pretty high, right?”

He smirks back. “I’m well aware. Which is why I brought my A-game tonight.”

Hailey steps inside, the door clicking softly shut behind her, and the whole place smells like warmth, garlic, and something impossibly comforting. She takes in the scene—oven still on, wine breathing on the counter, two plates already set at the small kitchen table.

For a moment, something shifts—not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, inevitable one. Like maybe this isn’t just about sharing dinner or proving he can make a good pizza. Maybe it’s something more. 

“You planned this?” she asks, her voice softer now.

“Maybe.” He shrugs, then takes a few steps closer, closing the space between them. His hand finds hers, fingertips toying with hers.

“You’ve been so good to me this past month,” he says, his voice low. “And I figured it was time to properly thank you for… everything.” After a pause, she catches it in his eyes—a flicker of uncertainty, like he’s just realized he might’ve gotten ahead of himself. “Did you already eat? Because if you did, that’s totally on me for not checking first and—”

But Hailey cuts him off, shaking her head with a small smile and squeezing his fingers. “Nope. I’m starving.”

Right on cue, her stomach growls—loud enough for both of them to hear. Jay laughs, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Perfect, then,” he says. 

She slips off her blazer, drapes it over the back of a chair, and lets herself breathe a little deeper. In the kitchen, Jay moves with quiet purpose—a towel slung over his shoulder, like he’s been waiting. Not impatiently, but intentionally.

“Should I change?” she asks, half-joking as she glances down at her work clothes—a blouse with a faint coffee stain near the hem and pants that have definitely seen better days. She tries to keep it light, but she means it, because there’s something different about tonight, about this dinner, and it feels like it deserves more than wrinkled, coffee-stained workwear.

Jay hands her a glass of wine without missing a beat. “Only if you want to,” he says, his voice easy. “But you look great, Hailey. You always do.”

It’s casual the way he says it—simple, almost offhand. But it hits somewhere deep, softening something in her chest she didn’t realize she’d been bracing.

Then he steps around the table and pulls out her chair, motioning for her to sit with a quiet nod—no theatrics, just a simple, familiar kind of care.

She gives him a look, somewhere between a smile and an eye-roll, but she sits anyway, murmuring a soft, “Thanks.”

He takes the seat across from her, and their knees brush—once, then again. Neither of them pulls away.

The first bite of pizza makes her groan—quiet and involuntary. “Okay,” she mumbles, hand half-covering her mouth as she chews, “this is annoyingly good.”

Across the table, Jay grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Told you I wasn’t bluffing.”

Hailey takes another bite, slower this time, then sets the slice down and looks at him, eyebrows raised. “No, seriously. This is really good.”

He leans back in his chair, smug but trying to play it cool. “I have a very specific dough-to-cheese ratio. It’s an art.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” she teases. “Art?”

Jay lifts his glass, like he’s toasting himself. “Michelangelo had his ceiling. I have pizza.”

Hailey laughs, the sound slipping out before she can catch it. The kind of laugh that hasn’t come around in a while. She shakes her head, still smiling. “Okay, you win. Consider me officially impressed.”

And just like that, the air around them feels a little warmer. A little closer.

They fall into a rhythm without effort, eating quietly, occasionally sipping from their glasses. The soft clink of silverware and the low tick of the oven cooling fill the space, but it doesn’t feel empty. It feels full.

Hailey leans back slightly, eyes warm as she watches him across the table. He’s so effortlessly handsome like this—smile easy, scruff along his jaw, a smudge of flour on his arm and a streak of tomato sauce near his wrist. It tugs at something soft in her chest.

 “So… you always go all out like this for thank-yous?”

Jay smiles, setting down his glass. “Only when I mean it. And only for you.”

Hailey feels her cheeks flush, the warmth creeping in before she can stop it—and she can’t even blame the wine for it this time. She nods once, quiet, eyes flicking down for half a second—but the smile she gives him is real. Just a little crooked, a little shy. Like his words caught her off guard in the best way.

The last bite of pizza sits untouched on her plate, and her wine glass rests between her fingers, warming in her palm. Without planning, their hands find each other in the space between plates—fingers brushing, then gently tangling. It’s not a grand gesture. Not even intentional, at first. But it holds.

Hailey’s thumb drifts lightly over his. She doesn’t look down. Just watches him as her heart thuds, steady but loud.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “This was… really nice.”

Jay doesn’t say anything at first. Just holds her gaze, a quiet kind of warmth in his eyes.

But then Nina’s words echo, clear as day in her head: “If you want this to work… you’ve gotta let him see the whole picture.”

She’d come close to telling him this morning—so close it had nearly slipped out before she stopped herself. But now, sitting here with him, his hand warm in hers, the moment stretched quietly between them, it feels like as good a time as any to come clean.

About the fear. The lingering doubt.

Jay sees it immediately. “What?” he asks gently, his thumb brushing over her hand. “What’s on your mind?”

Hailey’s smile falters—barely—and she slowly pulls her hand away.

“I guess I’m scared,” she says quietly. “Not like before—not the kind of fear that makes me want to run. Just…” She shakes her head, eyes searching his. “I know I sound like a broken record, but I want to be honest. I’m scared the old stuff will creep back in. That I haven’t really let go of it. That it’s still there, just… waiting to ruin everything.”

Jay doesn’t rush to reassure her. He doesn’t fill the silence with soft words just to ease the weight of it. He lets her be in it. Lets it land.

Then, slowly, he leans in, eyes steady on hers. “I’m not expecting you to pretend it’s all gone. But I’m here, Hailey. And I’ll keep being here for as long as you’ll have me. You giving us a second chance…That’s not something I take lightly.” 

Hailey swallows, her eyes not leaving his. 

“I’m ready to prove it—every day. That I’m worthy of your trust, your love.” His voice roughens just slightly, but he doesn’t look away. “And when those old feelings creep back in… I want you to tell me. Don’t hold it in. Let me be there for you the way I should’ve been before. Let me show you I’m not that guy anymore. I didn’t fight for us the way I should have, but I am now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Something in his voice, steady, certain, pulls at her in the quietest, deepest way. Eases something tight in her chest. And she believes him—every word.

She clears her throat. “God, it’s actually scary how much of this—” she gestures between them, “still feels the same. Us. The connection.” Her voice softens, more honest than she means it to be. “That’s what threw me off the most, I think. That even after everything—even after all the therapy and work I did to get over you—you still managed to shift my whole world, just by being in it.”

Jay’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You shifted mine too, Hailey. The second you walked into that bank all those years ago—didn’t even know your name yet, and somehow I knew… everything was different.”

Jay moves slightly, reaching across the table again, his fingers brushing hers with quiet intention. She meets him halfway.

But this time, he doesn’t stop there.

Still holding her hand, he rises from his chair and gives the gentlest tug—an invitation more than a request.

Hailey blinks up at him. “Whatchu you doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just releases her hand for a second to pull his phone from the counter, tapping through something. A moment later, soft music fills the room—low, familiar. A song they both know. One that used to play in the background during late nights in Chicago, when the world outside felt quieter than it really was.

He looks at her, one corner of his mouth lifting with that boyish charm she’s been seeing all nihgt—soft around the edges, familiar in a way that tugs at something deep. 

“Dance with me.”

Hailey lets out a quiet laugh, but she doesn’t hesitate. She lets him pull her in, one hand at his shoulder, the other still wrapped in his.

They sway slowly in the middle of the kitchen, their steps uncoordinated but close. The pizza plates and half-empty wine glasses sit forgotten on the table behind them.

The song plays on—familiar chords, lyrics neither of them needs to say aloud.

Hailey hums a little under her breath, her head resting against his chest. His body is warm, solid, the steady rise and fall of his breath grounding her more than anything else has in weeks. One of his hands settles low on her back, the weight of it firm but gentle, like he’s holding her there without needing to.

Their bodies move in quiet sync, slow and unhurried. She can feel the faint press of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, the way his shirt smells faintly like clean cotton and tomato sauce. 

And just for a moment, everything fades—her nerves, the fear, even the questions she’s not ready to ask. 

She lets her hand drift up from his shoulder, coming to rest lightly at the nape of his neck, her fingers brushing gently through his hair. His hand on her back shifts slightly, just enough to let her feel it—like every part of him wants to pull her closer, but he doesn’t rush it.

“I missed you,” he says simply. No dramatics. No hesitation.

Hailey’s throat tightens. She nods, just once. “I missed you too.”

The song begins to fade, the final chords humming through the room, but they don’t move.

Not right away.

They just stand there, close enough to feel each breath, each shift. Hailey can still feel the weight of his hand on her back, the gentle press of his chest against hers, warm and steady.

When she looks up, Jay’s already watching her. His gaze doesn’t push or assume—it waits. Quiet and open. Like he’s giving her every chance to step back.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she places a hand on his chest, fingers splaying lightly over the soft cotton of his shirt, grounding herself.

He leans in—slowly, like a question.

And she answers it by meeting him halfway.

Their lips touch gently, no urgency, no firestorm—just something quiet and certain. Her hand slips up to his jaw, thumb brushing the stubble along his cheek, savoring the warmth of him beneath her fingertips. His fingers slide to the back of her neck, anchoring her close as his tongue brushes hers—slow, searching—and she tastes the lingering red wine on his lips, warm and heady. She answers him in kind, the kiss deepening in that lazy, consuming way that makes everything else fade away.

When they finally break apart, it’s only because they have to—lungs burning, breath caught somewhere between them. They part by an inch, foreheads pressing together,  breath mingling. 

Jay doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to.

He lifts a hand, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then lets his fingers linger against her cheek—warm, steady, grounding. When their eyes meet, he gives her that boyish, slightly crooked smile—the one that’s equal parts sexy and disarming. The one that’s always had a way of undoing her.

And Hailey, for once, doesn’t feel the need to run from what she’s feeling.

She just lets herself stay.

Lets it be good. 

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight slips through her window, soft and golden, stretching across the hardwood floors of her apartment. Hailey moves through the start of her day in a steady rhythm— showering, towel-drying her hair, smoothing lotion over her skin without any rush.

Her thoughts drift back to the night before—the warmth, the music, the way Jay’s lips felt against hers, somehow old and new all at once; familiar enough to make her ache, yet different enough to remind her just how much better things are between them now. 

Nothing more had happened beyond that, but it had been enough. They’d been honest—cautious, but not running. Figuring it out together. And somehow, that makes all the difference.

She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, damp hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. A soft robe is cinched around her waist, the fabric still clinging faintly to her skin from the lingering steam. She’s mid-rinse, foam gathering at the corners of her mouth, when there’s a soft knock at the door.

She pauses, a smile tugging at her lips—there’s only one person it could be at this hour. Wiping her mouth with the edge of a towel, warmth spreading through her chest, she pads barefoot across the apartment and cracks the door open.

Jay stands there dressed in dark jeans, a crisp button-down rolled at the sleeves, hair still a little damp like he’d just combed it back with his fingers. Somehow, he looks both put-together and effortless. And he’s holding two coffees.

“Hey,” he says, a quiet smile pulling at his mouth. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

She leans into the doorframe, arms crossing over her robe, eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re really leaning into the whole charming neighbor thing.”

He lifts a brow, handing over the cup. “Is it working?”

She takes the cup, their fingers brushing—just long enough to spark something. “Dangerously well,” she murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet his.

He grins, clearly pleased. “Good. That’s exactly what I was going for.”

She lifts the cup to her lips, watching him over the rim. “You heading in today?”

He nods, hands in his pockets, trying to look nonchalant, but she sees it—the glint in his eyes, the quiet eagerness. It’s been too long since she’s seen him like this, and she didn’t realize how much she’d missed it until now.

“It will just be office work. Still benched,” she says, “Living that thrilling desk duty life.”

She lets her gaze trail down his shirt and back up again, slow and deliberate. “You clean up nice,” she says, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Not that I minded the whole laid-back look. The sweatpants and t-shirts kinda works for you.”

Jay chuckles, tilting his head. “Yeah?”

She nods, taking a sip of her coffee. “Yeah. It was very... effortless.” 

He lets out another low laugh, stepping back just slightly, but not too far.

Hailey holds his gaze for a beat, then softens. She lifts the cup slightly, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Thanks. For this.”

Jay shifts slightly, like he’s about to say something, then pauses. His eyes flick to hers—checking, maybe. Or just taking her in. Then, without a word, he leans in and presses a kiss to her lips—gentle and unrushed. The kind that feels easy. Like it belongs there.

Hailey leans into it instinctively, her free hand brushing his arm, fingertips lingering for just a second before he pulls back.

“See you later,” he says, voice low and a little smug, like he knows exactly what that kiss just did to her. He backs toward the hall, shooting her a quick wink that makes her want to roll her eyes and smile all at once.

“Yeah. Later.”

She clicks the door shut with a soft finality, but Hailey doesn’t move right away. She just stands there for a moment, coffee in hand, lips tingling, heart doing that fluttering thing it only seems to do for him.

Seriously? she thinks, half-smiling to herself. One kiss and she’s practically melting into her robe like some love-struck teenager. But it’s not just the kiss. It’s him. The way he showed up—easy, thoughtful, not pushing. Just there .

And yeah, maybe she’s still a little cautious, still figuring it out—but this moment? The look in his eyes right before he walked away?

It felt good. Safe. Familiar in the best kind of way.

She shakes her head lightly, a laugh escaping under her breath as she walks back toward her bedroom.

“Pull it together, Upton,” she mutters, taking another sip of coffee.

But the smile never leaves her lips.

By the time Hailey steps into the office, coffee still in hand, she’s composed—on the outside, at least. Hair styled, blazer thrown over a simple blouse, expression neutral. Calm, focused. The very image of put-together professionalism.

Or so she thinks. 

Nina clocks her bullshit from halfway across the bullpen and immediately narrows her eyes.

Shit, Hailey thinks. 

Nina doesn’t even hesitate—just zeroes in like a heat-seeking missile. “You have that look,” Nina says, falling into step beside her with a knowing smirk.

Hailey sighs, not even bothering to ask what look. “Don’t start.”

“Did you take my advice?” Nina sing-songs as she falls into step beside her. “Please tell me you finally climbed that man like a tree.”

Hailey stops mid-step, turns just enough to arch a brow. “Seriously?”

Nina holds up her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just asking a question.”

“No,” Hailey says flatly, keeping her tone even, firm. “I did not take that advice.”

Nina hums, clearly unconvinced. “Right. So the glow, the extra bounce in your step, and the fact that you're ten minutes early—that’s all coincidence?”

“I’m not glowing,” Hailey deadpans. “And I like being early. Actually, I’m always early.”

Nina just grins, way too pleased with herself. “Mm-hmm. Sure, Special Agent Sunshine.”

Hailey bites back a smile, brushing past her. “Go bother someone else, Reyes.”

“Oh, I will. But we’re circling back to this.”

Hailey shakes her head, but a small, traitorous smile still tugs at her mouth. Nina’s got her, no question—but she’s not getting the whole story. And really, what is there to spill? They kissed —hardly shocking when there isn’t an inch of her Jay hasn’t touched, tasted, claimed as his.

But that kiss? God, it was everything. Soft, quiet, honest. The real start of something she’s not ready to share yet. For now, she wants to keep just theirs.

It’s just after lunch, and Hailey’s barely settled back at her desk after a string of meetings when she hears it—Garcia’s voice, loud and teasing from across the room.

“Well, well. Look who decided to show back up.” 

She glances up—and there he is.

Jay.

The sight of him sends something warm and electric down her spine, like her whole body just exhales. Not just because he looks good—though he does—but because he’s here. Whole. Smiling. Like he belongs in her space.

He’s got a file tucked under one arm, coffee in the other, and a smile that’s just crooked enough to knock the wind out of her chest.

“Back in the flesh,” Jay says, grinning as Garcia claps him on the shoulder. “Thought I’d check in. See what trouble you’re all getting into.”

There’s a lightness in his voice, but Hailey doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick around the room—landing on her, just for a beat. It’s quick, subtle. But she feels it. Like static beneath her skin.

The bullpen hums with welcome-back energy, more voices chiming in with greetings. The buzz carries just enough to draw Daniels out—he steps into the doorway of his office, spots Jay, and nods once, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

With his usual measured stride, Daniels crosses the bullpen. “Figured all that noise had something to do with you,” he says. “I was pleasantly surprised to see our meeting moved to in-person.”

Jay shrugs, that easy smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, figured it was time to stretch my legs. Feels good to be back—even if it’s just behind a desk for now.”

Daniels claps him on the back. “Good to see you back on your feet, Halstead.” Then, with a nod toward his office, he adds, “Give me a minute—I need to speak to Keller. You can wait for me in my office—I’ll be right there.”

“Will do,” Jay says, still grinning.

Hailey watches Nina make her way across the bullpen, eyeing Jay up and down like she’s scrutinizing a suspect, not welcoming back a colleague. Arms crossed, head tilted, she gives him a once-over before speaking. “You look…alive,” she says finally, like it’s a verdict. “How’s recovery?”

“Getting there,” Jay replies with a casual shrug. “Couple more weeks until I’m fully cleared.”

“Glad to hear it,” Nina says, shooting Hailey a not-so-subtle smirk. “Bet someone really missed having you around.”

Hailey doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look up. Just sips her coffee like she’s oblivious to the way Nina’s practically smirking holes into the side of her head.

Jay’s voice cuts in, dry as ever. “Oh, I’m sure. You looked really torn up at the hospital, Reyes.”

Nina snorts, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.” 

Then she hears him. Jay’s footsteps, moving closer. When he passes by her desk, she keeps her eyes forward, pretending to be focused, pretending she doesn’t feel the static in the air. He slows just enough. Doesn’t stop. But as he passes, he leans in, voice low—meant only for her.

“Nice robe, by the way.”

Her breath catches—traitorous and immediate. She covers it with a quick, tight cough, then lifts her head just enough to throw her voice, loud enough for anyone within earshot.

“Yeah—good seeing you upright, Halstead.”

Jay glances back at her, amused, a flicker of warmth hidden behind his mock professionalism. For half a second she thinks he might double back—maybe say something else, but he just shoots her a look she knows too well and keeps moving toward Daniels’ office, like he didn’t just drop a grenade in her lap.

Hailey blinks at her screen, heat blooming in her cheeks, pulse thudding in her ears.

Shit. She’s swooning.

She tells herself it’s just because he looks healthy again. Strong. Confident. And that he showed up at her door this morning with coffee, that stupid, perfect smile—and kissed her like he could.

She watches him disappear into Daniels’ office, and there’s barely a beat before Nina sidles up beside her desk, arms still crossed, voice pitched just low enough for only Hailey to hear.

“You gonna pretend you’re not blushing, or should we circle back in ten?”

Hailey doesn’t look at her. “I’m not blushing.”

“You absolutely are,” Nina says, like she’s pointing out the weather. “And he barely looked at you.”

Hailey exhales slowly through her nose, still not looking at her. “Maybe it’s hot in here.”

Nina leans in a little, voice playful but sly. “Sure. Or maybe all it takes is him breathing near.”

Hailey turns just enough to give her a warning look.

Nina grins, backing off with a shrug. “I’m just here, narrating the obvious.”

Hailey doesn’t respond.

She just takes another sip of coffee and keeps her eyes on the screen, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks—and Nina’s smug silence from across the room.

x 

Jay steps into Daniels’ office and the door clicks softly shut behind him. He takes a breath, glancing around the space. Neat desk, blinds half-drawn, tablet and files stacked precisely where they always are. It’s the kind of office that says everything has a place—just like the man who runs it.

Jay doesn’t sit. Instead, he walks over to the window, the view overlooking a slice of DC's skyline partially framed by morning glare. He wouldn’t mind an office like this. After years of chaos and boots-on-the-ground pressure, the idea of quiet feels… earned.

He exhales, letting his gaze linger on the city for a moment before the door opens behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Daniels says, stepping in with a file in one hand and a coffee in the other. “Had to check in with Keller real quick.”

Jay turns, nodding. “No problem.”

Daniels moves behind his desk, setting the file down before gesturing toward the chair. “Have a seat. Let’s talk eastern corridor traffic.”

Jay sits, slipping back into work mode without missing a beat. They spend the next several minutes going over new intel, combing through shipping routes, red zones, and soft targets along the corridor. Daniels flips through reports while Jay pulls up overlays from his files, pinpointing where surveillance dropped off and where patterns shifted.

Eventually, Daniels sets his tablet aside and leans back in his chair, arms folded.

“We’ll bring Garcia in later this week to firm up tactical options,” he says. “I want your take once Reyes finishes her report.”

Jay nods. “I’ll refine the intel gaps. Should have something cleaner by tomorrow.”

Daniels gives a small nod, then studies him for a beat. “So, you doing okay? Feeling back to yourself?”

Jay shrugs lightly. “Getting there.”

Daniels hums, tilts his head just slightly—like something’s been sitting at the back of his mind. “Funny thing—Upton was the one who called your brother when you were in surgery. Didn’t realize you two were close,” he adds, tone casual but with a glimmer of curiosity behind it.

Jay holds still, calm on the outside, even though the comment  catches him off guard. “She knows my brother—Will. He's a doctor. Back in Chicago, most first responders hung out at the same bar after shift. They met plenty.” A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Pretty sure Will likes her better than me, honestly.”

Daniels lets out a quiet chuckle and nods. “Can’t say I blame him.”

Jay shrugs, playing it off. “Most people don’t.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and Daniels doesn’t press. But something unspoken settles in the quiet between them—acknowledgment, maybe. Or a quiet understanding: yeah, they’re close.

“Alright,” Daniels says, shifting forward again. “I’ll circle back once Keller loops me in on the next op. Thanks for coming in.”

Jay stands. “You got it.”

Jay steps out of Daniels’ office, the door clicking softly behind him. He heads straight back to the bullpen, walking by Hailey’s desk, casual and quiet, fingers drumming lightly against the edge of it as he passes.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t say a word. Just taps twice with the side of his knuckles and keeps walking.

He hears nothing behind him. Not even a shift in her chair.

A flicker of doubt nudges at the back of his mind. Maybe the robe comment was a bit much, but he couldn’t help himself. She’d looked too damn cute standing in her doorway, wrapped up like that.

But a few moments later, when he’s at the break room fridge grabbing a bottle of water, the door opens again—and in walks Hailey, cool and composed. She doesn’t look at him right away, just scans the room quickly, like she’s making sure they’re alone. Satisfied, she crosses to the counter, grabs a granola bar, and leans back against it. She peels back the wrapper, casual as ever, takes a slow bite, then finally lifts her eyes to his.

“Pretty sure you forgot to mention you were dropping by my bullpen today.”

Jay unscrews the cap on his water bottle, feeling a smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What, and miss the element of surprise?”

Hailey lifts an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curving just slightly. “Careful. You keep showing up at my door, my bullpen… I might start thinking you missed me.”

Jay doesn’t miss a beat. “Think? Damn right I missed you.”

For a second, she doesn’t say anything. Just blinks, like she wasn’t expecting that. Like maybe it hits her the same way it hits him—low and quiet, no sharp edges, no games. Just honest. 

He takes a small sip of water, then lowers the bottle, voice casual. “What about tonight?” he asks. “You got plans?”

Hailey’s brow arches, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s caught between rolling her eyes and actually considering it. She takes another slow bite of the granola bar, chewing thoughtfully before answering.

“Is that your version of asking me out?” she says, tone light but laced with something quieter underneath. “Because if it is, it’s kind of weak.”

Jay chuckles under his breath, stepping a little closer, but not enough to crowd her. Just enough that the air shifts.

“I was going for subtle,” he replies, eyes flicking to hers. 

Hailey lets out a soft laugh—the kind that says nice try —and presses the granola bar wrapper closed with her thumb. She leans back against the edge of the counter, the humor in her expression fading just slightly.

“I’m actually doing intel surveillance tonight,” she says, and he catches it in her eyes—just for a flicker—she wishes she wasn’t. “We have a new target and we think he might be running drop-offs through that bodega off U Street.”

Jay’s grin slips into something more neutral as he nods. “Late night?”

“Probably,” she says. “We rotate out at midnight, and I’ve got first shift.”

A beat passes. Not awkward—just charged. That quiet, electric tension that always seems to find its way between them. 

Then he catches it—her eyes flicking past his shoulder, tracking movement. Jay shifts just enough to glance back and sees Garcia and Keller heading straight for the break room, mid-conversation.

“Rain check?” she says, her posture already settling back into work mode.

As she brushes past him, his voice lowers. “You know where to find me.”

She doesn’t look back, but he catches it—that small curve of her mouth, just enough to tell him she heard.

And it sticks with him, long after she’s gone.

x

Hailey steps into her apartment just past 1 a.m., the door clicking shut behind her. She doesn’t bother with the lights—the soft glow from the streetlamps outside is enough. She shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over the back of the couch, her boots landing somewhere near the door, forgotten.

She should be tired. She wants to be tired. But adrenaline still crackles under her skin, restless and sharp, and she’s already pacing before she notices. The surveillance didn’t deliver—no clear lead, no payoff—and it’s that dead end that keeps her wired.

She moves into the kitchen, fills a glass with water, but doesn’t drink it. Just stands there, holding it, her other hand braced on the counter. Maybe a hot shower would help—ease the adrenaline, convince her body to relax. She’s just about to set the glass down and head for the bathroom when a soft knock echoes at her door.

She doesn’t jump—she just exhales slowly, and walks to the door. There's already a smile tugging at her lips, soft and knowing. She opens it halfway, and sure enough—Jay stands there, hoodie on, eyes warm, like he’s been waiting.

“I heard you come in,” he says. “Figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You psychic now?”

His smile is lazy. “Just remember how you get after long surveillance.” His eyes sweep over her, not judging—just taking her in. “And from what Daniels told me earlier, you probably didn’t get much to show for it, which I know will keep that pretty little brain of yours wired for a bit longer. Am I right?”

Hailey doesn’t say a word—just rolls her eyes, but the small huff she lets out gives her away. He’s nailed it, and he knows it. 

“Come with me,” he says.

She narrows her eyes, arms still crossed. “It’s the middle of the night, Jay.”

“You trust me?”

She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t need to. There’s something in his voice—calm, quiet, steady—that she knows like muscle memory. She trusts him. Without a word, she grabs her coat, pulls on her boots, and follows him out.

They walk in silence down the hallway. When he pushes open the stairwell door instead of calling the elevator, she throws him a look.

“Really?”

He glances back at her, grinning. “We’re only going a couple of floors up. It’ll be worth it.”

She huffs but follows anyway. Two flights up, they stop at a locked door with a keypad.

“Seriously—what is this?”

He pulls a keycard from his hoodie pocket, like it’s nothing. “You’ll see,” he says over his shoulder. 

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s a surprise.”

That actually makes her laugh—low and short, but real. 

He swipes the card, and the lock clicks open with a quiet beep. Hailey steps through first, finding a narrow maintenance hallway—dim, concrete walls, a slight draft curling around her ankles.

“Seriously,” she mutters, glancing over her shoulder, “you dragging me into a boiler room?”

Jay just tips his head toward the end of the corridor. “Keep going.”

At the far end, there’s a narrow metal ladder bolted to the wall, leading up to a square hatch. Hailey looks at it, then back at him, one eyebrow arched.

“This is the part where you tell me we’re not about to get arrested.”

“Highly unlikely,” he says, already climbing past her. “But you’re a Fed—just flash your badge and act like you own the place. Isn’t that what you guys do?”

She shakes her head but follows, her boots clanging lightly on each rung.

Jay pushes open the hatch above, and that’s when the air changes—cooler, freer. He climbs through first, then reaches down to offer her a hand. And when she takes it, pulling herself up beside him— then the view hits.

The rooftop is empty, quiet, the city glowing beneath them. The sky is a deep, endless navy, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wails faintly before fading away. She follows him to the far corner, where a plaid blanket is laid out and two beers rest in a small cooler. Her steps slow.

It’s not flashy. It’s not much. But it feels like everything.

“You planned this?” she asks, not accusing, just surprised.

Jay shrugs. “I hoped.”

She doesn’t answer. Just lowers herself onto the blanket and accepts the beer he hands her.

As she twists off the cap, her eyes sweep across the rooftop—empty, undisturbed, like it’s been waiting for them. She glances sideways at Jay, who’s already cracking open his own beer like this isn’t the most thoughtful thing in the world.

“How’d you even find this?” she asks, curiosity finally catching up with her. “I was told this building doesn’t have rooftop access.”

Jay leans back on his elbows, eyes on the skyline. “It does. Just not for residents.”

“And yet, here we are,” she says, giving him a look.

He shrugs, unbothered. “Let’s just say I made a friend while I was stuck at home. Janitor on the night shift—caught him on a coffee break last week. Brought him a box of donuts tonight and asked nicely.”

She shakes her head, a quiet laugh slipping out. “Okay, but what exactly did you say you were gonna do up here? Because either he’s incredibly trusting, or you’re better at lying than I remember.”

Jay grins, taking a slow sip of his beer. “I prefer persuasive. And I didn’t lie—I just… left out a few details.”

He glances at her then, something softer flickering behind his eyes. “Didn’t think it’d work, honestly. But he looked like a guy who’s seen worse than two people needing a little space.” He pauses, letting a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m pretty sure it was the sprinkles that sealed the deal.”

She laughs under her breath, shaking her head as she takes a pull from her beer. “Unreal.” She hides her lingering smile behind the lip of the bottle, but she’s impressed—he’s still the same in all the ways that matter. Clever. Persistent. Always finding a way.

Jay leans back on his elbows, casting her a sideways glance. “So… the surveillance. You wanna talk about it?”

She takes a sip, her voice quiet. “Not much to talk about. Target broke routine tonight—cut through some back streets, didn’t make any stops. Nothing solid, but something’s off. I can feel it.” She huffs a dry laugh. “Which is why my brain won’t shut down.”

Jay nods, his tone even. “Your gut’s usually right. Keep eyes on it. Something’ll break.”

They lapse back into silence. She watches the skyline while he watches her.

After a few minutes, she speaks again. “You always do this?”

Jay tilts his head. “Do what?”

“Wait up when I’m out.”

His lips curve slightly. “I mean, I’m not a stalker or anything—if that’s what you’re asking.” He shrugs, then adds, more honestly, “But yeah… I waited up tonight.”

A pause.

“Is that weird?” he asks, voice softer now. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in it, like he’s not sure if he’s crossed a line.

Hailey doesn’t look at him right away. But her answer is steady. “I don’t hate it,” she says, then lets out a quiet, wry laugh. “Besides… always nice to have someone who’ll notice if I go missing, right?”

She feels his head turn toward her, the weight of his gaze settling on her like a quiet pull.

“Right,” he murmurs.

Jay takes another sip of his beer, then sets the bottle down beside him. He doesn’t say anything at first—just stares out at the skyline. Then, out of nowhere, he says, “Bolivia’s sky is insane.”

The word lands hard.

Hailey stills. Her fingers tighten around the bottle in her lap, and she feels her entire body go quiet. Like it’s bracing. She doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe for a second—because Bolivia is the one place they haven’t talked about. The one part of the story that’s always felt like a scar beneath the surface.

“Different kind of quiet there,” he continues, and his voice is steady, but something beneath it draws tight, raw at the edge. “The stars—so many of them, it almost doesn’t feel real. I’d stay up just watching them sometimes. Couldn’t sleep most nights anyway.”

Hailey’s eyes flick toward him, slow and careful. Her chest tightens as she listens—not just to the words, but to the weight behind them. She hears the shift in his voice. The way it dips, deep and quiet, moving closer to something she’s not sure she’s ready to hear.

He sighs, a quiet, defeated sound, and looks at her—like he’s weighing whether to keep whatever it is buried or finally let it out.

“I know we haven’t talked about Bolivia,” he begins quietly. “But… I think you deserve to know the real reason I took that job.” He sighs again. “I was burned out, fed up with all the gray in Intelligence—everything I told you was true. I did need something black and white again. But… that wasn’t all of it. There was more I didn’t tell you.”

He takes a long swig of his beer, like it’s the only thing keeping him steady. “Hailey, I couldn’t live with what I’d done in Chicago. Not just what happened that night—the lies, the lines we crossed… it all built up. Got heavy. Too heavy.”

Her face doesn’t give anything away, but she feels it anyway—her shoulders stiffen, her whole body tensing before her mind can even catch up.

He turns to her then—fully, no bravado, no armor. “I took the job in Bolivia because I didn’t care what happened to me. I thought… maybe it was time to answer for everything I’d done. My own reckoning.” 

His words hit hard, raw and brutal, punching straight through her ribs. Her heart doesn’t just hurt; it splinters, sharp and mean. She saw it. God, she saw it happening, piece by piece. The dead weight in his eyes. The silence that smothered them both. And she did nothing. He was her person—her husband—and she just watched him slip under. Told herself he needed space, that he’d reach out when he was ready. But he didn’t. And hearing it now, how bad it really was—truly hearing it—guts her.

Jay probably sees it in her face—the shift, the pain. But he doesn’t look away. He goes on, voice quiet but steady. “I’m telling you this because I want to be completely honest with you—not because I want pity, or to excuse what I did. Nothing does. I walked away. That’s on me.”

Hailey looks at him—really looks at him—and all that anger she’s carried for so long collides with the grief she never let herself feel. 

“So you weren’t… you weren’t really planning on coming back,” she says, the words more to herself than to him. 

Jay holds her gaze, the silence stretching a beat too long. “No,” he answers, voice quiet, shame and guilt flickering in his eyes. “That’s why I kept extending my leave. Every time I was supposed to come back, I didn’t. I thought… staying out there would eventually give me the fate I deserved.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares at him, her grip tightening around the neck of the beer bottle, knuckles going white. The night feels too cold all of a sudden, cutting through her jacket, but she barely notices.

“You could’ve told me, Jay.” Her voice is soft, but it cuts through the quiet like a blade. “You should’ve told me where your head really was.”

Jay doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

She swallows hard, trying to push down the sting in her throat, the pressure behind her eyes. It doesn’t work. “I was right there,” she says, her voice catching. “I was your wife. We would’ve figured it out together. No matter how bad it got—I would’ve stayed.” Her voice breaks on that last word, and this time, she doesn’t hide it. “You didn’t even give me the chance.”

She keeps looking at him, and she  knows her face isn’t cold. It’s worse. It’s everything she’s never said—grief, betrayal, love—all twisted up in her chest and spilling into her eyes before she can stop it.

“You say you didn’t think you deserved to come back,” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper now. “But you didn’t let me decide if you were worth staying for.”

Jay just looks at her, eyes wide open—still, no armor, no distance. And she can see it, all of it. The guilt, the ache, the years he’s spent carrying a silence that should’ve never been his alone. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, he doesn’t even try to hide them.

“I know,” he says, voice rough. “You’re right—I didn’t give you the chance. And I wasn’t giving myself a chance, either. After what happened with you and Voight… I didn’t want you anywhere near any of this. Not the mess I was in. Not the things I was chasing down. I naively thought I was protecting you. I know better now.”

She watches him as he says it, feeling the weight behind every word. And the thing is—he had protected her. He’d been her rock when everything with Voight nearly ruined her. He’d kept her steady, kept her whole when she was too close to burning it all down.

It hits her then, clear and sharp in the quiet between them on this rooftop. Her voice comes out soft, like she’s confessing it to herself for the first time. “That job… it broke both of us, Jay.”

He lets out a breath. “Not the job,” he says quietly, voice rough. His gaze lifts to meet hers again, and something passes between them—unspoken but understood. They both know exactly what — who — really broke them.

Then, slowly, carefully—like he’s testing the air between them—he reaches for her hand. His fingers graze hers, light at first, tentative.

She lets it happen.

He draws in a breath, steadier now. “I see it clearer now—when the right person’s in charge, it changes everything.” He pauses, voice low. “Donavon saw it. Knew I wasn’t okay. He didn’t push… just gave me space, pointed me where I needed to go. Made sure I got help.”

Jay threads his fingers  through hers, slow and deliberate, like he’s anchoring himself to her. 

“I had to learn how to live with myself—believe I deserved to. That my mistakes didn’t get to define me forever. And I knew if I ever got the chance to face you again, I couldn’t be the same guy who walked away.”

Hailey’s eyes flicker down to their joined hands, his thumb brushing gently over hers until his fingers tighten purposefully around hers. 

She feels it before she fully understands it—him drawing her forward, tugging her hand toward him as he leans back against one of the low, concrete vents lining the edge of the rooftop. She shifts—one movement at a time—until she’s kneeling, then sliding closer, until her legs settle on either side of his. Her knees press against the blanket as she lowers herself, slowly, deliberately, to straddle him.

They’re eye to eye now. No space left between them. Everywhere touching. Up this close, she can see it—the faint reddish hue in the short scruff on his face, something you’d never notice unless you were right here, close enough to feel his breath mingle with hers.

Jay leans back against the vent a bit more, a small wince flickering across his features before it smooths out. His hands rest lightly on her thighs, but his eyes never leave hers.

Then his voice cuts through the quiet—low, honest, steady. “Now you know everything,” he says first, almost like he needs to get that out. His fingers trace slow, barely-there strokes against her thighs. “And if there’s anything else you want to ask me—anything at all, past or present—I’ll tell you. I want to do this right. I don’t want to mess this up again.”

Hailey’s eyes drop for a second, then lift back to his. “If your head ever gets too dark… too heavy,” she says, her voice low but steady, “you have to tell me.” Her thumbs graze lightly over the fabric of his hoodie, grounding herself as much as him. “I mean it, Jay. No disappearing. No shutting me out thinking you’re protecting me.”

He nods, eyes locked on hers like he’s branding the promise into himself. “Never again,” he says, voice rough. “I promise.” 

She draws in a breath, her thumbs grazing the fabric of his hoodie, grounding herself as much as him. “And don’t make decisions for me,” she adds, firmer now. Not cold—just unshakably clear. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle. Or what I deserve. That’s not your call.”

Jay swallows, something breaking through the shame in his eyes. “I know.” A breeze stirs between them, catching a loose strand of her hair, and he reaches up, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Then you don’t get to shut me out, either. If you’re scared—tell me. If you hate me again—tell me. Don’t hide it. I can take it.”

Her lips twitch at that, a humorless ghost of a smile, but her eyes stay locked on his. “Deal.”

His hand stays at her cheek, thumb brushing along her jaw, grounding them both. “You’re it for me, Hailey. You always have been. You’re my whole damn life.”

Her throat tightens, but she doesn’t look away. “Then don’t you dare forget it again.”

He dips his forehead to hers, his voice barely more than a rasp. “Never.” 

Jay closes the small distance between them, his lips meeting hers—soft at first, tentative, almost reverent. But the moment she melts into it, everything shifts.

The kiss deepens quickly, turning fierce and hungry. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, gripping tight. Jay’s hands slide up her sides, then down to her hips, grounding her to him, pulling her impossibly closer. She shifts in his lap, feeling the heat of him through too many layers, and it makes her dizzy in the best kind of way.

She parts her lips, lets him in, and when his tongue meets hers, she swears she feels it in her spine. A shiver races through her as his hand finds the small of her back, warm and steady beneath her jacket, holding her like she might vanish.

But she’s not going anywhere.

And she knows neither is he.

Her fingers move to thread through the back of his hair, tugging gently, guiding him deeper into the kiss. He groans softly into her mouth, and the sound sends a wave of heat crashing through her.

When they finally pull apart, Hailey stays close, her forehead resting lightly against his. Her breath is shallow, lips tingling, body still humming from the intensity of the kiss.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to.

His hands are still on her—one at her back, the other at her thigh— anchoring her to this moment. To him .

Jay’s eyes flutter open, and when she finally lifts hers to meet them, everything in her chest tightens. There’s no hesitation in his gaze now. No fear. Just that quiet, steady look she remembers from a thousand yesterdays.

“I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper. Like it’s sacred. Like it’s the truth. “I never stopped,” he adds. “Not for a second.”

Her breath catches, her heart lurching at the sound of it—so simple, so real.

And this time, she doesn’t hesitate. “I love you,” she whispers back, her voice cracking slightly. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

Jay closes his eyes, like the words undo him.

She leans in again, presses her lips to his—not with urgency this time, but with something quieter. Something certain. It’s softer. Intentional. Like a promise passed between their lips.

Jay shifts beneath her, and she feels it—how much he wants her. How long he’s been holding back. She feels it in the way his hands roam her sides, in the way he exhales like he’s finally breathing for the first time.

Her body responds instinctively, hips rolling slightly into his—and he lets out a low hiss, part pleasure, part pain. The spark between them doesn’t fade, but she still pulls back just enough to check on him, concern in her eyes. 

“I’m okay,” he says quickly, voice rough. “Don’t stop.”

She gasps against his mouth, and he catches it with his own, deepening the kiss as his hand slips back beneath her jacket, then under her shirt, fingertips grazing warm over bare skin.

Hailey’s hands find the hem of his hoodie, and she tugs it up. He helps her, but the movement is slow, stiff—like he’s guarding something. When the fabric lifts, the bruising and healing scar along the side of his abdomen catches the moonlight.

She looks up at him, her voice barely above a breath.

“Jay… are you sure this is okay?”

He meets her gaze, steady, even as something vulnerable flickers behind his eyes.

“Yes.”

Her fingers hover near the scar but don’t touch it. Not yet.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmurs. “If this is too much, or if it starts to hurt, just say something. We don’t have to—”

“Hailey.” His voice is gentle but certain, cutting through her worry like a hand on her heartbeat. “You’re not hurting me. You couldn’t. And even if it does hurt…” His hands find her hips, anchoring her there, as his eyes search hers. “You’re the only thing that makes it feel better.”

A small breath escapes her lips—half laugh, half sigh.

“That was dangerously close to a line.”

His mouth curves into the faintest smirk.

“Wasn’t a line. Just the truth.”

He lets her peel his sweater off, then leans in to kiss her again—slower now, deeper, as if every swipe of his tongue matters. 

Hailey’s hands drift over his bare chest, her thumbs brushing lightly along the edges of the scar. He flinches—not from pain, but from the raw weight of her touch, her care. Then he’s kissing her back, deeper this time, his fingers back beneath her jacket to find the warmth of her skin.

His mouth moves along her jaw, then down the slope of her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her breath catching as her hands roam over his back, nails grazing skin, drawing a low, rough sound from deep in his chest.

“I want you,” he murmurs against her throat, the words shivering through her. “Every part of you.”

She doesn’t answer with words—she presses herself closer, hips rolling against him, slow and certain, pulling a groan from him that vibrates against her skin.

“I’m right here,” she breathes, her voice steady despite the ache behind it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The rooftop air is cold, but the heat between them drowns it out. They move together like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

He lowers her onto the blanket, following her down, a flicker of strain crossing his face when his abdomen tenses, but his hands stay sure and gentle, cradling her face like he’s terrified she might disappear.

He kisses her again—long and deep—and begins unbuttoning her shirt, one button at a time. She helps him, impatient but shaking, breathless from the look in his eyes.

He touches her slowly, like he’s trying to memorize everything all over again: the slope of her waist, the curve of her hip, the round scar on her abdomen. When his thumb pauses there, she feels his breath hitch, sees the flicker of regret in his eyes.

She catches his gaze, shakes her head just enough. “Don’t look at it like that,” she whispers, brushing her lips over his. “It’s just a scar.”

His voice is rough, a vow wrapped in gravel. “Just a scar.”

She pulls him back to her mouth, and from there, there’s no stopping them. Clothes come off in quiet desperation—pants pushed down, skin bared to the cold air and to each other. When he moves over her, he pauses, just long enough for their eyes to meet.

Then he’s inside her—slow, deep, every movement careful and steady, like he’s determined to feel every heartbeat of it. A gasp slips from her lips as he moves with her—slow, unhurried, like time bends for them here. She arches into him, legs wrapping tighter around his hips, drawing him closer, deeper, keeping him where he belongs.

Their foreheads press together, breath mingling, sweat gathering between them, their names tumbling out in soft, splintered prayers.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and it vibrates through her, deeper than bone.

“I love you,” she breathes back, voice cracking, her hands fisting at his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

They move together—slow and unyielding—until the edge comes for her like a wave crashing down. She clings to him, head falling back, a broken sound that’s half his name, half everything she’s ever held in.

Jay follows moments later, face buried in her neck, hips stuttering as he lets go, his voice a hoarse groan against her skin, body collapsing gently into hers. 

They lie there for a long time after—wrapped around each other, skin to skin beneath the quiet stars. Hailey runs her fingers through his hair, feeling the steady weight of him against her shoulder, the warmth of him—hers.

For the first time in years, she doesn’t feel haunted by what they were.

She just feels home .

Chapter Text

Hailey wakes slowly, blinking into the dim light just before her alarm has the chance to break the quiet. For a moment, there’s no rush—just warmth, the weight of him behind her, the steady hush of his breathing close enough to anchor her. She lets herself lie there a little longer, pretending the day isn’t waiting for them both.

After losing themselves in each other on the rooftop—desperate and breathless beneath the stars—and again back in his apartment, slower, deeper, like every touch sealed the promises they’d made, Hailey knows she should be exhausted. She should feel wrung out and sore. But instead, she feels alive. Anchored. Whole in a way she hasn’t felt in years.

She blinks, taking in the familiar ceiling, the soft gray-blue of Jay’s bedroom walls, and the pale morning light slipping through the cracks in the blinds. It’s quiet, still—like the world knows not to interrupt.

Jay’s body is curled behind hers, solid and steady, his leg tangled with hers beneath the covers, his chest rising and falling in rhythm against her back. She lets herself sink into it for a beat longer, closing her eyes, holding on to the rare kind of peace that fills the room.

But he stirs, brushing his nose against the curve of her shoulder before murmuring, "Morning, beautiful.” 

“Morning,” she says softly, tilting her head toward him. “Really leaning into the charm today, huh?”

His hand moves—lazy, warm, spreading across her stomach like he wants to hold her in place. “I’ve got a gorgeous woman in my bed. Damn right I am.”

Hailey turns in his arms, facing him now. His hair is messy, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and she thinks he’s never looked better. He looks... happy. Safe.

“You sleep at all?” she asks, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“I did,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb gently across her ribs.

Jay leans in and kisses her—slow and unhurried. A soft press of lips that turns into more. His hand finds her waist, pulls her just a little closer. She lets out a quiet sigh into his mouth, her fingers sliding down to cup his jaw.

He grins against her lips, whispering, “You calling in sick today?” before kissing her again.

She laughs quietly, the sound low and warm. “Tempting.”

Jay hums against her skin, his lips trailing along her jaw now, then down the curve of her neck. “Say the word, and I’ll make it worth it.”

Her breath catches, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. “You really don’t fight fair.”

He pulls back just enough to look at her, smug and sweet all at once. “I’m not trying to. I’m trying to win.”

Hailey doesn’t answer right away—mostly because Jay’s lips are moving again, slow and unhurried along her collarbone. His hands aren’t demanding, but they are distracting, and the second he murmurs “just five more minutes,” into her skin, she’s tempted to let him have them.

But when her eyes drift to the small clock on the nightstand—the numbers glowing steadily—reality catches up to her.

“I can’t,” she says, pressing a hand to his chest, trying to push him back—but there’s no real force behind it. “I’ve got a debrief on yesterday’s surveillance, and I can’t miss it.”

Jay keeps her in place, nibbling just under her ear, making her breath hitch. “You sure you’re not a little bit sick? Or maybe…emotionally unavailable for work today?”

Jay’s fingers drift along the inside of her thigh, light and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing—because he does. Hailey turns her head slightly, eyes fluttering closed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. 

“Trust me, it’s taking everything I’ve got not to stay.”

He pulls back just enough to look at her, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Good.” 

Before she can respond, his hand slides up her thigh, warm and familiar, tugging gently as he leans in again. His lips meet hers—soft, unhurried. The kind of kiss that says stay.

Hailey sighs into it, her fingers finding his jaw, her body instinctively curling into his warmth. Skin to skin, there’s nothing between them—no hesitation, no second-guessing. His hand slides up along her back, fingers splayed wide, like he can’t get enough of touching her. 

“Jay,” she breathes, somewhere between a warning and a plea.

“Mmhmm,” he hums, kissing down her throat, “you were saying something about leaving…?”

She laughs against his skin, forehead falling to his shoulder as her chest rises and falls. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her neck, “you’re still here.” 

She closes her eyes for a moment, savoring it—the softness, the warmth, the peace she thought she’d never get back. Then she presses one last kiss to his lips and begins to pull away, slow and reluctant, her fingers trailing down his chest. 

“I really do have to go,” she says again, even though every part of her wants to stay wrapped up in him just a little longer.

Jay sighs—dramatic and endearing—as he flops onto his back like she’s just canceled his weekend plans. Hailey laughs, shaking her head as her eyes scan the room. No sign of her clothes. It all comes back to her, and yeah—her things are definitely scattered somewhere between the front door and the hallway just outside his bedroom.

Too much effort to gather them up now.

Instead, she reaches for his flannel draped over a chair and slips it on. It’s oversized, soft, and smells like him.

He stands—charmingly tousled and bare—rummaging through a drawer for a pair of boxers. As soon as he tugs them on, he shoots her a look, one eyebrow lifting. “I’m not letting you leave without coffee.”

“I won’t fight you on it,” she says, her voice light—but her gaze stays fixed on him. Sunlight spills through the blinds, catching on the sharp lines of his torso. He’s gotten a little leaner over the past month, but no less strong—every muscle still carved and steady beneath freckled skin, now faintly marked with fresh red lines from her nails.

They step into the kitchen, and Hailey leans back against the counter, arms loosely folded, while Jay moves around the space—grabbing mugs, opening cabinets, starting the coffee as if he’s got all the time in the world.

She narrows her eyes, watching the deliberate, almost leisurely way he pours the water and measures the grounds. 

“Are you trying to make me late?”

Jay glances at her over his shoulder, eyes sparkling with faux innocence. “What? Me? Never.” He shrugs, casual. “I just want this to be good coffee. And good things take time.” With a wink, he turns back to the coffee maker, completely unbothered. “Besides, Daniels owes me. I took a bullet for one of his guys—pretty sure that earns me an extra ten minutes with you.”

The words land harder than she expects. He tossed it out like a joke, but her chest still tightens. She tries to hide it, but Jay catches the flicker in her eyes, the way her arms fold a little tighter.

He pauses, a soft laugh slipping out, gentler now. “Too soon?”

She huffs out a breath, managing a half-smile. “Maybe a little.”

“Yeah. Fair. I’ll dial back the bullet jokes… for now.”

Hailey rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips.

A few minutes later, he hands her a mug—warm and full—and she takes it with a quiet thank you. He settles onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island, then reaches for her hand. Without a word, he tugs her gently toward him, guiding her into his lap. She doesn’t resist—just shifts the mug in her hands and settles against him, her legs draped across his.

His arm wraps around her waist, grounding and familiar. “You have plans tonight?” he asks, his voice low, steady.

Hailey looks up at him over the rim of her mug, a smile already forming. “You trying to ask me out again?”

“Yes.” He leans in, brushing his lips against hers. “I want to take you out on an actual date. No takeout. No Netflix. No laundry emergencies."

She chuckles and pulls back slightly, blue eyes dancing as she sips her coffee with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Hmm… I don’t know. I might actually have laundry to do.. Maybe even plans with my couch.”

Jay gives her a look—half amused, half challenge. “Cold.”

She shrugs lightly, still sipping. “I’m just saying, it’s a big ask.”

“You’re literally sitting in my lap right now.”

“Am I?” she says, feigning surprise, glancing down at where they’re tangled together. “Huh. I hadn’t noticed.”

Jay laughs under his breath and tightens his arm around her waist. “You’re impossible.”

Hailey takes another sip of her coffee, still nestled in his lap, the mug warm between her hands. “And yet,” she murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, “here you are, still asking.”

When she pulls back, her smile softens, and so does her voice. “My answer is yes.”

“How does seven sound? I’ll pick you up.”

She lets out a light laugh, resting her mug against his chest for a moment. “Yeah, that walk across the hall is really something.”

Jay smirks, leaning in just a little. “Don’t underestimate the romance of a hallway pickup. Our first unofficial date was in that same hallway, remember? You were locked out, I had pizza and beer… floor picnic for two. Super romantic.” 

She snorts, shaking her head, a teasing edge in her voice. “Please. It doesn’t count as a date if the girl has nowhere else to go.”

Jay smirks, undeterred. “Doesn’t matter. End of the day, I was just glad you ate something more substantial than vending machine junk.” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing playfully. “That day in the elevator… that sad pile of snacks you picked out—that was your dinner, wasn’t it?”

Hailey groans, scrunching her nose, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “Fine. Yes. That was my dinner.”

Jay barks out a laugh, smug and victorious. “Knew it. Months of lies, Upton.”

She rolls her eyes but laughs too, then shifts in his lap, setting her coffee mug on the counter behind him. She swings her leg over his, straddling him on the stool. The flannel she’s wearing rides up her thighs, loose and draped open just enough to make his eyes flick down, then snap back up, darker now.

Her hands slide to his shoulders, her voice dropping to a purr. “Keep gloating and I’ll take this snack off the menu for good, Halstead.”

Jay groans, his grip tightening at her hips. He’s warm beneath her, all bare skin and soft strength, the thin cotton of his boxers the only thing between them. “Cruel. Empty threats, though—you like me too much.”

He leans in all smug, brushing his lips over hers, teasing at first. She hums, pretending to resist, fingers curling at his shoulders.

“Keep talking,” she whispers against his mouth, breathless, “and we’ll test that theory.”

Jay just laughs softly, kissing her again—deeper this time, like he knows exactly who’s really winning this game.

His hand slides up her back, fingers slipping beneath the flannel, tracing the length of her spine as their mouths move in sync. There’s no rush—well, maybe a little, considering she still needs to haul herself back to her apartment to shower and change before work. But that thought isn’t exactly front and center right now. What is front and center is this—this quiet kind of making out that only happens after all the walls have come down.

Eventually, Hailey pulls back, breath uneven, lips tingling. She rests her forehead against Jay’s for a beat longer, then slowly climbs off his lap, her bare feet touching the cool tile. A quiet laugh slips out as she shakes her head and reaches for her coffee. 

“I’m definitely going to be late.”

Jay just grins, smug and completely unbothered. “Worth it.”

Her gaze drifts around the apartment, and she sighs under her breath. Her clothes are everywhere—bra beside the couch, pants draped over the armchair, her shirt half-hidden beneath the coffee table. With a quiet exhale, she sets her mug down and pads across the living room, starting to gather the chaos one piece at a time.

“Working from home today?” she asks over her shoulder, hooking her bra off the back of the couch and draping it over her arm.

“Yes,” he says, watching her with that boyish crooked smile, still perched on the stool, looking utterly smitten. He doesn’t move, just tracks her every step with warm eyes. “You’re sure you’re not sick?” he teases, voice low and hopeful. “Might be safest to call in—just in case.”

Hailey huffs a laugh as she crouches to snag her shirt from under the coffee table. “Nice try. I’m fine.”

“Fine is subjective,” he says, pushing off the stool to crowd her space again, grin wicked when she tries not to smile. “I could do a full exam, just to be certain.”

She shoves at his chest, bra and shirt still bundled in her hand, laughter bubbling out anyway. “Go put on a shirt. You’re distracting enough as it is.”

Jay watches her with open amusement as she straightens up and heads for the armchair to grab her pants. 

“You always make this much of a mess?” he calls after her, teasing.

Hailey shoots him a look over her shoulder, wiggling her jeans free from the armrest. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been so impatient…”

His grin widens—smug, shameless. “Impatient?” he echoes, sauntering closer, that slow, confident swagger that never fails to make her stomach flip. “If I’m guilty of anything, it’s wanting you too much.”

She rolls her eyes, cheeks flushed as she clutches her little pile of clothes. “Yeah. Well.”

He laughs softly, stepping in again, hands sliding to her waist, fingers brushing bare skin beneath the flannel. “No regrets, though. Right?”

Hailey lifts a brow, mouth curving despite herself. “None.”

She shifts to pick up the last stray sock near his feet—and spots his shirt from last night rumpled close by. She snatches it up and tosses it at his chest with a pointed look. “Here. Put this on.”

Jay catches it easily but doesn’t bother putting it on. Instead, he smirks, stepping closer, voice dropping low. “You just want me less distracting so you can leave.” He dips his head, grin wicked again against her temple. “Not happening. I’m not making it easy for you to walk out that door.”

Hailey huffs out a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as warmth floods her cheeks. She swats his chest lightly with the back of her free hand. You’re impossible,” she mutters, but there’s no real bite to it—just that soft, frustrating ache that makes it so damn hard to leave him standing there like this.

Once she has everything gathered in her arms—barely—Hailey heads for the door. She hears Jay fall into step behind her, catches him out of the corner of her eye—running a hand through his messy hair, still fucking shirtless, only in boxers, looking like every reason she wants to stay right where she is.

They reach the door at the same time. Hailey turns to face him, clothes clutched to her chest, eyes soft. Jay reaches past her, swings the door open, and she steps out into the hallway, instinctively backing away from him with a teasing smirk, ready to make her escape.

But before she gets too far, his hand curls around her waist and he tugs her right back against him. The grin he flashes is pure trouble. “Not so fast,” he murmurs—then he kisses her. Playful at first, then lingering just enough to make her forget she’s standing half-dressed in the hallway.

And then—

A door opens, hinges creaking loud in the quiet.

“Goodness!” a voice gasps, surprised. 

They both freeze.

Mrs. Thompson stands a few doors down, clutching her tiny dog’s leash, eyes wide for a beat. Her eyes flick from Jay—shirtless, tousled, wearing nothing but boxers—to Hailey, in his flannel, arms full of wrinkled clothes like a living, breathing morning-after cliché.

For a split second, no one moves. Hailey’s brain practically screams at her to vanish into the floor.

“Morning, Mrs. Thompson,” Jay says, maddeningly calm for someone wearing only boxers in public.

Mortification explodes in Hailey’s chest. She makes a strangled sound and buries her burning face in Jay’s bare skin, wishing she could crawl inside it and hide forever.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Thompson replies, her voice lilting with curiosity—and more than a little amusement. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Hailey feels Jay nod above her head, his voice a perfect deadpan. “Sure is.”

Mrs. Thompson steps into the elevator, tiny dog trotting dutifully behind her, and gives them a polite—very knowing—smile. “Well… enjoy it.”

The little dog lets out a single bark just as the doors slide shut, sealing Hailey’s humiliation into the hallway air. She lets out a mortified groan, pressing her face harder against Jay’s chest. 

“Oh my God.”

Jay laughs, arms wrapping around her shoulders, completely unbothered. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, grinning like he’s thoroughly enjoying every second of her mortification. 

“Pretty sure her dog judged us harder than she did,” Jay says. 

“I hate you,” she mutters into his chest, her voice muffled, cheeks flaming.

“No, you don’t,” he says, still laughing, still annoyingly smug.

She pulls back just enough to glare up at him, lips twitching despite herself. “Next time, I’m sneaking out at dawn.”

Jay smirks. “Next time, we’re not leaving the apartment.”

She snorts, half laughing, half dying inside.

“I’ll see you at seven,” he says, his voice softening, sincere now.

She rolls her eyes, cheeks still burning. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Halstead.”

And then she slips across the hall, barefoot and flustered, clothes still bundled in her arms—but smiling all the same.

x 

As his apartment door clicks shut, Jay stands there for a moment, his space a little less full without her in it.

And still—he can’t stop smiling.

It’s not just last night. Or the easy smiles she offered so freely this morning. Or the way she looked at him—like maybe, finally, she is fully believing in them again. It’s the way he feels. Like he can finally breathe. Like something heavy has quietly slipped off his shoulders.

He feels light. Settled. Like himself again.

And this time, it’s different. It’s not the rush of new love or the thrill of what-if. This is slower. Steadier. More certain. He’s committed to this—to her—more than he’s committed to anything else in his life. More than the first time he said I do.

Because whether they walk down that road again or not, it doesn’t matter.

His promise to her lives deeper than any vow.

He glances at the clock. 8:37 a.m.

Seven suddenly feels like forever away. How the hell is he supposed to get anything done today?

Still, he makes himself a quick breakfast—toast and whatever fruit is left on the counter—before grabbing his laptop from the table and sinking into the couch. He pulls up the debrief notes he needs to finalize before his video call later, but even as his eyes scan the screen, his mind keeps drifting back to her—bare legs, messy hair, her groan muffled against his chest.

And all his. 

Fuck, he feels giddy. It’s ridiculous and he doesn’t care.

Time slips by faster than Jay expects. Between debrief notes, back-to-back video calls, and half-heartedly answering emails, the day manages to move along without him noticing.

By late afternoon, a restless energy hums through him—something he hasn’t felt in years. He does a quick sweep of the apartment, straightening things that don’t really need it, then paces from the bedroom to the living room until he finally forces himself to shower and shave.

He pulls on a charcoal-gray button-down—nothing fancy, but solid with his dark jeans. He’s buckling his watch when he hears it—

The faint click of her heels outside in the hallway. 

Jay freezes for a second, then moves to the front door, quiet as ever. He glances through the peephole like he’s not a grown man about to take his ex-wife on a date.

And there she is.

Hair a little windblown. Purse slung over her shoulder. Still in her work clothes—blazer, heels, the curve of her neck exposed just enough to make his thoughts scatter.

She exhales as she unlocks her door, one hand pushing her hair back, grateful to finally be home. 

Jay smiles to himself. There’s something about seeing her like this—unguarded, in a quiet moment no one else gets to witness—that hits him square in the chest.

He could stand there all day.

But he’s got to finish getting ready.

He has a second chance to show up for her—not just for tonight, but for everything that comes after. Because tonight isn’t about trying to impress her. It’s about reminding her he never stopped choosing her. And this time, he’s not going anywhere.

By 6:58, Jay is already at her door.

He doesn’t knock.

Not yet.

He stands there instead, hands in his pockets, his heart tapping a steady rhythm against his ribs, nerves and anticipation tangled together in a way he hasn’t felt in years.

It’s just a date.

Except it’s not just a date.

It’s her.

It’s them—again.

He checks his watch. 6:59.

He waits.

Exactly at 7:00, he lifts his hand and knocks.

Two beats.

Then one more, lighter than the rest.

And then he exhales. His foot taps once, barely audible. His pulse kicks up. He’s not scared. He’s just… wide open. And when the door finally opens, his breath leaves him, just like that. 

Hailey stands in the doorway, backlit by the warm light of her apartment, and for a second—just a second—Jay forgets how to speak.

She looks fucking incredible.

Her hair is loose, softly curled around her shoulders, makeup minimal but just enough to make her eyes even more impossible to look away from. She’s wearing a dress—deep navy or maybe black, he can’t tell—simple, elegant, hugging her in all the right places. Her heels make her just a little taller, but not enough to change how familiar she feels to him. Like home, just dressed up.

Jay’s mouth parts, but no sound comes out.

Hailey raises an eyebrow, amused. “That bad?”

He shakes his head immediately, eyes sweeping over her like he still doesn’t believe she’s real. He finally finds his voice, and it’s a little rough around the edges. “No. That good.”

A smile tugs at her lips—slow, soft, maybe even a little shy. “You clean up pretty well yourself.” One dimple appears, subtle but unmistakable, and she doesn’t try to hide it.

“I’m still processing.”

She chuckles and steps into the hallway, locking the door behind her. “Well, you’ve got the rest of the night to catch up.”

Jay offers his arm.

Hailey slips her hand through without hesitation.

And as they head toward the elevator, his heart is still racing, but his feet feel steady. Because this? This is everything he needs. 

The elevator hums quietly as it descends, Hailey still tucked into Jay’s side, her hand resting lightly on his arm. There’s a faint smile on his lips—the kind that hasn’t left since this morning. 

But then the elevator slows. The number “2” lights up.

Jay glances at Hailey, almost instinctively, just before the doors slide open—and there she is: Meghan, face glossy with what he can only assume is a cocktail of essential oils.

“Oh!” she exclaims, stopping just before stepping in. “Jay! What a surprise.” Her eyes flick briefly to Hailey, then back to Jay. “You look... nice. Healed, too.” She gestures vaguely toward his side. “I heard about what happened—looks like you’re bouncing back just fine.”

Jay offers a tight smile. “Getting there. It helps having the right people around.”

He glances at Hailey beside him—just in time to catch the faint pink in her cheeks, the small smile tugging at her lips.

Megham steps in, and Jay shifts subtly—closer to Hailey, his hand sliding down to rest at the small of her back. The space in the elevator suddenly feels tighter, warmer, and a lot more crowded.

“Big plans tonight?” Meghan asks, her voice light but pointed.

Jay smiles—calm, unbothered. “Yeah. Date night.” He doesn’t spare Meghan a glance. His eyes are on Hailey again—soft, certain. “Been looking forward to it all day,” he adds, just for her.

“Oh,” Meghan says, her smile tightening. “That’s… nice.”

Hailey doesn’t say a word, but Jay feels it—the way she straightens slightly beside him, the way her fingers curl just a little tighter around his arm.

The elevator chimes.

Ground floor.

Jay steps out first, holding the doors open without looking back. “Have a good night, Meghan,” he says politely, all ease and no hesitation.

“Well… enjoy,” she answers. 

He nods, already turning with Hailey toward the exit. “We will.”

They step outside, the warm evening air brushing over them, and Jay doesn’t say anything at first.

Instead, he reaches for her hand—easy, instinctive—and when her fingers thread through his.They walk toward his car together, her hand in his, swinging slightly between them. And for a moment, Jay lets himself smile like an idiot, because yeah… this? This feels pretty damn perfect.

Jay drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between them—close enough to touch hers, but he doesn’t reach for it. Not yet. The windows are down just a little, letting in the warm breeze and the soft hum of the city easing into night.

Hailey sits beside him, legs crossed, dress catching the low light, and every once in a while, he glances over—just to remind himself she’s really here.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says after a minute, turning toward him slightly.

Jay smiles, eyes still on the road. “Just... taking it in.”

She raises an eyebrow. “The traffic?”

“You,” he says simply. Then glances at her, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But sure, yeah. The traffic too.”

Hailey huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, but her shoulders relax. She’s been wound tight all day—he can see it in the way her fingers tap against her knee, the occasional glance at the passing streets. But now? She’s starting to unwind. Little by little.

“You hungry?” he asks as they hit a red light.

“Starving,” she says, then adds, “You didn’t have to pick somewhere fancy, by the way.”

“I didn’t do it to impress you,” Jay says, though the smile he gives her says otherwise. “I just wanted it to feel… like something.”

She doesn’t reply right away, but when he glances over, her gaze is already on him. “It already does.”

He looks away before she can see how much that hits him. Maybe it’s too soon—okay, definitely too soon—but Jay knows, deep down, she’s going to be his wife again.

Fiola is warm and elegant, the kind of place where time seems to stretch out between candlelight and crystal glasses. The maître d’ greets them by name, and Jay catches the faint lift of Hailey’s brow as they’re led past white-linen tables and hushed conversations to a quiet corner of the dining room.

Their table is tucked against the wall, just private enough. A single candle flickers between them, casting soft shadows across her face.

Jay pulls her chair out without thinking. She doesn’t comment, but the corners of her mouth twitch like she’s fighting a smile.

Once they’re seated, menus in hand, it doesn’t take long for the silence between them to turn comfortable again.

There’s a rhythm here. Unspoken, familiar.

Light touches—Jay’s fingers brushing hers as they both reach for the wine list. Hailey’s foot nudging his beneath the table. The faint, deliberate press of her knee against his that lingers longer than necessary.

Their eyes meet often. And when they do, neither looks away.

Not anymore.

“You know,” she says after the sommelier walks off, “you’re being very... well-behaved tonight.”

Jay smirks, taking a slow sip of water. “Give it time.”

That earns him a quiet laugh and the first real smile she’s given him since they sat down—wide and effortless, like it was waiting just beneath the surface.

He leans forward slightly, voice low. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Hailey meets his gaze head-on. “You’ve said that already.”

“I’m saying it again.” He shrugs, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “And I’ll probably say it at least ten more times tonight. Just a heads-up.”

This time, she doesn’t smile—not right away. She just looks at him—really looks—and something in her expression softens, like his words are settling somewhere deep.

They talk easily as dinner goes on—about the food, about work, about everything and nothing. He lets her vent about the stubborn new IT guy, and she listens as he admits it doesn’t feel so strange anymore—being away from the field this long.

Hailey tilts her head, curious. “You’d actually be okay running things from behind a desk?”

Jay shrugs, keeping it casual—at least at first. But even he hears the steadiness in his own voice when he answers. “Yeah. I think I would. There’s something nice about the rhythm. Predictable. Makes room for… other things.”

He catches the flicker of surprise on her face—brief, but unmistakable. Like she hadn’t expected that kind of honesty from him. 

“Other things?” she echoes, the corners of her mouth twitching just slightly.

Jay meets her gaze, steady. “Other things,” he says again, knowing he doesn’t need to explain.

She offers him a small smile, and for a while, the only sound is clinking silverware and quiet comfort. It’s easy, the kind of silence that feels full.

Hailey’s already halfway through her plate when she glances up at him and says, “By the way—this is ridiculously good. If you are trying to win points, it’s working.”

Jay grins. “I’ll take that as a strong start.”

She leans back slightly, still chewing. “I mean, you didn’t have to pick a place this nice.”

He shrugs, eyes on her, tone easy but sincere. “We’ve done messy. I wanted tonight to be... different.”

She pauses, then nods once—like she gets it. Because she does.

Somewhere between the second course and the shared dessert, she reaches for her wine glass and her fingers graze his again. This time, neither of them pulls away. Instead, his hand turns, palm up, and she laces her fingers through his like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

The plates have been cleared, their wine glasses nearly empty, and the low hum of conversation around them fades into the background.

Jay leans back slightly in his chair, watching Hailey over the candlelight. Her fingers are still threaded through his, resting on the table between them, warm and steady. With her other hand, she absently traces the rim of her glass, like her thoughts are spinning quietly behind her eyes.

He doesn’t rush it.

He knows that look—knows better than to push. But he also knows when she’s ready.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says softly, not looking at him yet. “About… this.”

He straightens slightly, not tense—just tuned in.

Hailey's blue eyes lift to meet his. Steady. Clear. “I don’t want to pretend we don’t know what this is,” she says. “Or dance around it. Or act like it’s some slow, casual thing.”

Jay’s response is immediate. “It’s not.”

“Exactly.”

A quiet moment passes between them, light but grounded. She gives his hand the faintest squeeze.

“I don’t want to hide it,” she adds. “Not from the world. And not from myself.”

Jay leans in again, still holding her hand, his thumb brushing gently along her knuckles. “Then we don’t.” He squeezes her hand, steady and certain. Then, a playful grin tugs at his mouth. “So… you wanna be my girlfriend, Hailey?” he asks, tone teasing. “Make it social-media official or something?”

She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t even have social media.”

“Details,” he says with a shrug, grin still firmly in place. “So… is that a yes or what?”

She exhales slowly, like something unspoken has finally settled inside her. “Yeah,” she says, soft but sure. “I want to be your girlfriend, Jay.”

Their hands stay clasped on the table, fingers still interlaced, a quiet promise sitting right there between them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, voice low but certain. 

“I know.”

A beat passes, light and full.

Then Hailey smirks, glancing down at their joined hands. “Nina’s going to absolutely lose her mind when she finds out.”

Jay chuckles. “Should I be worried?”

She grins. “You should be prepared.”

The ride back is quiet in that easy, comfortable way—full from dinner, the city glittering behind them, the warm hum of summer air drifting through the cracked windows. Jay’s hand rests lightly on Hailey’s thigh as he drives, thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of her dress. She doesn’t say a word about it. Just leans into the silence with him, smiling to herself.

When the elevator opens on their floor, the hallway is dim and still, lit only by the soft overhead glow. Jay walks her to her door like it’s the end of a first date—like he hasn’t already kissed and tasted every inch of her, mapped her body with his hands and mouth. But there’s something about the way he does it—quiet, respectful, a little tentative—that feels sweet. Earnest. Like he’s still trying to be a gentleman, even after everything they’ve already promised each other.

“Thanks for tonight,” he says, voice low, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m really glad we did this.”

Hailey glances up at him, her expression soft and steady. “Me too.”

She turns to unlock her door, but before she can say anything else, Jay leans in and presses a kiss to her lips. Quick. Gentle. Warm.

Just a peck.

Just enough to leave her wanting more.

He pulls back, slipping his hands into his pockets, a teasing grin on his lips. “Well, goodnight, Upton,” he says, already turning toward his door across the hall.

But he doesn’t get far. Her fingers hook into the front of his jacket and tug—hard enough to spin him back around.Jay doesn’t even have time to act surprised. She’s already pulling him through her doorway.

“I think you forgot something,” Hailey says, her voice low.

He stumbles inside with a laugh, catching himself on the frame a split second before she presses him back against the wall. Her mouth finds his in a kiss that’s nothing like the one he left her with—this one is hot, open, breathless. Her fingers tangle in his collar as his hands slide down her waist, gripping her like he’s been waiting all night for this.

The door clicks shut behind them.

Jay crowds her back, guiding her until she hits the wall with a soft thud, his hands firm on her hips. Breathless laughter slips from her lips just as he drops to his knees in front of her, deliberate and sure. His hands slide up her legs, slow and steady, pushing her dress higher with every inch.

“You said I forgot something,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, his mouth already grazing the inside of her thigh. “Pretty sure it was this.”

Hailey’s breath stutters, her fingers curling into his hair as his lips move deliberately—pressing slow kisses along the skin of her legs, each one softer than the last. He nips gently, teasing, letting his teeth graze the sensitive spot just above her knee before dragging his mouth higher.

She lets out a quiet, shaky laugh. “Jay…”

He grins against her flushed skin. “What? I’m just making sure I don’t miss a single inch of you.” His voice drops, teasing. “Besides, you’ve been sitting across from me in that dress for hours. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Her hand tightens in his hair, but there’s no protest in her voice—only a breathless, desperate edge. “Then stop teasing and do it.”

His gaze flicks up, and the heat in it nearly steals her breath.

“As you wish,” he says, and then he doesn’t waste another second.

Jay anchors her easily, one hand curled around her hip, the other slipping beneath her thigh to keep her steady. He hooks his fingers under the edge of her panties, dragging them aside with a practiced ease, exposing her to him completely.

And then he’s all in—mouth on her, devouring her, every slow stroke of his tongue meant to pull her apart piece by piece. She’s soaked for him, the taste of her driving him wild. 

She trembles against the wall, a low moan slipping from her lips as she tries to stay upright. He feels the exact moment her knees begin to give, the way her fingers twist tighter in his hair, her breath catching on every exhale.

“Jay—” she gasps, voice breaking.

His grip tightens on her hip, his mouth brushing against her skin as he rasps, “You’re mine. My girlfriend. Every part of you.”

And she is.

He feels it hit her in waves—the way she arches into him, shaking, gasping his name like it’s the only thing she knows. He doesn’t stop, not until her legs start to tremble and her grip on his hair softens.

When he finally pulls back, his hands are gentle, smoothing down her thighs, steadying her as she breathes through the aftershocks. He looks up at her—flushed, wrecked, perfect.

Then he stands. “You good?” he asks softly, brushing his lips against hers.

She nods, arms winding around his neck. “Better than.”

He doesn’t hesitate—just slides his arms beneath her thighs and lifts her effortlessly.

Hailey wraps around him instinctively—arms around his shoulders, legs winding tight around his waist. Her mouth finds his again, this time slower, deeper, her fingers threading into his hair as he carries her through the apartment.

The bedroom door swings shut behind them, the soft click swallowed by the sound of her laugh against his mouth and the hitch of her breath as his hands roam again.

And then—

Everything else fades to black.

Chapter Text

Jay adjusts the weight on the bench press, exhaling sharply as he finishes his final rep. The apartment gym is quiet this morning—just the low hum of the overhead fan and the exaggerated grunts coming from Mark, who's doing curls by the mirror like he’s auditioning for a protein commercial.

“You checkin’ yourself out?” Jay teases, grabbing his water bottle.

Mark grins. “Gotta make sure the gains are real.” 

Jay laughs. “Right, right.” 

“What, you don’t ever stop mid-set and look at yourself?” Mark shoots back, flexing his biceps dramatically.

Jay deadpans, “Only when the lighting hits just right.”

Mark scoffs. “Bet you wake up with abs. Must be nice being built in your sleep.”

“I’ll send you my skincare routine, too,” Jay says, perfectly straight-faced.

Mark rolls his eyes. “What, like… soap and water?”

Jay just shrugs, taking a slow sip from his water bottle, offering nothing but a maddeningly smug look. Mark lets out a groan and throws a mock punch at his shoulder. 

They keep moving through their routines, the familiar rhythm of reps and rest filling the quiet gym. Mark might be borderline allergic to emotional depth, but he’s easy company. Light. The kind of levity Jay doesn’t mind starting his day with.

That quiet lasts until the door opens behind them.

Jay’s head lifts before he even sees her. He knows it’s her.

Hailey walks in, flushed from her run, cheeks pink and hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her tank top clings to her in all the right places, and even sweaty and windblown, she still manages to look effortlessly gorgeous. Jay straightens, a small, involuntary smile tugging at his mouth.

Hailey catches his gaze, and for a brief moment, time seems to slow. They share a glance, one that lingers—warm and familiar, like a secret only they know. She offers a quick smile, subtle but electric, before moving to the corner mat to stretch.

Mark follows Jay’s gaze and exhales with a low whistle. “Damn. She just ran, like, what—a bazillion miles? And still looks like that? She’s something else.”

Jay hums in agreement, still watching her.

Mark lowers his voice. “Still a little salty, not gonna lie. Thought she and I had a vibe, but I haven’t really seen her around since I asked her out. Feels like she’s avoiding me or something, you know?”

Jay smirks to himself, looking down at the barbell as he pretends to adjust the plates. He knows exactly where Hailey’s been—curled up in his bed, her body tangled with his, her head on his chest like it belongs there. And it so does. 

“She said she’d check her schedule, but she never followed up,” Mark adds, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “Cold, man.”

“Maybe she’s just been busy,” Jay says casually, shrugging as he re-racks a weight. “Her job’s pretty hectic. Long hours, weird schedules.”

Mark nods, grabbing his protein shake. “Yeah, true. She does seem like the type who’s always in work mode.”

Jay knows he shouldn’t mess with him. But the opportunity is too good, too easy. And honestly? A small part of him enjoys it. 

He meets Mark’s eyes in the mirror, fighting back a smug grin. “Sometimes,” he says, casual and confident, “you just gotta be bold.”

Mark scoffs. “Seriously? Bold? What the hell does that even mean?”

Jay chuckles, steps toward Hailey, and tosses a glance over his shoulder. “Watch this.”

He approaches her, slow and sure, and Hailey looks up as he nears. Her brows lift slightly, curious. She’s mid-stretch, one leg out in front of her, arms resting on her knee.

Jay stops in front of her, just close enough to make her pause.

“Hey,” he says, voice low but warm. “Can I kiss you?”

Hailey blinks—actually blinks at him, like she’s not sure she heard right. Her lips part, and she glances around, clearly registering they are, in fact, standing in the middle of their apartment gym. And Mark is definitely there, sitting at the squat rack with a protein shake and full view.

“You—What?” she says, voice soft, eyes wide with surprise.

Jay grins, unfazed. “Can I kiss you?” 

Her gaze flickers between his face and the room around them, like she’s trying to figure out if he’s messing with her. But there’s no teasing in his eyes. Just affection. Bold, unwavering affection.

A pause. Then, finally, barely above a whisper, she says, “Okay.”

And so he does.

He leans in, cupping her jaw gently, his thumb brushing the corner of her cheek as he kisses her. It’s not rushed, not hungry—it’s real . Honest. The kind of kiss that leaves no room for doubt. The kind that makes it very clear to everyone—including Mark—that this isn’t casual. Not even close.

When he pulls back, Hailey’s eyes are still half-lidded, like her brain’s catching up. A beat passes before she exhales and gives him a slightly dazed smile.

“Jay,” she mutters under her breath, somewhere between flustered and amused. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Morning,” he says, voice smug but sweet. He leans in just a little closer, his voice low enough for her ears only. “You snuck out this morning,” he says, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “I didn’t get to kiss you.”

Hailey shakes her head slightly, lips curved. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He glances back toward Mark, whose jaw is practically on the mat. Jay lifts a brow and shrugs, cocky and satisfied. “Told you—bold.”

x

Later that morning, Jay leans back into the corner of Hailey’s couch, legs stretched out, barefoot, scrolling idly through his phone while coffee brews in the kitchen. He’s freshly showered, half-dressed for work in dark slacks and an open-collar shirt. He looks completely at home—which, lately, he kind of is.

The bathroom door opens with a soft click, steam curling into the hallway. Hailey steps out wrapped in a towel, another twisted around her hair. Her skin is warm and pink and even in this casual state, she looks—God, he still can’t believe she’s his again.

She spots him on the couch and lifts an eyebrow. “Did you seriously kiss me in the middle of the gym?”

Jay grins, not even pretending to look guilty. “I missed my chance earlier. You snuck out for a run before I was even awake.”

She walks past him toward the bedroom, shaking her head like she’s trying to be annoyed, but he catches the edge of a smile tug at her mouth—and the faintest hint of her dimple starting to show. “Mark was right there.”

Jay sets his phone aside, already enjoying this way too much. “That was part of the appeal.”

“So you were messing with him?” she calls from the bedroom, the rustle of clothes following her voice.

He shrugs, utterly unbothered. “He made a comment. I gave him a…demonstration.”

Hailey groans—a sound caught between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re such a menace.”

Jay gets up and crosses the room, stepping into the bedroom before slipping his hands around her waist with practiced ease. She’s half-dressed now—pants on, hair still damp, bare shoulders catching the soft morning light. Her skin is warm from the shower, soft beneath his palms. She doesn’t pull away—if anything, she leans in slightly, like being close to him is something her body does without thinking now.

“Look, you snuck out before I was awake,” he murmurs near her ear, his voice low and warm. “I didn’t get to kiss you good morning.”

She tilts her head slightly, amusement playing on her lips. “So you decided to make up for it and mess with Mark. Two birds, one stone?”

“Exactly.” He presses a kiss to her temple, grinning against her skin. “And now you don’t have to worry about him making a move on you. So, you’re welcome.”

Hailey laughs—really laughs this time—and Jay swears it echoes through his chest. He watches as she shakes her head, biting back a smile.

“You’re something else.”

Jay kisses her again, soft and lingering, and her hands slide up to rest lightly against his chest.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. “You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

She nudges him gently, stepping back. “Go put your shoes on. We’re gonna be late.”

He watches her disappear into the closet, a stupid smile tugging at his mouth, then heads to the kitchen to make himself useful and pour their coffee.

Yeah. He could get used to this.

When they first got together, moments like this were rare. The job was always hovering, pulling at one of them, or both. They were in love, sure, but lightness? Laughter? Just being happy together? That part got lost in the chaos more often than not. Now, it feels different. Better. Like they’ve come through the wreckage and found something stronger on the other side.

The mugs are warm in his hands by the time Hailey returns, now fully dressed but still toweling off the ends of her damp hair. It's getting longer—longer than it used to be—and Jay doesn’t hate it. There’s something about the way it falls around her face now that makes her look softer, even when she’s moving with purpose. She brushes past him to grab her phone off the counter, then circles back like it’s nothing for her to be half in his space, half in her own.

Jay hands her a mug. “Coffee.”

She takes it, their fingers brushing, and glances up at him. “You’re dangerously good at this.”

“At what?”

She sips. “This whole… being-here-when-I-get-out-of-the-shower, making-coffee, kissing-me thing.”

Jay smiles into his own cup. “Just following my instincts.”

Before she can reply, a buzz sounds from his pocket. He digs out his phone, expecting it to be nothing important—but then he sees the name.

Daniels.

He sighs quietly and unlocks the screen.

Need you in. Briefing at 10.

Jay lifts an eyebrow, showing Hailey the message over the rim of his mug. She leans in to read it, her brows arching slightly.

“Well,” she says, “looks like I’ll be seeing you in my bullpen.” She takes a sip of her coffee, then glances at him. “Do you know what the briefing is about?”

Jay shrugs, casually leaning against the counter. “No idea. But if it’s a surprise party for me, just act natural.”

Hailey rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that sounds exactly like something Daniels would plan.”

Jay takes a sip of his coffee, eyes on her. “So, are we keeping it professional?”

Hailey rolls her eyes, the gesture more fond than frustrated. “Just try not to kiss me in front of everyone, maybe?”

Jay chuckles, setting his mug down with a grin. “Not sure that’s a fair ask.” He steps in close as he says it, letting his hand graze her waist as he moves past her—subtle, deliberate. There’s a flicker of mischief in his eyes, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and enjoys every second of it.

Hailey turns just enough to meet his gaze, one brow lifted, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Then I guess we’ll see how much self-control you actually have.”

Jay grins, wide and unapologetic, as he drops onto the edge of the couch to put his shoes on. “Spoiler alert—it’s not a lot.”

She smirks, finishing her coffee, then lightly smacks him on the shoulder with the back of her hand as she passes. “So, you think Mark’s recovered yet?”

“No chance,” Jay says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt before grabbing his keys. “He really thought you two were vibing.”

Hailey runs a brush through her damp hair, gathering it into a ponytail as she glances over her shoulder with a grin. “Who says we weren’t?”

Jay raises a brow, mock offended. “Wow. Betrayal before 9 a.m.”

She laughs, slipping her feet into her boots and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Relax. You’re the one I let kiss me in front of the squat rack.”

Jay walks over, leans down, and presses a soft kiss to her cheek—quick, easy, like it’s already a habit. “Damn right.”

He laughs again as they step out into the hallway, side by side. And even with the day ahead, the meetings, the case, the team—there’s something about this morning that feels different.

Steady.

Easy.

Right.

x

Hailey taps her pen against her notepad, barely registering the case notes in front of her. Her monitor is on, half a document open, but her focus? Nowhere near it.

It’s 9:55 a.m.

Five minutes.

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the bullpen entrance like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing. Like it’s not the fifth time she’s looked in under two minutes. Nina’s at her desk across the way, talking to someone from cyber, and Hailey’s trying very hard not to look obvious.

She fails.

Her knee bounces under the desk.

Four minutes.

She doesn’t even have to check her phone to know what time it is. Her internal clock is synced to him now, apparently. Jay’s meeting with Daniels is at ten, which means any second now, he’ll be walking through that door—in the same navy button-down she watched him roll the sleeves on not even two hours ago, looking casually infuriating in that quiet, smug way that should be illegal in federal buildings.

Stop it, she tells herself. You are a federal agent.

Three minutes.

She looks at the door again.

And there he is.

Jay walks in, like the universe hit slow motion just to mess with her.  He’s exactly how she left him, but somehow he looks even better under the bullpen lights, carrying a folder like he owns the place—or at least like he doesn’t care that he doesn’t.

Their eyes meet instantly. Hailey’s breath catches.

He doesn’t say a word.

He just winks.

A quick, smooth, entirely smug little wink before veering toward Daniels’s office like he didn’t just shatter her brain.

Hailey blinks.

Then exhales.

Oh my God.

She is actually, physically swooning. This is bad. This is real bad.

She sinks a little lower in her chair, her heart doing something ridiculous in her chest as she flips a page in her notepad she’s definitely not reading. She can feel Nina looking at her now, and she keeps her head down because if she meets Nina’s eyes, she will combust. Or melt. Possibly both.

Eventually, she gets her breathing under control—sort of. The minutes crawl by, and before long, it’s time for the team briefing.

The conference room is already half full when Hailey walks in, file tucked under her arm, coffee in hand, and exactly zero chill in her bloodstream.

She clocks Jay instantly.

He’s already at the table, seated like he’s been there for a while—elbow resting on the arm of the chair, flipping through notes, looking perfectly casual. He doesn’t look up right away, but she sees the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Like he knows she’s looking.

She keeps her face neutral—at least she hopes she does—and walks to her usual seat. Which, unfortunately, is across from him. Their eyes meet for a second—just a flicker—and there it is again, that damn smirk. It’s subtle. It shouldn’t affect her. It absolutely does.

Behind her, the door swings open.

“Ten bucks says you don’t hear a single word of this meeting,” Nina says under her breath as she drops into the chair beside Hailey. “If you start doodling his name in the margins, I will have to call you out.”

Hailey’s hand twitches with the urge to jab her elbow into Nina’s side, but she keeps her face neutral.

Jay glances up at that moment, clearly having heard Nina’s less-than obvious jab, but—mercifully—he doesn’t say anything. He just raises an eyebrow at Hailey, like he’s waiting to see how she’s going to play it.

She doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she sips her coffee, straightens her spine, and tells herself this is fine. Totally fine. She’s had worse distractions. She’s dealt with high-stress environments. She once led a hostage negotiation while injured. She can absolutely handle a two-second eye contact with her ex-husband-turned… boyfriend? 

Across from her, Jay clears his throat and leans back in his chair, the picture of ease.

God help her.

Daniels starts the meeting the way he always does—direct, efficient, no patience for small talk. He runs through the agenda, taps the whiteboard, and motions for Jay to pick it up from there.

And just like that, the room shifts.

Jay stands, calm and steady, and steps toward the board with his folder in hand. His voice is clear, measured, confident—explaining the new intel like he’s been part of the team for years, not just weeks. No notes, no stumbles. Just sharp, tactical clarity.

Hailey watches him from across the table, pen in hand, though she hasn’t written a single word.

He’s in his element. All quiet intensity and understated authority. The kind of guy who doesn’t need to raise his voice to take command of a room. His posture is relaxed, but there’s a precision to the way he moves, the way he speaks, like everything is intentional. Grounded.

It’s annoying.

And attractive.

And really annoying how attractive it is.

She watches the others nod along, some scribbling notes, some leaning forward, engaged. Jay answers a question without missing a beat, his tone thoughtful, his gaze flicking across the table before briefly— just briefly —landing on her.

Her heart gives a traitorous little skip.

She blinks down at her notes like they’ve come to life.

Nina, seated next to her, doesn’t say a word, but Hailey can feel the smirk radiating from her like a heat lamp. There’s no elbow nudge, no whisper—but the judgment is practically humming in the air.

And it hits her— Jay would make a great boss. The kind people would actually want to follow. Not because he’s loud or demanding, but because he listens, because he leads with purpose. With steadiness. With heart. There’s a calm authority to him now that wasn’t always there back in Chicago, and it makes her chest tighten in a way she’s not entirely prepared for.

Jay wraps up the update, passing it back to Daniels, and then sits down like he didn’t just casually short-circuit half her brain.

Daniels is talking again, but Hailey hears none of it. She’s too busy pretending to be unaffected. Too busy pretending that this isn’t exactly what it feels like—like watching a man she knows too well grow into an even more frustratingly exceptional version of himself.

And the worst part?

She’s kind of proud.

The meeting ends. Chairs scrape, papers shuffle, the low hum of chatter fills the room as agents start gathering their things. Hailey doesn’t move right away—she’s focused on her folder, or at least pretending to be, while Jay sits just across the table like a perfectly calm storm.

Nina leans in beside her, keeping her voice low, smug, and dangerous .

“So,” she murmurs, just for Hailey’s ears. “Was that a mission briefing or a low-key Jay Halstead fan club meeting? Because you were definitely—”

Hailey shoots her a look sharp enough to cut.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” she mutters.

Nina grins, undeterred. “Just saying.”

The room starts to empty around them, agents filing out in pairs and threes. Jay remains seated, quietly collecting his notes. Nina’s in no rush either.

Of course she’s not.

And then—finally—the last person walks out, and the door swings shut behind them, the quiet hits like a shift in the air. It’s just the three of them now. And Hailey knows that’s no accident.

Nina doesn’t waste a beat.

She looks at Hailey, then at Jay, and hums thoughtfully. “So… we still pretending you two aren’t a thing, or are we done with the slow burn?”

Hailey lifts a brow. “Nina—”

“Because the tension in here? Thick. Like ‘cut it with a tactical knife’ thick.”

Jay lets out a quiet laugh under his breath, and that’s it. That’s the breaking point.

Hailey pushes back her chair and stands, her folder forgotten on the table.She rounds the table with purpose—quick steps, no hesitation. Jay watches her, still seated, head tilted slightly like he’s curious—and just a little intrigued.

When she reaches him, she doesn’t pause. she leans down, hands curling into the front of his shirt, and pulls him up just enough to meet her halfway.

She kisses him.

It’s not rushed. Not showy. Just real . Like it’s been waiting all day to happen. His hands come up instinctively—one resting lightly on her hip, the other bracing against the edge of the table—but he lets her lead it. 

When she finally pulls back, Jay’s blinking up at her, just slightly stunned, mouth parted in a dazed smile.

Then he says it—soft, amused, and far too smug. “Thought we were keeping it professional.”

Hailey rolls her eyes, though she can’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I reconsidered.”

Nina just grins like Christmas came early. “Finally,” she says, slinging her tablet under her arm. “I was starting to worry I’d have to lock you two in an evidence room.”

She walks out without another word, humming to herself.

Hailey turns and walks back around the table to gather her things, while Jay stays seated, still looking at her like she just flipped his entire day upside down in the best possible way.

“Don’t get cocky,” she says, grabbing her folder.

“Too late,” Jay replies, the grin in his voice impossible to miss. He leans back in his chair, completely at ease now. “On the bright side, at least Nina might finally stop giving you shit.”

Hailey snorts. “Doubt it. But it was worth a try.” 

Jay grins wider as he stands, collecting his folder and slinging it under one arm. “For the record, I fully support any and all future attempts.” 

Hailey chuckles, shaking her head as she meets him by the conference room door. Their steps fall into sync naturally, without a word. They pause for just a second before stepping out.

Jay glances at her, his voice low and easy. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” Her voice quieter than she means it to be.

He leans in just slightly, his smile crooked and completely unreadable in that way that always gets to her. “I’ll be looking forward to it”

Before she can reply, he’s already out the door, disappearing into the hallway with that same steady confidence that’s been throwing her off since the second he walked into the bullpen.

Hailey exhales once, shakes her head, and follows—pretending her heart’s not still doing backflips.

x

It’s been a few weeks since they became something official.

Since then, things between her and Jay have settled into something quiet and steady. Easy. Defined. They’re together now—no confusion, no pretending otherwise.

Mornings start in the kitchen, brushing shoulders as they move around each other in a rhythm that’s become second nature. Showers are often shared—more routine than romantic, though sometimes the lines blur. Getting ready side by side, brushing their teeth with sleepy glances in the mirror and kisses exchanged between swigs of mouthwash. Evenings settle into quiet dinners and movie nights that end with them tangled up on the couch, half-asleep before the credits roll.

And then there are the nights that don’t end in sleep at all—slow, breathless moments in the dark, where the world falls away and it’s just them. His hands, her heartbeat, the kind of closeness that says you’re safe here. The kind that lingers in the way he tucks her hair behind her ear the next morning, or the way she always finds herself reaching for him in her sleep.

Life has been good. Better than she expected.

Until certain days creep in and remind her just how fragile life is. 

The raid was clean. Tense, but controlled. Tactics hit the target, arrests were made, and the children were recovered—shaken, but unharmed.

Hailey wasn’t on-site. She was back at the office, running point, monitoring every move over comms with her eyes on the feed and her heart in her throat. It was her voice in their ears. Her call that cleared them to breach each room.

And it was her decision that led to the one misstep.

She thought she heard what sounded like a child crying—muffled, distant, urgent. She didn’t wait for full confirmation. She gave the order to breach.

But it wasn’t a child. It was a false lead—a broken speaker looping audio, planted to throw them off.

No one got hurt. They were lucky. The team detected and disarmed two traps just inside the entry. But they could have been hit—and that would’ve been on her.

And that is enough to rattle her to the core.

Amid the high-fives, praise, and quiet relief, Hailey slips away and heads to a file room.

She doesn’t need anything from it—just needs out . Away from the noise, the praise, the post-op chatter. The lights inside are low, the hum of the fluorescent fixtures the only sound. She closes the door behind her and starts pacing between the shelves. Her hands are clenched, chest tight, thoughts looping in that way she can’t shut down. 

What if I’d gotten someone hurt? What if I was the reason someone didn’t go home to their loved ones tonight? What if—

“Hey—there you are.”

Hailey turns at the sound of Nina’s voice. Her friend stands just inside the doorway, tablet still in hand, jacket slung over her shoulder. There’s a lightness to her tone at first, like she’s just passing through.

“We’re thinking about hitting that bar a couple blocks over,” Nina says casually. “Little post-raid celebration. You in?” 

Hailey doesn’t answer right away.

She knows she should smile, offer a quick “maybe later,” but the words don’t come. Her body’s still stuck back in the op, her mind replaying every second over the comms—the sound of the crying, the way her gut twisted, the way she gave the green light without waiting. Her jaw tightens. Her eyes drop to the floor.

Nina pauses. Then her voice shifts, softens. “Hey… you good?”

Hailey nods quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I just need a minute.”

Nina watches her carefully. Hailey can feel it—the weight of her concern—but she can’t handle it right now. She doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want reassurance, doesn’t want anyone to tell her it’s okay when it doesn’t feel okay.

To her credit, Nina doesn’t push. She lingers a moment longer, then nods, quieter this time. “Okay. One minute. But if you’re still spiraling after that…” She raises a brow meaningfully. “…I’m sending backup.”

And with that, she slips out, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click .

x

Jay’s phone buzzes just as he’s finishing up paperwork. He doesn’t think much of it—until he sees the name.

Nina.

His brow furrows as he picks up on the second ring. “Nina? Everything okay?”

“It’s Hailey,” she says, her voice lower than usual, threaded with quiet urgency.

Jay’s already rising from his chair. “What happened?”

“Nothing. She’s fine. But something’s off. She’s been holed up in the file room for a while now, and I know she’s not about to talk to me. But you?” A beat. “She’ll talk to you. Especially since you two are, you know… sucking face again.”

“Did something happen?” Jay asks, tossing his stuff into his bag.

“Not really. The raid was the big thing, but it went fine,” Nina says. “Still... she’s not acting like someone who just pulled off a clean win. I can usually tell when she’s just brooding, but this feels different. A little heavier. I don’t know—I’m worried.”

Jay nods once, already on the move. “I’m on my way. Thanks for calling, Nina.”

He ends the call and picks up his pace.

Jay crosses from the next building over, walking fast enough to draw a few curious looks as he weaves through security and swipes his badge at the side entrance. The moment he steps into Hailey’s bullpen, he’s scanning. It doesn’t take long—Nina’s standing near her desk, waiting.

She catches his eye immediately and doesn’t speak. Just lifts her chin toward the back hallway, her expression tight with concern.

Jay heads down the hall and, without knocking, opens the file room door, stepping inside and letting it click shut behind him.

Hailey doesn’t notice. She’s pacing slowly near one of the filing cabinets, arms wrapped tightly around herself like she’s holding something in, completely lost in thought.

He watches her for a moment—quiet, careful—then speaks.

“Hailey.”

She startles slightly, turning toward him with surprise in her eyes, like she hadn’t realized anyone else was there

Jay takes a slow step forward. He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t crowd her. Just waits.

She shakes her head, voice brittle. "Nina shouldn’t have called you."

Jay doesn’t respond. He just stays still, steady, grounded.

Silence stretches for a long moment.

Then—

"I made a bad call," she says, finally. Her voice cracks at the edges. "It didn’t cost us anything this time, but it could’ve. I heard something, and I reacted. It wasn’t smart."

Jay steps closer, his voice low but steady. “It wasn’t just a reaction, Hailey. It was a decision—one based on instinct, training, and years of experience. You heard something and you acted. That’s not reckless. That’s you doing your job—and doing it damn well.”

He pauses, softening just a little. “And even if it had gone sideways… we’re still human.” 

Hailey swallows hard. "That’s not an excuse."

"No," he says gently. "It’s not. It’s a reminder."

She leans back against the filing cabinet like her legs are giving up on her. Then she sinks to the floor, folding in on herself. Her elbows rest on her knees, hands twisted tightly together.

"I can’t afford to be wrong," she murmurs. "Not when an entire tactical team is following my calls."

Jay steps closer. He kneels in front of her—close, but not overwhelming. Just there.

"You weren’t wrong," he says softly. "You did what you thought was right. That instinct? That’s not a flaw."

She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are wet, lashes blinking fast like she can will the tears away. Jay reaches out—slow, careful—and takes her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

"They trust you, Hailey. I know that because I saw them after the op—Garcia, the entire tactical team. They weren’t just relieved, they were confident. They followed your lead without hesitation. Because they believe in you."

He pauses, his voice lowering, gentler. " If I’d been out there today, I wouldn’t have thought twice about following your lead. Not for a second."

He squeezes her hand slightly, grounding them both. "And the fact that you’re in here right now, this upset over a call that didn’t even go wrong? That’s what people want in a leader. Someone who cares. Someone who doesn't just walk away once the op is over. You feel the weight of it—and that matters more than you think. People are going home safe tonight because of you, Hailey. Children were rescued. That’s what your instinct got us today."

That’s what undoes her.

The tears slip free, quiet and unannounced. She leans forward, rests her forehead against his. Jay closes his eyes, his hand never leaving hers.

Jay’s voice softens even more. "It’s not easy being the one calling the shots. I know that. Back in the military—and even recently, in Bolivia—I was the one making the calls. And every time, there’s that voice in your head asking if you're doing the right thing. If you're risking too much. If you’ll carry it forever if it goes wrong."

He draws in a breath. "Maybe that’s why I still choose to be in the field. Because even when it’s hard out there, I know the weight is much less.” 

Hailey breathes out shakily, not quite a sob but close. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks. "It doesn’t feel like I got it right. Not when it could’ve gone so wrong."

Jay shifts just slightly closer, his forehead still pressed to hers. "But it didn’t. And that doubt? That worry? That’s part of it. It means you care enough to carry it, even when no one else sees it. That’s the kind of leader I’d follow anywhere."

She squeezes his hand back, her grip tighter now. "I don’t know what I’d do if something had happened because of me."

"You’d keep going," he says softly. "You’d carry it. And you’d still show up. Because that’s who you are."

He doesn’t say anything else.

For a long moment, they stay there—foreheads touching, hands linked, breaths steadying in sync. But Jay’s heart aches.

He’s seen Hailey bruised, exhausted, even broken in the field—but this? This quiet unraveling, this weight she’s carrying alone, hits different. It cuts deeper. Watching her fold in on herself not because she failed, but because she cares so damn much—it undoes something in him too.

He leans back just enough to look at her, to really see her. Red-rimmed eyes. Tight jaw. Strong even now, even while breaking.

He gently tugs her hand. "Come here," he says softly.

He helps her up, his hands steady around her waist, and when she’s standing, he pulls her into a quiet hug. Not tight. Just enough to hold her together.

She sinks into it like it’s the first deep breath she’s taken all day.

Jay smooths a hand along her back, resting his chin on her head. He closes his eyes.

"You ready to go home?"

She nods into him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah."

He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, his own filled with something quiet and sure. "Okay. Then let’s get out of here."

Still holding her hand, he starts to guide her toward the door, but pauses. "You know," he says, glancing around the cramped, dusty room, "not exactly how I pictured our first file room makeout would be."

Hailey lets out a laugh—small, real, and entirely unexpected. Then she buries her face into his chest, her shoulders shaking with it.

Jay wraps his arms around her again, smiling as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Still kind of works, though."

She looks up at him, eyes brighter now. "You’re such an idiot."

"Takes one to love one," he says, grinning.

And this time, when he leans down to kiss her, Jay feels her exhale the moment their lips meet—quiet and shaky, like she’s finally letting go of a breath she’s been holding for hours. Her shoulders fall, her body easing into his like the weight she’s been carrying has loosened, even just a little. Her fingers curl into his shirt, clinging not out of desperation, but out of trust.

He kisses her like he’s done it a hundred times, like he knows exactly how to hold her here. Not to fix it. Just to be with her through it. His hand finds her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. The kiss deepens for a second, but never loses that gentleness—anchoring them both.

When she pulls back, Jay watches her. Her eyes are glassy, but there’s a smile trying to form. The kind that’s still fragile, still fighting, but real.

They linger for a moment longer, tucked away between shelves and records and dusty quiet.

Jay brushes a kiss against her forehead, then leans in a little closer, his voice low and teasing. "File room makeouts weren’t on my bingo card this week, but I’m not complaining."

Hailey laughs again, this time fuller, and swats at his chest. "You’re impossible." She shakes her head, still smiling, and murmurs, "Okay, now I have to ask—what is on your bingo card?"

Jay gives her a devilish smirk. "Honestly? That thing we did in the bathroom yesterday… or maybe what happened on your kitchen counter Tuesday night.”

Hailey gasps, laughing and swatting at his chest again as her face flushes. "Jay!"

He laughs with her.  "Hey, you asked."

She’s still giggling when he kisses the side of her head, and for the first time all day, she feels weightless.

Then, finally, still holding her hand, he leads her out.

And somehow, everything feels just a little bit lighter.

Chapter Text

It’s been a few months since the task force disbanded, since Jay’s contract with the Bureau ended and he packed up his desk. He’s back to consulting on cases across the country now. Hailey misses having him around every day, but there’s something she loves about the way it feels when he comes back.

And that’s been its own kind of journey—learning to believe he will come back.

At first, it was hard. Every trip left her anxious—tight in the chest, restless at night. Her mind knew he’d come back, but her body braced as if he wouldn’t. As if it was only a matter of time before the phone calls stopped. Before the ringing was the only thing she heard until it went to voicemail, again and again. 

But time and again, he proved her wrong—patiently, consistently—showing her he wasn’t going anywhere. That when he left, it wasn’t the start of another goodbye.

And now, she doesn’t even think about the possibility of him not coming back. Not really. That quiet fear that used to sit at the edge of every parting has faded.

Because he keeps showing up. And that, more than anything, has made all the difference.

He got home late last night, fresh off a week in Denver, where he’d been assisting on a high-profile kidnapping case. Hailey was already asleep when she heard it—the soft jingle of his key, followed by the quiet turn of her front door lock.

She stirred just enough to register the sound, her eyes barely opening as the door creaked open. He stepped inside quietly, like he always did, careful not to wake her fully. From the bedroom, she caught glimpses of him through heavy lashes—his silhouette moving through the dark, kicking off his boots, peeling off his shirt, then the rest of his clothes, leaving them in a loose pile on the floor.

Then the bed dipped, and warmth flooded back into her space. He curled around her from behind, the scent of him—faint cologne, airport and travel clinging to his skin, and underneath it all, something unmistakably Jay , wrapped around her like a tether.

He kissed her. Temple, cheek, the corner of her mouth, and she hummed in response, too tired to speak but aware enough to lean into him. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her close until their bodies aligned, legs tangled beneath the sheets like they never spent a day apart. And in that quiet, familiar rhythm— heartbeat to heartbeat —sleep came easy.

Now, as sunlight streams into the room, Hailey stretches beneath the covers and reaches for the spot beside her. Still warm, but empty. She hears the sound of mugs clinking in the kitchen and the shuffle of his socks against her hardwood floor and it fills her chest with a kind of warmth she’s still learning how to hold—a warmth that feels like him, like them, like the life she never thought she’d get to live again.

She doesn’t rush to get up. She stays there for a few more breaths, soaking in the morning light and the quiet hum of domestic life—coffee brewing, cabinet doors opening, Jay moving around her space like it’s his too. Eventually, she pushes back the covers and pads into the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She ties her hair up, splashes cold water on her face, and reaches for her toothbrush. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror is softer than it used to be—less tired, less guarded. Happy. 

She’s brushing her teeth when he appears in the doorway, two mugs in hand.

“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy. He’s in sweatpants and one of those old Army t-shirts she secretly loves on him. His hair’s a mess, and he’s got that sleepy look in his eyes that tells her he hasn’t fully re-entered civilian mode yet.

She spits out toothpaste, rinses. “You’re up early.”

Jay shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d start the day off right.” He offers one mug. “With coffee and the woman I missed all week.”

She takes it, fingers brushing his—and before she can even lift it to her lips, he leans in and kisses her. It’s not rushed or eager, just warm and familiar, like they’re picking up right where they left off.

“I really missed you,” he murmurs against her mouth.

Hailey lets the words settle for a second, her heart thudding in that way it always does. She tilts her head just enough to kiss him back—soft, slow, and sure.

“Missed you too,” she says, barely above a whisper. 

He reaches up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then leans in to press a soft kiss to her forehead—gentle, unhurried. “It feels good to be back,” he says, his voice warm. “I missed waking up to this... to you.”

Hailey smiles, then leans in and gives him a quick kiss before pulling back with a small hum. She sets her mug down and turns back to the mirror, sweeping her hair into a messy bun. Her eyes meet his in the reflection. “What? Bad hotel coffee and no sleep didn’t compare?”

Jay grins. “Not even close.”

She turns slightly, brow raised. “I’ll admit, I got used to having my live-in coffee delivery guy around.”

Jay smirks. “Oh, is that what I am to you?” 

She shrugs, barely hiding her grin. “Pretty much.”

He steps in behind her, closing the already small distance between them, and leans in again—his chest brushing her back, lips grazing just beneath her ear. “Good thing I come with full-service perks.”

A soft shiver runs down her spine, but she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting right away. Instead, she lifts her mug and takes a slow sip, pretending to consider it.

“Hmm,” she murmurs. 

She feels his smile against her skin, right where his lips linger—warm and unhurried. Then his voice drops, softer now, more honest. “But I like this… coming back to you. It makes everything else worth it.”

Her smile softens, but something shifts in her eyes—calmer, steadier. “Yeah,” she says. “All worth it.”

He sets his mug beside hers, then slides his arms fully around her from behind. She sinks into him without hesitation, her body relaxing instantly. His chin rests on her shoulder, and for a moment, everything goes still—just warm skin, steady breath, and the kind of quiet she used to be afraid of, but now craves.

“I was thinking,” he says, voice low. “On my next assignment, you should come with me. Tag along for a few days.”

Her eyes meet his gaze in the mirror—soft, boyish, and impossibly fond. 

“You want me to crash your work trip?” she asks. 

“I want you there,” he says simply. “With me.” 

Her stomach flutters—not with nerves, but with a flicker of hesitation. It catches her off guard, unexpected and unwelcome. Leaving D.C., even briefly, feels like stepping outside the bubble they’ve built. Their routine, their rhythm, the quiet steadiness they’ve only just learned to trust. What if changing the setting changes everything?

She feels him watching her, like he’s waiting for an excited yes. And maybe part of her wants to give it. But the words don’t come. So instead, she lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “You’re really bad at sleeping alone, huh?”

“It’s no secret I don’t sleep well without you,” he says, and Hailey is quietly relieved he doesn’t call out her deflection. But he keeps watching her in the mirror, and for a second, she wonders if he’s about to.

Then something shifts in his expression—his gaze turning quiet, reflective. “I keep thinking... I used to live without this ,” he says, squeezing her to him, voice low. “I don’t know how I ever did.”

Hailey blinks, heart foolishly stuttering. Her lips twitch, though, because she can’t help it. “You’re really laying it on thick this morning, Babe.”

Jay raises an eyebrow, amused. “You complaining?”

“Not even a little,” she says, turning in his embrace until she’s facing him.

He doesn’t hesitate—just slips his hands around her waist while his lips find hers again, this time slower, deeper, the kind of kiss that really sinks in. She hums against his mouth, fingers slipping into the fabric of his t-shirt, tugging it up just enough to press her palms to the warm skin beneath.

“Have I told you how much I’ve missed you?” he murmurs against her lips.

She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, a soft hum of agreement slipping from her throat before she speaks—quiet, sure. “Show me.”

Jay doesn’t hesitate. His hands find her waist, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt as his mouth meets hers again—soft at first, just a brush of lips and breath, like a question he already knows the answer to. But then she deepens the kiss, fingers curling into the back of his neck, and the space between them disappears completely.

Jay walks her back slowly, their bodies moving in sync like second nature. Her sleep shirt is the first to go, pulled over her head with ease. His follows a beat later. They don’t rush. There’s no urgency—just want. Steady, patient, consuming.

By the time the backs of her knees hit the mattress, they’re half-undressed and completely lost in each other. He lays her down gently, his body following hers, the mattress dipping beneath their weight as he presses a line of kisses down her jaw, to the hollow of her throat.

Hailey’s hands roam his back, his shoulders, memorizing every inch like she hasn’t done it a hundred times already. Her breath hitches when his lips find the curve just below her ribs—slow, reverent.

But Hailey pulls him back up to her mouth, tugging at the waistband of his sweats in the process, and he laughs softly against her lips. She doesn’t want the slow buildup—not now. It’s been a week since she’s had him like this, and foreplay feels unnecessary when every part of her is already aching for him.

“Missed me that much?” he teases.

She bites his bottom lip in response. “Less talking.”

The rest of their clothes hit the floor, and when he sinks into her, it’s with a quiet exhale, like his whole body is finally allowed to breathe. She wraps her legs around his hips, anchoring him to her, grounding them both.

It’s slow. Intimate. A welcome home in every movement.

They don’t speak—not with words. Just with fingertips, gasps, the press of skin against skin, the kind of closeness that says everything they don’t have to. When she arches into him, when he murmurs her name like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense, it’s enough. It’s everything.

And when it’s over, when their bodies are tangled in the sheets and their breath is still catching up, Jay pulls her close and rests his forehead against hers.

“See? I really did miss you,” he says, voice barely there.

Hailey smiles, eyes already drifting closed. “Yeah, you made that very clear.”

They stay like that for a while—wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, the kind of silence that feels full, not empty. Jay’s fingers trace lazy circles against the bare skin of Hailey’s back, and she lies with her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

She could stay like this forever.

But eventually, his voice breaks through the stillness. 

“So, on my next work assignment—”

“Shouldn’t we wait to hear where you’re going first?” Hailey cuts in before she can stop herself—a reflex, really, driven by the urge to dodge the conversation she’s not ready to have. 

Jay doesn’t answer right away, but his hand stills on her back for a moment before resuming its slow, steady motion. “Why?” he asks, voice calm. “The assignment isn’t the point—because honestly, it doesn’t matter.” He brushes a strand of hair from her cheek, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Whether it’s sunny California or the Appalachian mountains... I want you there with me.”

“You really want me tagging along on your next work trip?”

Jay gives a small shrug, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. Why not?”

She stares at him for a moment. He’s completely serious—no grin, no teasing smirk. Just Jay, flat on his back, utterly sincere and somehow entirely confident in the idea.

And something about the way he means it, the way he won’t let it go—makes her realize she might have to step outside the safety of their world and trust it won’t all fall apart just because the setting changes. 

She knows it doesn’t make sense—not really—but the feeling is still there, sitting heavy in her chest.

The silence stretches just a little too long, and Hailey catches herself. She doesn’t want him reading into it—doesn’t want to open that door, not yet.

“You’re just gonna take me with you?” she asks, brows raised, a playful edge in her voice, hoping  the banter masks the hesitation curling in her chest. “Like I’m a plus-one to your briefings?”

Jay grins, eyes glinting. “Do you still have your old detective badge? Maybe you can flash it and bluff your way in—sit right next to me while we stare at spreadsheets and listen to tactical reports in monotone. I bet if you wear that navy suit—the one that makes you look all official and sexy—no one’ll question a thing.”

Hailey gives him a look. “Pretty sure that’s illegal.” 

“Maybe,” he says, dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder. “But I’d have a much better time if you were there pretending. And let’s be honest—if we worked together, we’d have the whole thing wrapped in two days, tops.”

Hailey smirks, not missing a beat. “They can’t afford me.”

“I know.” He nudges her lightly. “But I’m not actually inviting you to the briefings. I’m inviting you to come hang out with me. Eat room service. Sleep in. Maybe spend more than five minutes in a hotel pool for once. Hell, I’ll even find one with a spa—get you a massage, something fancy.”

It sounds perfect. And part of her wants to say yes right now. But the other part—the one that always waits for the catch, the fallout—won’t quiet down.

When she doesn’t respond, he keeps going. “You probably have, what—two months of PTO saved up?” he says with a hopeful smile. “Take a few days. Come with me. No pressure. Just… us. Somewhere else for a little while. I’ll take time off too—so I’m not buried in case files. We’ll actually get to breathe.”

She smiles, but her stomach twists. Because while he makes it sound easy, she knows leaving their bubble, even for a few days, makes her feel exposed in a way she’s not ready to name.
And for a second, she considers shutting it all down with some half-hearted work excuse.

But instead, she leans in and presses a kiss to his shoulder—soft, affectionate, easy.

Still, she doesn’t give him an answer.

And this time, she knows he notices—of course he does. She sees it in the way his smile fades just slightly, the way his hand stills briefly against her back before he smooths it over like nothing’s changed. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t press—just lets his words hang there between them, like so many things they’ve learned to hold gently instead of forcing into place.

“You’re really committing to this whole ‘not sleeping without me’ thing, huh?” she says, her tone light, teasing—a deliberate attempt to ease the weight of the moment, to keep things from tipping too serious.

Jay just grins, pulling her a little closer. “Damn right I am. Pretty sure that’s my whole life goal at this point.”

x

A few days later, Hailey shifts on the couch, tucking one leg beneath her as Jay settles beside her, his arm draped casually across the backrest. They’re in her apartment, laptop propped open on the coffee table, Dr. Morgan’s familiar face filling the screen with her usual calm presence. 

It’s not their first session together. They’ve been doing this for a few months now, navigating the terrain of something new that still holds the shape of what they used to be—talking through the past, the messy middle, and everything they’re trying to build now.

“Okay,” Dr. Morgan says, offering them both a small nod through the screen, her voice calm and steady. “So, how have things been la—”

She pauses, eyes flicking briefly to the corner of her screen,  probably where her notes are pulled up. Something there seems to catch her attention, and her expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Wait—actually, before we dive in—Hailey, I want to check in with you first.” Her tone softens. “We’ve spent the last few sessions talking about how Jay’s work trips have stirred up some old fears. How have you been doing with that lately?”

“Good,” she says simply, her fingers brushing over the bare skin of her thigh where her shorts have ridden up slightly. Then, after a beat, “Really good.”

She glances toward Jay before looking back at the screen. “He was in Denver last week. And yeah, I missed him—but I wasn’t anxious the whole time. I wasn’t stuck in my head like I was after that first trip. I just went about my week, did my thing. And when he walked through the door, I didn’t feel relief—I just felt… normal.”

Jay shifts beside her, and she feels the warmth of his hand settle on her knee, thumb brushing over her skin in slow, steady passes. 

Dr. Morgan’s smile deepens ever so slightly. “That sounds like real progress. Trust isn’t always about now . Sometimes it’s about learning how to exist in someone’s absence without defaulting to fear.”

Jay doesn’t say anything, but Hailey can feel the way he looks at her when Dr. Morgan says that. Like he knows what it took for her to get here. 

Dr. Morgan leans back slightly. “Now—back to my original question. How have things been lately?”

Hailey glances sideways at Jay.. “Everything has been…good. Jay even let me pick the movie last night without a debate, so... we’re thriving.”

“Progress,” Dr. Morgan says, jotting something down with the same small smile she always wears when Hailey leans into humor.

Jay nudges her knee gently with his. “What can I say? I’m learning to pick my battles.”

Dr. Morgan chuckles softly. “It sounds like you’ve both been finding a rhythm.”

Hailey nods. “Yeah. Honestly… it’s been good.”

Jay leans back slightly, his tone softer now. “It feels real this time.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Not that it didn’t feel real the first time—it did. But this… it’s different. More solid. Better.”

His words land. Not in a loud or dramatic way—just something quiet and true that settles in her chest. Hailey doesn’t say anything, but she leans a little into his side. 

“And what makes it feel that way to you?” Dr. Morgan asks. 

Jay doesn’t hesitate. “We’re not avoiding the hard stuff. We’re not pretending it’s perfect. We talk now—or at least, we’re learning how to. Some things take time, and we’re trying to give each other the space to get there.”

That earns only a small smile from Hailey, because something tugs at her chest—guilt, maybe. There’s one thing she’s been avoiding these last few days, and they both know it.

Dr. Morgan nods, satisfied. “That’s a strong foundation. Is there anything new either of you wanted to bring up today?” She glances between them on the screen. “If not, I’ve got a short exercise we can walk through together.”

Jay glances her way, and in that moment, Hailey knows exactly what he’s about to say. 

He clears his throat. “I asked Hailey to come with me on my next work trip.”

She doesn’t react right away—not outwardly, at least. But now it’s out there. No more deflecting. No smirking it away. She has to talk about it now.

Dr. Morgan raises a brow, curious. “As in—accompanying you while you work, or more of a shared break?”

“Bit of both,” Jay says. “I’ll be working a few days, but I’m planning to take some time off too.” He glances at Hailey, then adds, “Figured it’d be good for both of us to get away for a bit. Just... take a breather.”

“And how do you feel about that, Hailey?” Dr. Morgan asks, gently.

Hailey loosely crosses her arms over her chest, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at the edge of her sleeve. When she finally speaks, her voice is calm and deliberate.

“The trip sounds… lovely,” she says, offering a small smile. “And truthfully, probably long overdue. I just—” Her voice falters for a second, and when she continues, there’s a quiet resignation behind the words. “This city, our routine, everything we’ve been building together—it feels like a bubble. Like something we finally got right. And I guess…” She glances at Jay, her expression softening. “There’s a part of me that’s scared to step outside of it.”

Hailey shakes her head, almost at herself, tension coiled in her shoulders—tension she knows is visible even through the screen. “Not because I don’t trust him, us —I do. It’s just... this is the first time everything’s felt steady. Like we’ve found a rhythm. And leaving that, even for a few days, feels like cracking the glass.”

She feels Jay’s hand move to her knee, thumb brushing gently across it.

Dr. Morgan nods, letting Hailey’s words settle before responding. “That makes sense,” she says gently.

Hailey blinks. “It does?” Her voice is soft, almost disbelieving—like she’s been waiting for someone to tell her she’s not overthinking everything.

Dr. Morgan offers a small smile. “Routines give us a sense of safety, especially after so much instability. But sometimes, testing the strength of something is the only way to really trust it.”

Hailey doesn’t respond right away, but she listens. Really listens.

Dr. Morgan continues, “You’ve worked hard to build something healthy between the two of you. Choosing to step outside the comfort zone doesn’t have to mean risking it—it could be reinforcing it.”

Hailey feels Jay shift beside her, but he doesn’t say a word.

“There’s real value in what you’ve built here” Dr. Morgan says, her voice calm and even. “And that sense of safety, of connection—it’s not limited to one place. The life you’ve created doesn’t belong to a location. You carry it with you.”

Hailey nods slowly, the weight of Dr. Morgan’s words landing in a place she didn’t even realize was tight until now.

Jay nods beside her, his thumb still making slow, absent passes over her knee. 

Dr. Morgan offers a soft smile, letting the quiet stretch for a beat before shifting her focus. “And Jay,” she says gently, “how do you feel about what Hailey shared?”

He looks up, thoughtful. “I get it,” he says after a moment. “Honestly, I do. What we have here—it’s been the best part of my life for a long time. I don’t want to mess with that.”  He glances at Hailey, his voice softening. “But I don’t see this trip as something that could hurt us. I think we’ll still be solid—even when the backdrop changes.”

Dr. Morgan nods, her expression thoughtful. “You’re both holding valid truths,” she says gently. “Jay, your confidence in the relationship is a strength—it offers reassurance. And Hailey, your hesitation isn’t a weakness. It’s a reflection of how much this matters to you.”

She glances between them. “This isn’t about right or wrong—it’s about understanding how each of you moves through uncertainty, and how you can hold space for both experiences at the same time.” She pauses, her tone gentle but firm. “I’m not going to tell you whether you should go on the trip or not—that’s not my role. But I do think it’s something worth continuing to talk about together. The conversation itself can be just as important as the decision.”

Hailey exhales through her nose, not quite smiling, but close. She hates admitting her insecurities out loud, but yeah, this whole thing, the showing up, the talking, the vulnerability—it works. She feels lighter already. 

Dr. Morgan glances between them again, then shifts slightly in her chair. “Since we’ve touched on communication, let’s shift the lens a bit. What about the day-to-day? Have you noticed anything coming up lately in how you’re communicating, or maybe how you’re not?”

Hailey hesitates, eyes flicking toward Jay like she’s mentally flipping through a list. He beats her to it.

“She leaves half-full mugs of coffee everywhere,” he says, like it’s a revelation. “Not even kidding. On the bookshelf, the bathroom counter, once on the dryer in the laundry room. It’s like living with a very jittery ghost.”

Hailey turns to give him a pointed look, but in that moment, she can’t. Not really. Because right now, she loves him a little more. He knows how heavy that earlier conversation was for her, how much it took to admit those fears out loud. And now here he is, shifting the energy, making her laugh, gently pulling her out of her own head.

“It’s not that bad,” she counters, even though she’s well aware of the trail of half-finished coffee she leaves behind when she’s deep in her head.

Jay raises an eyebrow. “There was one in a drawer.”

“One time,” she mutters. “I get distracted.”

She can hear Dr. Morgan stifling a laugh.

Jay shrugs, grinning. “I’ve started collecting them. It’s kind of a game now.”

Dr. Morgan leans in slightly. “And how do you communicate when it happens?”

Jay doesn’t miss a beat. “I tease her. Lightly, of course. Then I go on a little scavenger hunt.”

Hailey shakes her head, but her lips twitch. “ At least I don’t get defensive anymore.” 

“You still get a little defensive,” Jay says, nudging her knee with his own.

“Yeah, well,” she murmurs, “only when you deserve it.”

The banter flows easily and Dr. Morgan watches them for a beat before speaking again. “So what do you both do in these small frustrating moments—the ones that might  turn into something bigger?”

Hailey shrugs, thoughtful. “We call each other out. But... not in the way we used to. I think we’ve learned how to say what we mean without making it a fight.”

“And when you do fight?” Dr. Morgan asks, still gentle.

“We pause,” Hailey answers. “Or try to. Doesn’t always work. But I think we’re both a little more aware of where the line is now. What’s fair. What’s not.”

Jay nods. “We don’t try to win anymore. It’s more about understanding the other person. Not just proving a point.” He glances at Hailey, a playful glint in his eye. “Like how I’ve come to accept that the half-empty coffee cups mean she’s deep in a case—or lost in thought somewhere brilliant.”

Hailey lets out a quiet laugh, then nudges his shoulder with hers, her smile soft and easy. 

Dr. Morgan’s eyes soften. “That’s a huge shift.”

Hailey doesn’t respond right away, but she feels the truth of it in her chest. Things really are different now. Still messy, still imperfect—but different. And that difference matters.

Dr. Morgan finishes jotting something in her notebook, then looks up again—calm, steady, the same way she always does when she’s about to land on something meaningful.

“I’ll say this before we wrap up,” she begins. “What you’re doing here—it’s not about erasing the past. It’s about proving to yourselves that you can live differently in the present. That you’re capable of showing up with more clarity, more honesty, more trust.”

Her eyes meet Hailey’s on the screen. “That’s not easy. Especially not for two people who’ve seen the worst of each other. But the fact that you still choose to show up—for yourselves and for each other—that’s the work. And it’s already happening.”

Hailey doesn’t move, but once again Dr. Morgan’s words land in that same quiet place inside her chest. She doesn’t do well with praise. She’s always been more comfortable focusing on what needs fixing. But right now, in this quiet, shared space with Jay sitting next to her and the sky starting to darken outside the window, it feels like maybe they are doing it right this time.

Dr. Morgan offers a small smile. “We’ll pause here for today. Same time in two weeks?”

Hailey nods. “Yeah. That works.”

Dr. Morgan gives one final look between them, that steady gaze that always seems to see more than she says out loud. “Keep leaning in,” she adds gently. “You’re doing better than you think.”

The line lingers longer than usual—none of them in a rush to disconnect—until Hailey finally gives a quiet, “Thanks, Dr. Morgan.”

“Take care,” she replies with a nod, before the screen blinks to the session-ending message.

Jay reaches forward and closes the laptop slowly, his hand brushing hers in the process. And just like that, the quiet returns—but it’s a good kind of quiet. Settled. Solid.

He leans back into the couch and nudges her knee gently with his. “So… Dr. Morgan didn’t totally shut down the trip idea.”

Hailey exhales through her nose, almost a laugh. “I noticed.”

Jay stretches his arm along the back of the couch behind her. “I just think it’d be fun. You, me… questionable hotel breakfast buffets...”

She snorts. “Sounds romantic.”

“Oh, peak romance,” he says, deadpan. “Tiny shampoo bottles, industrial-strength coffee, maybe even a vending machine dinner if we’re feeling wild.”

Hailey shakes her head, lips curving despite herself. “You’re never going to let me live that vending machine dinner, huh?” 

“Nope,” he says softly, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “But I do think we need to go away together now. Because I want you to see that this bubble we’ve built—it comes with us. Wherever we go.”

Hailey leans into the back of the couch, her shoulder brushing his chest. His arm drops naturally, curling around her. Her fingers absently trace the seam of the cushion beneath her.

“The idea’s growing on me,” she says, quieter now, the words more settled. She’s starting to believe it—that their bubble isn’t fragile, just flexible. Strong enough to stretch, to grow, to carry them forward.

“I'm not ruling it out,” she adds, and this time, she means it.

Jay reaches for her hand. “That’s all I’m asking.”

And for once, thinking about what’s next doesn’t feel like a risk—it feels like a possibility.

x

Jay nurses the last bit of his coffee as Richard Donavon closes the door behind him. The sergeant's office is quiet, filtered sunlight cutting across the desk in angled stripes. He  gestures to the chair opposite him. “Nice work on the Denver case. You left the locals impressed.”

Jay shrugs, settling in. “Just doing my job.”

Donavon raises an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You cracked that case in half the time we expected. You’ve earned a breather—maybe I can shift a few things around and keep you in town a bit longer.”

Jay shakes his head. “Actually... I’m good to go again.”

Donavon studies him for a second, then leans back in his chair. “You sure? I figured you might want something local for a while. You and Hailey still good?”

Jay nods, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth. He hasn’t said much about it, not out loud—but he knows Richard’s picked up on it. The sergeant sees more than he lets on.

“Yeah. We’re good.” 

Donavon nods slowly. “She’s good for you. You’re more focused. More settled. Like you finally stopped holding your breath.”

Jay nods, his voice low. “She brings out the best in me. Makes it easier to show up… the right way.”

He shifts slightly in his chair, thumb tapping against the edge. “That’s actually why I’m ready to go again,” he says. “Because this time, I want to bring Hailey with me. And yeah—it also means I’ll be taking a few days off while we’re there.”

Donavon lets out a soft, knowing laugh. “You’re taking vacations now, Halstead? Voluntarily? Without someone twisting your arm?”

“Yes,” Jay says, smiling into his coffee.

Donavon flips through a small stack of folders on his desk, scanning the tabs. “Let’s see what we’ve got, then.” He pulls two from the pile and fans them out. “There’s one in Miami—we’re  running a task force out of there. Messy cybercrime ring, but you’d get some sun.”

Jay smirks. “You trying to sell me on palm trees?”

Donavon shrugs. “I’m just saying... not a bad backdrop if you're bringing someone with you.”

Then he picks up the second folder, taps it twice, and slides it across the desk.

“This one came in this morning. Seattle. Another joint op, but pretty low-key—mostly follow-up interviews and tying off loose ends from an earlier case. Shouldn’t take more than a few days, unless something unexpected pops up.”

Seattle.

Jay doesn’t need to think it over. The answer is already there, settling in his chest like something solid.

Jay taps a finger lightly against the folder. “Seattle,” he says. “That’s the one.”

Donavon blinks, eyebrows lifting. “Really? Not going with the beaches and sunshine?”

Jay just gives a small shrug, but there’s no hesitation in his voice. “My brother lives out there.”

Donavon leans back, studying him for a beat. Something shifts in Richard’s expression—less teasing now, more knowing. “You’re serious about Hailey.” 

Jay meets his gaze without wavering. Very.”

A small smile pulls at his mouth—not just fond, but something deeper. Donavon doesn’t know the whole story. Doesn’t know that Hailey was his wife. That he walked away and broke her heart. That this is a second chance most people don’t get.

“If it were up to me,” Jay says quietly, “I’d put a ring on her finger today.”

Donavon raises his brows, visibly surprised—but he lets out a low chuckle as he leans back in his chair. “Well... maybe let her enjoy the hotel breakfast buffet first.”

Jay huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

By the time Jay makes it back home (meaning her apartment now, though the lines between hers and his have quietly blurred) the sun is dipping low behind the buildings, casting everything in a soft gold haze. He lets himself in and finds her in the kitchen, barefoot, hair tied up, sweatshirt sleeves pushed past her elbows, stirring something on the stove. A pan of roasted potatoes rests on the counter beside her, and he spots a pita wrapped in foil near the oven.

There's something about seeing her like this—comfortable, relaxed, home—that makes his chest ache in the best way.

She looks up the second she hears the door and straightens a little. “Hey,” she says, eyes flicking over him. 

Jay steps in and drops his bag near the door. He walks up behind her, slips a hand around her waist, and presses a kiss to the side of her head—soft, unhurried. He reaches for one of the golden, crispy potatoes on the counter, fingers hovering, but Hailey swats his hand away, a smile tugging at her mouth. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

Jay grins, undeterred. “You make roasted potatoes and expect me to wait? That feels cruel.”

She shakes her head, amused. “Five more minutes, Babe. Try to survive.”

He chuckles, squeezing her waist gently before leaning in again, his voice softer now. “So… I got my next assignment.”

Hailey pauses, turns down the burner, then faces him—her eyes searching his face, really looking at him, waiting.

“Donovan had a few options...” he begins, and there’s excitement in his voice, but he tries to keep it contained—doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Doesn’t want to assume she’ll say yes, even if part of him is already hoping she will.

Jay shifts slightly, reaching up to gently tug that loose strand of hair spilling from her bun. “And I, uh... I picked one.”

There’s a flicker in her expression—something between anticipation and nerves. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he says, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Seattle.”

Her brows lift, just slightly. “Seattle?”

He smiles, twirling the loose hair strand gently between his fingers. “Yeah. I figured, if you do come… you’d get to see Will and Natalie. Owen. And now Olivia too—our new niece.”

The word slips out— our —but she doesn’t flinch. If anything, her eyes soften. She leans slightly  back, arms folded, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek. “A family reunion?” 

It’s not teasing, not really. Her voice is quieter than usual, like the words catch her off guard as much as the warmth behind them. And Jay feels it in his chest—that quiet, unexpected softness between them, real and steady.

Jay nods again, slower this time. “Yeah. Something like that.” 

He watches her for a beat, then adds, gentler now, “But it wouldn’t just be a family visit. We’d make time for us, too. Just you and me. Sleep in, steal a few slow mornings, maybe explore a little. No pressure, no work.”

Hailey doesn’t answer right away, but he sees it in her—just beneath the surface. That mix of hesitation and hope, the quiet fight between fear and want. And then, slowly, she nods.

“Okay,” she says. “Seattle it is.”

Jay exhales a laugh, one hand already cupping her cheek. “Yeah?”

Her lips brushing against his.  “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Chapter Text

The zipper won’t budge.

Hailey tugs at it again, harder this time, frustration prickling under her skin. She curses under her breath, yanks once more, and mutters, “Of course.”

From the kitchen, Jay’s voice floats out casually, warm like always. “Need help in there?”

“No,” she calls back too quickly. “I got it.”

She doesn’t. But she doesn’t want to admit that right now, not when her nerves are already buzzing.

She hears his footsteps before she sees him—soft footsteps padding across the hardwood, easy, unhurried. When he appears in the doorway, he’s holding a coffee mug, looking maddeningly calm in a black henley and jeans. He leans against the frame like he’s got all the time in the world, sipping his coffee, eyes focused entirely on her.

She doesn’t look up. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asks, voice light.

“The staring thing. Like you’re trying to read my mind.”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks over, crouches beside her, and gently takes the suitcase from her hands. One quick tug and the zipper gives. Just like that. Of course it does.

“Fixed,” he says, lifting his brows with a smirk. “Heroic, I know.”

Hailey lets out a breathy laugh, but the smile that follows is faint. Her chest still feels tight. Not because of the suitcase. Not really.

Jay catches it—his brow creases just a little. “You okay?”

She waves him off. “It’s nothing, and we’ve talked about it, and I know that—”

“It’s not nothing.”

He stands, sets the coffee on the dresser, and reaches for her hands. When she looks up, he’s right there—steady, grounding. His thumbs trace slow circles over her knuckles.

“It’s okay to feel nervous. I get it,” he says softly. “But just so you know… our bubble? We’re bringing it with us. Wherever we go.”

His voice is calm and certain—like he’s not just trying to reassure her, but saying what he truly believes, trusting she’d come around. And somehow, that’s always what gets her. That quiet certainty. In him. In them .

He leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead, letting it linger. “You’ve got me, baby. That’s never gonna change.” He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes. “And if any part of you wants to back out, I’ll understand. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” 

Hailey offers a small smile, and for a moment, the tightness in her chest eases—just enough to let the excitement slip in.

“I’m not backing out.” 

He smiles, a hint of relief in his eyes. “It’s gonna be great. You’re gonna love Seattle. And as for plans?” He shrugs. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

She lets out a quiet laugh. “So… no plans, then?”

He shrugs again, smiling. “Just us. That’s the plan.” 

His phone buzzes, and he glances at the screen. “Uber’s here.”

She exhales, nodding. Then she glances down and smiles softly. “But first, you need shoes. Airport floors don’t deserve that kind of trust.”

Jay chuckles, following her gaze. “Good point. Can’t have you carrying me through security.” He brushes a kiss to her temple as he heads for his sneakers. “Shoes on, let’s go.”

They grab their bags, lock the door behind them, and head for the airport.

Hours later, after the flight and a sleepy shuffle through the terminal, they step out into the Seattle air.

SeaTac smells like coffee and jet fuel and something damp that clings to her skin the second they step outside.

Hailey pulls her coat tighter around herself as the wind rushes through the pickup area. It's not cold exactly, but there’s a wet chill in the air that reminds her they’re nowhere near D.C. anymore. She watches as Jay scans the curb for their rideshare, his duffel slung over one shoulder, his hair tousled from sleep on the plane. He looks good. Relaxed, even. Like he’s been here a hundred times before.

She hasn’t.

The flight was smooth. Uneventful. They didn’t talk much—just exchanged quiet smiles between episodes of some true crime doc Jay picked, and when the turbulence kicked up, his hand found hers under the tray table. No dramatics. Just steady. Him.

Now, standing here in the misty air, she feels it again—that low hum of nerves under her ribs. She told herself it would ease once they landed. That once they were here, really here, she’d feel better.

But being in a new city is setting her slightly off balance.

The car pulls up, and Jay turns to her with a grin. “This is us.”

Jay opens the door of the rideshare for her without a word, a quiet gesture that makes her chest ache in the best way. She nods in thanks, slides into the backseat, and he follows, closing the door gently behind them.

Outside, the city drifts past her fogged-up window. Seattle feels like it’s still waking up—gray skies, wet sidewalks, people bundled in layers. It’s quieter than she expected, less noise and more… space. The buildings feel tucked into the trees rather than fighting them.

Jay notices her watching. “You okay?”

She glances at him, softens. “Yeah. Just… taking it in.”

Their place is a corporate rental hotel thing near the water—short-term, furnished, modern. Nice, but not home. The moment they step inside, Hailey drops her bag and shrugs off her jacket, walking toward the windows. From the tenth floor, she can see the fog rolling in slow waves across the water.

Jay comes up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist. “Still with me?”

She leans back against him, eyes on the mist. “Still with you.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to the side of her head. “I’ve got to check in at the field office. Shouldn’t take long. Want to come with or hang here?”

She turns in his arms to face him, her hands sliding up to loop around his neck. “I’ll stay. Get settled.”

“You sure?”

Hailey nods. “Yeah. I kind of want to see what’s out there. Maybe find some coffee that doesn’t come from an airport kiosk.”

Jay flashes her a charming, boyish smile. “Now we’re talking. Just… text me if you wander too far into hipster latte territory.”

He kisses her—quick but warm—then grabs his wallet and keys, heading for the door. Before he opens it, he pauses, turning back toward her.

“Oh—don’t forget. We are having dinner at Will and Natalie’s tonight. Casual. Loud. Definitely chaotic.”

Hailey’s eyes light up, a mix of excitement and nerves. “Sounds perfect.”

Jay’s easy smile lingers. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches her, like he still can’t believe this is real. And the thing is… she feels the same. She can’t believe how far they’ve come, how good they are now. 

And for once, the unfamiliar doesn’t feel so scary. Because this—her, him, this strange little city wrapped in fog—it still feels like them.

Jay leaves and Hailey stands in the middle of the open living room, arms crossed, letting the silence settle around her. There’s a part of her that wants to stay exactly where she is—curl up on the oversized couch with a blanket and wait for Jay to come back. But another part, the part that’s always pushed through fear and unfamiliarity, kicks in.

She grabs her coat.

Outside, the air is crisp and damp, the kind of chilly that seeps through sleeves and reminds her to keep moving. She walks without a plan, letting the rhythm of the city guide her. The neighborhood is filled with small cafés, bookstores, and local shops nestled between evergreens. The streets are clean and quiet, and everyone seems to have a dog and a reusable coffee cup.

Eventually, she steps into a charming little shop with wood-paneled walls and soft indie music playing in the background. The place smells like cedar and vanilla. A handwritten sign near the entrance says Locally Made – Thoughtfully Sourced.

Hailey browses slowly, fingers trailing along shelves of handmade candles, quirky mugs, kids’ books, and plush toys. She stops at a small table stacked with soft, knitted animals. Her eyes catch on a little sea otter with oversized eyes and a fuzzy gray body. It’s impossibly cute—soft enough for a baby to hold, light enough not to be a hazard. She picks it up, smiling to herself.

Olivia. She hasn’t met her yet, but something about this little otter just feels right. Like the kind of thing a one-year-old would cling to, drag around by the paw, sleep with tucked under a chubby arm.

Hailey turns it over in her hands. Yeah. She thinks Olivia will love it.

Next to it, she finds a book of science experiments for kids—bright, colorful, and interactive. The kind of thing Owen might actually think is cool.

She hesitates for a second, then picks them both up. Something settles in her chest. Not a big thing. But enough.

By the time she steps out of the shop, a paper bag tucked under her arm, her phone buzzes.

Jay Halstead
Incoming call

She answers with a small smile. “Miss me already?”

His voice is warm, teasing. “Obviously. But mostly just checking in.”

“I’m good,” she says honestly. “Walking around a bit. Bought a sea otter and a science book.”

There’s a pause, then a soft laugh. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like you’re crushing it.”

“They’re for Owen and Olivia.”

His voice shifts—gentler now. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” she says quietly, then adds with a faint smile, “I’m trying to secure favorite aunt status.”

Jay chuckles. “Ah, so you’re buying your way to the top. Bold strategy.”

She laughs. “Hey, I’m not above a little bribery.”

“Well, if that sea otter’s half as cute as you, I think you’ve got it in the bag.” There’s a brief pause, then his tone softens. “I’m glad you’re out there. I was worried you’d feel weird being alone in a new place.”

“I did,” she admits. “Still kind of do. But it’s better now.”

“Good.” There’s another pause. “We should be wrapping by five I think. I will be back at the hotel by 5:30.” 

“I will be waiting.” 

They hang up, and as she pockets her phone, Hailey lets herself look up and really take it all in—the way the sun tries to peek through thick clouds, the way the people here move a little slower, softer.

She’s not home, not exactly.

But she’s not lost either.

x

Jay doesn’t even have to knock. The front door swings open before his hand gets there, and Will’s already grinning like a man who’s two cups of coffee deep and running on chaos.

“There he is,” Will says, pulling him into a quick hug before reaching for Hailey. “And look who finally decided to cross state lines.”

Hailey laughs. “Hey, Will.”

Jay watches the easy way she folds into his brother’s arms, the warmth in her voice, the lightness in her smile. She looks happy. 

“About time,” Will teases, stepping aside to let them in. “Natalie was stalking your flight status like a lunatic this morning. Olivia skipped her nap, and Owen’s on his third attempt to microwave marshmallows. Welcome to our house.”

Jay shoots Hailey a look as they step inside. “Still time to turn around.”

She bumps his shoulder. “No way. I’m invested now.” Then she grins. “Not to brag, but I think I crushed it with that science book I got Owen. Kid’s clearly committed to running his own experiments.”

Natalie emerges from the kitchen, hair pulled back in a messy bun, a baby on one hip and a spoon in the other. 

“Hailey!” she grins. “You look amazing. I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s working.”

Hailey laughs. “Flattery right out of the gate? I like it here already.” Then she grins. “You look great too, by the way—like supermom in action.”

Olivia squirms in Natalie’s arms, and Jay catches Hailey’s eyes go soft the moment she sees her. Baby cheeks, little socks, and the faintest patch of strawberry-blonde hair on her head.

“She’s beautiful,” Hailey breathes.

“And loud,” Natalie adds with a grin. “Wanna hold her? She might scream… or she might fall in love with you forever. Total toss-up.”

Jay watches Hailey hesitate only a little. “I’ll take the gamble.”

Olivia is passed over, and Hailey shifts the baby in her arms, gently bouncing her as Olivia studies the new stranger with wide, unblinking eyes. No tears. Just quiet curiosity.

Jay isn’t prepared for the way it hits him—the sight of Hailey holding their niece. 

It’s small at first—subtle. But then Hailey starts murmuring soft nonsense to the baby, her fingers brushing Olivia’s tiny hand, and Jay can’t look away. Something shifts in his chest, like a light flicking on in a room he’d never even thought to enter.

Olivia lets out a small sound—not quite a laugh, more like a squeak—and Hailey lights up like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. 

Jay swallows hard as he watches Hailey cross the room to follow Natalie, gently cuddling the baby. Because damn—if this doesn’t look like something he could get used to.

Will bumps his shoulder, knocking him out of the moment. “You okay, or is your brain short-circuiting?”

Jay blinks. “What?”

“You are staring. Hard. Like, get-a-room level.”

Jay glares at his brother. “Shut up.”

Will starts grinning, all knowing and smug, arms crossed as he leans against the counter.

Jay narrows his eyes. “What now?”

“You got that look, man.”

Jay blinks. “What look?”

Will wiggles his eyebrows. “The one that says you’d make a dozen little ones with her if she so much as hinted at it.”

Jay shoots him a look, but Will just chuckles, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. And right now? You’re practically picturing her in a cozy suburban kitchen, barefoot and pregnant.”

Jay opens his mouth to argue—then closes it.

Because… yeah.

He is.

He keeps watching Hailey coo softly to Olivia while Owen runs wild in the background, marshmallow on a fork. And yeah, he wants this. All of it. The chaos, the laughter, the sticky fingers. The warmth. The family. The kind of love that fills a room without even trying.

Across the room, she glances up and catches him staring. When she smiles, it’s that small, familiar one—the kind that shows just one dimple. She starts walking toward him, her steps unhurried. “What?” she asks quietly.

Jay steps closer, his voice low. “Nothing,” he says, eyes flicking to Olivia, then back to her. “Just… looks good on you.”

A faint flush colors her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. “Yeah?”

He gives a small shrug, casual on the surface, anything but underneath. “Yeah.”

There’s a beat—quiet but full—before she glances down at Olivia again, brushing a fingertip across her tiny hand. Then she whispers, almost without meaning to, “Feels good too.”

Before he can say anything else, Natalie’s voice rings out from the dining room, loud and cheerful. “Dinner’s ready! Takeout’s on the table and not to brag, but my homemade dipping sauce? Kinda life-changing, so get in here!”

Hailey adjusts Olivia on her hip and starts walking toward the dining room, murmuring something soft to the baby. In response, Olivia rests her head on Hailey’s shoulder, content and still, like she’s known her forever.

“You coming?” 

Hailey throws him a look over her shoulder, and it nearly levels him.

Yeah.

He’s definitely picturing the cozy suburban kitchen right now.

x

Dinner is loud, messy, and perfect.

They eat at the dining room table, everyone packed in close—plastic cups for the kids, mismatched forks, someone always getting up to grab something. Owen dominates the conversation with wild, dramatic tales of fourth-grade recess politics, and Natalie interjects every few minutes to redirect him back to chewing.

Jay watches as Hailey fits into it all effortlessly—laughing at Owen’s antics, handing Natalie wipes and laughing as they tag-team the mess, occasionally stealing bites from Jay’s plate like she’s always had a seat at this table.

When everyone’s halfway through their second helping, Hailey reaches down beside her chair and pulls out the little paper bag she brought from the shop earlier.

“I brought something,” she says, placing it on the table. “Just a little… Seattle souvenir moment.”

Owen perks up instantly. “For me?”

She grins. “You and your sister.”

She hands him the science book first, wrapped in tissue paper. He tears it open, eyes going wide. “Whoa. These are actual experiments? Can I do them at home? Will anything explode?”

Will raises an eyebrow. “Please try these only in the garage, buddy.”

Jay chuckles, catching the smile tugging at Hailey’s lips as Owen flips through the booklet, already planning experiments.

Then she turns to Natalie, holding out the small plush otter wrapped in soft paper. “This one’s for Olivia.”

Natalie gasps. “Hailey, she’s going to love this.”

Jay watches as Hailey gently places the otter next to Olivia, who’s propped in a high chair now, still fighting to keep her eyes open. The baby’s tiny hand wraps around the otter’s paw on instinct, and even though she’s already drifting, her head turns toward Hailey like she recognizes something in her.

Something safe.

Jay’s heartstrings pull so tight in his chest, it feels like something might snap. 

They eat, talk, and laugh, conversation flowing easily, light and unhurried. No work talk, no stress, just good food, shared stories, and the kind of comfort that only comes with family

As they pack up to leave, Owen runs up to Hailey and throws his arms around her waist in a sticky hug. “Thank you. You’re awesome.”

“Thanks, kid,” she says, squeezing him back.

Then he spins toward Jay, lifting a marshmallow-sticky hand for a high five. “Bye, Uncle Jay!”

Jay grins and slaps his hand. “See you, buddy. Keep working on those experiments.”

Natalie gives Hailey another hug, one-armed with a now-sleeping Olivia nestled against her shoulder, murmuring something about visiting again before they head back to DC. Will claps Jay on the back, then leans in, lowering his voice so only he can hear.

“If there’s a mini-you running around nine months from now, I’m taking credit.”

Jay shoots him a look, but Will just grins, completely unapologetic.

As they walk back to the rental car, Will calls out with a little too much enthusiasm, “Most rewarding job you’ll ever have, bro!”

Hailey furrows her brow, glancing over at Jay. “What is he talking about?”

Jay clears his throat, grabbing the bag off the counter. “He’s just trying to mess with me. Don’t encourage it.”

She smirks, clearly not convinced, but mercifully, she lets it slide.

The drive back is quiet, the kind that lingers after good food and happy laughter—warmth from the night still settling between them. Jay reaches across the console, and Hailey slips her hand into his, their fingers lacing together. He lifts their joined hands and presses a gentle kiss to the back of hers, saying nothing—but meaning everything.

Back at the hotel, everything is quiet.

Jay drops his keys on the table and kicks off his boots, glancing over just in time to see Hailey make a quiet beeline for the window. She stands there now, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the distant water.

“You okay?” he asks.

She nods slowly. Jay can’t really see her face from where he stands, just the faint reflection of her in the window, softened by the glass and the dim light behind her. So he walks over, wraps his arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder. 

“You sure?” he asks, voice low near her ear.

“Yeah. Just… taking it all in.”

“That was a lot, huh?”

She lets out a soft laugh, her hand reaching up to lightly touch his forearm. “Definitely louder than our diners.”

He presses a small kiss to her shoulder, a smile tugging at his mouth. “But not terrible,” he murmurs.

“No,” she says, her voice soft, her fingers now loosely squeezing his arm. “Not terrible at all.”

They stand like that for a while, her back against his chest, his arms holding her like he’s never letting go. Then she turns in his embrace, eyes searching his face.

“You were intently watching me with her.”

Jay doesn’t deny it. “Yeah.”

There’s something open in her gaze now. Vulnerable. “What were you thinking?”

He hesitates, then gives her the truth. “That I could see you like that. With our kid. And I don’t know when that stopped being terrifying and started feeling like… something I’d want.”

Her eyes soften as she gently pulls him down until their foreheads touch. “Me too.” A quiet beat passes, then she adds, barely audible, “A boy with your smile…”

Jay’s heart pulls tight in his chest. The image flashes uninvited—small feet, messy hair, that crooked grin he’s seen in the mirror for years. And before he can stop himself, another thought rises, quiet and instinctive.

A girl with her eyes.

God.

He didn’t know it was possible to want something so deeply and so suddenly. And yet—it doesn’t feel sudden at all. It feels like it’s been there, buried under fear and distance and time, just waiting to surface.

He pulls her in closer, his voice rough at the edges. “You’d be so good at it.”

She leans into him, arms sliding around his waist. “So would you.”

They don’t need to say anything else. There’s no timeline, no grand declaration—just that quiet understanding, that shared look that says we’re building something. Slowly. Steadily.

Jay leads her to bed a few minutes later. No urgency. No steam this time. Just limbs tangled in cotton sheets, soft kisses, fingers tracing familiar paths.

And as Hailey falls asleep curled into his side, Jay lies awake for a little longer, staring at the ceiling, his chest full of something almost too big to name.

x

Hailey wakes to the sound of clinking silverware and the smell of coffee.

Jay’s across the room, setting out the breakfast he most definitely ordered from room service, humming something under his breath—casual, content. He’s in his work pants, shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose over his chest, the sleeves pushed up to his freckled forearms. His hair is still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends, and there’s just enough scruff on his jaw to make her want to trace it with her fingers. 

He turns when he feels her watching. “Now look who’s intently watching.”

She chuckles, the sheet slipping slightly as she sits up. Then she stands, pulling it with her—wrapping it loosely around her body as she crosses the room. Barefoot, bare-everything, unapologetic.

Leaning against the wall, she meets his gaze with a soft smirk. “Well, you’re giving me a show.”

Jay glances up, eyes sweeping down her figure with a grin as the morning sunlight spills through the window, casting him in that effortless, almost unfair kind of glow.

“Just a preview. The full show’s on tonight.”

Hailey laughs, low and warm. “Good. I’ll be front row.”

He finishes setting up breakfast, then wipes his hands on a napkin before walking over to her. His steps are easy, unhurried, and when he reaches her, he slips an arm around her waist, the other brushing a stray piece of hair from her cheek.

“Hi,” he murmurs, then leans in and kisses her—slow and sure. “Good morning,” he adds against her lips, smiling.

She hums against his mouth, soft and sultry. “Morning.”

He lingers there for a beat, forehead resting lightly against hers. “You glad you came?” he asks, voice low, the question edged with something real—hopeful.

Hailey doesn’t even hesitate. “I can’t believe I ever hesitated.”

And she means it. Whatever fear she had about leaving their comfort zone, about stepping outside the safety of what they’d rebuilt in DC, it’s gone now. Because it was never really about the place.

Where they go, the bubble goes.

And that truth had settled into her bones like something permanent.

They sit down at the small table by the window, the city and ocean stretching out beyond the glass. The food is simple—warm toast, eggs, a little fruit—but Jay’s poured her coffee just how she likes it, and the way he’s watching her across the table makes it taste better somehow.

Between bites, he glances at his watch and sighs. “I’ve got to head out. But…” He  nudges a small envelope across the table toward her. “To make up for it... I booked you a massage downstairs. Late morning. Figured you deserved a little spoiling.”

Hailey raises an eyebrow, smiling. “Look at you, pulling out all the stops.”

Jay grins, reaching for her hand across the table. “Only for you. Always for you.” His thumb brushes over her knuckles. “I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

She leans in slightly, eyes warm. “Too late for that.”

He chuckles and stands, then bends to press a kiss to her forehead—slow and lingering. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

But as he straightens, she reaches for him—fingers catching at the edge of his open shirt, tugging him back down before he can pull away. Jay doesn’t hesitate. He leans in, their mouths meeting in a kiss that deepens fast—hands finding skin, breath hitching, the world narrowing to just them. He presses her back, one hand braced on the chair, the other curling around her neck like he’s already halfway gone.

But he pulls back with a groan, resting his forehead against hers. “Hailey…”

“I know,” she breathes. 

He lets out a quiet groan, presses one last kiss to her jaw, then steps back. “We’re picking this up the second I walk through that door.”

“Counting on it.”

He finishes getting ready in record time, and as the door clicks shut behind him, Hailey leans back in her chair—lips tingling, fingers still warm from his touch, heart full in a way that quiets all her lingering doubts.

And when he comes home that night, he finds her, and they pick up right where they left off.

x

The next morning, Jay leaves early for work, pressing a kiss to Hailey’s forehead before slipping out quietly. With nowhere to be, Hailey lets herself enjoy the kind of slow morning she rarely allows—coffee on the balcony in one of Jay’s shirts, followed by a walk through the quiet neighborhood streets where the city feels half-asleep. 

Later, she books a fancy facial at the hotel spa—figuring if Jay was going to spoil her, she might as well lean in. The warmth, the quiet, the gentle rhythm of someone else tending to her... it eases a kind of tension she hadn’t even realized she was carrying. 

By the time she’s back in their room, wrapped in a robe and scrolling through her phone with a glass of water in hand, a message from Jay lights up her screen.

Wrapping up. Heading back soon. Want me to grab dinner?

She types quickly: 

Only if it comes with wine.

The three dots dance on the screen followed by Jay’s reply. 

You drive a hard bargain, Upton .

Dinner is quiet, easy—warm Thai food on the bed, wine in mismatched hotel glasses, and the hum of the city outside the window. They eat, sharing bites, laughing at a dumb movie playing in the background that neither of them pays much attention to. She steals a bite of his noodles, and he doesn’t complain. Just watches her, smiling that soft, lopsided smile that always makes her feel warm all over.

Hailey feels lighter than she has in her life. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s Jay, sprawled next to her with his long legs stretched out, relaxed in a way that makes her chest ache. He still looks at her like he can’t believe she’s there. Like this version of them is something he doesn’t want to wake up from.

At some point, Hailey places her legs over his lap, and Jay starts tracing slow circles on her calf with his thumb. It’s innocent. Barely  a touch—but her body responds like it’s been waiting all day.

Because she has. 

“I liked today,” she says, swirling her wine.

Jay lifts his eyes from the glass. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Can’t remember the last time I had a facial.” 

Jay doesn’t say anything for a moment, then reaches over, his hand resting on her bare thigh. His thumb continues to brush lightly, back and forth. 

“I like seeing you like this,” he says softly. “Happy. Relaxed.”

Her pulse skips. “You do something to me, you know that?”

His hand slides higher. “Pretty sure it’s mutual.”

Their kiss starts slow, but like most of their kisses, it doesn’t stay that way. Jay sets the takeout container aside blindly, his other hand already on her waist, pulling her onto his lap. She straddles him, deepening the kiss as her fingers slide into his hair. All messy and hot. 

Jay grips her hips, his touch firm, grounding. His fingers slide under the hem of her sweatshirt—his sweatshirt—and the heat between them spikes like dry wood catching fire.

When he pulls back, breathless, eyes blown wide, he murmurs, “Wanna shower with me.”

Hailey doesn’t hesitate. She just nods.

They stumble into the bathroom, their lips barely parting. Jay flicks on the light, reaching into the glass stall to turn the water on hot. Steam begins to rise as Hailey unbuttons his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her hands roam his chest, fingers tracing the familiar lines of old scars and muscle. 

Her clothes fall next, piece by piece, until she’s standing there bare under the bathroom lights. He looks at her like he always does—like he’s still wrecked by the sight of her. 

“You’re so damn beautiful, Hailey.” 

Jay cups her face, thumbs stroking over her cheeks, and kisses her—deep, consuming, stealing every bit of oxygen from her lungs. Then he guides her into the shower, water cascading over their skin.

She gasps when the hot spray hits her back, but then Jay’s mouth is on her neck, and her knees almost give out. All she feels is him—his hands, his mouth, the press of his body against hers.

He whispers her name as the steam rises, her back pressing to the cool tile. His hands slide down her waist, gripping her like he can’t get close enough. She reaches for him in return, pulling him closer, letting her hands wander. The moment slows, thick with heat and want, every breath between them charged.

There’s a shift in her then—a quiet, deliberate spark that starts low in her belly and builds with every ragged breath Jay exhales against her mouth. Without breaking eye contact, she sinks to her knees, the water hitting her back as steam curls around her like smoke. Her hands are steady, touch confident as she reaches for him, and the way his jaw tenses when her fingers wrap around him makes her ache in the best way.

She wants to give him this. Not out of heat alone, but because she wants to watch him unravel. For her.

She doesn’t rush. She takes her time—exploring, tasting, a language she knows by heart. Jay groans, low and guttural, one hand braced against the wall while the other tangles in her wet hair, not guiding, just holding. His hips shift with barely restrained control, and every sound he makes drives her deeper into the moment.

She doesn’t rush. She takes her time—exploring, tasting, loving on him. Jay groans, low and guttural, one hand braced against the wall while the other tangles in her wet hair, not guiding, just holding. His hips shift with barely restrained control, and every sound he makes drives her deeper into the moment.

He tries to hold back—she can feel it in the tension of his thighs, the sharp intake of breath when she takes him deeper, the way her name slips from his lips like a plea. But she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up.

It’s raw, messy, beautiful. Not just physical—but intimate in a way that strips them both bare.

When he finally lets go, it’s with a ragged moan that echoes off the tile. His fingers tighten in her hair, his whole body trembling as he comes in her mouth, the warmth of it hitting her tongue. She takes it all, steady and unflinching, holding his gaze through the haze of his release.

His chest heaves as he looks down at her, completely undone.

When she pulls back slightly and flicks her eyes up to him, he looks completely wrecked. Head tilted back. Eyes half-lidded. Lips parted, like he’s on the edge of saying something and can’t remember how to form the words.

“Jesus, Hailey…” he breathes out finally, the reverence in his voice curling straight through her.

She hums softly in response as she l rises, water dripping from her skin. Jay immediately pulls her into him like he needs to anchor himself.

“Hailey,” he murmurs, voice rough and shaken, “I—”

She silences him with a kiss, deep and steady, her hands curling around the back of his neck. Nothing about this feels rushed or fleeting. It feels like theirs.

By the time they make it back to the bed, they’re both breathless, damp, and laughing between kisses. Jay pulls her down with him, the sheets cool against their warm skin. Their mouths find each other again, slower this time, deeper.

He presses into her with quiet urgency, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. And this— this —feels like everything they’ve been fighting for. Not just the pleasure but the peace in it, the safety, the sense that they’re home in each other no matter what city they’re in.

Afterward, Hailey lies tangled in his arms, her head on his chest, their legs twisted together under the covers. The sliding door is cracked open, letting in the faint sound of the city breathing outside.

Jay strokes her back slowly, fingertips gliding across her spine. “You ruin me in the best way, you know that?” he says, teasing, his voice still a little wrecked. 

Hailey smiles against his skin. “You think you’re the only one?”

He laughs softly, and she feels it vibrate through his chest. And then quieter, after a beat, he adds, “I’ve never felt more wanted. Or more… loved.”

She lifts her head, her eyes finding his. “You are. I love every part of you.”

Jay kisses her then—slow, grateful, lingering. No heat this time, just something that feels even stronger.

And when they fall asleep, it’s not just exhaustion that pulls them under.

It’s trust.

x

Jay finishes up work earlier than expected.

The case—quick and clean—closes without the usual mess. No lingering pieces to tie off, no field ops dragging into the night. Just a few final briefings, a couple folders handed off, and then... done.

When he walks into the hotel that Friday afternoon, the first thing he sees is Hailey curled up on the couch in sweats, her hair piled on top of her head, earbuds in, typing something on her phone. The second she looks up and sees him standing there—no coat, no badge, no tension—she smiles like the sun just broke through the fog.

“You’re really done?” she asks.

“I’m all yours, baby.”

They do all the touristy things they swore they wouldn’t.

Pike Place Market. The Space Needle. A ferry ride just because they can.

They eat seafood on the pier and groan at how overpriced it is. Jay buys Hailey a ridiculous mug that says Sleepless in Seattle and she pretends to hate it, but he sees her drinking out of it the next morning.

One afternoon, they get caught in a downpour, totally unprepared. Jay shrugs off his jacket and holds it over their heads while Hailey clings to his side, soaking wet and laughing like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

And maybe it is.

Because in between the sightseeing and the rainy walks, they find time to just be —no phones, no meetings, no pressure. Just quiet mornings with coffee and slow kisses, late-night takeout on the floor, and the sound of each other’s laughter echoing through a place that’s not home but feels like it could be.

They even squeeze in another family outing with Will, Natalie, and the kids—this time at a park, the kind with ducks and too many swings. And it’s Jay who Olivia reaches for without hesitation. She curls into his chest, all soft curls and sleepy sighs. And Hailey? She practically melts. Because there’s something about him —this strong, steady man, all rough hands and quiet strength—cradling that cherub of a baby like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

On their last day in Seattle, they rent bikes from a little place near the waterfront, the kind that creak just a little when you pedal and have worn-in baskets on the front. Jay teases her when she picks the one with the bell—rings it dramatically and calls her “city girl meets indie film protagonist.” She flips him off while laughing.

The trail they follow winds along the shoreline, pine trees towering on one side, gray-blue water stretching endlessly on the other. Everything smells like damp earth and sea salt. There’s no rush, no agenda. Just pedaling. Breathing. Coasting.

For once, Hailey lets herself go quiet. Not the kind of quiet she uses to shut people out, but the kind that feels full of peace. Jay rides a little ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes just to make sure she’s still there.

She always is.

Eventually, they stop at a scenic overlook, where a wooden bench sits facing the Sound. Hailey drops her bike, takes a seat, and pulls her knees up to her chest. Jay plops down beside her, arm draping easily across her shoulders.

They sit there in silence for a while, watching the ferries drift across the water, their wakes trailing behind like ribbons. The sky is painted in muted tones—steel gray clouds layered with light.

Jay nudges her with his shoulder. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

Hailey turns her head, studies him for a second. He’s relaxed, content. It hits her all at once—how easy this has been, how good it feels to just be with him. No cases. No city noise. No ghosts between them.

“I know I’ve said this before but I’m glad I came,” she says quietly.

Jay’s expression shifts, softens. “Yeah?”

She nods. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this. Not just the trip. You. Us.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, but she doesn’t need him to. His thumb brushes lightly along her shoulder, slow and thoughtful.

They stay there until the sun starts to dip below the trees, until the wind gets a little colder and the sky turns a deep indigo.

That night, they eat dinner in bed—pizza from the place downstairs, still hot in the box, wine in glasses they don’t bother setting down on coasters. Hailey is curled into his side, one of Jay’s t-shirts hanging off her shoulder, her hair still damp from a quick shower.

The TV is on, some random travel show playing low in the background. She’s not really watching. Neither is he.

Jay kisses the top of her head, then shifts slightly, tugging the blanket higher over her legs. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says it, but it slides right into her heart like it’s always belonged there.

“I could do forever like this.”

Hailey tilts her head back to look at him, eyes locked on his. “Yeah?”

He nods once, like it’s not even a question. “Yeah.”

And she believes him.

For the first time in a long time, forever doesn’t feel like a fantasy. It feels real. Tangible. Like something they’re already living—quiet, messy, beautiful moments strung together like lights on a string.

Wherever they are, whatever city, whatever coast— this is the home they’ve been building all along.

x

The first thing Hailey notices when they step back into her apartment is the stillness.

It’s not the sterile kind—empty, echoing, lonely. It’s a familiar stillness. The kind that wraps around her like a well-worn hoodie. The city hums outside the window, traffic below, someone shouting across the street about a parking spot. D.C. hasn’t changed.

But something in her has.

She sets her suitcase by the door and glances over at Jay, who’s already kicked off his shoes and is stretching the travel ache out of his back like they just came back from a year-long mission. He catches her watching, flashes a lazy grin, and says, “We survived Seattle.”

Hailey smiles. “Barely. You almost got us lost on the ferry.”

“I maintain it was an adventure.”

“You maintain everything is an adventure,” she teases, stepping into the kitchen, flipping the light on. “Even your complete lack of direction.”

Jay walks up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist, and leans his chin on her shoulder. “Well, I found my way back to you.”

Hailey rolls her eyes, but her heart tugs.

That’s the thing about Jay. He says stuff like that with zero irony, like he doesn’t even notice how deep it lands.

And now, back here, in the apartment where they first tried to figure each other out again, everything feels more certain. More lived-in. Like Seattle didn’t just give them a break from work... it gave them each other back.

x

It’s been a week since they returned, and the change is subtle, but it’s there.

Their routines fall back into place—briefings, fieldwork, late nights and coffee runs—but there’s less space between them now. They don’t dance around their closeness like it might disappear. There’s no more waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just comfort. Intention. Love. 

Jay still makes her coffee every morning, even when she has to be out the door at the ass crack of dawn. Hailey still swipes his hoodies and wears them like armor. On Friday nights, they order in, throw their phones in a drawer, and spend the evening sprawled on the couch watching movies they never finish because they get too busy kissing and laughing about nothing.

One night, Hailey stands in the mirror brushing her teeth, Jay behind her in a towel, his hair still damp from the shower. He meets her eyes through the reflection and says, “You’ve been quieter lately.”

“Not in a bad way,” he adds quickly. 

Hailey smiles, rinses her mouth, then turns to face him, pressing her palms gently to his chest. “I’m just… happy,” she says, the words still feeling a little surreal. “Like… really happy.”

Jay’s smile is soft, almost boyish. “Okay.”

She rests her head against him, closing her eyes. And for a second, it hits her—how easily she could’ve missed on all of this. How, despite all the heartbreak and wrong turns, they somehow still found their way back. Like maybe they were always meant to end up here, together. It wasn’t easy—it took breaking apart and rebuilding more than once. But they made it. 

They fucking made it. 

And now, wrapped in this quiet moment, she can’t imagine ever going back to a life where she isn’t his, and he isn’t hers.

Chapter Text

1 year later

The apartment is quiet in the way weekend mornings tend to be, sunlight stretching across the hardwood floors, the faint hum of the city just outside, and the scent of basil drifting in from the little balcony garden. The sliding door is slightly opened, letting in a soft Fall breeze that stirs the air, mixing with the stillness of the room.

Jay’s sitting cross-legged by the sliding door, coffee in hand, squinting down at a stubborn sprig of rosemary that’s refusing to come back to life. He’s muttering under his breath like it’ll somehow motivate the thing, but the plant remains defiant.

Hailey leans against the wall separating the kitchen from the living room in their shared apartment, still in a tank top and pajama pants, her hair in a loose braid over one shoulder. She watches him quietly, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m telling you, this one hates me,” Jay says, not looking back. “Everything else is thriving, but she’s just... bitter.”

Hailey snorts, clearly amused by Jay’s new gardening fixation. He’s been on a kick lately, trying to up his recipes with fresh herbs, and apparently, this rosemary is the one thing standing in his way.

“You’re projecting,” she says. 

Jay glances back over his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re probably right.”

She crosses the room, stepping over the fuzzy blanket they left on the floor from last night’s movie marathon, which had been deliciously cut short by more urgent matters. When she sinks onto the floor beside him, he lifts his arm, and she tucks herself into his side. The view from their new apartment balcony stretches out in front of them, all soft greenery and quiet charm—the very thing that made her choose this place.

Jay’s gaze shifts to the photo on the wall above them, and Hailey follows it. The frame catches the light—Will’s backyard, kids in swimsuits, grass stuck to their legs and cheeks. It was taken during their second trip to Seattle, just this past summer. Hailey’s holding Olivia in one arm and shielding Owen from a rogue soccer ball with the other, laughing so hard her eyes are closed. Jay’s right beside her, half-sunburned, entirely content.

 “That was a good day,” she says. “We should plan to visit again next summer.” 

“Yeah, we should.” Jay nods. 

A beat of silence follows, easy and comfortable. Jay sets his coffee down, glancing at her sideways, and leans in to drop a soft kiss on her hair. “You know... maybe we could plan to have a celebration of our own there.” 

Hailey raises an eyebrow, turning to him with a curious smile. “A celebration? What kind of celebration?”

He shrugs, feigning casualness. “Just... you know, a reason to get together. To make it a trip to remember...” He lets the silence stretch, the hint of something more unspoken. Slowly, his grin softens, and he adds, “Maybe... just maybe, we could make it official again. You know, get married.” 

Hailey’s eyes widen slightly, and he quickly adds, “Only if that’s ever something you’d want. I’d love to have that with you again.”

From the corner of her eye, Hailey catches the subtle movement—his thumb grazing over his empty ring finger. Her gaze flicks down without meaning to, drawn by the motion. Before she realizes it, her own hand mirrors the gesture.

“Round one was a bit of a mess,” Jay continues, his voice quiet but steady. He reaches for her hand. “But I think we’re less messy now.”

She threads her fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah. We are.” Hailey looks at him, her gaze soft but curious. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

Jay shrugs, a hint of vulnerability in his smile. “A while now... I just know I’d love to call you my wife again.”

Hailey smiles, leaning in a little closer, her heart skipping at the thought of calling him her husband again. “Okay then, what are you thinking in terms of a backyard celebration? I mean, I don’t think we can top our courthouse wedding—it was kind of perfect. And honestly, I never really pictured anything bigger for myself.”

Jay grins, leaning toward her with a teasing glint in his eyes. “So... you would consider marrying me again?”

Hailey chuckles, giving him a playful shove. “Well, my question’s hypothetical, obviously,” she says with a smirk. “Just seeing how you’d picture it... you know, if that was ever something we visit again.”

Jay grins, his eyes lighting up. He leans back slightly, his gaze distant as if already imagining the whole thing. Hailey watches him, a smile tugging at her lips as he speaks, “Well,” Jay begins, his tone almost dreamy. “Maybe some cheesy decorations... you know, string lights, a few flowers—nothing too fancy, just enough to make it special.”

He pauses, glancing at her with a smile that feels more tender than playful now. “Owen walking down as the ring bearer, trying to look grown-up, and Olivia, tossing flowers like confetti, too excited to stand still.”

Hailey’s heart warms as she listens, her thoughts drifting as he paints a picture so sweet and simple. 

Jay’s smile deepens as he continues, his voice growing softer. “Then, after, there’s dancing, eating, laughing... just us, our closest people.” 

Hailey feels warmth spreading through her at the image he’s created, a celebration she hadn’t even considered until now. She sees it—them in Will and Natalies’s backyard, surrounded by laughter, love, and the quiet joy of it all. 

Jay’s voice draws her back to the present as he adds, “You know Will and Natalie would jump at the opportunity to host it.”

She smiles, caught between amusement and something deeper. It isn’t the wedding she’s ever pictured for herself, but it would be perfect for them now. It feels right. A breeze from the slightly open sliding door stirs the air around them, but in this moment, everything feels still, simple, and perfect.

"So, next summer then?" she asks, feeling the shift in her own heart as she says it. 

Jay blinks, clearly not expecting her to take him up on it so soon. “Wait—really?”

She shrugs, but there’s the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, then,” Jay says, still slightly incredulous. His grin widening as he squeezes her hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “So... does that mean you’re my fiancée now?”

“Guess so.” 

Jay’s smile lingers, his jaw tight—like he’s trying, and failing, not to grin too wide. His thumb brushes over her knuckles, slow and deliberate. Then with his free hand, he scratches the back of his neck, like he’s working up to say something he’s not entirely sure about.

Hailey tilts her head slightly. “What?” she asks, her voice gentle.

Jay hesitates, eyes flicking to her face, then down to their joined hands. For a second, it looks like he might back off—but then he exhales, almost a laugh, and says, “So, uh… do you want a ring?” he asks, voice tentative. 

Hailey blinks, caught off guard by his words. “Oh. Uh... I don’t—” She trails off, her voice softer than she intended. Then, after a beat, she meets his eyes. “You… have a ring?”

Jay looks at her, a mix of hesitation and sincerity in his eyes. “Yes and no,” he says quietly, almost as if weighing his words. “I have a ring, but it’s not just any ring.”

Hailey’s curiosity piques, and she leans in slightly, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s my mom’s ring,” he explains, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve kept it for sentimental value only, because it’s... well, it’s got history.” 

Hailey blinks, her brow furrowing. “What history?” she asks, her voice a mix of wonder and genuine curiosity. 

Jay looks away for a brief moment, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “God,” he mutters, clearly flustered. “Not sure why I even brought this up.”

Hailey can’t help but smile at the way his confidence falters just a bit. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous laugh escaping him before he continues.

“Remember how I told you I almost proposed to Erin? Well... it was with this ring,” he says, his tone a little sheepish. “It’s also the same ring Will gave Natalie the first time they got engaged.”

The words hang in the air, and Hailey feels a mix of surprise and shock.  

When she doesn’t respond, Jay’s eyes flicker with something close to panic. “You know what? Let’s forget about the ring,” he says quickly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It was stupid. I... I’m sorry. If you want a ring, we can get something new—something that’s just for you.” He shifts uncomfortably, letting out a humorless laugh. “I mean, my mom’s ring might be cursed at this point, right?”

One thing Hailey has always known for certain about Jay is how much he loved his mother—she was his whole world. The fact that he’s held on to this ring all these years says everything about its value to him. Blaming the ring, calling it cursed... it feels like an easy scapegoat for the stupid choices he and his brother made.

"I don’t believe in curses," she says gently, a smile playing on her lips. "If anything, it’s you and your brother who were out of luck.” She looks at him, her expression warm. “Can I see it?” 

Jay blinks, surprised by her request. “You... want to see it?” he asks, his voice a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Hailey nods, her smile warm and inviting. “Yeah, I do.”

Jay hesitates for a moment, then stands up, his gaze lingering on her as if making sure she’s serious. “Okay,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’ll be right back.”

He walks to their bedroom, and Hailey hears him moving around, a faint rustling sound coming from the room. A few moments later, he returns, holding a small red velvet box in his hands. He kneels on the floor, facing her, and slowly opens the box.

Hailey is taken aback by how beautiful the ring is—delicate, timeless, with a soft glow that catches the light. She can’t help but breathe out softly, her eyes lingering on it for a moment.

“It’s beautiful, Jay,” she says, her voice soft and full of genuine admiration.

Jay looks at her, a small, almost nervous smile tugging at his lips. “You want to try it on?” he asks, his tone gentle, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

Hailey nods, her heart fluttering. She watches Jay gently take her hand, his fingers warm against hers, and carefully slips the ring onto her finger.

Hailey gazes down at the ring, her eyes filling with unexpected tears because she can fill the weight of everything it represents. It’s a piece of his mom,  a bridge between the past and the future, something solid and enduring, a legacy she can hold close and, perhaps one day, pass on to her own children.

Hailey looks up at him, her voice soft as she asks, “What do you think?”

Jay’s eyes are already a little misty as he meets her gaze. He blinks a few times, struggling to find the right words, and then, with a shaky breath, he manages to say, “It... it looks perfect.” A beat passes, and then he adds, quieter this time, “My mom… she’d be really happy it’s you. That you’re the one wearing her ring.”

With slightly shaky hands, Jay gently pulls her in, crashing his lips against hers in a desperate kiss. Tears slip down their faces, blending with the kiss. It’s imperfect, messy, but it fits the moment in every way. Raw and real. 

When they finally pull apart, both are breathless, their faces wet with tears. Jay looks at her, his gaze filled with everything he’s feeling but can barely express.

“I love you,” he says softly, his voice breaking.

Hailey smiles, her chest aching with love for him. “Love you more.”

There’s a beat of quiet before she lifts her hand, turning it slightly so the ring catches the light. Then she meets his eyes, a teasing glint behind the tears. “Here’s to breaking curses.”

Jay lets out a breathy laugh, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “We’re rewriting everything.”

x

The test sits on the edge of the sink like it’s waiting to be believed. Two pink lines. Clear. Unmistakable.

Hailey slides down the cool bathroom wall, her knees pulled to her chest as she wraps her arms loosely around them. Morning light filters through the half-open blinds, cutting soft lines across the tile. Everything around her is still, but inside—her heart is sprinting.

She doesn’t cry. Not yet. She doesn’t smile either. Just breathes.

Part of her expects panic. But instead, there’s stillness. A strange kind of gravity. Like everything in her life has just shifted and settled, all at once.

A knock comes at the door, quiet, then his voice.

“Hailey?” Jay’s voice is groggy, sleep-roughened. “You good in there? I kinda need to pee.”

She stands slowly, bare feet brushing against the cold tile. Her hands tremble just a little as she opens the door.

Jay stands there, still in nothing but boxers and a wrinkled t-shirt, yawning big as he blinks against the morning light. Jay opens his mouth to speak, his voice still thick with sleep. “Hey, I was thinking. How about—” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes finally catching the shock, fear, and disbelief she knows is plastered on her face. “Hey, you okay?”

He takes a cautious step forward, his hand reaching out to gently touch her arm. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” As he speaks, his eyes scan her face, then down her body—like he’s searching for some visible sign of what’s wrong. 

She doesn’t say a word. She just turns, picks up the test from the sink, and holds it out for him to see. 

He freezes.

His breath catches. A small sound escapes—half laugh, half disbelief. He looks at her again, searching her eyes like he’s trying to make sense of it.

“D-does that mean what I think it means?” His voice shakes, a stutter creeping in as he glances between her and the test, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "You're... pregnant?"

Hailey feels the tears finally come, her emotions breaking through the surface. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, panic and joy swirling inside her like a storm. Her heart still races, and she finds herself stepping back, unsure how to process everything. 

“Hailey, oh my God,” he breathes, voice full of awe.

He reaches for her again, gently taking her face in his hands, his joy practically radiating off of him. His fingers brush away the tears spilling down her cheeks, and he presses his forehead to hers, his smile never wavering.

“I can't believe it,” he says softly, his voice shaky with excitement. He pulls back slightly, his green eyes wide, searching her face as if he still can’t quite process it. “Are you, like, really sure?”

Hailey releases a tear-soaked breath. She nods, her voice trembling as she finally speaks, “I took three tests, Jay,” she says, trying to steady herself. “All of them... all positive.”

The confirmation hangs between them, and Jay looks at her, eyes glassy with something she doesn’t think she’s ever seen in him before—wonder, maybe. Awe. 

Hailey takes a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “Our wedding is in three months,” she says quietly. 

Jay tilts his head slightly, his smile still wide but confused. “So?”

“So… we’re getting married, and now… this.” She gestures vaguely to her flat stomach, her heart pounding. “I—It wasn’t—I didn’t mean for it to—God, this is just—” 

“Hailey,” he cuts in, reaching for her hand. “This... this doesn’t change anything.” He squeezes her hand, his voice full of certainty. “If anything, it just makes everything better. ” 

Hailey looks at him, her brows furrowed. “Better?” she asks, her voice tinged with so much uncertainty. “How is this better?”

Jay’s expression softens. “I know it’s a lot,” he says, his voice steady but gentle. “But think about it. This... it’s kinda perfect." He takes a deep breath, squeezing her hand tighter. “We’re starting our own little family, Hailey.” He smiles. “A boy with your smile. A girl with your eyes?”

For the first time, Hailey feels a smile tug at her lips—soft and unguarded. Her heart warms at his words, and she can’t help herself. “I think it’s supposed to be a boy with your smile,” she says, her voice somewhat playful but threaded with something deeper.

Jay chuckles, looking at her with a grin tugging at his lips. “Well,” he says, his tone light, “I’d be absolutely okay if they had your smile. In fact, I’d prefer it.” 

Then he slowly drops to his knees.

His hands find her waist, then move to her stomach, soft and reverent. He rests his forehead against her abdomen and stays there for a long moment, silent. Hailey watches him, her heart swelling as she takes in the tender moment. Suddenly, the weight of everything feels different now, lighter, like the world shifting and settling around her again. 

After a long, quiet moment, Jay lifts his head, his glassy green eyes meeting hers, full of love and wonder. He smiles softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m really happy, Hailey.” 

Hailey’s breath catches in her throat, her chest tight with emotion. She reaches down to cup his face, her thumb brushing across his cheek, then lightly over the few freckles scattered across his nose. She lingers there for a moment, thinking—maybe their kids will inherit that. That quiet little detail she’s always loved.

“I think I’m really happy too,” she says, her voice soft but sincere, the realization still settling in. “Once the shock wears off, I think I’ll be even happier.”

Jay chuckles softly, his eyes lighting up with warmth. Without a word, he leans in and gently presses a kiss to her stomach, right where his hands had been just moments before. He lingers there for a second, a quiet, sweet gesture, then slowly rises to his feet, his gaze never leaving hers.

“You make me the happiest guy alive,” he murmurs.

Hailey smiles, her heart full as she looks at him, knowing everything is about to change in the best way. And in this moment, surrounded by love and new beginnings, she knows they’ll be okay.

x

The sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting a golden glow over the backyard. String lights crisscross above the patio, fluttering slightly in the breeze. It smells like lilacs and summer and freshly cut grass. Everything feels soft and warm, like it’s been waiting for this moment all along.

Hailey stands at the edge of the garden path, bouquet in hand, the fabric of her dress flowing around the gentle swell of her stomach. She’s glowing—truly glowing, not just the kind people talk about at weddings. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair loosely pinned, and when she locks eyes with Jay across the yard, she smiles in a way that could rival the sun.

Owen, serious and proud in a suit, clutches the ring box like it’s national security. Olivia follows behind him with a basket of crushed flower petals. When she reaches the end of the aisle, she pauses in front of Jay, then gleefully dumps the remaining petals all over his shoes. Her giggle is infectious, and the whole crowd laughs along with her.

Will stands at the front, too, trying to look official but failing spectacularly to hide his stupid grin. Natalie sits in the front row, bouncing Olivia now that her flower girl duties are complete. In the crowd, familiar faces from their past fill the seats. Kevin, Adam, and Kim from their old intelligence unit in Chicago are there, along with Trudy and Mouch, adding a sense of comfort and nostalgia to the moment.

Nina leans against Mark, her hand intertwined with his. She gives Hailey a wink when their eyes meet—no teasing, just a quiet, knowing look that says about damn time.

Nina and Mark have been an unexpected but oddly perfect pairing. Jay and Hailey caught them stepping out of their apartment elevator together one morning—Nina looking every bit like she was doing the walk of shame. Total opposites, but somehow their chaos and calm just work. 

The soft notes of the song they danced to that first night Jay made her pizza begin to play, drifting through the garden like a quiet memory. As it does, Hailey steps forward and Jay swears the entire world narrows to just this. Her. Them. The weight of everything they’ve survived is carried gently between them, like a vow already spoken.

When sh“You two have done this before,” he says, smiling. “But from what I’ve heard... not quite like this.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “And I appreciate finally being invited this time.” He gestures toward the crowd with a grin. “We all do.”

Laughter ripples through the guests, including Hailey, who squeezes Jay’s hand.

“I could say a lot,” Will says with a smile, “but I think it’s best if I let them do the talking. So… Jay?”

Jay turns to Hailey, his expression shifting—softer now, and just a little nervous. He clears his throat and slips a folded piece of paper from his pocket, his fingers slightly unsteady.

“Okay,” he says quietly, offering her a small, almost sheepish smile. “Here goes.”

“Hailey… I’ve spent the last few months trying to find the right words, and I’m still not sure I ever will. But what I do know is that from the moment I met you, everything in my life started to make sense. You saw me drowning and reached in to pull me out, even when, at the time, I would’ve rather sunk. You’ve been my rock, my constant.

And now, I vow to be the same for you, through the quiet moments, the loud ones, and all the chaos in between. I vow to laugh with you, to support you, and to hold you close when the world feels like too much.

I can’t promise that every day will be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll never stop trying to make you feel loved, cherished, and safe. I vow to be your partner in everything, through the mundane, the exciting, and the unexpected.”

He glances down with a soft smile and gently touches her belly. “I’ll stand beside you, always, no matter what life throws our way. You are my everything, Hailey… and I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

Hailey blinks fast, the emotion catching up to her, her pregnant hormones making everything feel more intense than usual. Despite the tears welling in her eyes, she manages a watery smile, mouthing, “I love you,” to him.

Will nods toward her. “Hailey?”

Natalie steps forward and quietly hands her a folded piece of paper. Hailey takes it with a grateful smile, unfolding it carefully as looks up at Jay. She lets out a small breath, steadying herself, when suddenly, the baby kicks, and one of her hands instinctively goes to rest on her bump, feeling the tiny flutter. 

Her eyes well up. She glances down at the paper, starts to speak—but emotion catches in her throat. Her hand lowers slowly, the paper trembling in her fingers before she lets it fall to her side.

“Jay…” she begins, her voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much. And I already love our little family so much.” Her words are shaky, raw, real—tears slipping down her cheeks as she speaks, no longer reading, just feeling.

Jay reaches out, his thumb gently brushing the tears away, his touch tender, the quiet comfort of it grounding her in the moment.

“I’m so happy. You make me happy. So I vow to love you on the days when it’s easy and the days when it’s hard. I promise to laugh with you, to support you when you’re strong and to hold you up when you need it. I’ll be the partner who pushes you to be your best, but I’ll also be the one who celebrates you just as you are.

I know we won’t always have everything figured out, but I vow to face every challenge with you, side by side. I will choose you, every day, through the mess, the tears, and the laughter, and everything in between.

I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you—to build our family, to create the kind of home I never had growing up, one filled with love and joy. And with everything I am, I vow to cherish you, not just today, but every day, for the rest of our lives.”

Jay leans forward and presses his forehead to hers for just a moment. No rush. No stage. Just them. Tears spill from his eyes, his emotions finally breaking free. 

Will clears his throat, his voice a little shaky as he tries to hold back tears. His brown eyes are glossy, and he pauses for a moment, blinking to steady himself. “Alright. Let’s make it official—again,” he says. 

Everyone laughs.

They exchange rings, their hands trembling just slightly as the metal slides into place. Hailey glances at Jay, her heart full  as he smiles at her, his hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotion in his eyes.

Will watches them, eyes a little misty, a proud smile tugging at his lips. He clears his throat and says, “By the power vested in me by some very official, not-at-all-questionable online form... I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

He grins at Jay. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Jay doesn’t wait. He kisses her like they’re the only two people in the world. Like they’ve been holding their breath for years and finally—finally—they can exhale.

There’s cheering, clapping, laughter all around them. Owen does a little fist pump. Olivia claps even though she doesn’t quite know why.

And when Hailey leans back just slightly, her hand instinctively resting on her belly, Jay covers it with his. Protective. Present.

Home.

Later that night, after the music has stopped, the delicious food has been eaten, and the last guest has left, Hailey and Jay sit together in the cozy patio swing, wrapped in a soft blanket. The cool night air brushes against them, but the warmth between them keeps the chill at bay.

The swing creaks softly as they sway, a peaceful rhythm that mirrors the calm in the air. Jay leans back, his arm around her, his head resting on hers, with a quiet, contented smile on his lips.

“You tired?” he asks, his voice low, rough with exhaustion.

Hailey shakes her head, eyes drifting closed for a moment. “Not yet.”

One of Jay’s hands moves to her belly, gently rubbing circles with his thumb, his touch always tender and filled with awe. “Can’t believe we did it,” he murmurs. “A real, backyard ceremony. With flower petals and vows and... a baby on the way.”

Her smile is slow, sleepy. “You looked like you were about to cry when Olivia dumped that basket of petals on your shoe.”

“I was emotional,” he says with mock offense. “It was adorable and chaotic. Very on brand.”

Hailey laughs quietly, then turns to face him, her eyes soft as she reaches up to touch his face—his jaw, the faint scar near his temple, the lines that weren’t there the first time they did this. 

“I’m glad we did this,” she whispers. “This version of us... feels like the one we were always supposed to become.”

Jay bends down and kisses her, soft, slow, with the kind of ease that only comes from surviving something. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against hers.

“We’re really doing it, huh?” he murmurs. “This life thing.” 

“Yeah,” she says, a gentle smile curving on her lips. “We are.”

x

The nursery light is low, spilling gently into the hallway as Hailey pads out of the bathroom, barefoot and quiet. It’s been a couple of weeks since they welcomed their son, but she still feels sore—everywhere. Birth is no joke, and the ache lingers beneath everything. A constant reminder that she pushed an entire human into the world.

She slows at the doorway to the nursery, heart tugging at the sound of Jay’s voice. He’s in the rocking chair, their tiny son bundled against his chest, tucked under his chin. One hand supports the baby’s bottom while the other gently pats his back in rhythm. The soft thump, thump, thump of a sleepy burp routine.

“You know, buddy,” Jay murmurs, “you’ve got your mom’s look. But I think you’ve got my stubbornness. I’m starting to notice that.” He chuckles softly. “You’ve got opinions for someone who’s only been here a couple of weeks.” He smiles, brushing a thumb gently along the baby’s cheek. “Your mom would tell you it’s a curse, but I think it’ll serve you well someday.”

Hailey smiles, leans a shoulder gently against the doorframe, careful not to interrupt.

“Don’t tell your mom,” Jay continues, a playful note creeping into his voice, “but I’m kinda hoping that, along with my stubbornness, you get my height too.” He pauses, shifting the baby slightly in his arms before pressing a gentle kiss to the soft fuzz of his head. “But if you don’t, that’s okay.”

The room falls quiet, the soft hum of the white noise machine the only sound.

“Also, you should know now that I’m gonna mess up sometimes,” he says. “But I promise you this—no one will ever love you the way I do.”

There’s a pause, and then, like he somehow knows she’s there—Jay glances toward the doorway, his voice dropping into something warmer, something that makes her heart ache.

“Except maybe you mom,” he says with a quiet laugh. “Actually, definitely her.”

Her throat tightens, vision blurring.

The baby lets out a quiet burp, and Jay beams like he’s just won the lottery. He glances over at Hailey with a grin. “Teamwork,” he mouths.

Hailey presses a hand to her chest, the swell of emotion almost too much. 

She’s exhausted, sore, still adjusting to a body that doesn’t quite feel like hers yet—but in this moment, none of that matters. Knowing she chose the best father for her kids, knowing they’ll never feel the way she did growing up... it’s almost too much. She presses her lips together, blinking back tears, heart thudding with something tender, aching, and impossibly full.

She didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with him. And yet—here she is.

x

Year later

A little boy with messy blond hair bolts across the backyard, his laughter echoing through the warm Seattle air. Jay chases after him, holding a juice box like it’s a trophy, yelling, “You forgot your juice!”

The boy shrieks, “Noooo!” before he’s scooped up and spun around, giggling uncontrollably.

Hailey watches from the porch, one arm resting on their second child—barely two, sleeping against her chest in a wrap. She’s sipping iced coffee and wearing one of Jay’s old t-shirts, her hair pulled back in a lazy bun. 

Natalie’s inside with Olivia, baking something. Owen is pretending to be too cool for the backyard chaos but keeps sneaking glances out the window.

Jay walks up the steps with their son on his shoulders, both of them laughing like they’ve just won a prize. When he reaches Hailey, he leans down and kisses her temple, then presses one to the top of the sleeping baby girl’s head.

“She conked out, huh?”

Hailey lets out a soft laugh. “She’s been non-stop since breakfast. I think the bubble machine finally did her in.”

Their little girl looks peaceful now, fast asleep against her chest, but she is all Jay. Green eyes, a mischievous smile that already hints at trouble, and that same crooked grin he gets when he’s trying not to laugh. While their son is her mirror, this little girl is undeniably his.

Jay shifts their son off his shoulders. “Maybe we should get a house with a yard back in D.C. Nap time would be a breeze.”

Hailey raises a brow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you saying this trip has finally turned you into a suburbs guy?”

Jay grins, nudging her shoulder. “I’m saying… this feels good. Space for the kids to run around, less noise, more quiet moments like this.”

Hailey looks at him, eyes soft. “This is what you always pictured, huh?” she asks quietly.

The life they built—not perfect, not easy, but real. Full of joy. Full of choices made and remade.

Jay’s smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, but there’s something deeper behind it. He shifts his hands gently to steady their son on his shoulders.

“I don’t think I ever pictured this for myself,” he says. “Not because I didn’t want it—I just never thought I’d be the guy who gets it. A real family. You. Them.” He glances down at their daughter in Hailey’s arms, then back up at her. “This... this is more than I ever dreamed of.”

Just then, their son leans forward from Jay’s shoulders and whispers—loudly—into his ear, “Dad. I have to pee.”

Jay huffs a laugh, already turning toward the house. “Guess dream life comes with bathroom breaks.”

Hailey laughs too, watching them go, her heart so full it almost aches.

x

The terminal is buzzing, rolling suitcases, and the low hum of boarding calls echoing through the speakers. Jay walks beside the stroller, maneuvering through the crowd with practiced ease. Their daughter sits inside, legs swinging, blanket bunched in her lap as she watches the world go by with wide green eyes.

Hailey trails just behind them, a carry-on slung over one shoulder, her other hand resting lightly on their son’s shoulder. He walks close beside her, half-asleep, a stuffed dinosaur tucked under one arm, his sneakers scuffing softly against the floor. He mumbles something only Hailey can understand, and she smiles faintly. 

“We’re home now, buddy,” she murmurs, bending slightly to speak to him. “Just a quick ride, and then we’ll be back in our own beds.”

He makes a soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a yawn.

“Seattle was fun though, right?” she adds gently. “You liked it there?”

He gives a slow nod, his blue eyes still barely open, and rests his head against her side. Hailey presses a kiss to the top of his head, her heart already aching in that quiet, full way it always does when she looks at her kids for too long.

Just then, Jay slows and glances back at her, a soft smile tugging at his mouth.

“You remember this spot?” 

Hailey comes to a stop beside him, her brows knitting slightly as she looks around—then it hits her all at once.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, a hint of amusement in her voice. “This is where we bumped into each other for the first time in DC, and you had the audacity to ask if I wanted to get coffee.”

Jay leans on the stroller, smiling. “You turned me down.” 

“I was very mad at you,” she shrugs.

“I deserved it,” he says, without hesitation.

She grins now, eyes warmer than they were back then. “You looked like a kicked puppy.”

Jay laughs. “I felt like one.”

She steps closer, her arm brushing against his, and says softly, “Do you ever think… if I had said yes back then, maybe everything would’ve happened sooner? Maybe we could’ve been happy sooner.”

Jay shakes his head gently. “Nah. We weren’t ready. Not yet.”

He glances at their daughter in the stroller—now humming to herself—and then to their son, who’s leaning lightly against Hailey’s side, clutching her shirt. “We had to become this version of us first.”

Hailey smiles, tilting her head, “How about we get that coffee now.”

Jay’s eyes crinkle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nods, then adds with a small smile, “I’ll probably need it to stay awake long enough to unpack and get things sorted once we’re home.”

They step toward the counter—Jay steering the stroller, Hailey walking beside him with their son close at her side, and their daughter clutching her blanket as the stroller wheels glide across the tile.

Same airport. Same man. Same woman. 

But everything—everything—is different now.

Built slowly, chosen daily. And more than worth the wait.

                             -The end -