Hi all :) Thank you so much for all of your positive reviews and comments on my last chapter. It seriously made my week :) Just to give you a timeline - I am going to try to wrap this story up before November because once November hits, I will be on my night float rotation which means I'll be a zombie for like 2 months and I probably won't write at all :( I am going to try to update my other story Nothing to Fear, too, because I've been completely neglecting that one. Hopefully I'll be able to finish both stories by then, or at least by at a point where I don't leave you on a 2 month long cliff hanger :)

Hope you enjoy this next installment! These scenes are getting harder and harder to write because I feel like these moments would be so intense in real life. I hope I'm doing them justice!

Happy reading!

Chapter 8,

Jay POV

I tried to keep my face impassive, and I could tell I was mostly successful.

I guess that's what happens when you are a prisoner of war for three years. When you train your face, your body, you mind to not display even a hint of the turmoil you are feeling inside.

I guess that's what happens when you've gotten damn good at hiding. The woman I love most in the world, the person I've never been able to hide anything from, can't even tell how devastated, how broken I feel after hearing those words.

I'm watching her, and I can tell she can't read the questions that are lingering behind my blue eyes. Like How did you meet? How long have you been engaged?

Are you in love with him?

The last question, of course, was the most important. But it was also, seemingly, the most futile. Of course she was in love with him. She was marrying him.

And actually, as I continued to stare into her hazel eyes, I realized that wasn't the most important question.

What else are you not telling me?

That was.

Instead of asking my questions out loud, though, I buried my questions deep, the same way I have buried and hidden every other thought and question that has sprouted in my mind the last one thousand, one hundred, and forty seven days.

Like when are you going to finally just kill me? Or please, please just let this torture end.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to rid my mind of those questions, those thoughts, and to refocus on this moment.

When I opened them, I found myself staring into Erin's eyes once again, as they frantically tried to search mine. As she tried, once again, to read what's behind them.

I can't decide how I should feel about the fact she can't read me anymore. Because really, Erin is the last person I would have ever wanted to hide my thoughts and emotions from.

But maybe... maybe, that was before.

And maybe now, we're in the after.

I finally forced myself to speak up. "Is he a good surgeon?" Is he a good man?

I'm not sure why that's the first question I asked, but I'm glad I kept the second one to myself.

The way her eyes widened at my words, though, I could tell that wasn't the first question she was expecting either. "The best," she whispered in response, and I'm not sure if she said that because she is trying to make me feel better, or if it is because she has a lot of pride in her fiance's accomplishments.

Either way, the sound of those two words nearly take my breath away.

The best.

Erin deserved the best. She deserved a rich doctor who could take care of her, who could give her a family, who could be there for her in ways I wasn't sure I could be right now.

In the past three years, I knew I had become completely damaged. And as much as I wanted to fool myself into thinking everything could go back to normal, I knew they couldn't.

Because, I really wasn't the same man I was before.

And just because this man still loved Erin Lindsay Halstead, didn't mean he deserved to be with her.

And I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get back to being the man that deserved her. If I would ever get back there.

But I sure as hell couldn't expect her to wait for me.

I guess my face finally crumbled with emotion, then. My calm facade must have melted away to reveal the completely broken man I had become, because Erin reached for me in that moment.

She took care to be gentle around my injuries, but she leaned forward and wrapped me in the tightest hug I could tolerate.

Then, she began to speak again. And this time, I let her. "I love you," she whispered softly in my ear. I could feel her breath tickling my earlobe. "I love you more than you could ever know."

Her words relaxed me a little, and the feeling of her skin pressed against mine was enough to restore my breathing back to normal. At least for the moment. "I love you, too," I replied, because at the very least, I wanted her to know that that was still true.

Even if I had already decided it was no longer enough.

Erin POV

I've lived a pretty difficult life.

My very first memory is of my father being arrested, of him quite literally being dragged out of the house as my mother stood strung out and shrieking at the police. The next memory I have is later that day, when I was forced to leave my favorite teddy bear behind when the landlord kicked us out of our apartment, the only home I had ever known.

And it's not like my life had gotten much easier. I lived through difficult moment after difficult moment, for as long as I can remember.

But nothing in my life had prepared me to see the look on Jay's face when I told him about Paul.

At first, his face was unreadable. But slowly his resolve began to fade, and then suddenly, he was a shattered man sitting before me.

After our tender, albeit desperate declaration of love on his hospital bed, we stayed wrapped around each other for several minutes, neither of ready to part, neither of us ready to face the real world.

If it had been up to me, we would have never let go. But after ten minutes, Jay pulled away.

"I want the surgery," he said, and I could tell her was trying to regain some control of his life, and at the same time, move the conversation onto safer ground.

I let him. "Okay," I said, carefully. "Do you want Paul to do it?" I asked, just as carefully. It felt strange saying his name to Jay, and I'm surprised I didn't choke over the word.

"Yes," he said, and the confidence in his voice splintered my own.

Jay was ready to meet Paul. He was ready to move this process forward.

And I guess it didn't really matter that I, most certainly, wasn't.

"Okay," I said again, but this time my voice hitched, giving me away.

I knew he heard my uneasiness, but he didn't address it, and instead he pressed on. "Is he here?"

"Yes," I said, nodding slightly, hoping that he would assume it was just because this was Paul's job. That he practically lived in the hospital, the way doctors who were overly involved in their patient's lives did, day in and day out. I hated though, that more than likely, I was admitting that I had brought him here with me. That I had needed the support this morning, that I had needed him.

"Okay," he sighed, completely resigned. He leaned his body back into the bed and adjusted his legs in a motion that completely separated us, and I couldn't tell if it was on purpose. "I'm ready."

I'm not sure if he was talking to himself, or to me. If he was trying to convince himself, or me. But realizing it made little difference, I stood from the bed, squeezed his hand once more, gave him one last longing look, and moved towards the door in search of my fiance.

It didn't take me long to find him, of course. He was pacing back and forth at the end of the hallway.

He had changed out of his dress clothes, and was now dressed in his dark marroon scrubs and black sneakers. He had his lucky navy blue scrub cap tied carefully around his head, and I wondered if he had visited the OR this morning in the end. I wondered if he scrubbed in on one of the cases he had previously given to Bobby.

He probably had. That was his happy place.

And the man certainly deserved some happy today.

"Paul," I said his name softly, and once again, it felt awkward on my tongue. Maybe because I usually called him honey. Or maybe because looking at him, standing before me, I knew he wasn't my honey anymore.

One look at Jay Halstead and everything had changed.

"Erin," he said, finally noticing me for the first time. He rushed towards me, "How are you?" He whispered the question.

Paul had this remarkable quality where his body moved quickly and in a rushed manner, but his demeanor was always, always calm. It's one of the things that drew me to him in the first place. In a world where everything seemed to fluster me, he never got flustered. He became my anchor, my port in the storm.

It was also one of the things that made him a fantastic surgeon. "You're going to operate on Jay?" I asked, completely ignoring his question, knowing that I didn't have the words within me to answer it.

"If that's okay," he said, reaching for my shoulder, no doubt trying to steady my breathing, which had become labored and fraught with anxiety. "With him, and with you," he finished.

"Yeah, it is," I said, quickly, hoping he wouldn't be able to sense how uncomfortable this was all making me.

He raised his eyebrow at me, no doubt questioning the truth of my statement. "He knows everything," I said. "I told him everything."

He seemed to relax at my statement, and I realized once again how complicated this situation was for everyone involved. My fiance was about to meet me husband. This was going to be as hard for them as it was for me. "Are you okay with it?" I asked, trying to be mindful of his feelings, too.

"Yeah," he said, turning me slightly so that his arms slid and wrapped around my shoulder. He tightened his arm, hugging my small body against his larger frame. "I should probably go introduce myself though," once again his voice was as calm as a summer sea.

I tried to let it calm me, too. "Okay," I said. Then I took a deep breath and turned to him. "Let's go."

When we split apart and began to move towards Jay's hospital room, he absentmindedly reached for my hand, like he had done dozens of time before. He intertwined our fingers, and I couldn't help compare his smooth, slender fingers with Jay's rough, warm ones that had been in my hand only moments before.

We walked casually, but when we got closer to Jay's hospital room door, I started to lose my nerve.

"Wait," I said, as I stopped and turned to lean my body against the wall. All of a sudden, I couldn't catch my breath. "I... don't... think... I can... do... this," I continued to hyperventilate as I covered my face in my hands and crumbled against the wall. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, and I could hear the bu-bump bu-bump sound in my ears. "I don't... think I can... do this," I repeated again, this time a little steadier.

"You can, Erin," Paul said, but this time he didn't touch me. I think because he, too, didn't want to do this.

When he woke up yesterday morning, he was engaged to me. He was two weeks away from marrying me. He had a plan. We had a plan.

And when he woke up this morning, even if he knew their was a hitch in the plan, he certainly didn't think he would have to operate on his fiance's husband.

God, he was probably dreading this as much I was.

"Okay," I said, trying to calm myself for his benefit as much as my own. "You're right," I said, as I stood and fixed my rumpled shirt and brushed my fingers through my hair. "We can do this," I said, smiling at him, and letting him know that even with all of this, we were still a we.

He smiled then, and I knew he got the message in my words. "We can do this."

He linked his fingers through mine once again, but, thank god, this time he just squeezed my hand once and let them go. He must have known I didn't want to walk into Jay's room hand in hand with him, but if he hadn't done it, I'm not sure I would have been able to bring myself to separate our hands.

I would have felt way too guilty.

When I walked into the room, I noticed that Jay had adjusted his bed into a completely upright position. He must have gotten up and gone to the bathroom while I had been out of the room, because his hair looked brushed, his face looked washed, and instead of the gown, he was wearing a pair of blue hospital scrubs.

The blanket covered the cast on his leg, but his arm, looking strong and muscular as ever, even as it rested in a sling, was exposed.

He looked handsome.

Handsome and nervous.

"Jay," I said, moving closer to his bed. "This is Paul." I looked to Paul and then back to Jay. "Paul, this is Jay."

I refrained from using any pronouns that weren't just their names, knowing no one in this room needed that reminder.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Paul said, his voice as calm and soft as ever as he reached out to shake Jay's hand. "Erin's told me so many stories about you, I feel like I know you already."

Well, Paul certainly didn't know Jay well enough to not say that.

The way his jaw tensed at Paul's words, I could tell he thought Paul was being possessive. And I couldn't tell if he was sad or angry about it, but I could tell he definitely didn't like knowing that I confided in Paul about him. At all.

"Well, from what I hear," Jay replies, coolly. "You're the best orthopaedic surgeon in the hospital." He shifts slightly, but his jaw remains set and harsh as he continues. "So can we get this first surgery done today, then?"

Paul looks surprised, but to his credit, he doesn't look away from Jay. Instead of consulting me, he calmly looks down and consults his watch.

I, too, calmly look at the clock hanging on the hospital room wall, but it's only when I realize exactly what time it is that I start to freak out.

It's 3:00 in the afternoon.

And that's when I realize that I mispoke when I was talking to Paul outside. I hadn't been thinking clearly. I had just wanted to get the conversation over with, to get this conversation over with.

So I hadn't told him the whole story.

"I don't think today is a good idea," Paul said, and now I wish he had looked at me. I wished he would look at me now. "It's already 3:00," he said. "And if Erin is going to stay here with you this afternoon," he continued.

No, no, no, I'm internally screaming at him. Look at me, I am shouting in my head. Please stop talking.

But it's no use.

It's too late.

"Then I'll have to pick up Jacob from daycare."

I hadn't, in fact, told him everything.

The sudden change of Jay's expression, the confusion, then the unbelievable hurt... it was an expression I knew I would never forget as long as I live.

The voice that had been strong, but detached only moments ago was now raspy and raw when he spoke again. "Who's Jacob?"

Difficult moment after difficult moment, I've lived through.

And they just keep coming.

"Our son."

xoxo

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