Erin sat on the patio on the porch swing, using the tips of her toes to gently swing herself back and forth. She has her sketchbook opened to an empty page. With her sharpened graphite pencil in hand, Erin looks up at the landscape before looking down to begin sketching it on the page. She enjoys the ambiance of nature, the wind blowing through her ponytail as she listens closely to the sound of wildlife in the far distance. The initial outline she sketches is faint, it can barely be seen unless looking at it from the right angle. When a few mistakes are made, she simply erases them and redraws the line, looking up occasionally to get the look just right. This passes the time of her fourth, or maybe fifth day, she was starting to lose count.
"Hey," a voice clears off to the side of her but she doesn't hear him. She's invested in her sketch, shading in the darkest values after switching out her graphite pencil with another one, one that would give her the look she's going for within the scene.
Jay watches as her hand gracefully grazes along the page. She appears to be in a zone, one that only she's in and his presence appears to be null in void. He moves closer to take a better look at the page, it's still many steps to go but he can already make out the design. He can see the trees, the tall grass in the distance and the dirt pathway off to the side.
"That looks amazing," now that he's standing closer, she hears him better and nearly jumps out of her skin. She makes an error on the page and he immediately apologizes for it, "Sorry! I thought you heard me. I didn't mean to scare you. I hope I didn't mess up your picture too bad."
Erin blinks to collect herself and her thoughts before suddenly remembering that he's probably waiting for a reply, "Oh," she looks down at her page, at the clear and obvious mistake she made when the pencil slid across the page when she jumped, "it's nothing an eraser can't fix. You can trust and believe that's not the first and it won't be the last mistake I've made while drawing."
He tucks his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts and then nods towards the landscape she's drawing, "I'm actually going out for a run. I didn't know if you wanted to join me again."
"I've literally worked out with you every day we've been here. My body is in need of a break."
"Say no more," he chuckles, backing away. He turns to step down off the porch and begins stretching his legs. Erin grabs her large eraser and carefully begins sliding it along the mistake.
She tries to clear her mind and focus on where she left off but the sight of him stretching his arms above his head causing for his muscles to flex proved to be a greater distraction than the sketch of nature on the pad in front of her. She finds herself losing concentration, gazing off into the distance to take in the rippling muscles in his back. She clears her throat to break her focus. It's only been a few days; she can't be this desperate for affection that she's practically ogling her bodyguard.
"Is everything okay?"
Erin blinks up to meet his eyes. He's now facing her and if she thought the sight of his back was captivating, it had nothing on his front, with the way the sun above his head shines down on him, "I," she clears her throat, "Everything is fine. I was just thinking."
A part of her expects him to poke and prod to find out what exactly she was thinking so hard about that caused for her brows to draw together and her teeth to bite into her upper lip but then another part of her remembered the man she had met less than a week ago, the man that barely participated in small talk or conversation in general. He's a quiet observer which is probably why he's so good at his job, it's why he was trusted to fly with her miles away to an isolated location and be a one-man protection squad. Jay nods as expected and then starts his jog, running off in the opposite direction of the cabin, leaving Erin behind to focus and concentrate on mastering her sketch.
Erin remains distracted, the visual of his backside becoming the main focus in her brain, forcing her to flip to a blank page and begin a new sketch. She reached inside her pencil case without looking, digging around and pulling pencil after pencil out of it until she found the one she needed, her sharpened HB pencil. From memory she begins sketching the outline and shape of his head, choosing to focus on his head shape, jawline and ears because those are the parts of his face that she can draw without him being in front of her. The rest of the features on his face, she'll wait to draw because she wants to get them exactly right.
She'll be here for a minute and at this rate, this sketchbook will slowly turn into a drawing scrapbook of her time here, of the memories that she'll create. Maybe she can draw the front of the cabin? Maybe she can draw each room inside of the cabin? Maybe she can draw one of the many mountains surrounding them? Maybe she can draw the lake they stumbled upon during their jog yesterday? Or maybe she can sit in front of the mirror and draw herself? Erin pauses her drawing and sighs aloud, looking up at the sky to notice the clear skies. At least the day was beautiful, even though it wasn't much they can do to enjoy it. It wasn't even a full week yet and she's already burning through everything there is to do in this place.
Erin draws her attention back down to the page and suddenly notices how lopsided and uneven his left ear looks on the paper. She erases it completely and restarts the ear, sketching lightly to ensure it comes out right this time before tracing a darker line over it. Erin finishes up the drawing of the outline of his face, leaving the facial features off the sketch. Just as she closes her book and pushes herself off the swing, Jay is running back, chest now glistening with perspiration accumulated from his run. He lives up to his silent demeanor and nods at her before entering the cabin. No words said from him to her but that's completely on par with the Jay Halstead she is beginning to know.
She tucks the scrapbook beneath her arm and zips up her pencil case before heading into the cabin herself. Erin steps inside and heads straight to her bedroom, wanting to put her sketchbook up to ensure the temptation of seeing it didn't make him curious enough to peek inside. She stands in the center of her bedroom, looking around as if something to do would jump out at her. He's probably about to take a shower. And she has a sweet tooth right now. He's been cooking for her so maybe she can return the favor and cook something for him? Cookies preferably. Erin licks her lips and with an eager step forward, she leaves the room. After hesitantly walking past the bathroom to make sure they didn't have another awkward run in, she picked up the pep in her step.
If she had her phone, she could google recipes but since she's without it, she has to go off her memory. She pulled the ingredients out of the fridge, hoping she didn't forget anything, and she got to work. Mixing the wet ingredients with the dry, she ignores the dusting of flour that decorates her cheeks. She's focused as she guesses measurements and mixes to create the batter, "I have to be honest," the sound of his voice startles her and nearly sends the bowl of cookie batter crashing to the floor, "I never thought I'd see this sight. I thought you didn't cook."
"I never said that. What I said was I usually don't have time to cook," she lays parchment paper down on the pan, "and besides I'm baking, this involves heaping scoops of sugar."
"…and let me guess, you always make time to bake sugary treats?"
Erin pauses, the ice cream scooper midair, and she turns her head to face him, "You might not talk a lot, but I'm glad to know you excel at listening," she resumes, digging the scooper in the bowl of cookie batter, using it to make sizeable scoops of cookies, "I'm not the best cook but I'm not the worse either," she shrugs and he pulls out a stool from beneath the kitchen island to take a seat and do what he does best, -listen, "I used to make cookies from scratch with my mom for Santa every Christmas and then when I stopped believing, we'd just make them whenever one of us had a sweet tooth which is definitely more often than you're thinking right now," she lays the next ball of batter next to the last, "I haven't made them in so long that I don't really remember her recipe that well so if these don't taste good pretend that they do," she looks up and lays the final cookie on the pan. It'll total up to a dozen. Just enough for him to have one and her to have eleven.
Erin slides the pan into the preheated oven and then sets the timer, "Now we wait…"
"Dessert before lunch," Jay strolls over to the fridge, pulling the door open and taking out leftovers from the night before, "We can't have that."
"Are you always so-" Erin stops to the think of the right word, "so um anal-retentive and rigid?"
"Yeah," Jay thinks nothing of it as he pulls back the lid to the Tupperware container, "time in the military will do that to you. I like a clean home; I like structure and routine."
"I learn more and more about you every day."
Silently, she watches him divide the remainder of leftovers and plate them. It's baked chicken, rice and broccoli he made yesterday, -another healthy meal. She needs to get him hip to preservatives and instant meals, it'll change his life. Erin smiled up at him when the heated plate was set down in front of her, "Thank you," he sat his own plate down next to her, "How'd you learn to cook?"
"My mom taught me," he answered after swallowing, "when I was growing up, I cooked dinner with her almost every night. Everything I know, I learned from her."
She shifted in her seat, knee accidentally bumping against his when she faces him, "I bet she's proud. You have a skill of making healthy food taste good."
"Yeah, I hosted Thanksgiving one year, cooked every meal by myself," the way his eyes glisten lets her know he's thinking back to that day, "she was so happy that I picked up her passion. It was the last Thanksgiving we had together before she passed."
"I'm sorry," she extends her hand to pat his shoulder.
"Anyway," he says, purposely overlooking her apology and the awkward tension that briefly filled the room, "what's something you like to do besides baking cookies and sketching?"
He's asking questions, he's trying to get to know her. It's not only just her asking questions with him answering anymore. This is new. If this keeps up, maybe, just maybe, she won't die of boredom. At least no time in the near future. Once conversing gets old, or he goes mute again, then she'll be right back at square one. Erin realizes that she'd spent so much time in her head that she never actually answered his question, "…not much," she shrugs and lays down her fork when the timer goes off, "I don't really do much. I dabbled in some yoga a few times in the past. It was cool, nothing special," she reaches for an ovenmitt and uses it to take the pan of cookies out, dropping it on the stovetop for cooling, "I like watching sports, all kinds honestly, I'm kind of a fanatic, throw a sport at me and I can probably give you a whole layout of the game, the team, scores and everything," she tosses the ovenmitt onto the countertop before retaking her seat. She's just about to return the question back to him but he's out of his seat seconds before she could fix her lips to say it. He's carries his plate to the sink and begins washing it before placing it in the dishwasher.
Erin forgets her line of thinking for a moment and by the time she's ready to continue conversing with him, she's changing the subject, "Is this your first time," at the start of her question, the water is cut off and he peers up to meet her eyes, "protecting someone? Have you done this before? Flew someone out of state and stayed with them at an undisclosed location."
"No," he answers honestly, extending his hand for her empty plate so he can wash it, "but I can promise you that even though it's officially my first time, nothing will happen to you. Nothing."
"Those guys, they have to be some sick bastards to just kill innocent people in cold-blood like that," she shivers when a flashback of that night comes to mind, "and they have to be well connected to scare you guys enough to send us running to the middle of nowhere Montana of all places. It's a reason it's been hard to arrest and convict them and that reason does not make my chances look good. I'm what's standing between them and their freedom and I've heard enough stories about them to know they're willing to do anything to keep it."
The water cuts off again, this time for good, and Jay reaches to dry his hands on the hand towel before folding it and draping it back over the handle of the oven. He walks around the kitchen island and steps up to her side. She remains sitting and he peers down to meet her eyes the second she looks up, "I'll protect you," his expression is unreadable; his tone of voice is firm, leaving absolutely no room for argument or debate, "I give you my word, Erin."
For a brief moment, silence fills the room. The atmosphere is thick, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Not once does he blink and neither does she. Both remain staring at each other, her up at him and him down at her. Hazel eyes meeting and melting into green eyes. This brief moment grows instense and Jay is the one to break it, turning away and venturing back into the kitchen, "I must admit," he says in an effort to change the conversation, "the cookies look good."
That gets her excited. She jumps to her feet and seconds later, she's following behind him. Erin reaches for a spatula to lift each cookie off the pan and onto a glass plate. She grabs two saucers and two glasses, "Okay, I need you to grab the milk."
"Are you one of those people that dunk your chocolate chip cookies in milk?"
Her face scrunches into a frown, "Are you telling me that you're not one of those people?" Erin sets a cookie down on her plate before turning to face him, "I'm a little concerned for you Jay, have you truly lived if you haven't had the pleasure of dunking cookies in milk? Please tell me you've at least dunked Oreos, please tell me that at least."
He smiles, a childish grin stretching across his face at her humor, "I've done that once or twice."
"Once or twice," she repeats, steadily shaking her head, "that's obviously not good enough."
The childish grin on his face stretched even wider. It was hard to fight against it when he realizes the two of them are actually having a detailed conversation about dunking cookies in milk. It's entertaining. It's odd for him as he truly thinks about it. He wasn't one for idle chitchat; he definitely wasn't one for meaningless conversation and never in a million years did he think he would ever entertain a conversation focused solely on cookies and milk. The more the ridiculousness of that rolls over in his head, the more in depth his smile became. From the corner of his eyes crinkling and the flexing of the muscles in his cheeks to the further upturn of the edge of his lips and the baring of his teeth, it was a smile that Erin didn't think to be possible for him to possess, "Did I just enter an alternate universe or did you really actually just crack a smile for me?" Erin's grin began to match the one spreading on his face, the only difference found was her dimpled cheeks to his blushing ones, "It looks good on you." She gives his shoulder a pat and then resumes important matters, pouring them both half a glass of milk and then dividing the remainder of cookies, though she doubts both of them will actually eat them all now.
Neither of them carries their saucers to the table, choosing instead to eat their cookies, standing in the kitchen. It's silent between them again and Erin finds herself beginning to get comfortable with it. She knows not to take it personal anymore. His silence has nothing to do with her. It's him, his personality and his comfort. He chooses his words carefully. He doesn't voice every thought that comes to mind whereas she has the tendency to do just that. There's a balance that neither of them have found right now. Erin could feel the cookie in her hand break when she held it in her glass of milk for too long. She blinks out of her reverie and pulls out the once whole cookie, to a quarter of the cookie, "Damn it," she shakes her head and then shrugs because it'll taste just as good when she drinks the glass of milk once she's done.
"Ah is that regret I hear?"
"Regret about dunking cookies in milk?" She asks for clarification and when he nods, she scoffs, "Far from it. The only regret I have right now is that I didn't bake more cookies. I did good."
"You did do good," he compliments.
He only eats three cookies in one sitting. She eats six. And she doesn't regret it. She deserves to treat herself especially considering all the working out she did in the last few days and all the working out she will end up doing in the next few days. Despite her offer to wash the dishes, he takes them from her hold, whispering to her that he doesn't mind, before quickly cleaning each dish she used to bake the cookies.
Erin leans her hip against the counter and watches him, "It's the middle of the day," she starts after realizing he has already worked out and she's already sketched, "what are you going to do next?"
He doesn't look at her when he answers, instead he's focused on scrubbing the mixing bowl she used to stir the batter, "…either watch a movie or take a nap."
"Are those seriously the only other options?" She uses her hip to push herself away from the counter, "I'm getting cabin fever here Jay and we haven't even made a dent into the six months."
"I thought they told you to pack things to do."
"They told me to leave behind my phone, I listened and now I'm wishing I didn't."
He cuts the water off and begins setting each utensil, plate and bowl in the dishwasher, "I saw you sketching earlier, how about finishing that? Or doing some of that yoga you mentioned? Or check to see if a sports game is on or something?"
Jay watched as Erin inhaled a deep breath before slowly releasing it. She did this three times before speaking in an even tone, "I'm trying to be a team player here. I'm honestly not trying to be difficult or get on your nerves or anything but how does anyone expect someone to be locked away in a cabin for six months rotating between the same four or five activities a day. This is optional but I honestly see why the last witness opted out of witness protection."
She knew it was no point in arguing. He simply follows the rules and the orders passed down to him by his superior. He's not a decision maker in any of this. But, right now, she didn't care about any of that, she just wanted the ear he offered to listen to her vent. And now that she's said her peace, she turns on her heel and starts to walk in the direction of her bedroom, maybe she can force herself to take a nap, but then she might not be able to fall asleep tonight. Oh well, a nap is something to do and she desperately needs that. She ventures into her room and shuts the door behind her before flopping down onto the edge of the bed. She leans her elbows onto her thighs and rests her face in the palm of her hands before she hears a gentle knock at the door, "Come in."
Erin drops her hands from her face to watch as he enters the bedroom. A dish towel is draped over his shoulder and his hands are crossed over his chest, cupping his elbows, "How about this?" He starts without any form of preamble, "Tell me. What do you want to do? Make a list and I'll see what I can do about making it happen." Right on par with his personality, he leaves before she says another word to prolong a conversation. The door shuts behind him and she opts out of a nap, wheels in her mind now spinning and focusing on the endless possibilities she can write on the list. Some she knows may happen and some she knows may not. She appreciates the effort. And as she leans back in her bed, notebook opened and the top of the pen pushed onto the back of the pen as Erin carefully numbers each idea, the smile blossoming on her face starts to resemble the one that blossomed on his less than an hour ago.