Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter. I apologize for the cliffhanger, but I hope the sweetness of this chapter makes up for it.

Hailey

A burst of automatic gunfire breaks the silence. Bullets slam into the walls around us and seconds later I watch in horror as Jay falls hard to the ground. More bullets hail in our direction and I watch a second bullet trace a burning line across his leg, tearing through his pants. A red spot immediately appears under the fabric, rapidly growing.

"Jay!" I return fire, then flatten myself on the ground as I drag him by the straps of his vest out of the line of fire. His eyes are rolled back in his head, but he keeps blinking as if he is trying to focus while gasping for breath. I reach for the hand he has clasped over his chest.

"Hey, hey, I got you. Where are you hit?"

I don't wait for him to answer. Instead, I push his hand aside, forcing my hand underneath his Kevlar. Relief floods through me as I find a lodged bullet about two inches below his heart. A few inches higher, and it could have been much, much worse. I pry his vest and shirt open and spot an angry red welt forming on his chest.

"It didn't go through," I say, breathlessly. "You're okay. Breath, breathe."

Still, he may have a collapsed lung, or broken ribs, or….

All gunfire ceases and the air becomes deathly still. Then I hear footsteps coming in our direction, and fortunately, it belongs to Adam and Kevin.

"Hailey? Jay? Hey, are you alright?"

My heart is still racing as I try to get it together, try not to think about the worse. "I'm good, but Jay caught a bullet in his vest…"

"5021 Ida," Ruzek says into his radio, "We have an officer down. Send an ambo to our location."

Jay's lips move, forming words, but no sound emerges. Then his eyes roll back, unable to focus, and then his eyelids close over them. I call his name again and again, but he is out.

"Damn it, Jay!"

"Is he still breathing?" Kevin asks.

"Yeah," I say, feeling his chest rise and fall. "I think he hit his head."

I stare down at the growing red stain on his pant leg. Ripping the fabric where the bullet tore through the material, I wipe away the blood so I can see the wound. The bullet seems to have only grazed the skin, but I need to stop the bleeding. So I pull off his belt and secure it tightly around his leg, applying pressure to the wound.

"The bullet grazed his leg." I pause for a moment, catching my breath. "Did we find him? The suspect?"

"He caught two to the chest," Kim says, walking towards us. "Is Jay okay?"

"I-I don't know. A bullet hit his vest, and another scrapped his leg. He lost consciousness a minute ago… Ruzek where's that ambo?"

Ruzek steps away and keys his radio, asking for the status on the ambo.

Voight and other beat cops arrive on scene and something inside of me coils like an overwound spring, and it cranks a notch tighter when Jay's breathing turns ragged, labored even. I watch him inhale and exhale. Another ragged breath. And another. Fewer and farther between. Kneeling over him, I take his hand in mine, squeezing until my knuckles turn white, as if I can wake him up – keep him here.

"You're okay. You're okay," I say as if trying to convince myself by iteration.

I don't know how long it takes, but it feels like hours until I hear the sirens, until the paramedics finally arrive. It's hard to pull myself away from him, but I do it and watch them promptly assess, prep, and load him in an ambo, which I jump in the back for the ride to Med.

The whole ride I hold his hand in mine. Clinging. Begging. Pleading. Praying.

When we arrive, a group of nurses and doctors are waiting at the ambulance dock, including a worried Will. As soon as the doors open, organized chaos ensues, and Jay is wheeled inside and into a trauma room. I stand there, adrenaline still racing through my veins, amping me up, sending my mind into overdrive. It is only then that I experience that same desolate, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, that eerie sensation of enervation and gloom I felt while I was here, five years ago.

x

I have a feeling I'm going to pace a hole through the waiting room floor. I hate hospitals. The sterile smell is often enough to cause a negative reflex surge inside of me. It isn't so much the anti-septic odor, but the underlying stench of pain and loss.

"You should take a break, Hailey," Kim says, motioning to the chair next to her. "I heard these tile floors are expensive to replace."

I plop myself down, realizing the incessant pacing is probably as annoying to everyone here as the waiting is for me. "Sorry," I murmur, taking a seat. "They are just taking too long. Not even Will has come out to give us an update."

Kim pats my knee. "Will is probably keeping a close eye on his brother. You know Jay will try to bolt the first chance he gets."

I release a halfhearted chuckle. Jay is the only person I know that despises hospitals more than I do. A memory surfaces, piercing – a hopeful sting.

"One time we were up at his family's cabin, and Jay cut his foot on a rusty nail while fixing the deck. Will made him go to the hospital and he worked himself into a frenzy because he did not want to get a tetanus shot."

Kim laughs. "Jay's kryptonite is needles? And here I thought it was you."

I wince, feeling tears prick the back of my eyes, and this time I let them come, dropping my defenses and allowing myself to actually cry. I can hear Dr. Charles's soothing voice telling me to let the emotions pass through – feel them, then let them go. Closing my eyes, I think about how a couple of hours ago we were happy and on a date. But now it feels like a lifetime ago.

"We went on a date tonight," I whisper to Kim.

Her eyes widen in incredulous surprise. "Oh my God, seriously?" she says, her voice coming out a little too loud.

"Shhh," I admonish in a whisper.

She leans closer. "You guy went on a date, date?" Her voice still seems too loud.

"Yeah," I nod.

Kim bites her bottom lip, desperately trying to keep her enthusiasm at bay. "Please, tell me everything!"

"He took me to dinner, and we had a really nice evening," I say and flash her a smile. "It was like we traveled back in time."

Tonight, I felt in control and settled for the first time in a long time, maybe in years. The world became brighter, everything seemed possible, and all my worries flew out the window.

"That's great, Hailey."

"We were finally able to just talk, laugh, and be together without all that depressing shit getting in the way."

"Aw, Hailey," she says and smiles broadly, nodding her head. She puts her fingertips together in front of her mouth, trying to contain her delight. "I'm really happy for you guys! You deserve everything good."

I sigh. "But when things are finally turning a corner, something has to get in the way." I thrust the heel of my palms into my eye sockets, trying to shove the pesky tears back into my eyes. "Ugh," I groan.

Kim wraps her arms around my shoulder and squeezes. "Hey, Jay is going to be fine."

I nod, wanting to believe her so bad. "I hope so."

I can't lose him.

x

After minutes that feel like hours, I glance up when something in the air changes. Then Dr. Marcel pushes through the doors and I immediately get up to meet him. He glances around as everyone gathers, and I notice a small smile on his face.

And for the first time in hours, air exits my lungs.

Because he wouldn't be smiling unless it is good news, so another breath enters my lungs and exists without the sharp pain I've been feeling in my chest for hours on end. I feel like I'd only just remembered how to breathe again.

"Jay is doing fine. He has a slight concussion but is conscious right now. He's got two cracked ribs from the impact of the bullet, but no internal injuries. We stitched up his leg and he should be good as new in a few days."

The heaviness of the day suddenly falls off my shoulders and a light feeling floats through my head.

"We'll keep him overnight just to make sure nothing unexpected pops up," he adds. "But he will be discharged tomorrow."

"Can he have visitors?" I ask.

"Of course. But let's keep it to a minimum."

"You should go, Hailey," Kim says, squeezing my shoulders. "Tell him we're all glad he is okay."

I flash her a thankful smile. "I'll do that."

I follow Dr. Marcel to the patient floor and my heart is beating in anticipation because I'm moments away from seeing Jay. I have to almost force myself not to bounce on my toes.

"Here we are," Dr. Marcel motions to the closed door.

"How he is, really?" I ask, fishing for reassurance.

"Good, he needs to take it easy for the next couple of weeks, but should make a full recovery."

I nod and stare at the closed door. I press my lips together, take a breath, then put my hands on it, pushing it open. The room seems dim compared to the bright lights of the hallway. The fluorescent light over the bed is on, but not real bright, more like a nightlight. I find Jay laying there, eyes closed.

I take careful steps inside and am halfway across the room when I realize Will is sitting in a chair shoved into the corner, a place where the light doesn't quite reach.

"Hey," I say softly.

"Hey," he says, flashing a tired smile. He runs one hand over his face as if to wipe away his exhaustion. "Go ahead. He's groggy, mostly because of the pain meds. But he's alert enough to know what's going on."

I walk up to the side of the bed and lean over, so I'm at Jay's line of sight. "Hey there..."

Jay's eyes blink open, struggling to focus. But when they fix on me, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. My heart does a little flutter in my chest. I take his hand in mine, watching his fingers engulf my own. The emotions that travel through me reach deep inside, a warmth – a knowledge – that steals my breath.

"How're you feeling?" I ask and give him a small smile on my own.

"Like I was hit by a truck, and then it backed up and hit me again," he groans, trying to push himself up to a sitting position. Taking in a short breath, he adds, "But I'm feeling better that you are here now."

I chuckle. "God, you really gave us a scare. You know that?"

"I'm sorry. I hadn't planned on getting shot, especially not tonight," he rasps, squeezing my fingers. He tries to take in a deep breath, but can't. Grimacing, he gulps in a few shallow breaths instead and says, "But don't worry, I'll make it up to you," he winks at me.

I smile and blink back the familiar sting of tears in my eyes. I don't know why I'm suddenly emotional. I clear my throat. "The doctor said you'll be good as new in a few days. No internal damage."

"Lucky me," he says.

"Hey," Will pipes up from somewhere behind me. "I'm gonna go get coffee. You want anything?"

"No, I'm okay, thanks," I say. I can't imagine eating or drinking anything right now. My stomach is still in a knot.

"Alright. I will be back in a few."

Will leaves, and it's just Jay and me. I rest my head in my hands and close my eyes. As my adrenaline wears off, I shake my head and wipe my tears on the back of my hand. The emotion of the evening finally catching up to me. Brushing his thumb over my knuckles, Jay's eyes search mine.

As s if he can read my innermost thoughts, he says, "Hey, I'm good. Just a little sore. But good." I nod and he gives me a broad smile, and I manage to return it. "Why don't you head home and get some rest."

"No, I'm fine. I can stay," I say, waving him off. "I want to stay."

"Hailey, I'm good. Really. You need to rest. It's been a long day."

As much as I don't want to leave, Jay is right. This evening seems to be never-ending, and the exhaustion is wearing on me. All my bones are aching. "I don't want to leave, yet," I confess.

"I don't want you to leave, either." He pulls our joined hands up to his lips and kisses my knuckles sweetly. "But I'm alright, and you need some shut-eye."

We stay in silence for a few minutes. Machines beep. Voices came over the intercom system of the hospital. Nurses and doctors talk and laugh in the hall.

"Hailey—"

"I will be back first thing tomorrow," I tell him.

"Take your time. They probably won't discharge me until later in the day."

I nod and swipe a hand under each eye to keep those pesky tears from running down my cheeks. "I'm really glad you're okay."

"Yeah, me too." He runs a hand down his face, and I notice that his eyes are tired too, weary for sleep. He tugs gently at my hand until I lean down and his lips softly touch mine. "Good night, Hailey."

I smile. "Good night, Jay."

I'm not sure how I get back to my car. I really never felt my feet touch the ground. I guess that's what people mean when they say they're walking on air. Jay is okay. I have the same peaceful, buoyant sensation when I walk through my front door. I drop on my bed and crash instantly, the day's event finally catching up to me. I close my eyes and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

x

I wake up with the sun shining on my face through the thin curtains I have on my bedroom windows. There is this light, odd, sort of floaty feeling deep in my gut — which, if I remembered correctly, indicates happiness. Despite everything that happened, yesterday had a happy ending. Not only that, but the whole evening was an eye-opener for me. Any reservations I had about Jay and I were squashed. I can't imagine my life without him, and I will never be able to.

I get up to go to the bathroom, grabbing my phone off my nightstand. No missed calls, but one message from Jay.

Getting discharged this morning. Would you mind giving me a lift home?

I send him a quick reply and hop in the shower. Afterward, I pull on a sweatshirt and jeans, brew a cup of coffee and head out the door. I get to his hospital room and find him sitting up on the side of the hospital bed, the features of his face distorted in a grimace.

"Hey, everything okay?"

"Hey," he looks up and something like a smile replaces the twist around his mouth. "Just trying to get to the bathroom."

"Want help?" I ask.

He thinks for a minute, then nods his head. "Sure. It's the stitches on my leg. Makes it hard to move."

I approach the bed and his blue hospital gown is bunched around his legs and I can see a gauzy material covering the area where the bullet grazed his calf.

"Here," I say, pulling his right arm over my shoulder, so his weight isn't entirely on his injured leg. Jay leans on me and stands up, wobbly for a minute, before finding his footing.

"You good?" I ask.

"Yeah."

We walk the few steps towards the bathroom, and I feel his muscles tense up – he is in pain, though I know he won't admit it. Probably vetoed any strong painkillers the doctors offered him today. I open the door for him and ask, "Think you can manage from here?" When he rolls his eyes, my automatic response is to smile. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

With a strangled groan, he chuckles at my teasing tone. "I got it from here. Thank you."

He turns away to close the door and his hospital gown flops open in the back, and I'm rewarded with the view of his bare butt. I desperately try to suppress my laugh but fail.

"I hope you like the view," he says, and my full laugh comes quick. "It's the only one you're getting."

"It's not bad. Could be better," I say, and his laugh echoes through the thin bathroom walls.

He returns a few minutes later with an easy smile on his face, that is capable of disarming most people within a few seconds of meeting him. I get up to help him, but he waves me off and shuffles slowly in my direction. "It's the climbing on and off the bed that's tricky," he explains.

So, I help him back onto the bed and he leans back on the pillow with a sigh. "Thank you."

"No problem," I say, propping myself on the edge of the bed. "So, you ready to get out of here?"

"So ready. I hate hospitals."

"I know," I say and prop myself at the edge of his bed. "So, how are the ribs?"

"Sore." He pulls on the collar of his hospital gown and I see the beginning of the deep bruising on his chest. "Taking deep breaths is a tad painful, but not excruciating." He groans a bit as he shifts on the bed.

"Maybe you should consider taking stronger pain meds," I say.

"I don't li—"

"I know you don't like them," I quickly cut in. "But it will help you manage the pain at least for the first few days that you are home."

"I promise I'm good," he says with a big, disarming smile. "So, did you get some sleep last night?" he asks, changing the subject.

"I did. I got home and immediately crashed," I say, but return to the subject. "Seriously Jay, the pain will knock you back."

He sighs. "If I feel like I can't manage it, I will ask for a prescription, okay?"

I nod. It's a compromise. "Oh, I forgot to ask you if you needed a change of clothes. I could've stopped by your place on my way here."

"Will brought me some," he says, pointing to a gym bag in the corner of the room. "I should probably change, actually. Hopefully, the nurse will bring my discharge papers soon."

"Okay, let's get you decent," I say and hop off the bed. I grab the bag and pull out the contents from inside. "How do you want to do this?" I ask.

He closes his eyes, thinking for a moment, probably dreading having to move when he just settled down a moment ago.

"Summoning up the courage to move again?" I ask.

He chuckles. "Maybe."

"Here," I extend a hand.

It takes him several moments—he moves in stages, carefully—but Jay finally manages to swing his legs off the bed and slowly pushes up on his feet. He tries to grin, but the pain in his face is evident.

"Can you hand me my boxers?" he asks, and I give it to him.

He grimaces as he bends down, and his right hand clutches at his chest, carefully guarding his ribcage. He can barely get one foot inside. The effort is almost too much for him. Shuddering, he takes in a painful breath.

"Jay, let me help you," I say, unable to watch this masochistic show a minute longer. "I promise not to peek."

He chuckles, and I see a slight flush on his cheeks.

"You've gone shy on me," I tease because Jay has never been shy.

He just looks at me and shakes his head. "Not shy. It's just…" I can see him trying to find the right words. "You, being this close to me, might elicit a reaction," he says carefully.

Now it's my turn to blush. Clearing my throat, I take the boxer shorts from him and help him step inside. I carefully pull it up to his knees. "Think you can manage from here?"

He nods and takes a shallow breath. "Yeah. Thank you."

He pulls them all the way up, wincing only slightly. When he lets the gown slide down to the floor I get a clear view of the bruise on his chest, and I'm aghast by what I see. His chest is a kaleidoscope of color – angry reds, blacks and blues cover his left side. It looks really painful. The bruises scream out from his pasty, toned frame.

"Don't worry, it looks worse than it feels," Jay assures me, probably because I'm openly staring at his chest now. He moves forward and before I can think of anything to say, he reaches for my hand. "I'll be fine." The soft rub of his thumb over my knuckles makes the butterflies in my stomach feel like they might make an appearance at any second. "Help me with the rest of my clothes?"

I nod, and we manage to get his shirt and sweats on without a hitch.

"I feel much better," he says. "Thank you again."

He gives me a gentle smile, leaning closer to tuck a curl behind my ear. The soft brush of his fingers trailing over my skin makes tingles shiver down my neck. I rise softly on my toes as he slowly leans forward, but a nurse chooses that exact moment to enter the room.

"You're all clear, Mr. Halstead," she says, holding a few papers in her hand. She looks between us with a tight-lipped smile, probably trying to work out what was going in before she came in. "These are your discharge forms."

Jay signs and initials for a few minutes, and then she hands him a packet to take home.

"Since you opted for no opioids, I recommend you take either Tylenol or ibuprofen every four to six hours for the next few days or until the pain subsides."

"Will do," he says, looking at me, his mouth locked into this big smile.

"You'll need to come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed. In the meantime, keep it dry and change bandages as needed. If you notice any swelling or redness please give us a call."

"Okay," he says.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

Jay shakes his head. "No."

"You are free to go."

"Thank you."

The nurse leaves and Jay once again closes the space between us. "Where were we?" he murmurs, his thumb tracing my bottom lip and my heartbeat is back to its circus act. He slowly leans down to reach my lips, and as he does, I'm instantly overtaken. Our lips touch with a little peck. Then we kiss again, and this time we stay pressed together a little longer. I close my eyes and surrender to it, liking the way my tongue tangles softly with his, liking the intimacy of this slow, tender kiss.

Finally, we pull apart and open our eyes. Instinctively, I let out a big, audible sigh.

He chuckles. "Hey, do you think it's my turn to ask a question?" he asked in a husky voice.

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, too. "Are you talking about the game?" When he nods I say, "I don't know, but since you were shot, I will let you have a turn."

"That's so kind of you." He laughs, and the pain becomes evident in the lines of his face.

"Hey, you good?" I ask.

"Yeah, ribs," he explains and waves dismissively. "But onto my question…" He pauses a moment, then tilts his head to meet my gaze, and I see the tips of his ears turn pink. "Would you like to go on a second date with me?"

I laugh. "Yes."

He leans forward again, giving, me a little peck on my lips. His whole face seems to be smiling when he says, "Cool."

Thank you for reading. Your reviews/comments are always welcomed and appreciated. Next week we'll see Hailey nursing Jay back to health. Lots of sweet moments will ensue.