"But I must admit, I miss you quite terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby."
- Lemony Snicket
His alarm goes off the next morning, and he groans.
Setting an alarm on the weekend should be illegal.
Setting an alarm and sticking to it the morning after your partner spontaneously, drunkenly, sweetly, tells you to come visit her?
There isn't a word for how illegal it should be.
He'd slept, but he'd tossed and turned first, and when he'd finally dozed off, he'd dreamt about that same blonde woman eluding him. He'd just been about to catch up with her, suddenly somehow on the edge of a cliff in the middle of the city, when he'd woken up to the alarm.
He goes for a run to clear his mind. (It doesn't.)
He showers to clear his mind. (It doesn't.)
His phone rings and his mind buzzes a little, clearing slightly. Except it's just Ruzek, seeing if he'll give him a ride to the game.
"Yeah, dude, of course," he says, and they set a time and hang up, and before he can stop himself, he's looking at flights from O'Hare to JFK.
Because he wasn't lying last night. He'd wanted to be on that bridge with her.
He'd settle for being in the same city again, even if it meant a whirlwind trip he's not entirely sure is the type of financially responsible choice he's trying to make lately.
He's not sure it's the responsible choice at all, really.
Because getting on a plane to visit a woman is the romantic choice, sure. It's the fun one.
It's the potentially life-changing choice, which means it's the scary choice.
Going to New York feels like going all in. It feels like leaping into something.
Jay leaps. He always has. He lept into war. And into the CPD. Into bed after bed to Erin. Into pain and fear and slowly back out.
Leaping into something with Hailey, though.
It's not something he could leap out of. Not whole, not okay, if it ended poorly, if it ended at all.
He closes the flights app and tries to become one with his couch until he has to head out to get Ruze.
—
When it's almost noon and he's dressed to head out to get Ruze and meet Kev, and he still hasn't heard from Hailey, something twists in his gut.
It feels like worry. Not for her safety, because she's a fighter. But for how they left things last night, and how, even with him, she can close off that open, vulnerable side of herself so easily.
He doesn't want that. If he knows anything, he knows he doesn't want them to go backward.
He unlocks his phone and types out a couple messages before heading out the door.
20 days.
Gonna need proof of life, Hailey.
His phone rings as he's getting closer to Ruzek's apartment, and he maybe unintentionally eases his foot off the gas. He answers, and her voice fills the cab of the truck.
Except it's just a loud groan.
He laughs quietly. "You good?"
She grumbles and he smiles.
"I swear to god I didn't drink enough to feel like this," she says, her voice rough around the edges.
"I'm sorry," he says, and he tries to make it sound as sympathetic as he feels, but he can almost hear her eye roll at his laughter.
"Did you eat anything besides a street cart hot dog yesterday?"
She groans again, which means no. "Shh," she whispers. "I don't ever wanna talk about that again."
"I guess that's doable," he says, stopping at the last light before Ruzek's street. He picks up his phone and swipes over to his messages, quickly typing out a "2 min. ETA" message.
"Jay," her voice comes back over the line. And she sounds a little more like Hailey now, a little more awake. "About last night… I didn't mean to make anything weird. But I meant what I said."
He shakes his head, even though she can't see it. "Nothing's weird. We're good, Hailey. But I'm about to pull up outside Ruze's place..."
"Okay," she says, as he pulls to a stop on the shoulder and Adam opens the door.
"Hey man," he says, settling in the truck.
"Hey. Hailey's here too," he says, gesturing to his phone and pulling back out into traffic.
"Hailey Upton!" Adam near-shouts. "We miss you, girl."
Her groan is immediate and loud. "Ugh, god, no, it's too early for you."
Adam laughs, "Ouch, it's like a flashback to when we dated."
"Shh, Adam." she groans. "Hey, call me later?"
"Sure thing, darlin,'" Adam says, laughing, and Jay rolls his eyes at the cocky grin he shoots him.
"Absolutely not," Hailey says, and Jay laughs. "Jay, later?"
He can't resist. "Sure thing, darlin.'" Adam laughs, but Hailey is noticeably quiet.
"You guys both suck," she says finally, but he can hear the annoyed affection in her voice before she hangs up.
"Dude," Adam laughs, "what'd you do to Upton?"
"I did nothing. Tequila, on the other hand," he says.
"Ahh, yep. Sounds right. Hailey makes some choices with a little push from ole Jose." He gestures to himself and laughs. "Prime example."
Yeah, that's what he was afraid of. Worry twists in his gut again, but he pushes it down.
(The Blackhawks lose in OT, and he knows it's stupid, but it feels like a metaphor for his life - build up, set back, build back up, hope… let down.
He thinks about Hailey's smiling face on FaceTime last night, the teasing, flirty banter. The way she'd wished he was there, the desperate way he'd wanted to be. The quiet pause when he'd not-so-jokingly called her darlin'.
It feels like hope, and he wants to hold on to it.)
—
Hailey washes her face and brushes her teeth and stares at herself in the mirror a while later. She looks tired, but she shouldn't be surprised.
Insomnia is her bitter rival, and last night, it won. She knows drinking can bring it on. Some people are lucky enough to sleep deeply after knocking back a few, but she's never been one of them.
Last night, of all nights, she'd laid awake for hours, watching the red numbers on the alarm clock turn and listening to the ever-present sounds of traffic down below.
She'd finally gotten up and sat looking out the window, watching brake lights and sirens flash in the dark.
And the whole time she'd thought about Jay, and telling him she wished he was here, and the quiet way he'd just watched her like he so often did.
It was like he'd known, he got it - her asking him to come see her meant more than just a visit. It meant acknowledging that they both needed to see each other, wanted to see each other, badly enough they couldn't wait until she got home.
It would be a first step toward… something more, something they'd maybe been dancing around for a while. There'd be no denying it wasn't.
And it would be a big first step, an 800-mile leap.
She changes into workout clothes and drags herself to the hotel gym and jogs on the treadmill, and it's exactly as horrible as she knew running while hungover would be. But it clears her mind a little, lets her focus on the way her body can move, and be proud of the discipline that's carried her through a physically demanding job.
(And she doesn't think about her partner, who's always the first one in the door, always making sure she's safe, always pushing her to be a little bit braver, a little bit stronger.
She doesn't think about her partner at all. She thinks about Jay, the guy he is when he's relaxed and quiet, sleep-rumpled in the morning, when hopefully the last thing on his mind is the horror of what could be on the other side of the door he's always so willing to rush through.
The guy who still always makes sure she's safe, even from states away. The guy who makes her want to be brave enough, strong enough, to leap and be okay with falling.)
She showers and changes and thinks about going out and exploring, not wasting a Sunday in the hotel. But her head still hurts, and it doesn't feel like a waste if she's relaxing and enjoying herself.
She watches mindless TV and scrolls through Instagram and looks for a couple new audiobooks for the gym and texts with Vanessa a little.
She eats leftover Thai food for early dinner and by the time she's done, she feels antsy, and she knows it's because she doesn't typically sit around during the day, even on the weekends. But today feels earned, a well-deserved break after the whirlwind of work and upheaval and emotions and maybe too much tequila from the last week.
She needs to relax though, so she has a chance at shutting her brain off and sleeping tonight. The insomnia can drag and although she'd managed to sleep eventually last night, she doesn't need a repeat before the start of the week.
She gets up to wash her hands after she eats and finds a small bottle of bubble bath among the hotel toiletries on the counter. It's not ideal, it's not really a soaking tub, but the hot water will feel good, and the tension soaking out of her muscles will feel better.
She draws as hot a bath as the hotel allows and slips in, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
—