Author's note: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this story. I promise updates will become more frequent. We had some stuff go down at home and it's been hard to write so it's taken me a bit, and I apologize.

Anyway, this chapter was inspired by two things: A) a prompt, and B) stories from my father (a Vietnam veteran) about his own experiences with the 4th of July. Obviously I meant to post this IN July, but I'm posting it and that's what matters I guess.

I hope you guys enjoy it! Please don't forget to review, and make sure to PM or email me prompts. You can even tweet me prompts. I'm itsthatupsteadchick on X/Twitter. :)

Thanks for reading!


Chapter Two

Prompt: Fourth of July

Jay

Jay Halstead has never much been one for organized group activities, and since Afghanistan, he hasn't been one for large crowds or loud noises, either, aside from the ones that he's become accustomed to on the job.

So when Kevin brought up that the coming Sunday was the annual Intelligence — although it's frequently attended by members of Firehouse 51 and Gaffney — Fourth of July cookout that he's pretty damn sure everyone but him loves, it took everything in him not to throw his head back and groan.

Usually, they don't have the cookout on the Fourth — either the weekend before or the one after — because most of its attendees have to work, but this year, it's the day of, and Jay is filled with dread just thinking about it.

It isn't that he hates the Fourth or the cookout, and he certainly doesn't mind the company as long as he stays with a small group — his group. He loves his friends and the good food and the music that blasts through the park, and before Afghanistan, he liked the fireworks. He liked the Fourth.

In fact, before Afghanistan, Jay loved the Fourth.

As kids, he and Will would eat hot dogs and Bomb Pops and drink colored soda out on their driveway with their parents. They'd throw Pop-Its down while they waited for the fireworks show to start as their parents laughed and drank a beer or two as they looked on.

As teenagers, they would steal vodka from their parents' stash and replace it with water — their dad never noticed, or if he did, he didn't say anything — before going off to different places with their respective girlfriends, or hang out with each other on occasion. Will usually had to reign Jay in with the alcohol, which pissed Jay smooth off, but he was usually too shitfaced to fight Will and woke up with one hell of a hangover the next afternoon.

And in the short months of "normal," PTSD-free adulthood he had before he left, he would sit with his buddies in one of their backyards, cutting up and laughing and eating way too much while the fireworks show popped off in the distance.

Two of those friends enlisted with him and are now dead, one in an IED explosion and one by enemy bullets to the head and neck.

Jay had held one of them as he died — plus countless others — and he now loathes the Fourth of July.

Now, to him, firecrackers people in the neighborhood pop off even days before the actual Fourth are enemy fire.

Firework shows booming overhead every Fourth, meant to be exciting and beautiful, are IED explosions, shredding anyone and anything too close, just like his friend Matt had been.

Shrieks of laughter from kids just like him and his brother when they were that age are now shrieks of terror from civilian children as they sit next to their dying mom or dad that's been caught in the crossfire (although often the child was shot and killed alongside them and shrieking in pain, which Jay sees and hears in his head every single day of the year).

Smoke he smells from firecrackers is smoke from a humvee that's on fire with his fellow soldiers inside.

Any fire he sees is a body burning, which he saw far too often; another thing he still sees in his head every day of the year, even when there's a blizzard outside.

The sweltering heat that's always present in Chicago in summer is the same heat that enveloped him every single day in Afghanistan, the heat that often triggers nightmares. He purposely cranks his AC if he's home on the Fourth because if he can feel that awful heat in his apartment with fireworks booming overhead, forget it. He's awake all night, sweat-soaked and in a panic.

So although it's at the bottom of the list in importance of things war took from him, it still is something he once loved that he no longer does. Of course, losing friends and watching children — babies — die trumps losing love for a holiday, but he can't say it doesn't bother him a little that the holiday he lost love for is one that he loved so much as a kid.

Occasionally, Jay finds a way to get out of the cookout — by feigning illness, usually — but this year, things are different in more ways than one.

For one, the Fourth is a Sunday, and Intelligence is off, period.

But most of all, he's engaged to Hailey, and she won't take "no" for an answer. He also can't feign being sick because she's with him basically 24/7 and knows better.

He could never say no to her, anyway, even long before they were together. Long before he had kissed her, even, she'd had him wrapped around her little finger.

Now, they've been together almost eight months and engaged for nearly two of those. They know each other better than they know themselves, but Jay has yet to tell Hailey just how much the Fourth triggers him.

She's never seen him cowering in his apartment, flinching at every boom that sounds overhead, unable to sleep.

She's never noticed him jump out of his skin during the fireworks if they happen to be working on the Fourth, or if she has, she hasn't said anything.

So Jay decides not to say anything, to go with his fiancé and try to have a good time, and if Hailey sees him react during the fireworks, he knows she'll be understanding when he explains and try her best to be there for him.

He just hopes she doesn't find out about his triggers by watching him have a panic attack or flashback or, worse, both; he doesn't want her to see him that way, or to send her into a panic attack.

The fireworks show starts around nine, the cookout around eight. Hailey steps out of her bathroom just after 7:45, and Jay's breath hitches as his eyes land on her from where he sits on the bed.

She's dressed in light blue jean shorts that show off her long, tan legs, a red tank top, and black flip-flops on her feet. Her blonde hair is down in loose waves, and whatever makeup she's wearing makes her eyes even more blue somehow.

Jay doesn't realize he's staring until Hailey stops dead in her tracks and says, "You good over there?" Her eyebrows are raised curiously but mischievously, and Jay is reminded that she has no damned clue why he would be staring at her.

Jay smirks and stands from the bed, knowing he's been caught with his jaw on the floor, and walks over to her slowly. His hands find her hips and squeeze. "You have absolutely no idea how beautiful you are, do you?"

A blush colors Hailey's cheeks and she covers her face with one hand. "Stop it."

Jay reaches up to gently move her hand from her face and puts one finger under her chin, bringing her face to face with him again. "No. You're gorgeous and…" He trails off and runs his hands up and down her bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He leans down and presses his lips to the soft skin just under her ear; he feels her shiver as he pulls back. "You're beyond gorgeous and as corny as it is, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I really do."

This time, Hailey doesn't look away or even avoid his eyes. Instead, she stands up on her tiptoes, puts her hands on either side of his neck, and presses her lips to his, softly at first before deepening it by slipping her tongue past his lips.

It pulls a moan out of him, and Hailey echoes him when he pulls her as close to his body as he can get her, his hands slipping under her tank top and splaying out on her back, just above the waistline of her shorts. His fingertips digging hard into the skin there drags another low moan from her.

Jay can feel his body starting to respond to Hailey's and to the noises she's making, and the feeling of her tongue against his is intoxicating.

If he thought he wanted to skip the cookout before, he really does now.

But he knows Hailey is determined to go, so he ever-so-slowly pulls his lips from hers, but keeps her body adhered tightly to him. "I cannot tell you how much resolve it's taking for me to say this but…" He trails off, looking into her eyes and seeing that they're glazed over. He's sure his are, too. "We don't have time if you want to make it to this stupid thing."

Hailey swats his arm. "I would say we can be quick but… I know we can't be that quick." She smiles up at him, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen, and damn, she's beautiful. "Let's go. Platt will make our lives hell if we don't show."

He definitely can't argue with her there.

The car ride to the cookout is quiet, but not awkwardly so. As usual, the hand of Jay's that isn't on the steering wheel is on Hailey's thigh, fingers stroking her soft skin. When Jay steals a glance over at her, she's mouthing the words to whatever is on the radio and there's a look of contentment on her face.

They're stopped at a stop sign when a firecracker pops off from somewhere a street over. As he expects, Jay flinches hard and his hand tightens on Hailey's leg.

What he doesn't expect, though, is to feel Hailey tense beneath his hand, and definitely not to look over to see her rigid in her seat, a look of panic on her face.

Immediately, Jay's panic over his own reaction dissipates and is replaced by panic over his fiancé's. They're still stopped at the stop sign and the four-way intersection is empty, so he turns to Hailey and studies her face as closely as he can without getting in her face.

She looks completely frozen.

"Hey. Babe, what's wrong?" he asks her, running his hand down to her knee and squeezing.

Her neck is rigid. Her eyes are wide and he swears he sees tears in them. She's gripping the door with white knuckles.

Jay squeezes her knee again and it seems to ground her this time, to break her out of whatever it was she had just been locked into. She turns to look at him, and the hand that was gripping the door handle comes up to swipe quickly at her eyes.

"What?" Hailey says, and Jay can tell she genuinely hadn't heard him.

Jay's brow furrows and he reaches for her hand. "Are you alright?" He strokes his thumb back and forth over her knuckles, something he knows calms her and grounds her.

Hailey nods her head a little too quickly. "I'm good. Just scared me."

Before he can say anything (such as, "Tell me the truth"), Jay sees headlights in his rearview mirror, so he hesitantly drives through the intersection towards the park, keeping his hand on Hailey's, still rubbing her knuckles.

He wants to push. He wants to ask Hailey why she looked like she'd just seen a ghost at the sound of a firecracker popping off. He knows she has PTSD from her nightmarish childhood, and that she has a problem with sudden, loud noises (she'd nearly keeled over when Adam had punched his desk in anger over a case two days ago), but not gunshots, and he wonders if perhaps the Fourth has some kind of tie to the abuse she suffered as a child and teenager.

He decides right there in the truck that he's going to ask her straight up when they get back to her apartment after the cookout.

The couple are about three blocks away from the park when Hailey pulls her hand out from under Jay's, only to pull his into hers and hold on tightly. "The Fourth is probably really rough for you, huh?"

Jay knows she's deflecting. He knows she's trying to avoid explaining what just happened, but he also knows good and well this isn't the time, or the place. He doesn't want to upset her, of course, and he definitely doesn't want to upset her right now.

For a reason he hasn't quite pinpointed, Hailey has been adamant for days that they go to the cookout, and again, he couldn't say no. But Jay can't help but wonder why she's been so determined.

Reminding himself now isn't the time, Jay just nods, moving his hand from hers and settling it back on her thigh. "Yeah… It's not easy, to say the least. I've spent a lot of Fourths since Afghanistan alone in my apartment, drinking, hoping I can pass out and not hear them."

He eyes Hailey in his peripheral as much as he can as he drives, and he can see a look of sadness and empathy settle on her features.

"Because of the fireworks."

It isn't a question. Hailey knows good and well what he didn't want to hear.

Jay just nods. "They're nothing but gunshots and IEDs to me. At least the liquor took the edge off, I guess." He lets out a chuckle, but it contains no humor.

Hailey certainly doesn't laugh. Instead, she puts her hand over Jay's on her leg again and squeezes. "I'm sorry I'm dragging you to this, Jay. I didn't even think about the fireworks and the PTSD and… I'm so sorry." He can see out of the corner of his eye that she's shaking her head at herself.

When they stop at the final stoplight that's just across from the park, Jay squeezes Hailey's leg and turns to her, shaking his head. "Hails, don't be sorry. Please don't. It's alright." He gives her a genuine, soft smile, knowing she's giving herself shit now. "I'm just glad I don't have to spend this one alone."

Hailey isn't known for sweet, tender, soft smiles, but the one she's giving him now is one he'd do anything to see for the rest of his fucking life.

It still blows him away that he gets a chance to do just that.

"Guess what?" Hailey says just as the stoplight turns green.

"What's that?"

"You're never going to have to spend one alone again."

Hailey's words are laced with emotion, causing her voice to crack, and Jay's insides clench. He whips the truck into a spot under a tree when they get to the park, unbuckles his seatbelt, and flips up the console. He's about to lean in to press his lips to Hailey's, but she leans over and presses hers to his before he can.

This kiss is slow and languid and perfect. Hailey's hands are on either side of Jay's neck, fingers barely stretching to the back of his neck and stroking the skin there again. He can't help but moan into her mouth, and he can feel her smile against his lips.

Jay's arms wind around Hailey's middle, pulling her as close as he possibly can in the cab of the truck, which suddenly feels tiny. The kiss remains slow and gentle, with the occasional touch of one's tongue against the other's, knowing that if they deepen it much more they'll end up in the backseat.

They break the kiss far too soon for either of them, but the look they exchange is sensual and sweet all on its own, and it's enough for them both (for now).

Jay's hand comes up to push Hailey's hair gently behind her ear before resting his palm against the side of her face, and she leans into his fingers. "I love you so damn much, Hailey Anne Upton."

"I love you, too, Jay Halstead." She grabs his hand from the side of her face and kisses his palm. "More than I've ever loved anyone in my life."

Jay nearly kisses her again, but he knows they'll never leave the truck if he does. He knows hands will roam, and kisses will turn from slow and sweet to urgent and hard, and they'll quickly be doing something they shouldn't be doing in their current setting.

The thought of Platt catching him and Hailey having sex pops in his head and it's like an ice fucking cold bucket of water has just been dumped on him.

So instead of kissing Hailey's lips, he kisses her forehead and then her temple before untangling his arms from around her.

Together, the pair climb out of the truck and into the smothering July heat. Jay tries to ignore the screams from children playing nearby as Hailey meets him on his side of the truck, grabbing his hand in hers.

Her hand feels so small in his as they walk side by side, but her fingers are tight around his. Jay can't help but think about how damn good it feels to be out and holding Hailey's hand, especially on one of the hardest nights of the year for him.

He knows that Hailey can't take away his PTSD and she can't stop the effect that the noises and smells and experiences of the Fourth have on him, but she calms him like no one else ever has, and he has no doubt that she'll soften the blow enormously, maybe even without knowing it.

Having Hailey Upton on his side the last few years has been incredible, but having her by his side as his fiancé?

Indescribable.

Just as the couple is entering the park, Hailey slows their walking pace to a total stop and gets Jay's attention by squeezing his hand. "Jay… Just so you know: the Fourth is hard for me, too, and I can't tell you how good it feels to be with someone — with you — and know I'm safe."

Jay's brow furrows and he stares at her for a few moments, processing her words. Thinking about what she's just said and recalling the way she'd jumped out of her skin in the truck at the sound of a firecracker, he easily puts together that something happened to Hailey on the Fourth of July that made it a painful holiday for her, too.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't dying to know what, and to know what he can do to help her. Seeing Hailey in mental or physical pain is nearly unbearable for him, and if he can prevent it, he always will.

As if she can read his thoughts, Hailey squeezes his hand again and quietly says, "I'll tell you the story later if you want to hear it."

Jay nods and brings her hand up to press a kiss to the back of it. "If you want to tell me — if you're up for it — I'm all ears, Hails."

She pulls his hand lightly and they continue walking, their shoes transitioning from the gravel parking lot to soft grass. "And Jay, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

Hailey leans her head on his shoulder and the hand that isn't holding his cones up to grasp his arm. "If you need to get out of here… if the fireworks trigger you and you wanna dip out before they start, just squeeze my hand and we're out. We can go back to the apartment and do whatever the hell we want and try to make the best of this night."

Jay smiles softly down at her, even though she can't see him with her head on his shoulder. It isn't like Hailey to be so affectionate in public, which tells him she must need closeness and comfort (which is more than fine with him), and although he loves having her close, his mind runs wild with what about the Fourth could possibly have Hailey needing comfort and seeking it from him so publicly.

Whatever it was, Jay has a pretty good feeling it has to do with her father, and he knows that whatever happened to Hailey on past Fourths will likely make him sick.

But he also knows he needs to know so he can comfort her the way he knows she'll comfort him.

"I promise I'll let you know if I need to leave," he says gratefully, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "but you need to promise to do the same. One word or hand squeeze and we're headed back to the apartment. Everybody will understand. Copy?"

Hailey lifts her head from his shoulder just long enough to look up at him with a grateful smile and a nod. "Copy you."

Everything goes shockingly well from the get-go.

There's more food than Jay has ever seen at one single cookout in his life. It seems more like a damn banquet if you judge by the amount of different dishes, so many that they take up two tables, and then there's another one with desserts.

Jay chuckles when they walk up and he looks over to see Hailey's eyes bugging out of her head. "Holy shit," she mutters, eyes scanning the different trays and pans of food lining the tables.

There's deviled eggs (Jay hates them, Hailey loves them), baked beans (they both love them), hot dogs (again, it's a yes from both of them), potato salad (it's a no from both of them), burger patties on the grill (which is being manned by Voight), ribs (Jay watching Hailey eat those has, in the past, been one of his favorite things), corn on the cob (a cookout essential in both of their opinions), rolls of some sort, barbecue chicken wings (Jay and Hailey can both decimate those in about .2 seconds), extra spicy chicken wings (it's a no, thank you from Jay and a hell, yes from Hailey), and even more that Jay can't see from where he and Hailey are standing.

Then there's the whole-ass table of dessert that Jay nor Hailey even dare to look at yet.

"Now I see why they specifically told us not to bring anything," Hailey remarks from beside Jay, her jaw slack and her mouth hanging open in shock. "Pretty sure Voight had some of this catered this year."

Jay laughs and winds an arm around Hailey's waist. "Where do we even start?" he muses, hand squeezing his fiancé's hip, stroking the exposed skin between her tank top and shorts with his thumb.

"The ribs, Jay. Always start with the ribs." She says as she squeezes her arm around Jay's waist in turn, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Jay spots Platt, Voight, Adam and Kim with Makayla, and Atwater, as well as a few people from Firehouse 51 (specifically Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, and Stella Kidd), and, to Jay's surprise, his brother.

Hailey sees Jay eyeing Will, so she pecks him on the lips and walks towards the closest food table with the intention of leaving him to chat with his brother. As she saunters off, Jay can't help but think again how damn good she looks, tan legs and blonde hair and blue eyes for days. He watches as she chats with Stella and damn, that smile… It sucks the breath out of him even from ten feet away.

Although Jay's always thought Hailey was beautiful — he'd have to be blind to think otherwise — it was never her looks that made him want to be with her, though they sure as hell didn't hurt her case. He'd wanted to be with her for her empathy, strength, resilience, tenacity, huge heart, fierce love for those in her circle, and dark sense of humor, to name a few.

Her looks were — and still are — just a bonus. But goddamn, she's gorgeous, and he's lucky.

"Jesus, Jay, can you ogle Hailey elsewhere? People are trying to eat."

Jay jumps as Will's voice sounds from right beside him. He rolls his eyes and jams a fist into Will's arm. "Excuse me for thinking my fiancé is hot, William, and I can ogle her whenever and wherever I want."

The minute the word "fiancé" leaves his mouth, Jay curses himself.

Will's eyebrows shoot up. "Fiancé? Hailey is marrying you? When did that happen?"

"Yes, she is, and we got engaged a couple months ago, you ass." Jay's words contain no venom — just the normal brotherly irritation their conversations often hold, a lot of it feigned.

Will gives him a surprised but happy look and pats him hard on the back. "Damn. Congratulations, man. She's a good one."

"Thanks. Yeah, she is. I'm lucky."

Jay's eyes are still on said "good one," who's now holding a plate she's filled with ribs (shocker), chicken wings (probably two of each kind), corn on the cob, at least two deviled eggs that he can see, a roll, and baked beans. He knows good and well she'd probably get more if she had a second plate. She grabs the beer that Stella hands her before slowly making her way back over to Jay, tucking her beer under her arm just so she can pick up a deviled egg off her plate and pop it in her mouth as she walks.

Will snorts back a laugh beside him just before Hailey enters earshot. "She can eat, too."

Jay elbows his brother hard in the ribs but he can't help but laugh because Will has no clue how on-point he is. Hailey can eat an entire deep dish from Bartoli's on her own when she's extra hungry and nearly growls at him when he tries to touch her plate.

"Hey, Will!" Hailey says once she's swallowed the bite she just took. "Happy Fourth." She nestles herself into Jay's side and looks up at him with a smile after seeing he's already grinning at her.

"Happy Fourth, Hailey," Will returns, peeking around his brother to smile at Hailey.

"That's my plate, right?" Jay jokes, reaching around her and grabbing the roll off her plate, taking a bite out of it before putting it back.

She shoots him one hell of a glare and Jay knows she would smack him if she had a free hand. "Um, no," she shoots at him. "Touch my food and you don't touch me again tonight. Get your own."

Will makes a puking sound from beside him. "Oh, wow. Jay, go get your own plate before your fiancé says anything else like that and makes me vomit."

Jay chuckles with satisfaction and kisses Hailey's head before walking off to get a plate and maybe talk to Severide, leaving Hailey and Will to talk.

As he walks towards the food tables, Jay realizes he feels a thousand pounds lighter than he has on any Fourth of July since he was a kid.

And he knows without a doubt that he has Hailey to thank for that.

Hailey

"I'm glad Jay has you this year."

Those are the first words out of Dr. Will Halstead's mouth when Jay walks away to fill his plate and, most likely, shoot the shit with Severide just as Hailey had done with Kidd.

Hailey takes a swig from her beer and turns to Will. "Why's that?"

Technically, Hailey knows why, or at least the gist of it, but she also knows good and well that Jay won't tell her how bad the Fourth of July truly is for him. She wants to know the extent of it so she can help him the best way she knows how.

Will sighs deeply and stares off into the distance, and Hailey can tell he's weighing his words. He runs his hand over the back of his neck, and she can't help but smile because Jay does the same thing; it's one of his nervous tells.

"When we were kids, the Fourth was one of the best days of our lives." Will chuckles, shaking his head. "As teenagers, we caused a lot of trouble every year but we had a blast even though Jay always had a damn hangover the next day." Hailey's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Will laughs. "We stole our dad's vodka and replaced it with water. Jay got shitfaced almost every year as a teenager."

Hailey snickers and shakes her head, taking a bite of her roll as she watches Jay, who's filling his plate and talking to Severide and Kidd. "And then Afghanistan, I'm guessing?"

Will nods, his lips pressing into a grim line. "Yeah. The first Fourth of July after he came home from his second tour, he called me and told me to make it stop. He was crying and I could tell he'd been drinking…" He trails off and he looks over at Hailey, his forehead pinched. "Look, I'm only telling you this stuff so that you can help him if he needs it, okay? I'm not trying to tell Jay's business."

"Oh, Will, I know. I need to know this stuff," Hailey assures him. "Like you said, I need to know so I can help him. I hate seeing him in pain… especially because of his past, so if there's something I can do, I need to know. I appreciate you helping me." She gives Will a quick nod, urging him to go on.

He gives her a grateful smile and continues without hesitation, though he's watching Jay to make sure he isn't approaching. "Anyway, he was shitfaced drunk. I couldn't get there, so I sent our dad over to check on him. He was passed out by the time Dad got there, and when he finally woke up, he eventually told Dad it was the fireworks. They had triggered him.

"Ever since then, it's just been a hard day for him. He's always either drinking and hiding away in his apartment, or burying himself in work if he can. He's never come to one of these cookouts and actually stayed for more than five minutes, and he sure as hell hasn't ever brought anyone with him."

Hailey finds herself tearing up and looks down at her plate, willing the tears away. "Wow. Will, that's…" She takes a deep breath and releases it sharply. "I don't know what to say. It obviously kills me that he's gone through so much and continues to and I know I can't take the trauma away, but I'm sure as hell hoping I can make things a little easier for him." Her voice cracks and she curses herself.

Will puts his hand on Hailey's shoulder and squeezes as he hears the emotion in her voice. "You already do make things easier for him, Hailey. I can tell. Look at him… he's out in public on the Fourth voluntarily, and he's laughing."

Hailey looks towards where Jay is standing, now with a full plate and beer of his own, and he is, indeed, laughing at whatever Severide just called after him as he heads back towards her and Will.

"You're damn good for him. Remember that," Will says quietly as Jay approaches. "Also… congratulations." He shoots Hailey a warm smile and, as Jay joins them, says, "I'm gonna go grab a plate. Catch you two in a bit."

"Alright, man," Jay calls after him as he jogs off, looking at Hailey with confusion as he takes a long pull of his beer. She hopes like hell her eyes aren't red-rimmed from the sudden emotion Will's words hit her with, but apparently, they are. "Hails, you alright?" His eyes narrow at her with concern.

Hailey nods and gives a smile that she means to be reassuring, but she's pretty sure it's not. "I'm fine. Totally fine." She takes a swig of her beer and looks away, avoiding Jay's gaze.

Hailey knows that if he looks her dead in the eye right now, he'll be able to see not only the emotion from her conversation with Will, but also her concern for Jay himself… and then there's the sadness and panic that she knows is always on her face on days that remind her of her childhood and of what she and her family endured throughout it.

It's a haunted look.

They always endured more on the Fourth. The day is always hard for her, and she knows that Jay will see that in her eyes if he looks closely enough.

So she tries her hardest not to let him, not here. In her apartment is something else entirely, even if it's standing in the middle of her kitchen or, hell, her bathroom.

Anywhere is better than this scorching but gorgeous night, with each other and people they consider family (plus one who's actual blood family), with good food and — for now — high spirits.

So she keeps quiet and tries to keep her eyes directly off Jay's for now.

When Hailey looks back in his direction briefly, he's still looking at her with concern coloring his face, and she's afraid he's already seen that look in her eyes.

Before Jay can say anything, Hailey juts her chin over to the table that Adam and Kim have settled at, with Makayla jumping around a couple feet away, a can of root beer in her hand.

"Wanna go sit with Ruze and Burgess?" she asks him, relieved to see he's now looking away from her and is shoving a huge bite of his roll into his mouth.

"Sounds good."

"I'm dying to dig into these ribs," she says as they take off towards the table. She lets out a sigh of relief when Jay laughs in response.

Hailey knows it doesn't mean he isn't still concerned, though. He is, and he's just choosing not to push her here and now. He knows when she avoids his gaze that something is off; he told her at one point that it's one of her tells, like the way he rubs the back of his neck.

So even though Jay keeps his expression neutral as they walk, Hailey knows he's still worried about her and will definitely be asking her what was wrong when they get home.

She dreads explaining why the Fourth is so difficult for her, but she knows he'll want — or need, rather — to know so he can help her (sounds familiar).

Having someone there to comfort her when she inevitably has a nightmare will be refreshing.

Before Hailey knows it, she and Jay are plopped down next to each other across from Kim and Adam. Hailey has one of the ribs in her hands almost immediately and digs in, letting out a moan of satisfaction at the first bite that makes Jay look at her with a raised eyebrow.

She looks across the table and Adam is staring at her, too, expression amused and lips pursed in a way that makes it clear he's suppressing a laugh.

"What?" Hailey shoots at Adam, nailing him with a glare as she chews. She looks down at his plate and sees that he's already cleaned it, save for half of a chicken wing. "I see you already hogged your plate, Ruze. Keep your eyes in your head while I hog mine, please."

"Shit. If looks could kill," Jay says from beside her, his eyebrows raised at Adam, mouth turned upwards in a smirk. When she hits him with the same look, the smirk falls right off his face and he puts his hand on her shoulder. "Sorry, babe. Continue. We'll leave you alone."

Kim swats Adam on the arm as she takes a long pull of her beer. "Like we haven't all seen both of you eat two burgers or an entire deep dish and want more. Leave the girl alone."

Hailey shoots the boys another glare each and gives Kim a grateful smile.

Hailey does, in fact, get to finish her food in peace, though she does occasionally look up at Jay or Adam and see them watching her (they look away pretty damn quick) with amusement and, in Jay's case, adoration.

She's never been looked at the way he looks at her; she'll never get over it.

At one point, as Hailey is finishing the last of a chicken wing, Jay leans over and whispers just under her ear, "I think you look pretty damn hot right now."

Even though the words have a teasing tone, she's pretty sure he's serious, and the raspy tone of his voice in her ear is delicious. She fights the urge to kiss him for the entire time they eat their food after that.

Hailey can't help but feel lighter and happier than she has in a while, and she knows she sure as hell hasn't been this happy on the Fourth of July ever. Sure, the heaviness of the day is hanging over her, and it's inevitable that different things will trigger her throughout the rest of the night, but right now?

Everything feels almost… idyllic.

She's sitting with her fiancé and two of their best friends, eating and laughing and reminiscing, while said best friends' daughter does cartwheels — she's just learned how — and begs for another root beer. Sure, it's fucking sweltering, but Hailey doesn't even feel the heat.

She just feels happy and light.

But as usual, as was ingrained in her from birth practically, deep down she's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It can't possibly stay this good for long.

By the time everyone is done with their dinner and has polished off dessert (a piece of cherry pie and a brownie for Hailey, two brownies and a piece of berry cobbler for Jay), it's pitch dark out and starting to get a bit cooler outside.

Kevin has rejoined them after talking to Kidd for a bit, and the table looks on as he dances with Makayla to whatever music someone turned on about ten minutes ago. Trudy is watching from a couple feet away as she chats with Voight. Stella and Kelly are by the dessert table, laughing about God-knows-what, and Will is at a table catty-cornered from them with Natalie and Sylvie.

Suddenly, as she and Jay are cracking jokes with Adam and Kim and making fun of Kevin's dance moves, Hailey's phone buzzes in her pocket.

Immediately, a chill runs through her that makes her wish it had stayed 95 degrees out.

Hailey pulls out her phone, trying to be discreet. She notes that the clock on her phone says 8:49 PM; 11 minutes and there will be explosions of color in the sky above them that will bring nothing but pain and shitty memories for Jay and the same for Hailey, just in different ways.

Makayla is practically screaming about how excited she is for the fireworks (it's adorable). Hailey is on the verge of vomiting all of a sudden when that clock flashes on her screen.

But what really makes her want to vomit is the message that's under the clock:

Mom

Happy 4th of July, Hailey Anne. Your dad and I would like you to stop by if you can. He's upset you didn't see him in the hospital. We miss you, my love.

Bile actually burns its way up Hailey's throat and she nearly has to run for a trash can. Instead, she takes a sip of the water she always keeps with her in the massive stainless steel bottle Jay relentlessly but lovingly makes fun of her for, and she cringes hard at the acidic taste of the bile sitting on her tongue still.

This time, it's Kim who notices something isn't right. "Hail, you okay?"

Every single person besides Makayla — Kevin included — turns their eyes towards Hailey, their gazes either confused or worried or, in Jay's case, a mixture.

Goddammit, Kim.

She loves Kim to death and considers her her best friend besides Jay, and she greatly appreciates her concern, but now Jay is going to know something is wrong considering she hadn't been able to wipe the look of panic and anger over her mother's text off her face quickly enough.

Trying to gather herself, Hailey puts her phone facedown on the table instead of throwing it like she desperately wants to and smiles at the group. "I'm alright. Just got an irritating text. I'm good."

The "irritating text" part isn't a lie; the text was irritating. Very, very irritating.

The rest of it, though? Total lie. She is not alright, and she's not good.

It's very clear they all know that by the way they stare at her, Jay especially. His face screams, who do you think you're fooling? He knows her better than he knows himself, and she can guarantee he knows that whatever was on her cell phone was more than an irritating text.

To prove a point (she's not sure what point that even is), Hailey flips her phone to silent and downs the last of her beer, flipping the bottle cap around and around in her hand.

Hailey is eternally grateful when no one calls her out on her half-lie.

No one except for Jay. While the others go back to talking amongst themselves, he leans in and wraps an arm around Hailey's waist, pulling her in close. "Hailey, what was that?"

His tone isn't demanding or angry, but full of concern, and she loves him to death for it. His green eyes are fixed right on her blue ones, and she doesn't bother looking away this time. She knows he's seen it… the haunted look.

Hailey sees it in his eyes all the time and it worries her sick, so she'd be a hypocrite to blame him for worrying about her for the same reason.

She leans in with her head on his shoulder, as close to his ear as she can get without alerting the others. "That was my mother. She and my dad want to see me. Apparently my dad is upset that I didn't see him in the hospital… I don't fucking know." Tears spring to her eyes, and she hates herself for it. "I'm not going. Period. I'll text her back, but… I am not going there. Not after-"

Jay shakes his head, cutting her off with a squeeze of her hip. "Hails, you do not have to explain to me why you don't want to go see a man who beat you and your brothers and your mom. You don't. Okay?" He presses a kiss to her temple and Hailey leans into it. Normally, they aren't ones for PDA, but Jay will comfort her anywhere, anytime if he needs to.

Hailey nods, bowing her head down as the tears that are burning her eyes threaten to spill over. "Okay. Thank you."

Again, her voice cracks.

Again, she hates herself for it, because it gives her away. Jay looks closely at her face, sees the tears she's pushing back, and without hesitating, turns to their friends and says, "Guys, I think we're gonna skate."

Confusion is written on every one of their friends' faces. Kevin even stops dancing with Makayla and whips his head to look at Hailey and Jay. "But… the fireworks start in like eight minutes," Kevin points out. "Isn't that kinda the point of sitting out here in this hot-ass weather?"

Jay stands from the table, grabbing Hailey's hand to pull her up with him. "No, Atwater, the point is to have good food and drinks with friends to celebrate the Fourth," Jay says with a chuckle, though said chuckle sounds forced. Kevin laughs, too, but it's hesitant, like he's not sure if he should push or not.

So Adam pushes for him. "Are you guys sure you're alright?" he asks them, eyes narrowed and darting from Hailey to Jay and back.

"We're fine," Hailey assures him, though his eyes stay narrowed. Kim's brow is furrowed. "Just really tired and that 'annoying text' was from someone I didn't really want to hear from."

"You sure you're not pregnant? You seem cranky as hell and you-"

It's Adam who says it, and Kim uses a full fist to smack his arm this time, effectively stopping him from making what he just said even worse. "Adam! Damn it. Shut up." She looks at Hailey apologetically and Hailey shakes her head at Kim with a small smile, silently telling her it's not her she's about to be irritated at.

Normally, Hailey would find his question comical, but not tonight. Not even a little bit, and from the looks of it, Jay doesn't find it funny, either. "No, Ruzek, I'm not pregnant. You don't-"

Knowing his fiancé is about to go off, Jay cuts in, squeezing Hailey's hip. "She's not pregnant, Adam. The Fourth is rough for us, and we just want to go home and chill out." His tone isn't as rude as Hailey's would have been, but it isn't his usual chill tone, either.

Hailey can tell that Adam's just been hit with the realization that Jay has PTSD from Afghanistan and that the fireworks may set him off, but before he can say anything else, Hailey grabs her phone off the table, puts it in her pocket, and takes hold of Jay's hand.

She doesn't want a damn apology right now, and she knows Jay definitely doesn't, so she doesn't give anyone a chance to give them one. "Love you guys and we'll see you tomorrow. Happy Fourth!" Jay yells it over his shoulder and it sounds half-assed, but she'd be lying if she said either of them care.

Their friends return the sentiment from the table, but Hailey and Jay already have their backs turned.

She feels slightly guilty for not saying goodbye to Stella or Kelly or Trudy or Voight, but her insides are twisted in knots and she doesn't need anyone else noticing that something is off with her and Jay both.

As they walk towards the truck hand-in-hand and Hailey realizes no one can see her now, her eyes start to sting with tears again and she squeezes Jay's hand in a death grip.

By the time they reach the truck, the tears have spilled out of Hailey's eyes and down her cheeks, and the second they climb in and lock the doors, Jay is throwing it into reverse and driving.

Hailey knows he's trying to get back to her apartment before the fireworks start.

Being in a rush doesn't stop him from worrying sick about her, though. He puts his hand on her bare thigh and squeezes. "Are you okay? Don't lie to me, Hailey." Once again, his tone holds no anger and isn't demanding; just full of worry and maybe a little panic.

He just knows her so well that he knows when he asks her if she's okay, she usually lies, mainly when it comes to her father and what he put her through. She usually downplays it, and frankly, she doesn't know why she bothers. He's heard enough to know that her childhood was horrific.

Hailey damn sure knows what she's going to tell him about the awful significance of the Fourth for her is going to make him physically ill, and she wishes she didn't have to say a word about it, but it's clear he won't allow her to keep it inside.

Kind of like she won't allow him to keep in what he's holding back. Will told her some and that was heartbreaking enough; she couldn't imagine what Jay has weighing on his heart and in his head that he hasn't told anyone, that he'll hopefully tell her. That is, if she can drag it out of him.

She's damn sure going to try.

But as far as what he's just asked her, Hailey doesn't bother lying. "No, I'm not. I'm not." She shakes her head and clenches her hands tight, jumping out of her skin when she feels a sharp pain in her left palm. She peels her hand open, and that's when she realizes she's been gripping her beer bottle cap this whole time, and it's sliced her palm open. "Fuck."

Jay looks over at her as they stop at a stoplight about two blocks from Hailey's apartment, his eyes landing immediately on her now-shaking hand. "Shit, Hails. What happened?" He flips on the overhead light and Hailey sees that there's a good amount of blood oozing out now that her hand is opened. His eyes land on the bottle cap and she doesn't need to answer; he knows immediately that she'd been clenching her hands so tight that the bottle cap had sliced her skin open.

He plucks the bloody bottle cap out of her hand and throws it in the cup holder before cupping his hand over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize," she says tearfully, looking at her bloody palm.

Hailey is wiping the tears from her face (even though they're still falling) as she speaks, but the fact that she's crying is evident in her voice. Even as the light turns green and he starts driving again, Jay just slips his fingers under her hair to the nape of her neck and scratches the soft skin there with his fingernails.

It calms her completely, usually. It does a little, this time; reminds her that he's there, and she's safe. That she's with someone who understands her, who won't judge her, and who has demons of his own.

"Don't be sorry, babe," Jay tells her, fingers rubbing her neck still. "Don't. You didn't mean to do it. You're okay."

Hailey nods gratefully and leans her head to kiss whatever part of Jay's arm she can reach, which is just below his wrist. "Thank you."

Jay doesn't say anything, just squeezes her neck lightly and smiles at her.

As they get closer to her apartment, Hailey calms a bit. Between being near home and Jay's fingers on her skin, she feels soothed enough to not have a total breakdown, which is good because she can't.

Jay needs her tonight just as much as she needs him, and he needs her at least halfway emotionally stable.

But she also knows he'll understand why she isn't.

They pull into Hailey's lot at 9:03 PM. The fireworks haven't started, and they both notice because they've both been dreading them all night. Confused, they stare at each other, knowing the fireworks show is never late unless there's weather or something else unexpected.

Suddenly, Jay's phone buzzes, and when he picks it up, he chuckles at the words on the screen.

"What? What is it?" Hailey asks, smiling a bit herself (Jay's smile has always been ridiculously contagious to her).

Instead of reading it to her, Jay flips his phone around so she can read the text. It's from Adam.

Man, they called the fireworks off 5 damn minutes after you two left because it started sprinkling outside. Mack is so mad. We're headed home and it's raining and my kid is crying. Good call leaving Hope you guys are OK. Happy 4th, kids

Before Hailey can say anything in response, they hear it: rain hitting the concrete outside.

It's clear that Jay hears it, too, because he rubs a hand over his face and laughs, shaking his head. Hailey laughs along with him, completely incredulous.

"Thank God," Jay says on a sigh as he puts his phone in his pocket and switches the truck off. "Well… what do you say we go inside, drink a couple more beers, maybe, and talk if you want?"

Hailey doesn't have to ask what they'll talk about. He's noticed the pain in her eyes. He knows about the text from her mom and the panic and anger it brought her.

And she knows about what Jay carries with him from overseas. Even without what Will had told her, she knows. She's held him through nightmares, just as he's done for her.

They have a lot to talk about.

"I think that sounds perfect."

Jay

Fifteen minutes later, Jay and Hailey are sitting on her couch, each with a beer in hand. Jay's changed into dark gray sweats and a t-shirt — the light gray Army one Hailey loves and often steals — but Hailey remains in her jean shorts and red tank top, though she's pulled her hair up into her signature ponytail.

She's got her legs pulled up Indian-style on the couch and is quietly sipping her beer, and Jay thinks for the 10,000th time tonight how fucking beautiful she is.

But even from here, Jay can see the pain in her eyes, even as she stares off into the distance.

He watches her clench her left fist open and closed as she drinks from the beer in her other hand, and that's when he remembers that she cut her palm with that damn bottle cap.

Hailey often clenches her fists, sometimes so hard her fingernails cut the skin of her palm and draw blood. She does it without realizing it, and when her anxiety gets bad bad, she picks at her skin, different spots until she bleeds, also without realizing it.

It kills him to see it, but he knows he has self-destructive habits as well and has no room to talk.

But it kills him to see physical marks on her, whether she creates them or — God forbid — someone else does.

"Hails," Jay says quietly, trying not to startle her. Unfortunately, he startles her, anyway. Her head whips towards him and she nearly spills her beer. He cups his hand over her bare knee. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry. I was just going to say we need to clean your hand up from that bottle cap."

Hailey's eyes immediately flit down to her hand, and Jay can tell she's completely forgotten about it, too. She just nods, taking another sip of her beer before putting it down on the coffee table and standing.

Jay stands with her and follows behind her as she slowly walks into the bathroom and turns the faucet on, holding her still-bleeding hand under the water.

While Hailey washes her hand the best she can, blood turning the running water a rust color, Jay grabs the first aid kit from the cabinet and pulls out three antibacterial wipes, triple antibiotic ointment, and a roll of gauze. When he turns, Hailey is sitting on the countertop, her injured hand held out in front of her.

After washing his own hands, Jay cups his hand under Hailey's, cradling it as gently as he can manage, and tears open the antibacterial wipe with his teeth. "This is gonna hurt, Hails. I'm sorry," he warns, pressing a kiss to her wrist before pressing the wipe to her cut, which is much deeper than he thought.

Hailey hisses in pain as Jay rubs gently with the wipe over the jagged cut. "Fuck," she mutters, squeezing her eyes closed tight. "Shit, that hurts."

"I know. I'm sorry, babe. Almost done."

When he's finished with the wipe, Jay puts a pea-sized blob of ointment on his index finger and swipes it over her palm as gently as he can, wincing along with her.

When he's done touching it and can finally wrap it, Jay and Hailey take a simultaneous deep breath, with Hailey visibly relaxing her shoulders. "You doing okay?" Jay asks her as he wraps a stretch of the gauze around her palm.

Her blue eyes are focused directly on him as she nods. "I'm alright. Ready to just chill on the couch with you, even if it means talking about our fucked-up relationship with the Fourth of July." She lets out a low chuckle, and Jay can't help but let out one of his own.

He secures the gauze around her palm and meets Hailey's eyes again. After he puts everything back in the first aid kit box and puts it back where he found it, Jay turns around and meets Hailey's eyes again.

She surprises the hell out of him by throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him between her legs. Jay's hands fall to her hips and slide up to wrap tightly around her back.

Hailey buries her face in his neck — he's pretty sure it's her favorite spot as she does the same thing even when they're sleeping or just cuddling — and breathes deeply. "Thank you," she says softly into his skin, the words slightly muffled.

But Jay hears them clear as day.

He runs his hands up and down her back for a few seconds before turning his head to press his lips to her temple. His brow furrows. "For wrapping your hand?" he inquires, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

Hailey still isn't used to people doing nice things for her, even things like Jay comforting her after a nightmare, or telling her to sit and relax while he makes dinner, or, in this case, helping her clean up a damn injury.

Hailey laughs softly into his neck, her breath tickling his skin. "That, too… But I meant thank you for being here. For noticing something was wrong and getting me the hell out of that cookout before I lost it." She pulls her face from his neck and puts her chin on his shoulder, the fingers of one hand coming up to stroke the skin at the nape of his neck. "For being willing to talk to me about Afghanistan and to listen to me tell you about why the Fourth is hard for me."

Jay takes a moment to let her words sink in, then another few to choose his own words carefully. His arms stay wrapped so tightly around her that he's afraid he's crushing her, but he can't seem to loosen his hold. Suddenly, he can't get her close enough. "Hailey, you looked like you were on the verge of a panic attack; I couldn't let you stay there," he tells her with a slight shake of his head.

"And as for the rest," he continues as he runs his fingers through her ponytail, "I'm willing to listen to anything you want or need to tell me. Anything. And you know I'm an open book with you. I don't like talking about Afghanistan in general, no, but it's you. You deserve to know everything… good and bad." His fingers are threading through her ponytail with every single word — something he often does to comfort her — and she's practically melted into him.

Hailey pulls back slightly and her ocean eyes study his face. Jay takes the opportunity to study hers, too. Her eyes are slightly red-rimmed — he doesn't like that one damn bit — but to his surprise, she's smiling. Her arms are still wound around neck, her fingers still stroking the skin there.

He smiles back at her and reaches up to rub his thumb along her cheekbone, which causes her eyes to flutter shut for a moment.

"I've never loved anyone in my entire life the way I love you."

Hailey has said the words before — or a variation — but something about the way she says them now is different. He can't put his finger on exactly what's different, but whatever it is, it sends warmth shooting through him, and he leans forward to press a long, lingering kiss to the soft skin of her forehead.

"I love you, too, baby," he whispers against her skin, "more than anything."

Jay doesn't feel like his words are adequate to describe how he feels about her, but they'll have to do for now.

Jay leans in and presses a kiss to her jaw before lifting her off the counter, not even letting her go when she's firmly planted on the floor. "Let's go do that whole 'chilling on the couch' thing, yeah?" he asks, squeezing her sides.

Hailey smiles tiredly and nods, and Jay notices she's cradling her wrapped hand close to her body as she leads them back out to the living room.

"Do you need something for your hand?" Frankly, he doesn't know what would help pain of that sort, but he has to ask; she looks far more uncomfortable than he'd like. She looks at him with her brow furrowed in confusion. "You're cradling it… I thought maybe it was hurting still."

Hailey looks down at her hand and wiggles her fingers. "I'm okay. It's a childhood habit. It doesn't hurt, I promise." She gives him a smile that Jay is pretty sure is meant to be reassuring, but he isn't reassured in the slightest.

He's concerned about and sad for Hailey, and furious that her father can affect her all these years later through learned behaviors, kinda like her mom affected her at the cookout with words on a screen.

Seeing Hailey nearly shaking while looking at her phone had made him see red.

"If you say so." The words feel dismissive coming out of Jay's mouth; he regrets them immediately. Hailey doesn't seem bothered by them, though, and plops down on the couch, immediately criss-crossing her legs again and grabbing her beer from the coffee table.

"I do say so," she quips, smirking at him over the rim of her bottle. She takes a long pull, so long that it has Jay raising his eyebrows. She sees him looking at her with surprise and a little intrigue, and she smirks in a way Jay is sure should be fucking illegal.

He tries to shake the… inappropriate thoughts that pop up from his head and clears his throat. "You gonna go see your parents?"

He knows the answer already, and the look on Hailey's face confirms that he's correct. "Fuck no, I'm not. After everything my dad has done, especially on the Fourth in the past… no. Absolutely not."

Jay doesn't get a chance to say anything before Hailey hands him his beer and takes a long-ass swig from her own.

Jay takes a pull from his bottle as he pulls gently on Hailey's knee and then pats his thigh, a hint at her to uncross her legs and put her then across his lap. She does so without further prompting, letting out a contented sigh as Jay's fingers massage her legs from her knee to her ankle.

"I'll go first," he begins as he rubs circles on Hailey's left ankle with his thumb, "but it's really pretty simple. The Fourth has been… awful for me from the very first one after I got home from Afghanistan. From the look in your eyes after you talked to Will, I have a feeling he told you at least some stuff. You had this look… I can't describe it.

"Anyway… like I said in the car, every firework is enemy gunfire or an IED explosion."

Hailey sets her beer down on the coffee table and folds her hands in her lap, still favoring her newly-wrapped left one. "You'd be correct. He told me about the first Fourth after you got home and how you'd called him, crying and begging him to make it stop." Jay cringes, his right hand tightening where it now rests on Hailey's knee. "He told me about your dad finding you passed out and you telling him when you woke up that it was the fireworks that triggered you.

"He said that ever since then it's just been a hard day for you and that you try to find any distraction you can. He didn't need to tell me that sometimes you bury yourself in your work on the Fourth if we have to work, because I've worked with you… but even on those days we were working I just wish I'd considered how hard that day had to be for you."

Jay watches as Hailey looks down at her hands — something she does when she's trying to keep him from seeing the emotion in her eyes. If she would look up at him right now, she would see that his eyes are burning with tears trying to pop up in his eyes.

"I lost… a lot of friends over there — more than I can list." He can't stop the tears from filling his now, and he doesn't try to. "I held one of my best friends as he bled to death in the dirt. I held a dying toddler who had just been shot along with her mom. Her mom was already dead, but the little girl… She didn't die quick, and I see her face to this day."

He looks up, and it's clear that Hailey's heart is breaking for him. He doesn't want that, but he knows it's inevitable with what he's saying to her.

She isn't crying, but still, that look is on her face again and he fucking hates it.

"Hailey, listen to me." She nods, putting one of her hands on top of his on her knee. "When it's the Fourth and I'm working with you, whether we're doing a stakeout or chasing a suspect or doing paperwork, I'm able to block out pretty much everything because you're with me.

"You ground me. The job grounds me, but if I didn't have you beside me, even the job wouldn't be enough. You remind me that I'm not over there… I'm here. I'm in Chicago, and I'm safe. There may be bullets flying and we may be getting twisted ankles from running or carpal tunnel from paperwork, but no matter what, I know I'm safe. And you know what?" He raises his eyebrows, running his free hand up and down her leg.

Hailey looks like she just might cry, but he watches as she works to hold it together. "What?"

"Having you with me now, like this…" Jay squeezes Hailey's knee for emphasis. "You have changed everything for me. Will this day always be difficult? Of course. The fireworks will probably always set me off somehow, and I'll probably always have nightmares and flashbacks, but you, Hailey Upton," he stops as he pulls her over by her ankles until she's in his lap practically, "are everything, and I know I'll be fine if I have you, no matter what day of the year it is."

When Jay looks up at Hailey's face — really, really looks — he sees the tears in her beautiful blue eyes and the telltale pucker of her chin, and he knows she's about to lose it. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out except a sort of whimper, so she closes it and looks at Jay like he's pretty sure he's looking at her: with nothing but adoration and pure love.

Jay grabs Hailey's face in his hands just as the first of her tears falls and presses his lips to her forehead quickly, then to her lips. "Don't cry, Hails," he murmurs, stroking the tears away with his thumbs. "It's okay."

Hailey sniffles and leans into the feeling of his hands. "It's not… It's not sad tears," she tells him, grabbing one of his hands off her face and pressing a kiss to his palm before lacing the fingers of that hand with hers. "It's just that I'm not sure I've ever meant that much to anybody — romantically or otherwise. I'm glad I've been able to help you over the years, even if I didn't realize I was." She shakes her head incredulously, as if the idea of meaning everything — or even anything at all — to someone is entirely foreign to her.

Jay's pretty sure that's actually the case, and that nearly snaps his heart in two.

He squeezes her fingers with his right hand and strokes her temple with the thumb of his left. "I'll tell you more specifics at some point, but you know now that the Fourth is hard, and that it's sent me into a tailspin before. That's not something I want to talk about tonight." He waves his hand to emphasize his point. "Don't get me wrong — I may have a nightmare tonight just because the Fourth and Afghanistan are on my mind but… again, I have you. And that makes every single damn bit of difference."

Hailey leans forward and presses a hard kiss to Jay's lips. Her hands find his neck and she runs her fingers through his hair, making him shiver as her nails scrape his scalp. When she pulls away, there are tear tracks on her face, but she's smiling to the point her dimple pops.

"Goddammit, Jay Halstead," she says with a breathy chuckle on an exhale, resting her forehead against his. "You're the only person I think has ever truly loved me and I'm still getting used to meaning something to someone. I didn't know real love of any sort growing up, so… I guess what I'm trying to say is you changed everything for me, too. Everything."

Jay kisses her lips again and pulls her to his chest, her face finding the crook of his neck. Before he has a chance to say anything, Hailey speaks again.

"I guess it's my turn, huh?"

Hailey

"The Fourth always meant more fighting and beatings."

It's six words, but it's clear that they render Jay something neither he nor her often are: at a loss for words. Completely speechless.

Hailey puts her hand up before he can respond; kind of a way of letting him know he doesn't need to say anything, or try to comfort her.

Not yet.

"I'm sure you can guess why that is. My father was an alcoholic with a tendency to throw things at and beat his family — including his five-year-old daughter — and the Fourth was a perfect excuse for him to drink even more."

Jay's eyes widen in complete and total shock. "Five? He beat you when you were five fucking years old?" His face is a concoction of emotions, but the ones she sees first are sadness and pure rage.

Hailey knows she's told him some about the abuse, just as he's told her some about his time in Afghanistan and the aftermath, but she definitely hasn't told him how old she was when it started, and she doesn't dare tell him it started even earlier than five. If five elicits the look that's on his face right now, three would do him in.

So she merely nods, looking down at their intertwined fingers. "Yup. Five. That's the first Fourth of July I remember, actually, and I remember it because my dad came home shitfaced, knocked my mom unconscious, and when he caught me trying to wake her up, he pulled me away so hard he pulled my arm out of socket and fractured it."

Now Jay's face has pure anger plastered all over it. She knows he's seeing red. The anger flashes in his eyes and he looks away from her for a few moments, and she knows that's because he doesn't want to scare her.

When he looks back at her, the anger is mixed with sympathy. She's always hated sympathy and pity, but with Jay, she knows it's because he genuinely cares about what happens to her and what already has happened to her. "Hailey, I…" He trails off and she gives him a minute, stroking her thumb across the back of his hand. He blows out a breath and shakes his head. "Well, hell, that alone is enough to have a hard time with the Fourth."

Hailey lets out a humorless chuckle, looking away and chewing the inside of her cheek. "Yeah. It's what put into my head that the Fourth of July was just a day that my dad got even more mad and hurt us." She shrugs, shaking her own head just as Jay had when she realizes how fucked up that sounds. "Anyway, I'm going to give you the cliff notes version, because trust me, you do not want to hear everything. Especially not tonight when you have your own shit to deal with. Is that okay?"

Jay nods and pulls her closer to him — if that's even possible — by her hands and runs his own up and down her arms. "Of course, Hailey. You don't owe me anything. Plus, I sure as hell didn't give you a lot to work with as far as my PTSD goes, so… whatever you want to tell me, I'm here, babe. I'm listening."

Hailey swears she could cry at the softness and tenderness in his voice — yet another thing she definitely didn't grow up with.

As a child, or even a teenager, she didn't know what soft or tender even were. All she knew was loud and angry.

"So… when I was six and seven," she begins quietly as Jay leaves chill bumps on her arms with his fingertips, "both years I got lucky enough to go to my friend Ryan's house for the Fourth, and I was back home and sound asleep by the time my dad stumbled in. So truthfully, I have no idea what happened at home those years, and I'm positive I don't want to know."

As Jay listens closely and attentively, he's rubbing her back with one hand and holding one of her hands with the other, thumb swiping across her wrist, back and forth.

Hailey takes comfort in the feeling of his hands on her as she tells him everything she can cope with thinking about tonight.

Eight years old: smacked across the face so hard there was a handprint left behind, all because she was up past her 8:30 bedtime to watch the fireworks.

Nine years old: shoved hard into the corner of a table because she got in her dad's way as he stumbled into the house.

10 years old: broken wrist for a reason she can't even recall. It still aches to this day because it didn't heal correctly.

11 years old: luckily, that year was uneventful, but only because she hid up in her room all night, shaking, listening to her parents fight.

12 years old: happened to be getting a snack from the kitchen after watching the fireworks, trying to get back into her bedroom before her dad got home, when the asshole in question stumbled in, drunk off his ass and yelling. No one else was awake, so Hailey was an easy target and ended up cut by the scissors she tried to defend herself with. There's a tiny scar on her arm from it.

13 years old: stepped in between her parents as her dad threw things at her mom. Got a thick, heavy Crown Royal bottle smashed over her head and was knocked unconscious. Her older brother, Alex, found her and took her to their neighbor three doors down, who worked at Lakeshore and came into the diner all the time. Gina pulled the glass out of her head and stitched it the best she could. Hailey spent all night puking from the head injury she very obviously had.

Jay already looks physically ill, and she knows it's about to get 10 times worse.

"And then there's 14… 14 is honestly the year that really made the Fourth hard for me; caused the most damage." Her voice is uncharacteristically shaky, and of course, Jay picks up on it. His hand goes to the back of her neck just like earlier, rubbing his fingertips up and down, then side to side. Her eyes nearly flutter closed at the feeling.

Jay surprises her by speaking up before she can continue. "Hails, if you don't want to or can't talk about this tonight — or ever — I'm not expecting you to. I don't want you to feel like you have to relive this."

Hailey smiles at him, lifting a hand and wrapping it around his arm, stroking his skin as he's stroking hers. "Honestly, I relive it every time I hear fireworks, even on New Year's Eve. Telling you and getting it out there might help me, honestly."

"Makes sense."

"I've never told anyone what happened that night… not everything, anyway. But I know you would never make me tell you." Jay nods, but she can still see the worry clouding his eyes. She squeezes his arm, giving him a smile she hopes is reassuring. "I'm okay, I promise."

Jay nods reluctantly and squeezes Hailey's hand in a silent go ahead.

So she does.

She tells him about how she'd gotten home from swimming with one of her friends and thought she could make a quick dinner before her dad got home (she was wrong).

She tells him about how he came smashing through the door not ten minutes later, and he'd brought company, AKA two of the friends he'd been out drinking with (Vic and Marty).

She tells him that she'd tried hauling ass out the back, but wasn't fast enough. Her dad's "friend," Vic, had stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed her by her bathing suit strap as her hand touched the doorknob. She'd known what was coming next, and she'd been too paralyzed with fear to scream for help.

Then, wanting to get the worst part over with, Hailey tells him about Vic cornering her, shoving her up against the kitchen cabinet, putting his filthy hands in places they shouldn't have been.

Tells him about Vic trying to get her swimsuit off of her, causing her to finally scream for help, her survival instincts kicking in. But the fireworks show was so close and so loud that she was pretty sure no one heard her.

Tells him how just when she thought she was about to be raped, just when Vic had her swimsuit halfway off of her, her mom ran in from upstairs and hit Vic over the head, telling Hailey to run.

"So you did?" Jay asks, his voice sounding like he swallowed gravel. He looks like he's about to be sick. "You did run?"

"I did. I ran to Gina's house, actually." She can still feel the hot cement under her feet and hear the ear-splitting fireworks as she ran to the sweet woman's house, barefoot and terrified. "She saw that my swimsuit was pulled down and knew something had happened… Anyway, I can't hear fireworks without thinking about that night and about his hands on me, and about all the Fourths before that. New Year's Eve is bad, too."

She doesn't realize she's crying until she feels the tears fall and plop onto her arm, and suddenly Jay is wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. She can feel herself shaking, and she hates it.

"Hails…" Jay whispers right next to her ear, his hand cradling her head, fingers carding through her ponytail. She's not sure he's ever held her tighter than he is right now. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby. I'm so sorry that happened to you."

He sounds like he's going to cry, which makes Hailey's tears come faster. She still can't stop shaking. "Not your fault." She hugs him so hard her fingers dig into his back, and he's rubbing slow circles on hers now, trying to give her some comfort. "Don't be sorry. I just thought you should know." She hiccups a little, and Jay leans down to kiss the top of her head.

"Thank you for telling me all that," he whispers into her hair. "I'm sorry you went through it in the first place and then relived it tonight."

"I'm just so mad." Hailey hears the words come out of her mouth, but it feels like someone else is speaking for her. She suddenly has no control over how her voice sounds, or on how her emotions affect her tone. "I'm so fucking mad."

She feels Jay nod above her, feels his hand on her back and the other in her hair. "You have plenty to be mad about, but is there something specific bugging you?"

"That text from my mom." She hiccups again, and she hates the fact that she occasionally cries when she's mad. Jay's hold tightens on her at the sound. "God… how dare they? How fucking dare my dad be angry I didn't go see him in the hospital, and how dare my mom think it's okay to take his side and send me that text? Fuck!" The last word is practically a growl, laced with frustration and resentment, and it's muffled as she buries her face in Jay's shoulder.

He lowers his mouth to her ear and strokes the back of her neck again. "Hey, shhh," he whispers just above her ear, feeling her starting to work herself up; she's sure he could probably feel the anger seeping out of her if it were possible. "How he thinks he can just get back in your head and lure you back in after what he's done to you, I really don't know. But hell, you'd have every reason to never go back there if you didn't want to."

Typically, when people shush Hailey or, even worse, tell her to calm down, she doesn't shush, and she definitely doesn't calm down. She gets pissed off. Quick.

But when Jay shushes her, she knows he's not trying to shut her up for his own sake; he's trying to get her to stop talking so she can take a deep breath and gather herself.

And when he tells her to calm down, it isn't because she's pissing him off, or because he doesn't want to deal with whatever has her the way she is; it's because he knows she works herself either into a panic or a rage or, sometimes, makes herself sick.

It's because he gives a shit.

Hailey turns her head just a bit so her words won't be muffled. "I'll go back for his funeral, maybe. And even that's a maybe, and I know I don't even owe him that much."

Jay merely nods, and Hailey can feel his jaw clench over and over against her head. He's silent for a good minute or so, and just when she's about to say something else, he puts his hand on the back of her head to hold it to his shoulder and speaks before she can.

"You know I would never hurt you, right?" His voice is hoarse and the words are practically whispered into her hair. "Ever. No matter how bad things get… I'll never, ever put my hands on you like that. I can't even think about it. It makes me sick."

"Baby, I know you'd never hurt me," Hailey assures him in the softest voice she's ever used, because she does know. Jay won't even raise his voice at her, and when she tells him she feels like she deserves it, he immediately shuts her down and reminds her that no, she doesn't deserve that, and that he'll never do it.

So she can't even imagine him laying his hands on her out of anything but love. She knows he never would, or could.

"Okay. I want you to know that. I need you to know that." Jay's thumbs are stroking her cheekbones and temples, his eyes locked on hers. His are full of so many emotions that Hailey can't even begin to dissect them all. "I'm so sorry you went through all of that, Hailey. I knew it was bad, but… I didn't know how bad. Jesus Christ." He shakes his head against Hailey's, letting out a breath that Hailey feels whisper across her skin.

She shrugs, breathing deeply against Jay's shoulder. "It's alright… it's over now. I'm with you, and I'm safe. That's all I need right now." Finally, she tilts her head up and gives him a smile, a genuine one, even with tears drying on her cheeks. "That's all I'll ever need."

Jay

Jay had been wrong when he'd woken up this morning, thinking that today couldn't possibly end well, and that he'd be a mess all day.

It couldn't be more different than past Fourths.

After talking and crying and pouring their damn hearts out, Jay lays back against the arm of the couch, pulling Hailey on top of him, and covers them with what he's found to be Hailey's favorite blanket.

With neither of them quite ready to sleep, he flicks on the TV and settles a Friends episode. Friends is Hailey's comfort show, and to his absolute shock, he's grown to like it, too.

Hailey snuggles against his chest, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. He slips one hand under her tank top and rubs it up and down her back, fingertips massaging her knotted spine and tense back muscles (he's pretty sure she moans, but he ultimately decides to keep his mouth shut about that).

For about 30 minutes, they half-watch the show and snuggle and enjoy just being. A day that Jay had been pretty sure would be hell is ending with him on the couch, listening to his fiancé laugh at the TV as she lay safe and sound in his arms.

Hailey's laughter is loud and genuine, and it's music to his ears.

The day hasn't been a damn piece of cake for either of them, but it sure as hell has ended so much better than Jay ever could have imagined.

About half an hour into the episode, Hailey's laughter quiets and is replaced by prolonged silence, then something resembling a snore. Jay snickers, remembering all the times that Hailey has gotten up his ass for saying that she snores.

Her breathing is slow and evened out, making it even more obvious she's fallen asleep. He smiles, craning his head a tiny bit to look at her. As expected, she's out cold, clinging to him and holding a fistful of his t-shirt.

She looks so damn peaceful and relaxed — two things she rarely is — that Jay feels like a horrible person waking her to move her to her bed, but he knows he'll feel like a horrible person tomorrow, too, when she wakes up with body aches or a crick in her neck.

So ultimately, he flips off the TV before sitting up slowly (he's not sure he's ever moved so slow) with Hailey in his arms, cradling her head to his chest so it doesn't flop backwards. She doesn't even stir when he shuffles her to where she's bridal-style in his arms, or when he stands from the couch with her cradled against him.

When Jay lays Hailey down in her bed, she finally stirs, but barely. "Jay?" Her voice is small and quiet, and Jay finds it insanely cute, though he'll never tell her so.

He leans down and swipes some strands of blonde hair that have escaped her ponytail away from her face. "Yeah, it's me. You're alright. You fell asleep on the couch and I figured you'd rather be in your bed. Do you want to get up and get into something comfy?"

Typically, Hailey sleeps in sleep shorts and a light t-shirt in summer, but Jay has a feeling she won't want to mess with that tonight.

Turns out, he's correct.

He can't help but snort back a laugh when Hailey shakes her head and proceeds to sit up, take off her tank top and shuffle her jean shorts off so that she's only in her underwear and sports bra. She's still half-asleep and grumbling as she pulls back the covers and shoves her lower half under them, and Jay is positive she's never looked so damn cute.

He's also positive she'd punch him in the mouth if he ever told her that.

So he doesn't. Jay leaves her to get settled — or whatever it is she's doing — and gets ready for bed himself, using the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and stripping down to just his boxers.

Hailey will probably be pissed he didn't keep her awake to do her normal routine (use the bathroom, wash and moisturize her face, put lotion on her legs, and brush her teeth), but he's afraid if he wakes her now, her insomnia will kick in and she'll be up the rest of the night, so he leaves her be.

By the time he climbs in next to Hailey, she's a tiny bit more awake and immediately snuggles into his body, just like always.

He expects her to just conk right back out, but she doesn't. She presses a kiss to his neck and says, "I'll always be alright if I have you; no matter what day of the year it is." The words are a bit slurred, but he understands them — and their meaning — clear as day.

Jay nods and presses his lips to her forehead. "That goes both ways, Hails." The words are whispered against her skin. "I love you, baby. So much."

Hailey tangles her legs with his and snuggles her face into his neck, her skin deliciously warm against his. "I love you, too, Jay Halstead."

The clock on Hailey's nightstand reads 12:02 AM, and Jay realizes he's survived another Fourth of July, this time ending it in bed with the love of his fucking life in his arms, instead of working, or using alcohol to try to black out so he couldn't feel the pain, even temporarily.

No, tonight, he has Hailey Upton in his arms, sound asleep and clinging to him like a koala, and he's close to sleep himself.

Of course, thoughts of the people he lost in Afghanistan flash through his head just as his eyes are slipping closed, but he doesn't curl up in a ball as he has in the past at the thought of their faces, of how they died.

For the first time in years, he falls into sleep without the fear of the nightmares he's sure are coming, knowing now that even if they do come, he'll be alright.