Jay's mind raced. Why had they let so much time pass? Why hadn't they had this conversation sooner? He had thought she was fine. That she had moved on. But now he realized how wrong he'd been. She was as broken as he was. Neither of them had truly healed.
He spent a long time in silence, just holding her and stroking her back until she was not crying anymore. It was not like it stopped hurting but she was just so tired. Emotionally exhausted.
He felt her snuggling closer and starting to doze off on his shoulder. Her soft, steady breathing made her seem completely at peace. It felt just so good to hold her. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, feeling the scent of her hair. It was delicious—delicate and familiar. He placed a soft and gentle kiss on the top of her head.
Looking at the clock on the coffee table, he saw that it was already past 1 a.m. He sighed sadly, knowing that he was running out of time. His flight was less than 24 hours away. His heart screamed in protest. He didn't want to leave her. But he knew he had no choice.
"Er?" he whispered, careful not to startle her. "I think I should get going… It's late."
Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up still slightly drowsy. "What? No… You still haven't convinced me…"
Jay chuckled softly, though his heart ached. "You said you haven't been sleeping well. Go to your bed, Er. Get some rest. Do you work tomorrow?"
"No, I don't," she shook her head slightly, "I've got this weekend off." Her tone was casual, but her eyes betrayed her. If she had work, she'd probably just ditch it. She wasn't ready to let him go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She stood and extended her hand toward him. "Come with me."
"Huh?" He stayed rooted to the couch, caught between his longing and the guilt he was feeling.
"Just lie down by my side," she said softly, her voice pleading.
His heart tightened. "I…I don't think I'm strong enough, Er."
She stepped closer, her gaze locking onto his, vulnerable but resolute. "Please," she whispered.
Jay held back for a beat, searching her face for any sign of hesitation, but all he saw was her unwavering need. For him. For them. With a deep resigned breath, he took her hand, letting her lead him toward her bedroom.
She burrowed into her nest of pillows, rearranging them until she was comfortable. With a quick toss, she cleared a few off the bed to the floor to make room for him, then patted the mattress invitingly. "Come," she said, her voice warm. He let out a soft chuckle and slid in beside her.
His body was visibly tense but his heart full in a way it hadn't been in years. She nestled her head against his chest with her hand splayed gently over his heart, just as she used to do. It was so familiar, yet it felt impossibly fragile, like a memory brought to life. He stared at the ceiling, unable to close his eyes. How could he?
Five years. For five long years, he had dreamed of this—holding her, feeling her warmth, hearing the soft rhythm of her breathing. Even when he was angry, even when he'd convinced himself he'd moved on, the truth remained the same. He had wanted her back. Needed her back. And now she was here, but the ache inside him was sharper than ever.
Sleep was out of the question. His body betrayed him, craving her in ways that made his heart race and his guilt flare. He fought against it, clenching his fists to keep himself steady. This wasn't about desire; it was much deeper than that.
Erin was so tired. Not just physically—though her body ached from years of sleepless nights, of tossing and turning, and never truly resting. But the physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the emotional weight she carried.
She was not fully realizing the weight of the toll she was placing on herself. Over her already fragile emotional state. She was putting all her feelings aside. All her trauma, her pain.
Her focus wasn't on herself. Everything she felt—her pain, her loneliness, her fear—was tucked away in some forgotten corner of her heart. All that mattered now was him. Jay. Offering him the comfort he seemed to need so desperately. Helping him shoulder his pain, even as her own pain threatened to suffocate her. She knew it would catch up to her later. It would break her in ways she wasn't ready to confront. But she was determined to help him with whatever he needed no matter what.
But during this brief, precious moment, none of that mattered. This moment, at least, was hers. Just for a little while. Being in his arms again… it felt like home. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her hand. The soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His scent filling her senses, grounding her, soothing her. His hand resting on her back, rubbing slow circles in a way that made her feel like she could finally let go.
Her eyelids grew heavier, and she felt her defenses slipping. She couldn't fight it anymore. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to lean into the safety of him, to let the weight of her exhaustion pull her under. She let herself drift off, just for a little while.
Jay held her close, careful to keep his body as still as possible, though inside, he was a mess. The war raging within him was unbearable—his body, his heart, his mind, all at odds with one another. His body ached for her, craved her in ways he could barely control. His mind screamed at him to stay strong, to not cross the line he had no business crossing right now. And his heart… his heart whispered that this wasn't about him. That this moment wasn't his to take but hers to have.
He glanced at the ring on his finger, twisting it slightly. "Just put it back," she had said earlier, her voice trembling. "Don't make it even harder." As though the black band could act as some impenetrable barrier between them. But he knew better. The ring wasn't what kept him from leaning in and closing the final distance between them. It wasn't Hailey, either. It was just Erin. It was her fragility, her vulnerability, the way she had given so much of herself to him already without even realizing it.
If she would just take the first step. One tiny little step. But he couldn't think about that. He had to control himself. It was not what she needed. Not right now. And it could hurt her even more. No… he couldn't cross that line.
He had no illusions about what this night meant. He wasn't naïve. He wasn't a hypocrite. Crossing the last physical line wouldn't be what made him a cheater—it was far too late for that. Sharing this bed with her, holding her like this, letting her comfort him, and pouring his heart out to her… that was the real betrayal.
And if he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit the truth: he had cheated on Hailey from the very beginning. Even if he never touched another woman. He was a cheater. Not through his actions, but in his heart. Because his heart had never been hers to have. It had always belonged to Erin. From the first spark between them, it had been hers, and nothing had changed that. Not time, not distance, not Hailey, not anyone else.
But this wasn't about him. Not tonight. Tonight was about Erin. About giving her what she needed, even if it tore him apart inside. The connection between them—the warmth of her body against his, her hand resting on his chest, the way her breath slowed as she drifted into sleep—it was everything. He could feel her letting go, surrendering to the safety she felt in his arms.
So he stayed still. He pushed aside the storm raging inside him and focused on her. On the way she smelled, the way her body fit so perfectly against his, the way she trusted him enough to finally let herself rest. He wanted to remember this moment, to absorb it fully, because he knew it wouldn't last. He needed it as much as she did. And so, he held her, grounding them both in the quiet intimacy of simply being together.
When she unconsciously snuggled even closer, crossing her leg over his, it felt like torture. It took all his strength not to slide the hand that was on her back further down. But he took a deep breath and whispered softly, "Goodnight, my angel," placing a gentle kiss on her head.
The night stretched on, and his thoughts turned darker. Regret washed over him, unrelenting. Every mistake he had made since the day he walked out the door because of Abby replayed in vivid detail. Every wrong turn, every moment of stubbornness, every poor decision that had brought him here—back to her, but not how he wanted.
And yet, there was something else. Amid the guilt and longing, there was resolve. He spent the long, sleepless hours piecing together the scattered fragments of his life, trying to see how he could make things right—not just for himself, but for her. For them. It was the only thing that mattered now.
Erin started to toss and turn. The soft muffled thump of one of her pillows falling to the floor was enough to wake her up. The feeling of safety had disappeared, giving way to a racing heart and trembling body. She was having a nightmare. It was so vivid and scary. Hank had failed and Jay was shot… gone, forever.
She sat up in bed with her breathing erratic and instinctively reached out for him. But the space beside her was empty.
Panic surged through her chest like a flood she couldn't hold back. She threw back the covers, her legs tangling in the sheets as she stumbled toward the living room. It was empty. The kitchen—also empty. The quiet felt deafening. Her pulse was so loud in her ears that it was hard to have any rational thought.
She couldn't have slept more than a few hours, since it was still dark outside. A lump formed in her throat as she started to question his absence. What if this wasn't just a nightmare? What if he left her in the middle of the night? Or worse—what if none of it had been real at all? The thought sent a jolt through her already frayed nerves.
Her mind spiraled into a torrent of doubt. Had she really seen him? Felt his touch? Heard his voice whispering to her? Was he ever even here? The questions started to overwhelm her, until the fear left her frozen in place.
As she stopped, she heard the water running in the bathroom and without a second thought, she flung the door open abruptly.
Jay jumped slightly, startled by the sudden intrusion, the warm spray of the shower cascading over his body. Steam filled the air and water ran down his chest, tracing every line and curve.
She froze, her eyes betraying her as they traveled over him—slowly, instinctively. Up, down, and back up again. His body, still lean and strong, was mesmerizing, and the heat of the shower only seemed to amplify it.
Jay didn't bother to reach for a towel or cover himself. Instead, he smirked, that cocky smile she knew so well spreading across his face. He could see her struggle to pull her gaze away, her breathing quickening as her cheeks flushed.
Her jaw dropped slightly as she fought the urge to join him but she was rooted in place.
"Breathe." He mouthed without a sound, absolutely enjoying her reaction. So much that it began to show… physically. He didn't move though, his eyes locked into hers as if daring her to resist.
She looked down slowly again, stunned. She blinked quickly but her eyes seemed to have life of their own. Hypnotized
"Are you okay?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement as he noticed her panting.
But she didn't answer. She spun around abruptly, shutting the door behind her with a shaky hand.
Jay stood there for a moment, water dripping from his hair and chest, his smirk fading into a soft chuckle. "Damn. Guess that answers that," he murmured to himself.
He rinsed off quickly while recomposing himself and stepped out of the shower, grabbing his jeans and tugging them on over his still-damp legs. He ran a towel over his chest and hair, then bent down to gather her clothes from the floor.
It was always the same—her clothes tossed just beside the laundry basket but never in it. He shook his head with a bemused smile, picking up her coffee-stained silk top. He brought it to his face without thinking, inhaling deeply. That scent—her scent—sent a pang of something both comforting and painful straight through him. He chuckled, putting it inside the basket, the way it should be, but in his unique teasing way.
A soft thud brought his attention downward. Something small and white had fallen at his feet. He picked it up and brushed his fingers on the delicate lace. His throat went dry as he stared at it, then—because he couldn't resist—he lifted it closer, letting the familiar, intoxicating scent hit him.
For a moment, he was completely lost. It was like a drug he'd been craving for so long. It tugged at every nerve in his body, almost unbearable. A sly grin spread across his face as he curled his fingers around it and slipped it into his pocket. It was small enough to go unnoticed.
He threw her towel over his shoulder before stepping out of the bathroom.
She stood by the kitchen counter, gripping a glass of water as if her life depended on it. She wasn't just drinking it; she was drowning herself in it, letting the coldness flood her system in an attempt to steady her erratic heartbeat. She wasn't sure if it was the lingering terror of the nightmare, the fear of him leaving or the vision in the bathroom that had her pulse racing like this. Probably all of them.
She heard his footsteps before she saw him.
"Er?" he called, his voice soft, as if nothing had happened.
When she turned and caught his gaze, her breath hitched again. The sight of a droplet of water trailing from his neck down to his chest was enough to unsettle her once more.
Without a word, she bolted back to her bedroom, almost pushing him out of her way. Her mind and emotions were in total chaos.
Jay followed, stopping at the doorway as he watched her fling open her dresser drawer. She rifled through it frantically, grabbing a plain white, oversized t-shirt and in the process messing up the entire drawer.
She wasn't one for silk or lace when it came to sleeping. She preferred loose and comfortable shirts—especially his.
Without looking at him, she tossed the shirt toward him, her intention clear: Put it on and end this torture.
Jay caught it effortlessly, his lips curving into a small, teasing smile. "Huh… it used to be you wearing my shirts."
The words slipped out before she could stop herself. "I'm not giving those back."
His chuckle was low and warm. She risked a glance at him, only to see the genuine happiness in his expression, knowing that she still had his shirts.
She pretended to focus on fixing her drawer, unwilling to meet his eyes. But the more she tried, the messier it became.
"Nah," he continued, lifting the shirt to his nose before slipping it on, "I'd much rather keep yours anyway. This smells really good."
He grinned mischievously as he adjusted the shirt on his shoulders. "Besides," he added, his tone casual yet suggestive, "I already got my payment."
Her brow furrowed. "What payment?"
"Never mind," he said with a chuckle, clearly amused by his own secret. He doubted she'd notice any time soon what he had stolen, and he wasn't about to confess.
Instead, his smile faded as concern replaced the playful tone in his voice. "What happened, Er? You looked pretty scared when you first got in back there…"
"I had a nightmare," she admitted softly, her voice trembling. "It was about you… and then I thought you had left…"
His expression softened, and he stepped closer. "Erin, I'm not leaving without saying goodbye. That's why I came here in the first place, remember?"
The word goodbye felt like a dagger. She hated hearing it, hated the way it sounded so final, so permanent. Even after five years apart, the idea of never seeing him again was unbearable. It made her chest tighten in ways she couldn't ignore.
"I just got up to take a shower because I couldn't sleep," he said, running a hand through his damp hair. "Probably had too much coffee waiting for you yesterday…" Though, deep down, they both knew coffee wasn't the only reason.
She tilted her head, studying him. "How long were you waiting?"
"Since 9." He shrugged, trying to downplay it, but the weight in his voice betrayed him.
Her jaw dropped and she turned her head slowly in his direction. "You were… by that door… from 9 to 5? Jay, are you fucking serious?"
"I was about to leave, but… I just couldn't make myself move." He glanced down, almost embarrassed by the confession.
She blinked, stunned. "I got in at 8:45! I was there the whole time. And usually, I take a break around noon to grab something to eat or go for a walk, but I didn't yesterday because I was so swamped… I'm glad you waited."
His lips curved into the faintest smile. "Me too. Guess I didn't have anything better to do. If I hadn't waited, I'd probably be outside again today, waiting all over again—only to be disappointed since you had the day off."
"You could've come in, Jay. Asked at reception to talk to me," she said, her voice soft but firm.
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was not even sure if you still worked there, Er… I didn't know if you'd even want to see me… or if you'd just ask someone to kick me out. and I didn't want to risk it…"
Her lips quirked into a half-smile, but her eyes stayed serious. "I wouldn't have kicked you out. But… I don't know what I would've done either, to be honest."
He let out a small breath, shaking his head. "I had no idea what I was even going to say when I saw you. Even after waiting all those hours, I still didn't have the words… didn't have a clue."
For a moment, the silence hung between them. It had only been a few hours since that moment yet so much had happened.
"Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?" he asked gently, his voice low and steady.
She shook her head, looking down, her sadness clearly visible.
"I used to call Hank every time I had one of those," she whispered. "I didn't need to ask about you… He wouldn't say anything if I did. But I just knew you were okay when I talked to him." Her voice cracked as she looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What am I going to do now? How will I know it's just a bad dream?"
Jay stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers as he reached out to brush away a single tear that slid down her cheek. His touch was warm and gentle, steadying her in a way only he could.
"You call me," he said firmly.
Her lips parted slightly in surprise, but she shook her head. "Will you even have your phone?"
"I might not be able to use it all the time," he admitted, "and the reception might suck. But yes, I'll have it. I'm not going to prison, babe."
That one word—babe—made her freeze. It had been five long years since anyone had called her that, and hearing it from him now felt like a balm and a wound all at once. Her breath hitched as the walls she'd worked so hard to build trembled under the weight of his familiarity.
Jay noticed her reaction, the way her lips quivered slightly, and it only made him bolder. He stroked her face with his thumb, lingering for just a moment too long before leaning down to kiss her forehead. The warmth of his lips against her skin sent a wave of emotions crashing through her, and he lingered, tempted—aching—to let them drift lower to her lips.
But before he could, she pulled back abruptly, putting space between them before things spiraled beyond her control. He closed his eyes in frustration. But he knew he deserved it.