Then let me help you find a way, her words kept bouncing back, his mind spiraling while he tried to make sense of everything.
He wanted to get up and just pull her close. But instead, he just placed his left hand over hers, leaning closer and enveloping her hand with both of his now. His grip was warm and steady. It felt like he was trying to anchor them both in the storm of emotions swirling between them.
Erin smiled, but as her gaze dropped to their hands, her expression shifted. Her eyes widened slightly, and she suddenly pulled her hand back, her chair scraping against the floor as she leaned away.
"You're… you're married?" she asked, her voice cracking, the surprise cutting through the air like a blade.
Jay froze. For a moment, he didn't react. His eyes followed hers to his left hand. To what caused her abrupt reaction—the black titanium ring.
He closed his eyes and opened them again, slowly, staring at his own finger, as if hoping that the ring would just disappear somehow.
"Technically… yes," he admitted, "But…," he wasn't even sure what he was about to say.
"But?" Erin repeated in disbelief.
Jay looked up at her, and his eyes filled with a complex swirl of regret and defensiveness. "It's not…," he said quickly, "It's over. We haven't been okay… for months actually, but I… I just… I never got around to…" He trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words.
Erin leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest with her expression hardening. "You never got around to what, Jay? Deciding what the hell you actually want?"
He let out a heavy sigh, as his head dropped slightly. "I didn't think it mattered… not until now," he said softly with his fingers fidgeting with the ring, avoiding looking at her.
Erin's lips pressed into a thin line. "What doesn't matter, Jay? That you are wearing a ring? That you're married? Well, it does," she said, her voice firm and raspier than usual. "It does, Jay… of course it does… God, you got married… again?"
The "again" hit him like a punch to the gut. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, shame washing over him. Yeah, he thought bitterly. He was stupid enough to make the same mistake—again. To marry a woman he didn't really love. AGAIN!.
"To whom?" she asked, looking down with a low voice. She was not sure if she wanted to know. It was none of her business, was it? Did he get back to Abby and never get a divorce in the first place? Did he meet someone new?
"You don't know?" he asked, confused, furrowing his brow. How could she not know? he wondered to himself.
Erin let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Really?" she shot back, irritation visible on her face. "Do you think he would tell me about you? Hank? Is that what you think?"
Jay blinked, caught off guard by her tone. "Yes… he's your dad," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Erin leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a sad whisper. "He would never tell me anything about you, Jay. Not even when I… insisted." Her voice wavered on the last word, and she quickly looked away.
Begged was the word that had come to her mind. But she swallowed it, replacing it with insisted. It felt safer, less desperate. But begged was the right word. And she had begged… so many times, in so many ways. "Erin! You moved on! He moved on! Just let it go! How many times do I have to tell you not to look back, kiddo?" Hank would say, as if it was easy.
Erin's jaw clenched as anger started to bubble beneath the surface, directed squarely at Hank. How the hell could he not tell me? she thought bitterly. How could he never take my feelings for Jay seriously?
"He used to say it wouldn't be fair… that since he wouldn't tell you about me, he couldn't tell me about you either." She explained.
Jay blinked, caught off guard again. "Oh…" He hadn't expected that. It surprised him, but in a way, it made sense. He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.
"Like I said… me and…" he closed his eyes and opened them again slowly, taking a deep breath, "we haven't been in a good place for a long time… I mean…" He sighed, "I don't even know why we got married in the first place."
"How long?" Erin's brows furrowed as she asked.
"How long have I been married?" He paused and waited for her to nod before answering, "Nine months."
She stared at him for a moment. "Who is she? Do I know her?"
Jay hesitated, then nodded quietly.
She knew it wasn't her place to ask. She had no claim over him, no reason to let these feelings resurface. Five fucking years! Five endless, silent years. But no matter how she tried to reason it away, the ache in her chest tightened.
"So? Who?" Her voice dropped as she asked again.
He looked down, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. "Hailey," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Erin froze, her body going rigid as the name hit her like a blow to the chest. "Hailey?" she repeated with her voice breaking. It took her every ounce of strength not to blink. She knew there was no way to hold back the tears for much longer.
Jay looked up at her, in deep confusion. "Erin?" he said her name as an urgent plea, trying to understand what she was really feeling.
"Wow…" was all she was able to whisper, shaking her head with her voice trembling.
Jay's confusion deepened as he studied her face, noticing the emotions surfacing so freely. "What… What's going on? Why are you reacting like this?" He just couldn't piece it together. He was not expecting her to still care. He didn't deserve her to still care.
"It doesn't matter, Jay. It's just… Hailey, huh? That's… something."
Jay studied her, his chest tightening as her words sank in. The realization of how much she was struggling hit him hard. "Erin…" he tried again, leaning closer, his voice softer and laced with regret.
She just held her hand up, cutting him off. "Don't," she pleaded. "Just… don't."
For a moment, they were both quiet. She looked away, avoiding the eyes that would always attract her gaze. Her breath was uneven.
He didn't know what to do. He could see clearly that she was unraveling. It scared the hell out of him. He didn't like to see her like this. He didn't mean to hurt her even more.
"I'll be right back, Jay," she said abruptly, her voice tight and brittle, as if holding back a storm.
"Erin?" Jay reached out instinctively, his hand brushing against hers, but she pulled away too quickly, slipping out of his grasp and disappearing toward the ladies' room without looking back.
He sat frozen with his hand still there stretched out for a moment before he let it sink back. He hit his fist to the table angry with himself. He had the overwhelming urge to follow her, to fix whatever had just shattered between them. But what could he do? He couldn't burst into the ladies' room after her.
He stared at the door where she disappeared without blinking. As if sheer willpower could somehow make her come back. His heart was racing and each heartbeat seemed louder as the time passed. What if she didn't come back? What if this was it—her walking out of his life for good? Again.
He cursed himself silently, as he looked back down to his hand. The ring. That damn ring. Why hadn't he taken it off? Why had he been so careless, so thoughtless?
But no… lying to her wasn't an option. It had never been an option. He knew that being honest with her was the right thing to do, but with the empty seat across from him and the suffocating silence between them, the weight of his choices crushed him.
"Please come back," he whispered under his breath, but all he could do was wait, helpless and afraid.
Erin pushed the door to the restroom open and stepped inside quickly. She was shaking and her breath was uneven. She held the edge of the sink tightly while looking in the mirror.
She tried to take a deep breath feeling like she was about to suffocate. She turned on the faucet and let the cold water run for a while before splashing her face hoping to ground herself and calm her racing heart. It didn't really help.
Hailey. The name echoed in her mind like a cruel reminder. She had told herself she wouldn't care—that whatever Jay had done with his life in the years they'd been apart didn't concern her. But hearing it, seeing the ring, knowing he had married her? It broke something inside her she didn't even realize was still whole.
Erin gripped the sink harder, her head bowing as a tear escaped and trailed down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, angrily. Don't cry, she told herself. Don't you dare cry.
But she couldn't stop the flood of emotions. Memories of her and Jay—his laugh, the way he looked at her with his magical eyes like she was the only person in the world, the promises they'd never spoken but somehow always understood—rushed back, overwhelming her. And now… he belonged to someone else.
And it wasn't just someone else. It was Hailey. She just couldn't wrap her head around it. Hailey had been her partner, someone Erin thought had her back once, even if they weren't close, even if it was for a brief moment only.
She always thought that what they had together had been special but he just fell as easily for his next partner. It felt like Hailey had gotten everything. The job she had worked so hard for, the team that was more like a family to her, the partner she had trusted her life with eyes closed for so long… and finally the man who still haunted her dreams after so many years.
She knew she couldn't be angry with Hailey. She knew it was all her own fault. It was her own choice to walk away and leave everything behind. But it didn't matter, it didn't make it anything easier.
She just tried to do the right thing—or at least do what she thought was right at the time. She couldn't possibly make the whole team lose their jobs because of her mistake. But now, here she was, watching Hailey step into the life that she had once dreamed of. Damn it!
Erin opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror again. Why the hell does this still hurt so much?
She knew she had to pull herself together. She couldn't go back out there looking like this—like the past five years hadn't hardened her enough to bear something like this.
But deep down, she knew the truth. No amount of time, distance, or walls she'd built could ever make her immune to Jay Halstead.
She thought she had prepared herself for a moment like this. Five years apart, no contact—it was inevitable that their lives would have moved on. She had tried to convince herself she'd be fine with whatever she found if their paths ever crossed again. But this? She was not prepared for this at all.
She remembered all the nights that she had spent hoping, waiting, even praying for some kind of sign that Jay missed her as much as she missed him. She had convinced herself at times that he did, that he had to.
Yeah, yeah, she had ignored his messages for months—she knew it wasn't fair—but when they stopped… When they stopped coming she felt a huge emptiness. But now, staring at her reflection, she felt foolish.
The ring was proof, wasn't it? Proof that he'd found someone else, built a life with someone else. Proof that she wasn't worth fighting for.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she straightened herself, brushing the back of her hand across her damp cheek. "Get over it, Erin," she muttered to herself. "You don't get to feel this way. Not after everything. Not after all this time."
But no matter how much she tried to push it down, the pain kept just finding its way back up again. She thought about the countless times she had considered flying back to Chicago and the nights she had spent alone, convincing herself that staying away was the right thing to do, for both of them.
And now she was, finally face-to-face with him again, and she didn't know what to do or how to control the overwhelming tide of feelings washing over her.
She reached out for a paper towel, and dabbed it all over her face. She knew she couldn't stay there forever. She knew he was waiting for her. But walking back there and sitting across from him, looking into his magical eyes and pretending she was fine, felt just impossible.
The worst part was not the jealousy or the heartbreak—it was the fear. The fear that this wasn't just a moment of pain. The fear that she had walked back into his life for a fleeting moment, but then she would lose him all over again. Why? Why did he come back? Why was he still able to mess up with her like that?
She had spent five years trying so hard to move on, to bury the pain, to convince herself she could build a life without him. But it had been just a bunch of lies that she had told herself. And now, all of that would crumble down and crush her again. Every wound she thought had healed was splitting right open. How was she supposed to go through that all over again, knowing the pain that was waiting for her?
Her breath hitched as that realization hit her: this time, it might really be forever. A real goodbye. Wasn't that what he meant?
Erin closed her eyes. She needed a plan, a way to steel herself for what came next. But no matter how much she tried, there was no strategy, no armor strong enough to shield her from him.
Because no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she wasn't over Jay Halstead. And she didn't know if she would ever be.
Come on, Erin, just please come back, he thought, tapping his fingers on the table as his legs were bouncing nervously.
He reached for his phone, trying to keep himself busy. Something to distract him from the storm in his mind.
He thought about writing her a message. What would he say? I'm sorry? I didn't mean to hurt you? Please come back? But nothing felt right. Nothing felt enough. And even if he had the perfect message, he wouldn't even know what number to send it to.
He didn't have her New York number, and he knew that her old Chicago line had gone dark for a long time. During the first year after she left, he'd tried to call her several times but she never answered. He left voicemails and text messages, but those were also ignored. Eventually, he forced himself to stop. Because that hurt too deep.
It was only on her birthday the following year, when he dialed once more that he heard the cold recording: "The number you have dialed is not in service," that his last hope was snapped. She was really gone.
His mind replayed the moment she had walked away from the table—from him. The sad look on her face as she turned, the way she'd slipped her hand out of his so fast as if she was fleeing from something more than just a conversation.
It had been a mistake, he realized, to come back, to try to just pick up from where they left off. He had moved on, or at least tried to. But the pain on her face when she'd asked about the ring, when she'd said the word again—it had all come crashing down on him.
He couldn't get rid of the guilt and regret every time his eyes flicked to the door. He should've taken the damned ring off. He should've known it wasn't going to be that simple.
He cursed himself again, wondering if she was ok. He couldn't sit here forever. He had to make things right.
But what if it's too late? What if this was it? What if she never came back, never wanted to face him again? He couldn't bear the thought of losing her… again. The fear of her slipping away from him, before they even had a chance to really talk was unbearable.
The anxiety was overwhelming, and it was getting worse each passing second. What are you doing, Halstead? he thought. Just go out there and talk to her. Kick in that fucking door if you need to!
Five more minutes, he told himself. He would give her just five more minutes and if she wasn't back, he would have to do something… anything… but the resolve crumbled as fast as it came… and he just glanced at the door again. Please, Erin. Come back. Please…
Erin stood there in the same position, with her hands gripping the edge of the sink. She took a few deep breaths to stead herself. Her face was flushed, her heart still racing, but the storm inside of her was starting to settle. The tears had finally stopped.
She couldn't stay hiding in this bathroom forever. Not with Jay waiting for her. But? How was she supposed to face him again?
She sniffed, taking a slow breath. The waves of pain hadn't quite receded, but she was starting to see through the fog. Jay had made choices, and they were choices she couldn't control, that she couldn't change, but she could control how she responded. She could be strong. She could almost hear Dr. Cass voice coaching her.
She looked at her phone. She thought about calling Dr. Cass. But that was just silly. She couldn't help her now. What the hell would she do? A session in the restroom while he was waiting for her? She laughed bitterly. A session wouldn't even be enough for her to start telling Dr. Cass what was going on inside of her head. No. That was not an option. She was by herself on that one.
Therapy had always been a painstaking process—two steps forward, one step back—but now it felt like she'd stumbled all the way back to square one. Over a year of hard work… just gone. The anger bubbled up from deep inside, threatening to boil over. She was supposed to be strong, unshakable, self-reliant. She had worked so hard to rebuild herself, to prove that she didn't need anyone to stand tall. And yet here she was, unraveling, her hard-earned composure slipping through her fingers. Over a man. A fucking man. The realization stung as much as the situation itself, leaving her furious, not just at him, but mostly at herself for letting it happen. But it was not just any man, was it? She couldn't even stay angry at him for long. Just the thought of him, his eyes, his smile, was enough to make her heart melt.
She tried to forget about the ring for a second. The image of him telling about the army and Bolivia came back rushing. He was so lost. He was struggling. And… he needed her. That thought was enough for her to push her own pain aside, just a little. She had to walk back there.
She looked at herself one last time in the mirror, taking a deep breath, straightening herself. Her reflection wasn't perfect. Her eyes still held the shadows of hurt, and her heart still thudded uncomfortably in her chest, but no matter how much it stung, she had to face this moment with grace, for both their sakes.
With a final exhale, she smoothed her hair and wiped her face, pulling herself together as best as she could. She wasn't going to run. She wasn't going to let the hurt define her.