Chapter 7: "Steps Toward Tomorrow"
Jess hung up the phone with Dana, letting out a long breath as she set it down. The social worker had been more than supportive—relieved, even—but she'd also been clear: this wasn't going to be easy. There'd be evaluations, paperwork, temporary placement approvals, and background checks. Emotional strain. Bureaucratic red tape.
Still… Jess knew without a doubt this was something she wanted to do…needed to do.
Don came into the room with two mugs of coffee and set one down beside her.
"She say what's next?" he asked, already knowing the answer wouldn't be simple.
"She's starting the paperwork for an emergency placement. Said it'll take some maneuvering, but… it's possible. She's optimistic."
Don nodded, sipping his coffee, eyes on her over the rim. "You know I'm all in, right?"
Jess looked at him and smiled. It was tired, but genuine. "I do."
They'd also stopped by O'Bryan's office earlier that morning. They felt it was only right. Lilly hadn't come into their lives by accident—Jess had found her at a crime scene. Lines could blur easily in this job, and they wanted to make sure they weren't crossing one they couldn't come back from.
To their relief, O'Bryan had offered nothing but support.
"You're not exploiting the situation," he'd said firmly. "You're stepping up for a child who needs someone. I'll make sure the department backs you."
"There's one more thing," Jess said suddenly, her voice quieter now, like it had been sitting on her chest all day.
Don looked over, alert.
"My mind's been going a mile a minute… but I don't keep things from you. O'Bryan told me he wants to recommend me for lieutenant when Sythe retires."
Don's brows lifted slightly—not surprised, just proud.
"He said I've stepped up. Led without needing the credit," she added, eyes fixed on the rim of her coffee mug. "But now… with everything going on—with Lilly—I just… I don't know if I can do both. Not well."
Don didn't answer right away. He reached for her hand instead, fingers warm and steady.
"Jess, you've always done more than what most people could handle. And yeah, this is a big shift… but don't count yourself out before you even try. Maybe this isn't a step back—it's a new step forward. Different. But still you."
Jess blinked, her throat tightening. "You think I can do both?"
"I know you can," Don said simply. "And if it ever gets too much—you won't be doing it alone."
She looked at him then, her eyes softening, the weight in her chest easing just enough to allow her to breathe again.
"You're the one person whose faith in me has never wavered, you know that?" she said quietly, her voice catching just a little.
Don's thumb gently stroked the back of her hand. "You're not doing this alone, Jess. You never will be. You don't have to carry the world on your own shoulders."
Jess leaned back against him, letting the comfort of his words wash over her. "It's not like I'll be lieutenant tomorrow anyhow," she said with a small, tired smile.
"Yeah, you've got at least a year," Don agreed, offering a slight grin. "And I love you, you know."
She smiled at him, a soft, knowing smile. "I love you, too. Thank you for believing in me."
Don's gaze softened as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Always."
The silence between them felt less heavy now—there was peace in knowing they were in this together. Whatever the future brought, they would face it side by side.
Jess stared at her phone like her entire world depended on it.
She and Don were both working today—at the lab, tucked away from the constant noise of the bullpen. It was quieter here, easier to breathe, even if just barely. Dana had submitted the paperwork for emergency placement, but it didn't work like the movies. There was no immediate decision, no dramatic courtroom scene where everything resolved in a single moment. Real life moved slower. The courts could take days. Sometimes weeks. Until then, Lilly remained in CPS custody.
She and Don had visited her twice now at the group home, Dana always present. Each time Jess left, it felt like leaving a piece of her heart behind. Lilly had clung to her tightly during the last visit, her little fingers gripping Jess's jacket like she didn't want to let go. Jess hadn't wanted to either.
Her phone buzzed—but it was just an email. Not Dana.
She sighed, rubbing her eyes, trying to push back the anxiety pressing against her ribs.
"Anything?" Lindsay asked gently, stepping into the break room.
Jess looked up, forcing a small smile. "Not yet."
Lindsay walked over, handing her a fresh cup of coffee. "It's going to come through. Dana's the best there is, and you and Don… you're already doing the hard part. Loving her."
Jess swallowed, blinking fast. "It just doesn't feel like enough. She's out there in some group home, scared, trying to make sense of everything. And all I can do is wait."
"You're not just waiting," Lindsay said, her tone firm but kind. "You're fighting for her."
"It just doesn't feel like enough," Jess sighed, the weight of unspoken worry heavy in the break room air.
Don entered moments later, the faint scent of the lab clinging to his clothes. He'd been working with Mac—more out of necessity than choice. It was his way of outrunning the gnawing anxiety that followed him anytime he wasn't near Lilly. He knew Jess hadn't heard anything yet. If she had, he would've been the first to know.
This limbo—the waiting, the hoping—was torture. Every time they visited Lilly and had to walk away, it felt like he left behind a piece of himself. Each goodbye was a quiet fracture.
He leaned against the counter and poured himself a cup of stale station coffee, not because he wanted it, but because it gave his hands something to do.
"Okay, you two," Lindsay said, her tone gently firm as she broke the silence. "I get it—this is hard. The wait sucks, and I can't even imagine what it's doing to you both. But if you keep sitting here, staring at that phone like it's going to grow legs and chase you down with answers, you're going to drive yourselves insane."
Jess gave a weak laugh, not from amusement but appreciation. Lindsay was right. And she was also one of the few people who could say something like that and make it land.
"You've got to try and keep some kind of normalcy," Lindsay added, softer now. "Even when it doesn't feel normal."
Don nodded quietly, eyes still on Jess. "She's right."
Jess sighed, setting her phone down—not far, but not in a death grip anymore either. "I know she is."
"Yes, I am right," Lindsay continued with a small, knowing smile. "Danny and I are off tonight. Lucy's still in Montana with my dad, so the house is quiet—and let's be honest, we miss having people around." She tilted her head toward Jess, then Don. "Come over. Have dinner with us. We'll play a round of 21s, maybe two. You two can just... breathe for a while."
Don glanced at Jess, reading the hesitation in her eyes before she even spoke.
"I don't know if I'll be any fun tonight," Jess admitted softly. "I can't stop thinking—"
"That's why you come," Lindsay interrupted gently. "You're not gonna stop thinking, Jess. But you can give your brain something softer to land on for a few hours."
Jess looked over at Don again, and he gave her a subtle nod.
"Okay," she said finally, exhaling. "Dinner, cards, and a break from staring at my phone."
"That's the spirit." Lindsay grinned, already pulling out her phone. "I'll tell Danny to start the grill."
Later that evening
The smell of grilled chicken and roasted vegetables filled the Messer kitchen, warm and inviting. Jess leaned against the counter, a glass of iced tea in her hand, watching Lindsay finish slicing a loaf of fresh bread.
Don was outside with Danny, manning the grill like it was an undercover op. She could hear their low chatter drifting in through the open window, the clink of tongs on the metal grate, the occasional laugh.
It was the first time all day Jess felt like she could breathe.
"He looks better tonight," Lindsay said quietly, nodding toward the window where Don and Danny were on the patio cooking the meat, their laughter drifting faintly through the glass.
Jess followed her gaze, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she watched Don effortlessly interact with Danny. There was a lightness about him tonight, something she hadn't seen in a while.
"You both do," Lindsay added, her voice gentle but knowing.
Jess nodded, feeling a weight lift from her chest. "We needed this," she said quietly. "A break. Even just for a little while."
Lindsay leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Jess with that steady calm she always carried. "Jess, what you and Don are trying to do—it's incredible. And you have everyone's support. But it's going to be hard. And it's not going to happen overnight."
Jess didn't respond right away. Instead, she reached for the bowl of salad Lindsay had prepared and carried it to the table, her movements slow, thoughtful.
"I know," she said finally. "There are rules. Walls. Systems that aren't built for doing what feels right. It's not just about love—it's paperwork and courts and proving you're 'fit.'" Her voice tightened around the last word.
Lindsay came over and helped set out the rest of the dishes. "Yeah, but sometimes the system gets it right. And when they see you two—what you're willing to do for her—I think they will."
Jess looked at her, grateful. "I hope so. I already feel like she's mine. Like she was always supposed to be."
Lindsay smiled softly. "Then don't let go of that."
Before Jess could respond, the sliding glass door opened and Danny stepped inside, carrying a tray of grilled chicken and skewers. Don followed with a grin, already reaching for the beers in the fridge.
"Dinner is served," Danny declared, setting the food down. "And I hope you're ready to lose at 21s tonight, Flack. I've been practicing."
"I'll let you win one," Don said with a smirk. "Gotta boost your confidence before I destroy it."
Jess chuckled, and Lindsay elbowed Danny playfully.
"Ignore them," she said to Jess. "They've been in a silent competition since 2008."
"Sounds about right," Jess smiled.
They sat down together, the four of them, sharing food and stories. Laughter mixed with quiet understanding, the kind that only comes from friends who'd seen the worst parts of the job—and each other—and stayed.
Jess caught Don's eyes across the table as he handed her a second helping of salad. He gave her that small smile, the one that said we've got this.
And for the first time in days, she believed it.
Later that night
The apartment was dim, the only light coming from the lamp in the living room. Jess sat curled up on the couch, her hair damp from the quick shower she'd taken after they got home. Her feet were tucked under her, a blanket draped across her lap. Don came out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea—her favorite, even though he always forgot the name of it—and handed her one before settling beside her.
They didn't talk for a few minutes. The silence wasn't heavy. Just quiet. Comfortable.
"Thanks for tonight," Jess said finally, voice low.
"Lindsay's right," Don replied. "We needed it. Even if Danny cheats at cards."
That earned him a soft smile. Jess stared into her mug for a second before speaking again.
"I keep going over everything in my head. The case, the shed, the hospital, the group home. It's like it's all still happening, even though it's not."
"It kind of is," Don said gently. "Just in a different way now."
She nodded, her eyes finding his. "You really think we're ready for this?"
He didn't hesitate. "I do. It's not going to be perfect or easy, but I know you. I know us. And I know what I felt when I sat with her in that break room. Jess… that kid needs a home. She needs people who won't disappear on her. And I think we can be that."
Jess leaned into his side, her head resting against his shoulder.
"I keep thinking about her face when she reached for my hand. Like she didn't even know if she was allowed to."
Don's arm wrapped around her, holding her close.
"She'll know now. If we get to do this, she'll know she's safe. That's the whole point, right?"
Jess closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his heartbeat against her back.
"What if I mess it up?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Together. Like we always do."
She didn't respond, not right away. Just reached down and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay," he said back.
And they sat there in the quiet, nothing pressing, nothing loud—just the two of them, hearts cracked open, and the weight of something new settling softly between them.
A beginning.
The Next Morning
The sun hadn't even crested over the city skyline when Jess stirred. Don's arm was still draped over her waist, his breathing deep and even. For a moment, she just stayed there, listening to the quiet, the calm before everything kicked back into motion.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She reached for it, blinking against the screen's light. The caller ID read: Dana CPS.
Her pulse picked up. She answered quickly, slipping out of bed so she wouldn't wake Don.
"Dana?"
"Morning," came Dana's voice, a little tired but bright. "I didn't want to wait. We got a court date."
Jess's breath hitched.
"You're kidding."
"Nope. Judge Larkin made room on the docket. Emergency hearing. Tomorrow morning, 9 a.m."
Jess rubbed her forehead, overwhelmed but grateful. "That's... incredible. Thank you, Dana."
"Don't thank me yet," Dana said. "Come prepared. It's fast, but not easy. You'll both need to speak."
"We will."
Jess ended the call and turned back toward the bed. Don was awake now, propped up on one elbow.
"Was that...?"
She nodded, climbing back in beside him. "Tomorrow. Nine a.m. We've got a court date."
Don didn't say anything at first—he just pulled her into him, held her for a long moment.
"Let's bring her home," he said finally, voice thick with quiet conviction.
Jess closed her eyes, breathing in the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, it felt real.
It was happening.
They were almost there.