Chapter 22
The early morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across the living room. The quiet hum of the city waking up outside was a stark contrast to the stillness inside Hank Voight's house.
Jay was already awake. He hadn't really slept, not properly. Every time he'd closed his eyes, his mind had been too busy—flashing back to last night, to the way Erin had looked at him when she woke up from that nightmare. The way she'd curled into him, seeking comfort even when she hadn't said it out loud.
Now, though, she was still asleep, tucked into his side, her body warm and relaxed against his. His arm was wrapped securely around her, holding her close like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. And maybe it was.
He exhaled slowly, his hand moving absently along her back. He didn't want to wake her. He wanted to stay like this, just for a little longer, but reality was already creeping in. He had practice.
Jay grimaced at the thought, rubbing a hand over his face. He was supposed to be at the field soon. Coach wouldn't be happy if he skipped, especially not this close to game day. The entire team had been locked into prep mode all week, and he knew missing even one day would put him behind.
But hell—his grip around Erin tightened slightly—he didn't want to go.
Not today. Not after last night. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to stay, to call Coach and say there was an emergency, to let the team handle practice without him just this once.
But he couldn't. He knew that.
His fingers flexed against Erin's back, and as if sensing his thoughts, she stirred. A soft hum left her lips as she shifted, her face pressing into his hoodie for a moment before her eyes fluttered open.
Jay felt it the second she registered where she was. Her body tensed for a fraction of a second before she relaxed again, her green eyes flicking up to meet his.
"Morning," he murmured, voice low and rough from sleep.
She blinked at him, her lips parting slightly before she let out a small breath. "Morning," she echoed, voice still heavy with exhaustion.
Jay studied her carefully, searching for any lingering traces of last night's nightmare. But she looked… okay. Tired, sure, but the panic was gone, the weight in her eyes a little lighter.
He brushed his fingers over her hair. "How're you feeling?"
She swallowed, glancing away for a second before looking back at him. "Better," she admitted, her voice soft. Then, her brows pulled together slightly. "But you—you didn't sleep much, did you?"
Jay huffed out a small, tired chuckle. "I've had worse."
Erin frowned, shifting up slightly so she could get a better look at him. "Jay, you have practice," she said, her tone carrying that mix of concern and guilt he really didn't want her to feel.
"Yeah," he admitted, rubbing a hand down his face. "Kinda thinking about telling Coach I have an emergency, though."
Erin's eyes widened slightly, and she immediately shook her head. "Jay, no. You can't do that. You have a game at the end of the week, and you already don't get much rest as it is."
Jay held her gaze for a long moment. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was more important than some stupid practice, but he knew her. He knew she'd never let him.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just—I don't want to leave you alone."
Something in Erin's face softened, her fingers reaching out to brush against his. "I'll be okay," she promised. "I have to go to my meeting soon anyway."
Right. Her meeting. Jay exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly.
She squeezed his hand. "We both have things to do today," she reminded him gently. "I don't want you worrying about me when you're supposed to be focused on practice."
Jay let out a slow breath, his jaw clenching briefly before he finally nodded. "Fine," he muttered. "But I'm calling you the second I'm out."
Erin's lips curved into a small, grateful smile. "Deal."
Jay studied her for another beat, his hand tightening around hers like he was trying to hold on to the moment just a little longer. Then, finally, he sighed and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead and then to her lips.
"Alright," he murmured against her skin. "I'll go."
But even as he pulled away, he already knew—his mind wasn't going to be anywhere near that damn football field today. Not when all he could think about was her.
Jay pushed through practice, trying to focus, trying to lock in, but his body felt sluggish. His mind was still at Voight's house, still with Erin, and it was messing with his game. His passes were just a little off, his reaction time slower than usual—not enough for Coach to call him out yet, but enough that he was getting pissed at himself.
And then there was Ruzek.
Jay had seen him tired before, had seen him show up to practice running on fumes, but today was different. Adam wasn't just exhausted—he was in a mood.
"Alright, let's move! Next drill!" Coach shouted, clapping his hands as they broke from their formation.
Jay turned to Ruzek, who was running a frustrated hand through his already-messy hair. "Dude, what's with you today?"
Ruzek let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Man, don't even get me started."
Jay raised an eyebrow. "You look like you got maybe two hours of sleep."
"Try one," Ruzek muttered, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long sip before muttering, "Wendy's driving me up the damn wall."
Jay frowned. "Wedding planning again?"
"That would be a dream compared to last night." Ruzek let out a heavy sigh, rolling out his shoulders. "We had a fight. A big one."
Jay didn't push right away. He knew Adam well enough to let him decide if he wanted to talk.
But Ruzek didn't need much of a push.
"She thinks I don't care enough," he finally muttered. "That I'm not involved enough. Like, what the hell does that even mean? I show up to every meeting, I listen to every little detail about flowers and napkins and guest lists, but apparently, I don't have enough of an opinion? Like, do I look like a guy who gives a damn about whether we have peonies or whatever the hell else? I don't even know what a peony is."
Jay smirked, despite himself. "It's a flower."
Ruzek shot him a glare. "Yeah, thanks for that." He exhaled sharply. "But it's not just about the wedding. It's everything lately. Feels like we're on different pages all the damn time."
Jay studied him for a second. "You guys work through it?"
Ruzek hesitated. "I don't know, man."
That wasn't a good answer. Jay knew Ruzek—he was the type to brush things off, to act like everything was fine even when it wasn't. But this? This was the first time Jay had heard real doubt in his voice.
Before he could say anything else, Coach's whistle blew sharply.
"Alright, let's go! Halstead, Ruzek, I need focus from both of you—this ain't the damn playground!"
Jay clenched his jaw, shaking off the tension. He couldn't afford to be distracted. Not with the game at the end of the week.
But as he lined up for the next drill, he couldn't help but glance at Ruzek again.
Yeah. Something was definitely off.
Erin exhaled slowly as she stepped out of the cab, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. The morning sun felt too bright, the city too loud, her thoughts still tangled from the night before. But she pushed forward, because that's what she did—what she always had to do.
The office building loomed ahead, all glass and steel, and she forced herself to focus. This meeting mattered. It was important. Even if her mind kept drifting to other things.
Jay.
He'd left early for practice, his reluctance obvious even in the half-asleep haze she'd been in when he kissed her forehead before heading out. She felt bad. He'd barely gotten any rest, and it was because of her. Because of the chaos her mother brought into her life, even now.
Pulling out her phone, she typed a quick message.
Made it to the meeting. I'm good. Hope practice isn't kicking your ass too hard.
She hesitated for a second before adding:
Get some rest later, okay?
Then she hit send, tucking her phone away before stepping through the glass doors, letting the cool air of the building wash over her. Time to focus.
Inside the sleek conference room, the weight of the conversation was clear. Erin sat at the head of the table, her fingers drumming nervously against the polished wood as the executives and producers around her discussed the adaptation of The Light Within into a film. There was something surreal about it all—the emails, the phone calls, and now, this room, buzzing with serious talk of casting, location, and timeline. It was happening. The book was becoming something bigger, and Erin was trying to keep up, trying to feel grounded through it all.
"We're thinking of a next year late summer release," one of the producers said, flipping through a stack of documents in front of her. "It'll give us enough time to finish production, and we're already eyeing a few potential directors for the project."
Erin nodded slowly, trying to keep her face neutral as the conversation became more technical. She had no doubt it was all important, but her mind kept wandering. There was too much happening too fast, and she couldn't help but feel like she was losing control of something she had so carefully written, nurtured, and protected.
"And as for the casting," another executive chimed in, "we'll need to start narrowing down options soon. Have you thought about who you'd want in the lead roles?"
Erin's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. The leads. She hadn't even considered it yet—not seriously. It felt too surreal, too… personal. Would it be weird to choose someone who embodied her characters in a way that was too close to home? And who would play her?
But before she could answer, her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking her out of her spiraling thoughts. She glanced down and saw a message pop up on the screen.
You can't run forever.
Erin froze, her breath catching in her throat. The words were enough to send a chill down her spine. Her first instinct was to block the number, but something about the message felt too familiar, too… menacing. She glanced up briefly, trying to keep her composure as her phone vibrated again.
Her stomach twisted. She wasn't alone in the room, but in that moment, she felt isolated—like someone was watching her, waiting. And the idea that someone knew her past, knew about Bunny, made her blood run cold.
She quickly tucked her phone back into her bag, trying to regain her focus, to look like nothing was out of the ordinary.
But the unease lingered, curling like smoke around her thoughts.
Erin's hands trembled as she navigated the conversation, her mind doing its best to stay focused on the details of the movie adaptation. She was trying to make points about character development, pushing for a cast that could capture the raw emotion she'd poured into the pages of her book. But her thoughts kept slipping away, racing back to the unsettling feeling she couldn't shake. The anonymous message. The fact that Bunny was still out there.
She forced herself to push the thoughts aside, reminding herself that she had work to do. She needed to be present. This was a big deal for her career. The meeting was important, and the pressure of getting it right pressed down on her chest. She grabbed her notes, jotting down things she needed to finalize—actors to consider, crucial elements from the book that had to stay, moments she couldn't let slip away. But still, the knot in her stomach wouldn't loosen.
At some point during the meeting, she realized she wasn't even paying attention to the conversation anymore. The words were blurring together, and all she could focus on was the weight of what she was carrying. The text. The message. The haunting possibility that her mother, after everything, might still be lurking on the edges of her life. Erin's thoughts kept spiraling, back to the night before—the destruction, the hurt, the shattered remnants of her own home.
She wanted to reach out to Hank.
She wanted to call him and let him know, but she couldn't do it here. Not now.
Finally, the meeting came to an end. She gathered her things quickly, a sense of urgency rushing through her as she headed for the door. There was work to be done. She still had the list of actors to narrow down, the vision for the film to refine, the meeting with the director to schedule. But as Erin walked toward her car, trying to clear her mind, trying to focus on the work she had ahead of her, she froze.
Standing right in front of her car, as if she had materialized from the shadows, was Bunny.
Her heart dropped into her stomach. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Bunny was standing there, looking like a ghost from her past—a past that Erin had worked so hard to bury. The sight of her sent a cold shiver down Erin's spine. Her mother. Probably high as hell, like she always was, standing there like nothing had ever happened. Erin's mind immediately flashed back to the wreckage Bunny had left behind last night—her own house torn apart, Erin's life in pieces.
Bunny's eyes were bloodshot, her skin pale, almost sickly looking, as if she hadn't seen sunlight in days. The corners of her lips twitched into a grim smile, though there was nothing warm about it.
Erin didn't speak at first. She couldn't find her voice. It was like all the years of pain, of abandonment, of all the ways Bunny had failed her, came crashing down in an instant. But Erin wasn't that scared little girl anymore. She wasn't the same girl who used to beg her mom to stay, to stop the drinking, to stop the destruction.
She steadied herself, trying to keep calm, even though her hands were shaking. "What are you doing here, Bunny?" Erin's voice was steady, though she couldn't completely mask the hurt and confusion in it. She didn't want to show weakness, not now, not in front of her.
Bunny laughed, the sound unsettling, hollow. "What, I can't see my own daughter now? Just because you say I destroyed your life doesn't mean I'm not your mom."
Erin's stomach turned. It was almost as if Bunny was daring her to react, to fall apart. She could see it in the way her mother was standing there—defiant, like nothing was wrong, like she hadn't just torn Erin's life apart the night before.
"I don't need you here," Erin said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts. "I don't need you messing up my life anymore. You've done enough damage."
Bunny's eyes flicked toward Erin's car, then back to her with that same twisted grin. "Damage?" she scoffed. "You think you can just fix everything, don't you? Move on with your fancy books and your movie deals. But you'll always be my daughter. And I'll always be here, waiting."
Erin's heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to back away, to walk away from this whole situation, but Bunny's presence held her in place. She could feel her mother's instability, that familiar aura of chaos, creeping back into her life.
"I'm not your property, Bunny," Erin said firmly. "I've worked hard to get away from you. From all of this." She motioned to the wreckage Bunny had left behind—the instability, the endless cycle of destruction.
Bunny took a step forward, and Erin instinctively took one back, her fingers gripping the car door, ready to get inside. "You can't outrun your past, Erin," Bunny said with a sickening sweetness in her voice. "You'll never be free. Not from me. Not from your past. You'll always be tied to it."
Erin's breath hitched. The words dug into her like knives. She thought of Jay, of the life she had begun to build for herself. She thought of the future, of the possibility of escaping this, of moving on. But Bunny was right there, pulling her back into the darkness.
"I don't have time for this anymore," Erin said, her voice quieter now but filled with resolve. "I'm done with you. I'm done letting you control me."
Before Bunny could respond, Erin quickly opened the car door, sliding inside and locking it behind her. She fumbled for her phone, hands still shaking as she dialed Hank. He needed to know what had happened. This couldn't wait.
As she waited for Hank to pick up, Erin felt the weight of Bunny's presence still lingering outside the car.
She wasn't sure what would happen next. She wasn't sure what her mother would do, but one thing was certain: Erin wasn't going to let her drag her back down into that darkness.
The phone rang, and Erin's breath caught as she heard Hank's voice on the other end.
Erin's voice trembled as she spoke into the phone, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel as she tried to steady her breath. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She couldn't afford to fall apart, not now.
"She was outside my office," Erin continued, her words coming out in a rush. "I—I don't even know how she knew I was here. She seemed high, Hank. I couldn't… I couldn't do anything. She was just standing there, like she had every right to be, like everything was fine. But it's not. It's never fine."
Erin paused, her chest tightening. She could still feel Bunny's eyes on her, that sick, twisted presence that had haunted her for years. She hated how her mother could do that to her—make her feel small, make her feel weak, even though she was so much stronger now.
"Hank, she… she told me I'll never be free of her. That I'll always be tied to my past. And I… I just don't know what to do." Her voice cracked, but she tried to push through it.
On the other end, Hank's tone softened, though it was still laced with that unmistakable authority. "Erin, listen to me. You're not alone in this. We've got people on this. We'll handle it. Don't worry about her, okay? Just focus on yourself. You've worked too hard to let her drag you back in."
She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. "I just,why now again?She needs something Dad,you know it and I do too."
She felt a pang in her chest just at the thought.It wasn't the first time over the years that she asked for favours, but it was a while since she was that bad,that high,fucked up.
Hank is her dad,not whatever guy that got in and out of jail her mother was before. And Camille had been her mom, not Bunny.
Camille was there for her first prom ever,for the food and the bad. She held her tight when nightmares didn't make her sleep and when the whole world felt too heavy for her,when she kept flashing the eyes and the hands of the violent man her mom kept bringing to their life.She was 14.She didn't deserve any of that,still Bunny out her through all of it.
Hank's silence on the other end of the phone was palpable, but Erin could feel the weight of his understanding. He'd been there for her in ways most parents wouldn't even dream of. He wasn't just her dad—he was the father who had stepped in, who had always fought for her, even when she couldn't fight for herself. The thought of him protecting her now made the world feel a little less heavy. But still, Bunny's presence in her life loomed like a shadow she couldn't shake.
"I know, kid," Hank's voice softened, the rawness of her words sinking in. "I know you're tired of dealing with her, but you don't owe her anything. Not anymore. Camille—she was the mother you needed. Bunny, she—she failed you in ways no one should, and you don't have to carry that weight. I'm here. We're a team."
Erin's grip tightened on the steering wheel as her emotions roiled inside her. Camille was the warmth, the safe haven, the mother figure who had loved her like no one else could. She could still feel the love in Camille's arms—the ones that had held her when she needed it most. But Bunny… Bunny had never been that for her. Bunny had always been a ghost, someone who was there but never truly present. Someone who tore apart whatever happiness Erin tried to find, left her tangled in confusion, in self-doubt.
"I just… I don't know what to do anymore, Dad." Erin's voice was quieter now, the ache in her chest making it harder to speak. "Every time I think I'm free, she finds a way to pull me back in. And every time, it's like I'm that girl again—lost, scared, trying to survive."
Hank's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "You're not that girl anymore, Erin. You're stronger now. You're not that scared little girl who didn't know how to ask for help. You've done everything right, and you've come so far. You're not alone in this, not with me and not with Jay. And we're gonna make sure Bunny doesn't get the chance to hurt you again. I won't let her."
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words wash over her, trying to believe in them. Trying to believe in herself. Trying to believe that everything she had fought for, everything she had built, wasn't about to come crashing down.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice steady but small. "Okay. I'll try."
Hank's voice was firm, reassuring. "That's all I'm asking. I'm gonna get on the bottom of this,okay?The team and I are onto this. "
She felt a lump rise in her throat, and she forced herself to push it down. She didn't want to cry, not now. Not when she had a mountain to climb.
"Thanks, Dad. I… I'll keep you updated."
"I'll be there soon," Hank said, his tone final but filled with the kind of resolve that made Erin feel like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. "Stay safe, alright?And call that boyfriend of yours,I have the feel he is still pretty worried."
"I will," she whispered, though the words felt hollow, "God,you met him and I didn't even-"
Hank's voice dropped slightly, the edges of his words carrying the weight of someone who didn't have time for nonsense but still cared more than he let on. He leaned back against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his gaze steady on Erin as he spoke with a hard-earned sense of approval.
"Look, I'm not blind, Erin," Hank said, his tone rough but not unkind. "I've seen enough in my time to know when someone's worth a damn. If the kid can keep winning on the field, and if he can be there for you—really be there—then I'll keep my opinions to myself. I'm fine with it."
He let out a small exhale, as if that admission weighed more than it should have. "But don't get me wrong," he added, his gaze softening just enough to show he meant it, "you're my daughter. I'll be watching. And if he lets you down… well,I won't care he plays for the Bears."
The old man's voice carried that unmistakable mix of caution and pride that only someone like Hank Voight could deliver.
As she ended the call, Erin let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She still felt like she was standing at the edge of something, unsure of what would come next, but she couldn't stay frozen.
She had to move forward. For herself. For Camille. For everything she wanted to build.
But right now, she couldn't stop the nagging feeling in her chest. The one that reminded her she had a past she could never fully escape.
Erin sat across from Kim at the café, the midday sun filtering through the windows, casting a soft glow on their table. She took a sip of her iced tea, her mind racing. She'd been juggling so much lately—the movie adaptation, her work, and the emotional mess that was Bunny. But as Kim sat there, a concerned look in her eyes, Erin knew her friend wasn't about to let her brush it off.
"So, what's going on with the film?" Kim asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the undercurrent of concern in her voice. She knew Erin had been stressed, but there was something else in her friend's demeanor today—something more than just work.
Erin set her glass down, the ice clinking lightly, but her eyes were distant. "The movie's good, really. I mean, it's finally starting to come together. We're narrowing down the cast and everything's looking like it might actually happen." She tried to push a smile to her lips, but it felt forced.
Kim leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. "That's great. Really, it is. But you're not here talking to me about the movie, are you?"
Erin's heart dropped a little. Kim knew her too well. She let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling the familiar tension building. "It's just… Bunny, Kim. She showed up outside my office earlier today."
Kim's expression shifted, brows furrowing. "Bunny? Are you kidding me?"
Erin shook her head, her hands restless in her lap. "No, I wish I was. She looked… out of it. High, probably. And she was asking for something, but she didn't say what. It's like she knows how to come back into my life when things are starting to go well for me. It's like she knows how to push all those buttons."
Kim's face softened, understanding creeping into her gaze. She reached across the table, gently placing her hand on Erin's. "You've been through hell with her, and now she's showing up again, just when you've got everything going right."
"I don't know what to do," Erin admitted, her voice cracking slightly. "I've worked so hard to get to where I am, to make sure I'm not like her, that I'm not dragging people into my mess… but when I see her, I just… I don't know. It's like I'm that 14-year-old girl again, trying to figure out how to make sense of it all. I'm scared, Kim."
Kim squeezed her hand, not letting go. "I get it. You're scared. You're scared of what she'll do next, scared that she'll ruin everything you've built. But you don't have to carry that burden, Erin. You don't have to be the one to save her anymore."
Erin's breath caught in her chest, the weight of Kim's words sinking in. "I don't want to be responsible for her anymore. I just—I feel like I'm always stuck between wanting to protect myself and wanting to be there for her. Like I'm betraying a part of me by walking away."
Kim leaned in, her voice soft but firm. "You're not betraying anyone. You've already done more than enough, Erin. It's okay to let her go. It's okay to say no."
Erin stared down at her hands, her fingers trembling slightly. "But what if… what if I turn my back on her, and something happens to her? What if she really does need help, and I'm the only one who can give it?"
Kim's expression softened, but she didn't let Erin off the hook. "Erin, you can't keep giving and giving, not if it's destroying you. You've got your own life to live. You've got a future, one that you've fought for. And you can't let her pull you down again. You've got to choose yourself."
Erin's chest tightened, her thoughts racing. She wanted to believe Kim, to trust that walking away would be the right thing. But every part of her—the part that still remembered the girl who used to beg Bunny to love her—felt like it wasn't that simple.
"I'm so tired, Kim," Erin admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what the right answer is anymore."
Kim's hand tightened around hers, steady and unyielding. "I know you're tired. But you're not alone in this, okay? You've got people who love you. And you've got Jay. You're not carrying this burden by yourself."
The mention of Jay brought a warmth to Erin's chest, a small flicker of peace in the storm. "He's been good to me," she said, almost to herself. "But I don't want to pull him into all this. He's got enough on his plate with his career."
Kim raised an eyebrow. "Look,I think the guy's really into you,but I do want to meet him before declaring all."
Erin couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. "Of course you do," she said, grateful for the lighthearted moment. Kim always knew how to balance the serious with the humor, and it was just what Erin needed.
Kim leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the edge of her cup as she studied Erin. "I'm serious, though. You're not doing this alone. You don't have to handle everything by yourself, Erin. Not with him, not with any of this."
"I know," Erin replied quietly, her gaze dropping to the table again. "But I don't want to drag Jay into all my mess. He's got enough going on. I don't want to be the reason he gets caught in the storm."
Kim's expression softened, a knowing look crossing her face. "Erin, you're not dragging anyone anywhere. If anything, Jay's in it with you because he wants to be. But that means you have to let him in. You can't keep doing this on your own. Not anymore."
Erin sighed, feeling the weight of Kim's words. She had spent so much of her life keeping people at arm's length, especially when it came to her messy past. Letting someone in—really letting them in—felt like the hardest thing in the world.
"I don't know how to do that," Erin admitted, her voice small. "I'm not used to needing someone, especially not like this."
Kim gave a soft chuckle, her voice laced with affection. "Well, maybe it's time you get used to it, huh? Let people take care of you, too. You deserve that."
Erin let the words hang in the air, chewing them over in her mind. She had spent so many years thinking she had to be strong all on her own, that asking for help or letting someone else in was a sign of weakness. But maybe Kim was right. Maybe it was time to let go of that fear.
"I'll try," Erin whispered, the words feeling like both a promise and a question.
Kim gave her a supportive nod. "That's all anyone can ask of you."
They sat in silence for a moment, the clatter of the café around them, but Erin felt the weight in her chest start to lift. It wasn't an easy fix, and the road ahead still felt uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe she didn't have to walk it alone.
"I'll meet him, though," Kim added with a smirk, breaking the silence. "You can't hide him from me forever."
Erin laughed, her first real laugh of the day, the sound light and genuine. "I'll warn him. He might want to cancel that first date."
Kim raised an eyebrow, the teasing look returning. "Oh, don't worry. I'll charm him."
Erin rolled her eyes playfully, feeling more grounded than she had in days. "We'll see about that," she muttered, but the smile on her lips was unmistakable. It was a good feeling, knowing she had Kim by her side.
And maybe, just maybe, she was ready to let someone else in, too.
Jay paced back and forth in the small locker room, the cool air from the AC doing little to calm the unease swirling in his stomach. He hadn't heard from Erin since the conversation earlier that morning. Not a text, not a call, nothing. He'd tried to brush it off—told himself she was just busy, that she had her own things to handle—but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It wasn't like her to just disappear, to go radio silent.
His phone buzzed on the bench, his heart jumping in his chest, but it was just another alert from his agent. He let out a frustrated sigh and slumped back against the wall, running his hands through his hair. The team had just finished training, and while his body was exhausted, his mind was anything but at ease.
Just as he was about to dial Erin again, the door to the locker room swung open, and Antonio stormed in, his expression tense. "Halstead!" Antonio barked, his tone sharper than usual.
Jay immediately stood up, a defensive instinct kicking in. "What's up, Antonio?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though his nerves were already starting to rise again.
"You're a mess, man," Antonio snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. "You're supposed to be focused. I told you we need to work on your image, you're missing these opportunities. There's a new cover shoot lined up for you, and an interview with The Sports Report magazine. Big deal. You get this wrong, we could lose serious ground."
Jay's jaw tightened. He didn't want to deal with this right now. His mind was already preoccupied with Erin, and he wasn't in the mood for Antonio's criticism. "I'm doing my job. I'm focused on the game. Can't help if I'm not in the mood for a photo shoot right now," he said, his voice tinged with irritation.
Antonio raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. "Yeah, well, you better get in the mood, because you don't get to have an off day with this stuff. You want to keep your position in the spotlight? You need to play the game, Jay."
Jay felt his anger flaring, the combination of his nerves about Erin and Antonio's constant pressure finally pushing him to snap. "I'm playing the damn game," he shot back, standing straighter now, his hands balling into fists. "But I'm not some puppet for you to pull strings, alright? If you want me on a cover, fine. But don't expect me to smile and pretend everything's perfect when it's not. I've got my own shit going on."
Antonio's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to push back. But then, his expression softened just a little, the hard edge leaving his face. "I get it, alright? But you've got to remember that everything you do reflects the team. This isn't just about you anymore. It's about the whole image we've built. So whatever you're going through, you leave it at the door for the shoot."
Jay exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair again, frustration bubbling up. "Yeah, I know," he muttered. "Just… it's hard to focus when there's a lot going on, you know?"
Antonio sighed, nodding slightly. "Look, I'm not saying I don't understand. Just… don't lose sight of what's important here. You can't afford to let distractions get in the way of your career. If you need to talk to someone, talk. But don't let it mess with your work, Halstead. You got too much riding on this."
Jay just nodded, his posture stiff. He wanted to say more, to tell Antonio that it wasn't just about work—it was her, but he kept his mouth shut, biting back his frustration. "I'll be there," he said finally, his voice flat. He didn't want to argue anymore. He just wanted to get through this and go back to trying to fix whatever was wrong with Erin.
Antonio gave a curt nod. "Good. I'll be in touch about the details. Don't be late."
As Antonio left, Jay stayed behind, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He could feel the tension still gnawing at him, the worry that had taken root deep inside. But he couldn't do anything about it right now. He had a job to do. And if that meant pretending everything was fine for a few hours, then he'd do it.
Erin walked into her apartment, the familiar scent of her home greeting her, but something felt different,of course her glass table in the living room wasn't there,but the rest of the apartment was completely cleaned up,the mess Bunny made was just a shadow passed over.
Her heart tightened. She didn't even have to ask. Her dad. Hank had been here. He knew she'd been working too much lately, and though he didn't say it outright, this was his way of showing that he cared. She couldn't help but feel a warmth in her chest, mixed with a bittersweet sense of vulnerability. It was moments like this that reminded her of how much Hank did for her, even when she didn't ask.
With a sigh, Erin dropped her bag on the counter and made her way to the couch. She hadn't heard from Jay since the morning, and the silence between them felt like it was growing louder with every passing hour. She pulled her phone from her bag, scrolling through her messages.
She stopped when she saw Jay's name. She hadn't replied to him yet, despite his texts earlier in the day. The truth was, she wasn't sure what to say. Her mind had been a whirlwind of thoughts—about Bunny, about work, about everything—and she hadn't wanted to drag Jay into it. But the truth was, she missed him. More than she wanted to admit.
Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she finally typed, Hey, sorry for being distant today. It's been a long one. I hope you're doing alright.
She stared at the message for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, before hitting send. The weight of her own words felt heavy, like she was opening a door she wasn't sure she was ready to walk through. But she couldn't avoid it any longer. She needed to reach out. Even if things weren't perfect, even if she didn't have all the answers, she needed him to know she was still there.
After sending the message, she set her phone on the table and leaned back on the couch, her eyes closing for a moment. The silence in the room was deafening, but for the first time all day, she allowed herself to breathe, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Jay would be there to catch her when she fell.
When Jay knocked on the door, Erin's breath caught in her chest before she even moved to open it. The sound of his knock was enough to pull her out of the haze of the day, out of her own thoughts, and as soon as she swung the door open, there he was. The moment she saw him, her pulse quickened.
His eyes met hers, the kind of gaze that pulled her in deeper than she was ready to admit. For a second, it was like the world outside disappeared—like nothing mattered except the two of them standing in the doorway. She'd spent the whole day trying to keep it together, trying to push through the mess of her emotions, but now that he was here, she felt the floodgates open in the most raw, vulnerable way.
Without a word, she stepped forward, her body moving almost instinctively, drawn to him like a magnet. His eyes softened as she reached up, pulling him down into a kiss that was pure, unfiltered hunger. It wasn't just the need for his touch, it was the relief of having him here, of finally letting go of everything that had been weighing on her all day.
Jay responded immediately, his hand finding the back of her neck, pulling her closer. She could feel his heartbeat in his chest, strong and steady, as if he were grounding her. Erin let out a soft sigh against his lips, her arms wrapping around his waist, feeling the solid, reassuring presence of him against her.
It wasn't just the physical need—it was the mental, the emotional. She hadn't realized how much she needed him to be here with her, how much she needed him period until the moment his lips met hers, and all the tension, all the uncertainty, melted away.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, and Erin's fingers lingered on his chest, tracing the faint outline of his shirt like she was grounding herself. She had so much to say, but it was all lost in the way his lips still tingled on hers. The world felt a little less heavy now that he was here, but everything inside her felt alive in a way it hadn't in a while.
"God," Erin whispered, her voice raw as she looked up at him, her heart pounding. "I really needed you right now."
Jay's eyes softened, and something in his expression shifted. He stepped closer, closing the space between them again, his voice low. "I'm here, Erin," he said, his hand brushing her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."
There was an intensity in his gaze, an unspoken promise that made her heart skip a beat. It wasn't just about the pizza or the need for comfort. It was the way they fit together—the way his presence seemed to soothe the chaos inside her, making everything feel a little more manageable.
Erin leaned into him again, her hand running up his arm as she let out a shaky breath. "I've been holding it together all day," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But the second I saw you, I realized how much I needed you. More than I thought."
Jay's chest tightened at her words, and without saying anything else, he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her back into a kiss, deeper this time, slower, as if he could feel everything she had just said. His kiss was steady, comforting, as if to remind her that everything was going to be okay, that he was here now.
When they finally broke apart, Erin's hands slid around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him just a little closer. She could feel his warmth radiating against her, his heartbeat strong under her fingertips, and she couldn't help but smile against his lips.
"Don't think this means you're off the hook," Erin murmured, her lips curving into a teasing smile as she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
Jay raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips not hiding the heat in his eyes. "I think I can handle whatever you've got for me."
She laughed softly, shaking her head as she stepped back, finally letting him in. "You're lucky I'm craving pizza," she said, her tone light but still tinged with that warmth she felt when he was near.
Jay chuckled, holding up the pizza like it was the most important thing in the world. "Good thing I'm the delivery guy, huh?"
Erin shook her head, grinning, but the smile on her face faded slightly as she watched him step inside, closing the door behind him. It wasn't just the pizza or the physical need—it was him. He was exactly what she needed. And she realized, more than ever, just how much she had been holding back.
The soft glow of the TV screen flickered in the dimly lit apartment, casting gentle shadows across the room. Erin and Jay were sprawled across the couch, tangled up in each other, lazily munching on pizza. The half-eaten box was sitting between them, the delicious aroma filling the air as an old rerun of a sitcom they both used to watch played quietly in the background. Their limbs were tangled, Jay's arm around Erin's shoulders, her head resting against his chest. It felt like the world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of them in this small, warm space.
Erin let out a content sigh, her fingers tracing lazy circles on Jay's chest as she stared at the screen. Her thoughts, however, were miles away. She couldn't shake the memory of Bunny showing up at her office, looking out of it and demanding something, but never really saying what. The fear that had gripped her in that moment was still fresh, but she didn't want to burden Jay with it—not yet, anyway.
She glanced up at him, his eyes soft as he watched the TV, the easy way he was holding her making her feel like everything was safe, like nothing bad could touch her here. But even in this peaceful moment, the thought of Bunny gnawed at her, and the urge to tell Jay clawed at her.
She bit her lip, unsure of whether she should let it out or keep it to herself. Jay shifted beside her, his hand running through her hair, his lips brushing the top of her head.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice so casual, but there was an undercurrent of concern in it, as if he could sense something was on her mind.
Erin hesitated for a moment, biting her lip as she leaned up to meet his gaze. His eyes were full of care, waiting for her answer, and for a split second, she wondered if she should just keep quiet and enjoy the moment. But the words slipped out before she could stop them.
"Bunny showed up at my office today," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay's entire body tensed at the mention of her name, his eyes instantly flicking to hers, full of concern. "What? When?" he asked, his voice edged with worry. "What happened?"
Erin's heart raced as she tried to calm herself. She shifted a little in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body, and felt a wave of comfort flood over her. "I don't really know," she admitted. "She was outside my office, acting… I don't know, strange. High, probably. She was asking for something but didn't say what. She just looked… off."
Jay's jaw clenched, his expression hardening, but Erin could see the worry in his eyes. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her more tightly.
"That's not okay," Jay muttered, his voice low and tight. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Erin let out a breath, trying to ease the tension. "I didn't want to worry you. I know it's… complicated with her, but Dad's already looking into it. He's got his team on it. I'm fine, Jay."
Jay didn't respond immediately, but Erin could feel the frustration radiating off of him. His thumb gently traced circles on her arm as if to ground himself.
"You're telling me not to worry, but all I can think about is the fact that you're out there, dealing with this alone, and I can't do anything about it."
Erin's heart softened at the intensity in his voice, but she smiled softly, brushing a hand across his chest. "I'm not alone. You're here, remember? And my dad's got this under control."
Jay's frown didn't fade. He stared at her for a moment, his face still tight with worry, before he sighed in exasperation. "I'm supposed to be the one reassuring you right now, not the other way around," he grumbled. "You're the one that's supposed to be the calm, steady one, but here I am, freaking out like a damn mess because I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you."
Erin laughed softly, her fingers running through his hair, and she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I've been freaking out, too. But I'm just… I'm handling it. I'm okay."
Jay raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful, yet slightly frustrated smile. "You're sure about that?"
Erin nodded, the warmth from his concern melting the last of her tension away. "I'm sure. And I'm really glad I've got you, Jay. You're… you're one of the best things to happen to me, you know that?"
Jay looked at her, his eyes softening with emotion as he held her gaze. "I care about you, Erin," he said quietly, his voice laced with sincerity. "More than I can put into words. And I just want you safe, no matter what."
Erin smiled at him, her heart swelling at the depth of his words. She rested her head against his chest again, feeling his arms wrap around her tightly as she let herself sink back into the comfort of his presence.
As they sat there, the reruns of the sitcom playing softly in the background, Erin realized that, in the end, she didn't have to face anything alone—not anymore. Because with Jay by her side, she knew that no matter how complicated or difficult things got, she wasn't in it by herself. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay.
Erin could feel the atmosphere shift, something in the air between them changing subtly but unmistakably. It was a quiet kind of shift, like a weight lifting or a breath catching, but it felt heavier than anything she had ever experienced with Jay before. It wasn't just their bodies that were close now; something deeper, something more vulnerable, was pulling them together in ways she hadn't expected. She looked up at him, her gaze lingering on the way his jaw tightened as he stared back at her. His eyes, dark with concern, softened the longer they stayed locked with hers. There was something different in them tonight—a tenderness that hadn't been there before.
Jay's hand brushed against her cheek, fingertips warm against her skin as he slowly, deliberately, leaned in to kiss her. It wasn't rushed, not like before when desire had always seemed to take the lead, pushing them together in a whirlwind of passion. No, this kiss was careful, almost reverent, as though he was savoring her—savoring them. It was slow and deep, a kiss that made Erin feel both grounded and weightless all at once. Every inch of her skin felt electric, alive, as he deepened it, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness she couldn't quite place, but she welcomed it.
Her heart pounded harder, and she found herself pulling away slightly, breathless, just enough to look at him. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hands gentle as they moved to her back, tracing the curves of her body with an intimacy that made her feel like he knew her in ways no one else ever had. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but the words died on her lips as she saw it again in his eyes. There was something there, something raw, something that spoke to the parts of her that no one else had ever touched. It was a promise without words. A promise of care. Of tenderness. Of healing.
Before she even realized what was happening, Jay was lifting her effortlessly in his arms, his lips never leaving hers as he stood up, his body strong and secure against hers. She clung to him instinctively, her hands tangling in his shirt, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. He didn't say anything, just carried her toward the bedroom with a sense of purpose, a quiet urgency that didn't speak of lust or impatience, but something far more profound.
When they reached the bed, Jay gently laid her down, his hands never leaving her body as he hovered above her. His gaze was so intense, so soft, and his touch so careful, it made Erin's chest tighten. She could feel the weight of his affection pressing down on her, but it wasn't heavy in the way that love could sometimes feel—it was light, like a soft kiss on the forehead, like a warm embrace that made her feel like everything was going to be okay, like the broken parts of her were finally being pieced together.
Their clothes came off in a blur, but it didn't feel rushed. It wasn't about the urgency of needing to be naked—it was about being exposed, vulnerable, with someone who saw her, who understood the things she hid even from herself. His hands skimmed over her skin, soft and reverent, as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Each touch was a question, an unspoken inquiry asking if it was okay, asking if she was ready. Erin's body responded instinctively, the heat between them rising slowly, but it wasn't the same kind of heat they had shared before. This felt like more—more than just passion, more than just desire. It felt like an act of healing, of putting together something that had been broken for too long.
As his lips trailed down her neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through her, Erin felt a tear slip down her cheek. It wasn't from pain, but from something deeper, something she hadn't let herself feel in so long—love. Jay's lips found hers again, gentle and warm, and as he kissed her, she let herself fall into the depth of it. This wasn't just about sex. It wasn't about satisfying hunger or thirst or anything fleeting. This was about him—about them—about a bond that went beyond anything she had ever known. His touch, his kiss, they were all pieces of a puzzle she hadn't even realized she had been trying to solve for years.
His hands moved over her with a new reverence, treating her like something sacred, something fragile. His lips pressed to her forehead, her cheeks, the soft part of her throat, each kiss a promise, each one sealing them closer together. Erin's breath hitched, the overwhelming tenderness of it all making her chest tighten as tears welled in her eyes.
She had never known someone could love her this way—so completely, so deeply, with a softness that made her feel like she wasn't just wanted, but needed.
Jay's body was moving with hers now, slowly, deliberately, every thrust a soft reminder of the way he wanted to take care of her, to heal her. His eyes never left hers, and Erin could see it all—the concern, the care, the emotion that had always been beneath the surface but was now fully exposed. He wasn't just giving himself to her. He was giving her everything—his heart, his soul, everything that made him who he was.
And Erin let herself melt into him, letting herself feel it all. Her body, her heart, her soul—she was giving it all to him too, knowing that no matter what, he would catch her. He would hold her together.
The feeling of his heartbeat against hers was steadying, grounding. She could hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, and she realized, in that moment, that everything had changed.It She wasn't just safe with him. She was felt wanted, deeply and truly, in a way that made her feel like the most important person in the world.
And that, more than anything, made her believe that everything—every scar, every hurt, every piece of her that she thought was broken—was going to be okay. Because he was here. And he was never letting her go.
The room was quiet now, save for the soft sound of their breathing, slow and steady. Jay's arms were wrapped around Erin, his body pressed so close to hers that it felt like they were two halves of a whole. She felt completely and utterly at peace, something she hadn't known in so long. The weight of the day, of the worry, the tension, all seemed to melt away the moment she let herself relax into him. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back, and it was soothing, almost like a lullaby.
Erin had always been someone who found it hard to rest—her mind would race with thoughts, her body constantly on edge, even when she was supposed to be sleeping. But tonight, with Jay beside her, it was different. The warmth of his body, the steady presence of him, made her feel like she could finally let go. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly safe, truly cared for.
Jay, too, was quiet, his usual intensity now softened into a contented calm. His hands rested lightly on her waist, his thumb drawing slow, lazy circles over her skin, almost as though he couldn't quite believe she was here, in his arms. She could feel the slight tension still in his muscles, the edge of concern lingering in his body, but it was different now. The worry was fading, replaced by a sense of peace he hadn't known in a long time either.
As they lay there, time seemed to slow, and Erin couldn't help but smile softly to herself. She could feel her own exhaustion beginning to settle in, the weight of the day finally catching up with her. She'd been running on fumes for so long—pushing herself, trying to maintain control over everything in her life—but with Jay here, holding her, the world felt like it was finally still. It was like everything she had been holding in her chest, every fear, every concern, was gently being washed away.
Jay's breath was warm against her neck as he nuzzled into her hair, and she could feel the slightest smile on his lips as he sighed contentedly. She could sense that he, too, was drifting, that whatever had been weighing on him had been lifted, at least for now. They were just two people, lying in the quiet, wrapped in each other's presence, and it felt more like home than anything else.
Erin let her eyes flutter closed, her body sinking into the bed, into the warmth of his embrace. She had never known how badly she needed this—how badly she needed him. It wasn't about the noise of the world or the chaos of her life. It was about this moment, the two of them, together in this quiet space where nothing else mattered.
And Jay, feeling the same way, pulled her even closer, his lips brushing against her hair in a gesture that spoke volumes without saying a word. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the soft sound of their breathing filling the silence as they drifted toward sleep.
For the first time in a long time, Erin didn't feel alone. And for Jay, the comfort of knowing that someone truly cared for him, in a way that went beyond the surface, made him feel lighter than he had in a long time.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed, this… right.
As the minutes stretched on, their breathing became synchronized, both of them lulled into a peaceful, deep sleep, tangled in each other's arms, the weight of the world outside slipping away into the night. And in that moment, with Jay's heartbeat against her ear and the warmth of his touch grounding her, Erin knew that everything would be okay—because, right then, she wasn't just surviving. She was living, in a way that felt more whole and more real than she ever had before.
They had both found something, in each other, that they didn't even realize they were looking for. And as they drifted off, it was with the quiet certainty that whatever came next, they would face it together, side by side.
The soft light of the early morning filtered in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Jay's eyes fluttered open, the stillness of the moment pulling him from his dreamlike state. He could feel Erin still nestled against him, her body pressed close to his in the same gentle, unspoken way she had last night. Her hair was tousled, falling messily over her face, and for a moment, Jay just watched her, his chest swelling with something he couldn't quite name.
She looked so peaceful, so content in her sleep, and the sight of her like this made his heart tighten in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so… at ease, so calm. Everything about this—about her—felt like it was exactly where he needed to be. He let his gaze linger a moment longer, drinking in the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks and how her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in and out. She was everything he never knew he needed, and somehow, in this moment, everything felt right.
As he continued to watch her, Erin slowly stirred. Her eyes blinked open, groggy but warm, and as soon as she realized he was awake and staring at her, a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. Her lips twitched into a playful smile as she stretched against him, teasingly brushing her hand against his chest.
"Staring at me like that," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep, "I might get the wrong idea, Halstead." She raised an eyebrow, her teasing tone light and playful, but there was something in her voice that made his heart skip a beat.
Jay chuckled softly, his thumb gently grazing the curve of her shoulder. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get caught," he teased back, his smile a little crooked as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Just couldn't help myself."
Erin's smile lingered, a warmth in her eyes as she ran her hand over his chest, her fingers tracing the outline of his muscles beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. "You're lucky you're cute," she muttered with a playful grin, her voice still thick from sleep.
Jay's smile softened, his gaze falling to her lips for a moment, but he quickly pulled himself back to the present. He didn't want to get lost in that feeling, not yet. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and gave her a teasing look. "So, I guess that means you do like me, huh?"
Erin rolled her eyes but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Of course, I do," she said, the teasing tone never leaving her voice. But then, her expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she was deciding whether to tell him something. "Actually, now that you're awake, there's something I wanted to bring up."
Jay's curiosity piqued, and he shifted slightly, bringing his attention fully to her. "Yeah? What's on your mind?"
Erin hesitated for just a moment, her eyes flicking away before returning to his with a mix of amusement and sincerity. "Kim would really like to meet you."
The words hung in the air between them, and Jay blinked, caught a bit off guard. "Kim?" He repeated, unsure if he was hearing her right. "You mean your friend?"
"Yeah," Erin confirmed with a slight nod, the mischievous smile still dancing on her lips. "She's been bugging me about you for a while now. Asking what you're like, how you're treating me, all that. I think she's… well, protective. She wants to make sure you're not some jerk."
Jay couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Protective? She sounds like a real piece of work." His voice was teasing, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.
Erin playfully smacked his chest, her fingers lingering against his skin. "Hey, don't knock her too much," she warned with a grin. "She's one of the few people who truly gets me. I'm serious though. She'd really like to meet you—get to know the guy who's been making me smile like a fool."
Jay's heart skipped at the words, his smile softening as he looked at Erin. The way she spoke about Kim, with such warmth and trust, made him realize how much this woman meant to her. The idea of meeting someone so important to her felt like something he couldn't mess up. But still, his nerves crept up. "Yeah, okay. I'll meet her. When does she want to do this?"
Erin grinned, obviously pleased with his answer. "I don't know yet. I'll text her later and see what works for her."
Jay nodded, his arm pulling her closer again, letting the moment linger. "Alright, well… let's make sure I don't screw this up."
"Oh, you'll be fine," Erin said with a soft chuckle, snuggling closer to him, her lips brushing against his chest as she settled back down. "Just don't be a jerk. I'll be watching."
Jay chuckled, the sound rich and relaxed as he kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry, I've got this."
And for the first time in a long time, Jay believed it. Whatever happened next—whether it was meeting Kim or whatever else life threw their way—he felt ready. With Erin in his arms, everything else felt like it could wait. For now, they had this, and that was enough.
"You've got practise?" She asked,looking at his ragged look at five in the morning.Her hand traveling down his toned abs.
The warmth of Erin's body pressed against him, her soft breath stirring the air as she cuddled closer to him. He couldn't help but smile. His muscles were sore from the long day of training yesterday, but with Erin so close, everything felt lighter.
He could feel her hand trailing slowly down his stomach, grazing the hard muscles of his abs. His breath hitched slightly as her fingers danced over his skin, sending an electric jolt through him. He hadn't expected this—that he could wake up feeling more alive than ever, simply by being with her.
"Training?" she asked softly, her voice a little thick with sleep, but teasing, too. Her eyes were still half-lidded, but there was something playful in them, something that made him feel both at ease and on edge at the same time.
Jay let out a deep breath, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. "Yeah… soon," he muttered, his voice rough from the slumber he'd just left behind. His training schedule was demanding, but right now, time seemed to bend around Erin, like nothing else mattered. He didn't need to be anywhere, not when she was here, next to him.
As if on instinct, his hand found its way to her back, gently pushing her closer to him, his thumb brushing over the smooth skin of her waist. His heart rate quickened. He could feel the warmth of her touch and the steady, calming rhythm of her breathing. He wanted to hold on to this moment forever.
"But," Jay murmured, his voice soft but suggestive as he let his hand move to the curve of her back, "we've still got some time… and I think we should make the most of it."
Erin's lips curled into a small, teasing smile. She shifted slightly, her hand trailing up his chest, the light touch making his breath hitch as her fingers brushed over his skin. "Oh, I think we definitely have time," she whispered, her voice low and playful.
The heat between them was palpable. Jay's pulse quickened as he felt her shift again, her lips teasing against his jawline, moving lower and lower, brushing against his neck, and making his body tighten with anticipation.
"God, Erin," he muttered under his breath, his hand sliding into her hair, pulling her up to meet his lips in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened. He could taste the sweetness of her, the softness of her lips against his, and in that kiss, he found something more. It wasn't just about passion—it was everything else.
He gently cupped her face as they kissed, taking a moment to just savor her presence. When he pulled back slightly, he whispered, his voice rough but sincere, "You're the best distraction I've ever had."
Erin laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I don't mind being your distraction," she said, her fingers tracing his jawline, looking into his eyes with a playful gleam in hers.
Jay grinned, the weight of exhaustion from training long gone, replaced by the fluttering rush of something else. His hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer so their bodies aligned. His lips moved over hers again, slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to savor every single second they had together.
Her touch was gentle at first, but it quickly grew more urgent as their kisses deepened. She shifted again, now straddling him, her body pressing against his as the heat between them intensified. Her fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, and he responded by running his hands over her back, tracing the soft lines of her spine. The kiss broke for just a moment, both of them breathless.
"God, Erin," he whispered again, his voice a little more urgent now, the electricity between them sparking every time they touched. "I need you."
But it wasn't just about need. It was something more. He could feel it in the way she touched him, in the way she made him feel like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. His fingers gripped her waist gently, pulling her closer, his eyes locking onto hers.
This wasn't just a physical pull. It wasn't just lust. It was a connection, deeper than he'd ever realized before.
It was trust. It was care.
And it was love, even if neither of them said it out loud yet.
He shifted their positions, so she was lying on her back with him hovering over her, their bodies tangled beneath the sheets. His lips found hers again, but this time, it was different. This time, it was slower, more tender. He kissed her with an urgency that felt like he was trying to make up for everything that had been left unsaid—everything they hadn't fully explored yet.
Jay kissed her like he was healing all the wounds she didn't even know she still carried. His hands roamed over her body with a tenderness that made her breath hitch. She could feel the intensity in the way he touched her, in the way his kisses deepened with meaning.
As their bodies pressed closer again, the world outside seemed to disappear.
Time no longer existed—just the two of them, tangled together, exploring this connection in a way they hadn't before. And for that moment, nothing else mattered but each other.