32
The car was silent for a while, aside from the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of Will shifting in his seat. Jay kept his grip tight on the wheel, his knuckles white, his jaw locked. His mind was a blur of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours—Abby's revelation, the press explosion, Erin's voice breaking over the phone as she told him she didn't want his damn key.
He could still hear it. Could still feel it.
Will finally broke the silence. "So what'd she say?"
Jay exhaled sharply, his grip tightening even more. "She's pissed."
Will let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, no shit. What exactly did she say?"
Jay swallowed, his throat dry. His voice was hoarse when he answered. "That I should stay here. That I have bigger things to deal with." His chest constricted as he repeated her words. "She left my key with the guardian."
Will's head snapped toward him. "Ouch."
Jay let out a bitter breath. "Yeah."
"You told her everything?"
"I told her I didn't know I was still married until yesterday." His voice was quiet, almost like he was still trying to convince himself that this was actually happening. "I told her I love her."
Will sighed, running a hand down his face. "And?"
Jay shook his head, staring straight ahead at the road. "She hung up."
Will didn't respond right away. He just let out a slow breath, watching his brother carefully. "And now you wanna rush back to Chicago and fix it?"
Jay's jaw tightened. "Yeah."
"Jay…" Will hesitated, but then his voice turned firm. "You gotta be smart about this. You show up there now, desperate as hell, what do you think's gonna happen? She's still gonna be mad. She's still gonna feel like you lied to her. You need a plan."
Jay shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "I don't give a damn about a plan, Will. I just—I need to see her. I need to look her in the eye and tell her that this doesn't change how I feel about her. That I love her and I don't want to lose her."
Will sighed again but didn't argue. "Just don't make things worse, man."
Jay didn't answer. He just pressed harder on the gas, his heart pounding with one singular thought—getting back to Erin.
The ride back to Chicago stretched long and tense, the hum of the road beneath them the only real sound in the car. Jay's mind was a mess—chaotic, restless, running through every possible scenario, every mistake, every word Erin had said to him.
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "I fucked up, Will."
Will, in the passenger seat, let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. That's pretty clear."
Jay shot him a look. "Not helping."
Will held up a hand. "Alright, alright. Let's break it down, then. What's your plan?"
Jay gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I don't know, man. I just—I have to fix this."
"Fix what exactly?" Will pressed. "Erin's mad at you for keeping secrets, for not telling her about Abby—even though you didn't know you were still married. She feels blindsided, embarrassed, hurt. And now, on top of that, there's a maybe-baby in the mix."
Jay clenched his jaw. "I didn't know, Will. I didn't know about the marriage."
Will sighed. "I know that. You know that. But Erin? All she sees is that the guy she loves suddenly has a wife and might have a kid on the way. And she had to find out through the damn press, not from you."
Jay dragged a hand through his hair, frustration laced in every move. "I should've told her the second I found out."
"Yeah," Will agreed. "You should've."
Jay huffed. "Thanks for the support."
"I'm not saying it to make you feel worse," Will said, more serious now. "I'm saying it because you need to go into this knowing exactly what you did wrong and how to own up to it."
Jay let out a slow breath, nodding. "Okay. So what the hell do I say?"
Will gave him a look. "You don't have a speech ready?"
Jay shook his head. "No, I don't have a damn speech ready. I was too busy trying to keep from losing my mind."
Will crossed his arms, settling in. "Alright, then let's start with the basics. What do you want Erin to know?"
Jay didn't even have to think. "That I love her. That she's the only thing I care about. That this—whatever the hell this situation is—doesn't change how I feel about her."
"Good," Will nodded. "Now, what do you need to say? Not just what you want, but what she needs to hear."
Jay hesitated, then exhaled. "That I get why she's mad. That she was right—I should've told her sooner. And that I should've trusted her to handle the truth instead of trying to keep her out of it."
Will nodded again. "And?"
Jay shot him a tired look. "What do you mean 'and'?"
Will sighed. "And what's your plan? Because saying all of that is great, but Erin's not the type to just forgive and forget, Jay. She's gonna want to know how you plan to handle all of this."
Jay let that settle in. "I wait for the DNA test to come back. If it's mine, I step up. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to be with her." He swallowed, his voice rough. "It's always her."
Will watched him carefully. "You sure about that?"
Jay's hands tightened on the wheel. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
Will sat back, letting that sink in. The road stretched ahead of them, and Jay had never wanted to get somewhere faster.
Jay barely waited for the car to come to a full stop before he was out, slamming the door behind him. His pulse pounded in his ears, his heartbeat frantic, his mind consumed with one thing—Erin.
He needed to see her, to talk to her, to make her understand.
Will sighed from the passenger seat, watching as Jay stormed up the front steps of Erin's building. He didn't even get a chance to be dropped off at his own place—not that Jay gave a damn.
Jay knocked—no, pounded—on her door, his breath uneven, his entire body wired with desperation. "Erin, open up."
Silence.
He knocked again, harder this time. "Erin, please."
Will leaned his head against the window, muttering to himself, "This is either going to go really well or really badly."
Jay heard movement inside, the faint sound of footsteps, and then—nothing.
"Erin," his voice cracked slightly, frustration and fear creeping in. "I know you're in there."
Another stretch of silence.
He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against the door for a second before stepping back. "I screwed up. I know I did. And I should've told you sooner. But I swear to you, I didn't know about any of this until yesterday." His voice was rough, raw with emotion. "I didn't lie to you. I just—I didn't want to hurt you. But I hurt you anyway, and I—" He broke off, running a hand down his face. "Damn it, Erin, please."
Still nothing.
His hands curled into fists at his sides. He felt helpless. He had never felt so damn helpless in his life.
Will finally stepped out of the car, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. "Jay, man, maybe give her some time—"
The lock clicked.
Jay's head snapped up just as the door opened.
Erin stood there, eyes red, arms crossed over her chest. Her expression was unreadable, but the storm brewing in her gaze told him everything.
And for the first time in his life, Jay Halstead didn't know if he was about to win the most important fight of his life or lose everything that ever mattered.
Jay swallowed hard, his entire body tense as he took in the sight of her. She looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept, but it was the hurt in her eyes that gutted him the most.
She didn't say a word. Just stood there, waiting.
He exhaled, stepping forward instinctively, but she didn't move, didn't reach for him. That alone nearly shattered him.
"Erin," he started, his voice rough, "I know you don't want to see me. I know you have every right to slam this door in my face, but I—" He dragged a hand down his face, frustration and desperation warring inside him. "I need you to know the truth. All of it."
Her jaw tightened. "The truth?" she repeated, voice sharp. "You mean like the fact that you were married and didn't know? Or the fact that I had to find out from the damn internet that your now wife might be carrying your child?"
Jay flinched. "I—"
"I knew something was wrong when you left, Jay. I felt it." Her voice wavered, but she held firm. "And I didn't push. I trusted you enough to wait for you to tell me. But you didn't. And you still wouldn't have if Abby hadn't run to the press, would you?"
"No!" Jay nearly shouted, shaking his head furiously. "That's not true—I was going to tell you, I swear. I just—I didn't know how."
She let out a bitter laugh, blinking hard. "You didn't know how? You sure as hell figured out how to leave me behind fast enough."
Jay's stomach twisted. He stepped forward, softer this time, and this time, she did move—backward. Away from him.
That hurt like hell.
"Erin, I swear to you, I didn't know we were still married. I didn't know about the baby. None of this was ever supposed to touch you, I—" His voice broke, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I love you, okay? I love you so damn much. I don't care about anything else, I just—I can't lose you."
She let out a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around herself. "You might not have a choice."
Jay's chest tightened, and for the first time since this entire mess started, real fear took over.
He could handle anything. Any hit, any tackle, any loss.
But this?
Losing her?
He wouldn't survive it.
"Maybe we..rushed into things too soon.I think we need time."
Jay felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.
"No," he whispered immediately, shaking his head. "No, Erin, don't—don't say that." His voice was hoarse, desperate, barely holding together.
But she just exhaled, looking at him with those tired, broken eyes. "Jay,maybe we jumped into this fast. And I love what we had—God, I love you—but this? This is too much." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "You need to figure out what the hell is happening in your life, and I… I need to figure out if I can even handle this."
His chest ached. "So what, you're just gonna walk away?" His voice was rising, frustration mixing with the panic clawing at his throat. "After everything? Erin, I don't even know if this baby is mine. I—" He ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. "I need you. I don't need time, I don't need space—I need you."
Her lip trembled, and for a moment, he thought she might cave. That she might reach for him, let him hold her, let him fix this.
But then she took a shaky breath, forcing herself to stand taller.
"I need time," she repeated, quieter this time. "And I think you do too, even if you won't admit it."
Jay clenched his jaw, his pulse hammering in his ears. He wanted to fight. He wanted to argue, to beg her to stay, to make her see that he couldn't do this without her.
But she was slipping away, and he had no idea how to stop it.
So he just stood there, breathing heavily, watching as she took a step back toward her door.
"You should go," she murmured.
His stomach twisted painfully.
"Erin." His voice was rough, pleading.
But she just shook her head, blinking back tears.
And then, before he could stop her, she turned and disappeared inside, leaving Jay standing there, alone, with nothing but the cold air and the crushing weight of what he'd just lost.
Jay barely registered the movement of his own body as he made his way back to the car. His limbs felt heavy, like he was dragging all the weight of the last few days with him. He slammed the door shut, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Will was quiet for a second, just watching him, before he exhaled. "Jay…" His voice was softer than before, gentler, like he already knew his little brother was barely holding it together.
Jay let out a harsh breath, shaking his head as his chest ached with something he couldn't even name. "She—" His voice caught, and he pressed his lips together, shaking his head again as if it would change something. "She needs time."
Will frowned. "That doesn't mean it's over."
Jay let out a bitter, humorless chuckle. "Sure as hell felt like it was." His jaw clenched, and he dropped his head back against the seat, staring up at the roof. "I wanted to fight for her, Will. I wanted to make her see that I—I don't need time, I don't need space—I just need her." He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "But I couldn't. I can't force her to stay."
Will sighed, gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to say something but was holding back.
Jay huffed, looking over at him. "Go ahead, say it."
Will frowned. "Say what?"
"That I messed up," Jay muttered, looking back out the window. "That I should've told her everything from the start, that I shouldn't have left without explaining, that—"
"That I'm sorry you're hurting," Will interrupted.
Jay snapped his head toward him, surprised.
Will just shook his head. "I mean, yeah, maybe you could've handled it differently. But you didn't know Abby never filed the divorce papers. You didn't know she was gonna run to the press. And now? You're dealing with this the best way you can." His voice softened. "It's not your fault, Jay."
Jay clenched his jaw, looking back out the window, his chest still feeling like it had been cracked open. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm losing her."
Will was quiet for a moment before his phone buzzed in the cupholder. He picked it up, glancing at the screen. "It's Mouse."
Jay turned his head slightly at that, some of the haze of his pain clearing. He hadn't talked to Mouse in a bit—not since things with Erin had started to spiral.
Will held out the phone. "Want me to answer?"
Jay took a breath before nodding, grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. "No." His voice was rough, strained. "Hey, Mouse."
There was a beat of silence on the other end, before Mouse let out a low whistle. "Man, I don't know what the hell is going on with you, but I've been seeing your name in way too many headlines."
Jay let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well. Join the club."
Mouse sighed. "You okay?"
Jay opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed his eyes, running a hand over his face.
No. No, he wasn't okay.
But he had no idea how to fix it.
Erin sat on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest, staring blankly at the dark TV screen. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made everything feel heavier. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table for what had to be the hundredth time that night, but she didn't even glance at it. She already knew who it was.
Hank. Justin. Kim. Even Nadia.
She couldn't deal with it. Not right now.
Her eyes were swollen, her face blotchy from crying, and she hated herself for it. She hated that she had let herself get this caught up, that she had let herself believe in something that clearly wasn't as solid as she thought.
He should've told me.
That was the part that hurt the most. Not Abby. Not the baby. Not even the media painting her as the naive idiot in a love triangle she never signed up for.
It was that Jay—Jay—had left, knowing something was wrong, knowing this massive thing was hanging over them, and he had still walked out that door without saying a word.
Her breath hitched as another tear slipped down her cheek. She angrily wiped it away.
She wasn't some fragile girl who fell apart over a guy. That wasn't her.
And yet, here she was, curled up on the couch, feeling like she was breaking into a million pieces.
The phone buzzed again, vibrating against the glass table, and this time, she groaned in frustration, reaching for it.
Dad. Again.
She let it go to voicemail.
A second later, another buzz.
Justin.
She clenched her jaw, pressing decline before tossing the phone onto the other end of the couch.
She knew what they wanted to say. That she should talk to Jay. That he loved her. That this was all just a mess that could be worked through.
But they didn't get it.
They didn't understand what it felt like to wake up and have the entire world know something about your relationship that you had to read about in a damn article.
They didn't understand how it felt to see her name attached to words like the other woman.
A choked sob escaped before she could stop it, and she covered her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut.
She didn't know how to come back from this.
She didn't know if she could.
The night settled over Chicago like a blanket of cold, and Erin lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts a tangled mess she couldn't unravel. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jay's face—his pleading, desperate eyes, the way he said he loved her, the way he had left.
Her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn't stop spinning. She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing felt right. The silence in her apartment was suffocating, pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Her phone, on the other side of the bed, sat silent—abandoned. She couldn't bring herself to check it again. The messages and missed calls were just too much. They all wanted her to talk to him, to understand, but how could she? How could she ever understand what Jay had done?
Across the city, in the quiet of his hotel room, Jay lay in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. He had wanted to fix everything, to tell Erin the truth, to beg for her forgiveness. But she was right—he had lied. He had kept things from her when she deserved so much more. The weight of that mistake felt like a boulder on his chest, suffocating him in a way he never imagined.
He reached for his phone, checking the time—3:02 a.m. The hours felt endless, the silence deafening.
She hates me. She's probably better off without me. Why did I do this to her?
The thought stabbed through him like a knife.
Jay ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing as fast as his heart. He could still hear Erin's voice in his head, her words cutting through him.
His heart clenched as he recalled the way she looked when she hung up on him—broken. He knew it wasn't just anger. It was betrayal. And that was the worst kind of hurt.
I can't lose her. I can't.
But as much as he wanted to pick up the phone and call her, beg her for another chance, he knew that if he did, he might make things worse. He needed to give her space, but the ache in his chest told him that waiting might be even harder.
Both of them lay in their beds, the weight of everything pulling them further into the darkness, each of them wishing for something—anything—to make it stop hurting. But sleep never came.
The morning light filtered through Erin's curtains, but it offered little comfort. She had barely slept, and the events of the past twenty-four hours were still fresh, like an open wound that refused to heal. She had no energy for today—no energy for anything, really. But she had a meeting. One that she couldn't get out of, no matter how badly she wanted to.
She sighed, rubbing her eyes as she stood from her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. The pain of what had happened with Jay still lingered, sharp and raw. She wanted to curl up and forget everything, but she knew that wasn't an option. Life kept moving, whether she wanted it to or not.
Erin slipped on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, not bothering with anything more. She couldn't bring herself to care about appearances. The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on her, and as much as she wanted to avoid reality, she knew she had to face it.
She grabbed her keys and made her way to the door, taking a deep breath before stepping out onto the stoop.
And then it hit her.
The flashing lights. The relentless clicking of cameras. The sound of voices shouting her name.
Paparazzi. Everywhere.
Erin froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn't been prepared for this. The news about Jay and Abby, the baby—it was all over the media. She had hoped to stay out of it, to avoid the public eye, but that was impossible now.
She had no choice but to push through it. She held her head high, forcing herself to walk past the sea of cameras, their questions and flashes blinding her. "Erin! Is Jay Halstead the father? Is it true that you're the other woman?" one of them yelled.
The words stung more than she expected, but she kept her gaze ahead, refusing to acknowledge them. She just needed to get to her car, to escape.
But as she reached the car, a couple of reporters managed to cut in front of her. "Erin, are you and Jay still together? Was your relationship real, or just a publicity stunt?"
She felt a pang in her chest. Publicity stunt? That's what they thought? It wasn't just some stupid game. She had trusted Jay. But now, everything felt like it was falling apart, pieces of her life scattered across the pavement.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she hesitated, pulling it out. Will's name flashed across the screen, but she couldn't bring herself to answer it. Not now.
Instead, she got into the car, slammed the door shut, and sank into the seat. She took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself, but the tears were close to spilling over. She didn't know how much longer she could pretend everything was fine.
As the car pulled away, Erin looked back at the swarm of photographers through the rearview mirror, feeling the weight of their stares, their judgments, pressing in on her. She couldn't escape them. She couldn't escape the mess her life had become.
But as the city whizzed by outside, she realized there was one thing she could do—survive. She had to.
The meeting was supposed to be a straightforward business discussion, but Erin could hardly focus. Her mind kept drifting back to the chaotic storm of paparazzi outside her house, the articles calling her the "other woman," the lies she felt Jay had wrapped her in. The weight of it all pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone think clearly.
The moment she walked into the meeting, she could tell the atmosphere was different. The usual friendly smiles were replaced by calculating glances from the director and the crew. They were all acutely aware of the media frenzy surrounding her, and some of them seemed to enjoy the attention it brought. But as much as she hated it, she knew how the game was played. She had to keep it together.
She sat at the table, trying to focus on the conversation. The director, Steven Parker,well known in the industry for a lot of quite good movies, a man in his mid-40s with slicked-back hair and an air of arrogance about him, leaned back in his chair, studying her with an unsettling intensity. His gaze lingered longer than necessary, making Erin uncomfortable, but she ignored it, wishing just for the meeting to finish soon.
Erin's nerves were frayed as she walked through the corridors of the building, her thoughts still tangled with the mess surrounding Jay and the endless press. She was just trying to push through the meeting, trying to act like she had control over her life again, even though everything felt like it was slipping through her fingers. But when the director called her aside, her heart sank.
He was waiting for her by the side door, an almost predatory look in his eyes. He had clearly been waiting for the right moment to corner her, and now it was clear—this wasn't just business.
"Erin," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "we need to talk about this role, but also about you. It's been tough with everything going on, huh?"
She didn't even acknowledge the question, crossing her arms. "I'm here for the job."
He stepped closer, his presence invading her personal space. "I know, I know. But, you know, you've been through so much. You've been in the headlines for the last few days, the press has been relentless. You must be exhausted from all of this, right?"
She nodded, though she wasn't sure what the point was. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean we need to talk about it."
"Oh, but I think we should. Maybe you're looking for a little… distraction?" He grinned, almost lecherously. "You know, it's hard to be the other woman sometimes. But there's a certain… thrill to it. You could play that role too. Who knows? You might even be good at it."
Her chest tightened, the words hitting her harder than she expected. She'd already been compared to the "other woman" in every headline, but hearing it come from him? From someone she barely knew, someone who was supposed to be professional? It made her feel sick.
"Excuse me?" she said, her voice cold but steady.
He stepped closer, ignoring the way she flinched. "Don't pretend you don't know what I mean. You've already got the media attention. You could use it. I mean, come on, it's obvious you're already mixed up in all that drama. Why not lean into it? You could be my other woman too, Erin."
Her stomach churned at the suggestion, disgust swirling through her like a dark cloud. "You need to stop. Now."
But he was relentless, his gaze not leaving hers. "It's just a joke. Come on, we could have a little fun with it. You need to unwind, forget about all that mess. You deserve it."
Erin's heart pounded in her chest as she took a deep breath, feeling a surge of anger rise within her. "I'm not some pawn for your amusement."
He faltered for a moment, but quickly recovered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I was just offering you an out. But hey, if you're too uptight—"
"I'm not uptight," she cut him off sharply. "I'm pissed. And I don't need anyone like you to distract me from my life. So, if you think for one second that I'm going to let you disrespect me like that—" She took a step back, putting space between them. "I will leave this entire project. Don't ever talk to me like that again."
The director stared at her, eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything more. He was smart enough to realize she wasn't joking.
Erin spun on her heel, heading back to the meeting room without another word. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her as she left, but she didn't care.
She was done with the games. She wasn't going to let him, or anyone else, drag her into this mess any further.
Erin stormed into the office, her body still tense with anger from the interaction with the director. She didn't even care to knock, her mind so consumed with everything that had just happened. She needed someone to listen, someone who wouldn't treat her like an object, someone who understood. And that person was Trudy.
Trudy was sitting at her desk, flipping through papers, when Erin walked in. She didn't even give Trudy a chance to greet her before she started speaking, her voice sharp with frustration.
"Trudy, I need to tell you something. I'm done. I'm done with this project, and I'm done with that director," Erin spat, pacing in front of Trudy's desk.
Trudy looked up, her brow furrowing in concern. "What happened?"
Erin leaned against the edge of the desk, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "That director? He cornered me in the hallway, and the things he said—Trudy, he suggested I could be the other woman in his marriage. That I should lean into the media frenzy, play the part, and distract myself with him. It was disgusting."
Trudy's expression shifted to one of disbelief and outrage. "What the hell? Did he seriously say that to you?"
"Yeah," Erin muttered, running a hand through her hair. "I don't even know how he thinks that's okay. I'm dealing with enough right now, and then this? It was like he didn't even see me as a person. Just something to use for his own sick amusement."
Trudy stood up, her expression hardening. "Erin, that's absolutely disgusting. No one should ever make you feel that way, especially not someone in his position."
"I just—" Erin's voice cracked slightly, her anger giving way to the exhaustion she'd been trying to hide. "I didn't expect this. I thought this job, this whole thing with the book, would be a way for me to get some peace, to just focus on something I love. But now everything feels like a circus."
Trudy moved around her desk, placing a hand on Erin's shoulder, her voice calm but firm. "Erin, you deserve so much more than that. No one—especially not him—gets to make you feel like you're just another story or headline. You're a person, not a sideshow. We'll figure it out."
"I don't even know what to do," Erin admitted, finally looking at Trudy. "Everything is just so overwhelming. Jay, this mess with the baby, the press… and now this director acting like I'm just something to be used. It's all too much. I don't know where to turn anymore."
Trudy squeezed her shoulder, a gesture of comfort. "You turn to people who care about you. You turn to those who will have your back—like me. You've been through a lot, Erin, but you're strong. Don't let this asshole make you question your worth. You're so much more than whatever story he's trying to spin."
Erin let out a deep sigh, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease just a little. "I just want a break from all of this. I want to breathe for a second."
"You'll get that," Trudy promised, her voice softening. "You'll get your peace. And when you're ready, we'll figure out the next steps. But right now, it's okay to just focus on yourself, okay?"
Erin nodded, grateful for Trudy's support, even if just for a moment of calm. The weight of the situation hadn't gone away, but for the first time in a while, she didn't feel quite so alone in it. "Thanks, Trudy. Really."
"You don't have to thank me," Trudy said with a reassuring smile. "Just take care of yourself first, Erin. We'll handle the rest when you're ready."
Erin stood there for a moment longer, taking in the comfort of her words before finally letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Maybe, just maybe, things could start to get better again. But for now, she was taking one step at a time.
Erin's body felt like it was moving on autopilot, as if her mind and emotions had finally hit a wall. She was drained, completely emptied. The constant stream of chaos, the lies, the broken trust—it was all too much. Every day felt like a battle, and today, it felt like she'd lost.
She sat at her desk after her meeting, her eyes staring blankly at the papers in front of her, not even registering their words. She'd spent the morning with her head reeling from the director's advances, and now, after a day full of broken pieces, she felt utterly exhausted. There was a tight knot in her chest, the weight of everything suffocating her. What she needed, more than anything, was to just forget it all for a minute.
Her heart twisted as she thought of Jay, a name that once brought warmth and safety. But now, everything was complicated. He was tangled up in lies, secrets, and things he never even told her about. She didn't know where to place him in her life anymore—whether to hold him close or push him far away.
But deep down, beyond the anger, the hurt, and the exhaustion, she couldn't ignore the part of her that wanted him. The part of her that missed him, that ached to have him hold her and tell her everything would be okay.
Erin closed her eyes and let out a breath, her body heavy with exhaustion. She had no idea what she was supposed to do anymore. She didn't know if she could forgive him for all of it. But what she did know—what she couldn't deny—was that, more than anything, she needed him.
"God, I'm so tired," she whispered to herself.
Her phone buzzed with a message—another check-in from Justin, another call she'd ignored. But it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered. Except the overwhelming feeling that, if she could just have him, just for a moment, maybe she could find some peace in all the chaos.
The thought of him crossed her mind like a faint whisper, and for the briefest moment, it felt like she could breathe again. But then the reality of everything crashed back down.
She picked up her phone, fingers hovering over the screen, torn. She could call him, get answers, ask for the comfort she desperately needed. But what would that do? Could she even trust him again?
The phone sat heavy in her hand, the weight of every unspoken word between them pressing down on her chest. She didn't know if she was ready to face him. Or maybe, she was just too scared to admit how much she still cared.
Jay dragged himself out of bed, his body still sore from the emotional toll the past few days had taken on him. His thoughts were a jumble of anger, guilt, and despair—none of it making sense, none of it giving him any clarity.
He had told himself that getting up and working out would help, would clear his head. But as soon as his feet hit the gym floor, he realized it wasn't going to be that simple.
Jay's fists connected with the punching bag, the thudding sound almost drowning out the rush of thoughts swirling in his mind. He let the anger drive his movements, throwing punch after punch, the sting in his knuckles a welcome distraction from the pain in his chest. It was better than thinking, better than feeling everything he'd been holding inside since Erin hung up on him.
"Hey, man, take it easy," Adam's voice cut through the heavy silence of the gym.
Jay didn't slow down, his gaze fixed ahead, his mind on nothing but the rhythm of his fists connecting with the bag. He wanted to push it all out of his system, to burn the frustration and hurt away with each swing.
But Adam wasn't backing off. "Jay, come on, I know you're pissed, but this isn't the way."
Jay turned to look at him, his face a mask of frustration, his chest heaving from the exertion. "What do you want me to do, Adam? I fucked up. I don't even know what to say to her. I lied. I didn't tell her everything, and now… now it's too late."
Adam's expression softened, stepping closer. "You didn't know about the kid. You didn't know she was gonna go to the press. But you have to talk to her. You can't keep this locked up inside. She needs to know you're there, even if it's a mess."
Jay ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting as he paced back and forth. "It's more than that, Adam. She's so angry with me. I never told her the truth. I was a coward. And now… now everything's just falling apart. She doesn't want to hear anything I have to say."
Adam frowned, stepping in front of him, trying to ground him. "Jay, you can't just shut down. You've gotta face this, man. And you've got your teammates here. We're all here for you."
Jay's mind was still spinning. Will and Antonio had already tried to talk to him, tried to calm him down. But nothing worked. The guilt gnawed at him. He could feel every word Erin had said to him, the disappointment in her voice echoing through his head.
"I don't know how to fix this, Adam," Jay muttered, his voice tight. "I thought she understood me. But I'm not sure anymore. I don't know what to do."
Adam clapped him on the back, firm but supportive. "You fix it by showing up, man. Don't let the anger control you. Talk to her. Be honest. And if she needs time, give it to her. But you can't just walk away from this."
Jay nodded, feeling the weight of his words sink in. He had been running, avoiding the reality of the situation. But it was clear now that he had to confront it head-on. He had to fix this before it was too late.
As practice went on, Jay tried to focus, but his mind kept drifting back to Erin. He couldn't shake the image of her angry face, her disappointment. Every missed pass, every wrong move on the field, felt like a reflection of how he had messed up with her.
But his teammates were right. He couldn't just shut down. He had to fight for her, no matter how hard it was.
The day dragged on, and by the time practice ended, Jay was still no closer to knowing how to fix the mess he'd made. But one thing was clear—he wasn't going to give up on her. He couldn't.
Erin had just stepped inside her apartment, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. She hadn't even taken her shoes off when she heard the knock at the door. She wasn't in the mood for visitors, but when she peeked through the peephole, she saw the last person she expected: the director from her meeting earlier.
Her heart sank, her instincts immediately on edge. She'd barely escaped his flirtatious advances at the office, and now here he was, standing on her doorstep like nothing had happened.
With a resigned sigh, she opened the door.
"Erin, I—I just wanted to apologize for earlier," the director said, his voice smooth and charming, though there was an underlying tension in the air. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was out of line."
Erin nodded stiffly, trying her best to keep the conversation brief. "I appreciate the apology, but I really need to rest right now."
The director smiled, but there was something in his eyes that made Erin uneasy. "Of course. But I just thought I should stop by and clear the air. You know, it's important to keep things professional, and I respect you. Really, I do."
His words were honeyed, but Erin felt the familiar prickling sense of discomfort running down her spine. She tried to step back, intending to end the conversation, but before she could, he took a step forward, blocking her path.
"I'm glad you understand," he continued, his voice dropping in tone. "But you know, Erin, you're a beautiful woman. And I think we have a lot more in common than just business. I've been thinking about you a lot since we met."
Erin's stomach churned. She hadn't expected this at all, especially not after he had apologized so convincingly. She tried to remain calm, keeping a distance between them.
"I really don't think we have anything more to discuss," she said firmly, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not interested."
But the director wasn't backing off. He moved closer, his hand brushing against her arm in a way that made her skin crawl.
"Come on, Erin," he said, his voice low and insistent. "We're both adults. You don't have to play coy with me. You can't deny there's a connection between us."
Erin took a step back, her mind racing. She felt trapped, like she had no way out.
"Please, don't—"
But before she could finish her sentence, the door swung open forcefully, and Jay Halstead stood there, his presence like a sudden storm.
"Get your hands off her," Jay's voice was a thunderous growl, his jaw clenched tight with anger. The director turned, his eyes widening in surprise. Jay's posture was menacing, his body tense, ready to act.
"Who the hell are you?" the director sneered, trying to regain control of the situation.
"I'm her boyfriend," Jay stated, his words cold and lethal. "And you better leave now, before this gets worse for you."
Erin's heart skipped a beat as she looked at Jay, relief flooding her. She hadn't realized how much she needed him to be there until now. His protective stance, the fire in his eyes—he wasn't just here to defend her physically, but emotionally too.
The director hesitated for a moment, but Jay's presence was too much for him to handle. With a final glare at Erin, he muttered, "This isn't over," before turning and storming out of her apartment.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Erin let out a shaky breath, her body still tense from the encounter. Jay stood there for a moment, watching her, his eyes full of concern and something more—something deeper. He didn't speak immediately, letting her collect herself.
"Are you okay?" Jay asked quietly, his voice gentle now that the immediate danger had passed.
Erin nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek before forcing a small, shaky smile. "Yeah. I—I think so."
"What the hell did he want?"
"He was too insistent since I met him,this morning things got out of hand..then he came to apologise..apparently didn't understand the meaning behind apology.."
Jay's eyes narrowed at her words, anger bubbling up inside him. "What do you mean? What happened, Erin?"
She shook her head, her chest tightening with frustration and exhaustion. "He… first, it was just him trying to charm his way through the meeting, all smiles and apologies. But then… then it turned into something else. He said things that made me uncomfortable, like how we had this connection, how I was perfect for the role—and for him." Erin swallowed hard, her voice shaky. "He kept getting too close, Jay. I kept trying to back away, but he wouldn't take the hint. And then, when he apologized, it was all fake. He didn't get it—he thought I was just going to forget everything because he said sorry."
Jay's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "That son of a bitch—"
"I know," Erin cut him off, her tone sharp. "It doesn't matter now, Jay. What happened happened, and I—I'm just so damn tired of everything. I don't even know how I'm supposed to keep going."
Jay stepped closer, his voice lower but filled with urgency. "Erin, I need you to know—nothing, nothing gives him the right to treat you like that. You hear me?"
She nodded, her voice small but steady. "I know. But it doesn't change what happened." She snapped back into reality, "What-what are you doing here?"
Jay exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he watched her put space between them. "I know you asked for time," he admitted, his voice raw, "but I couldn't just—Erin, I had to see you. I had to try."
She scoffed, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hold herself together. "Right. Because when I say I need time, that means you just show up anyway?" Her tone was sharp, but there was an underlying waver to it, her exhaustion and frustration peeking through.
Jay took a step forward, but she tensed, and it stopped him in his tracks. He held his hands up, like he was trying to prove he wasn't a threat, that he wouldn't push her any further than she'd allow. "I didn't know this was happening," he said, nodding toward the door where the director had just left. "I swear, Erin, I didn't know. But I saw him—I saw his face when I walked in, the way he looked at you. And I just—" He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a breath. "I couldn't walk away after that. No matter what's going on with us, I wasn't about to let that bastard do whatever the hell he thought he could get away with."
Erin stared at him, her emotions crashing into each other like waves in a storm. She was furious with him for showing up uninvited, for not respecting her request for space. And yet… a part of her, the part that still ached in ways she wasn't ready to admit, couldn't ignore how fiercely protective he had been. How he had shown up—right when she needed him, even if she wasn't ready to need him.
Her throat tightened as she blinked rapidly, willing herself not to break, not to crumble under the weight of everything that had happened in the last few days. "Jay…" Her voice cracked, betraying her.
His face softened instantly. "Erin," he whispered, stepping forward again, slower this time. "Please, just talk to me."
Erin let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she looked away, her arms tightening around herself. "Talk to you?" she repeated, her voice laced with something broken, something raw. "That's funny, Jay. Because I did talk to you. I told you everything—about my past, about my mother, about how hard it is for me to trust people. And you—" Her voice cracked, but she pushed through. "You never said a damn thing."
Jay's brows furrowed, his expression shifting into something wounded. "Erin—"
"No." She shook her head, stepping back again like she couldn't stand to be near him. "You never told me anything. Not about your past, not about the army, not about whatever ghosts you carry. And you sure as hell didn't tell me that you were married—even if it was some Vegas mistake, even if it was years ago, even if you thought it was over. You didn't tell me. You lied to me."
Jay flinched at her words, his jaw tightening. "I didn't lie—"
"Don't," she cut him off, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "Don't stand there and try to twist this into something it's not. You found out you were still married, and instead of telling me, instead of coming to me and explaining, you looked me in the eye, said you were going away for work, that you'd be back soon, that you loved me. You lied, Jay."
His chest rose and fell unevenly, guilt flashing across his face as he tried to find the words to fix this, to make her understand. But what could he say? She was right.
"I would've understood," she whispered, her voice shaking now. "God, I would've understood. I wouldn't have been happy about it, but I would've been there. I would've stood by you, helped you figure it out. But you didn't even give me that choice. You just decided for me."
Jay exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I was scared, okay?" His voice was rough, desperate. "I didn't want to lose you, and I knew it would blow up everything, and I—I handled it wrong. I know that. But I swear to you, Erin, I never wanted to hurt you."
She let out a shaky breath, her anger still simmering beneath the surface, but exhaustion creeping in just as much. "You didn't trust me," she said, softer now, but somehow that hurt even more. "That's what kills me, Jay. Not the mess, not the fact that this happened before we met. It's that you didn't trust me enough to let me in."
Jay swallowed hard, his throat tightening at the weight of her words. "I do trust you."
She looked at him then, her eyes filled with something that made his stomach sink. "No, you don't," she whispered. "And I don't think you ever did."
The silence between them was deafening. Jay wanted to argue, to fight for her, to tell her she was wrong. But he couldn't. Because deep down, he wasn't sure she was.
Jay felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He wanted to fight back, to tell her she was wrong, that of course he trusted her—but the words wouldn't come. Because maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to what she was saying.
Erin sniffled, quickly wiping away a tear before it could fall, refusing to break any more than she already had in front of him. "I should've known better," she muttered, almost to herself. "I should've known this was too good to be true."
Jay stepped forward, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her, but he hesitated. "Don't say that," he pleaded, his voice rough. "Don't do that, Erin. What we had—it wasn't fake. It wasn't—" He shook his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "It was real. It is real."
She let out a bitter laugh, her arms wrapping around herself like she was holding herself together. "Was it? Because real means honesty. Real means trust." She looked up at him then, her eyes shining, full of heartbreak and disappointment. "And I don't think we ever really had that."
His stomach twisted. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You're standing here saying you trust me, but when it actually mattered, when you had the chance to prove it—you didn't. You shut me out. Just like every other person in my life who was supposed to care about me."
Jay's heart clenched at that, the weight of her words hitting him hard. He had never wanted to be just another name on that list. But he had put himself there.
"I can't—" Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath, composing herself. "I can't do this right now, Jay."
His chest tightened, panic creeping in. "Erin—"
"No." She shook her head, backing away toward the door. "I mean it. I need space. Real space. I can't have you showing up here and making this harder than it already is."
Jay's jaw clenched, every part of him screaming to fight this, to find some way to fix it. But the look in her eyes told him there was nothing he could say right now that would make this better.
So he swallowed back the lump in his throat, nodding tightly. "Okay." His voice was barely above a whisper.
Erin looked at him for another long moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression. Then she turned, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.
Jay stood there, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of everything settle onto his shoulders.
And for the first time in a long time, he felt completely and utterly lost.