Chapter 14:The Space Between
Jess stood across the street from Tiley's Diner, her breath shallow as she stared at the familiar building. It was the closest she'd come to it since that day—the day everything changed. The day the shooting shattered not just her body but a place that had once felt like home.
She had always loved coming here for breakfast, especially with Don. They'd spent countless mornings in the booth by the window, sipping coffee and talking about everything and nothing. Tiley's had been their place. Until it wasn't.
Now, the diner looked nothing like the wreckage she remembered. The shattered window had been replaced. The walls were freshly painted, the neon sign flickered cheerfully as though nothing had ever happened. It was as if time had moved on, but Jess hadn't.
She had avoided this place, avoided the memories. The sound of the crash. The piercing shatter of glass. The sharp crack of gunfire.
She could still hear it all in her head, as clear as the day it happened.
Her hand instinctively went to her side, where the ghost of pain still lingered. She remembered reaching for her gun—fingers trembling, too slow. She had managed one shot before the pain struck. The cold, searing agony of bullets tearing into her shoulder and side.
A shudder ran through her, and for a moment, she swore she could feel it again, spreading across her body. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus, to breathe. She couldn't let it control her—not today.
Jess's eyes narrowed as she looked at the diner, her chest tightening. This was it. The place she thought she'd never return to. The place she had tried so hard to forget.
"You sure about this?"
The male voice beside her pulled her out of her thoughts. He stood next to her, watching her carefully.
She didn't respond at first, still lost in the memories.
"Jess," Chris said again, a little firmer this time.
She blinked, nodded. "Maybe this is something you should do with Don?" Chris suggested.
Jess exhaled sharply, turning to look at her brother. After O'Bryan had told her that Don had "concerns"—concerns that had kept her out of the field—she had been furious. She hadn't confronted Don about it yet, but that fight was coming. She had proved to O'Bryan she could handle herself. She had passed every test at the range, and he had agreed to put her back into rotations. She was finally getting back in the field.
But that wasn't enough.
She needed to prove more. To herself. That she was back. That she was okay.
That was why she called Chris. She needed to go inside the diner, and she couldn't do it alone.
"I'm not speaking to Don," she replied, her voice steady.
Chris let out a slow breath, crossing his arms as he studied his sister. He knew that tone. That stubborn, unyielding determination. He had seen it so many times before, and every time it led to her pushing people away. She always built walls up, never letting people outside her family get close to her. She had done it with Don for a while, but she had finally let him in. Chris knew Don made her happy, and he didn't want her to throw what they had away because she was hurt and angry.
"You can be mad at him, Jess. Hell, I get it," Chris said, his voice even. "But don't shut him out."
Jess clenched her jaw, her gaze flicking back to the diner. "I'm not shutting him out."
Chris scoffed. "Come on. You and I both know that's exactly what you're doing. You've done it before. When things get tough, when you get hurt, you push people away before they get a chance to explain first."
Jess turned toward him, eyes flashing. "That's not true."
Chris didn't back down. "Really? What about Jack? Or Don even?"
Jess exhaled sharply, turning back toward the street, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides.
Chris softened, stepping closer. "You love him, Jess. And I know you're scared. Scared that if you let him in, if you let yourself lean on him, it'll hurt even more if something happens. But you guys are supposed to be moving forward. Don't let this ruin that."
Jess's throat tightened. She didn't want to hear this. Not now. Not when she was barely holding herself together.
Chris pressed on. "But that's not how this works. That's not how love works. You don't get to protect yourself by shutting him out. You two have been through too much for that."
She swallowed hard, looking down. "He doesn't get to decide if I go back in the field," she muttered, but the fight in her voice had dimmed.
Chris nodded. "No, he doesn't. But he does get to worry. He does get to care. And you don't get to punish him for that."
Jess didn't respond, her heart hammering in her chest.
Chris sighed. "Look, I'm here, and I'll walk in there with you. But don't use me as an excuse to avoid him."
Jess hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Okay."
But she didn't move. Chris was right—Don should be the one walking into Tiley's with her. But she wasn't ready. Not yet. Her feet felt rooted to the spot.
"Come on," Chris said, taking her by the hand. He led her down the street and across the road to the park. They walked in silence until they reached a bench and sat.
"So what's really going on?" Chris asked, studying her. "This isn't just about the fight or Tiley's."
Jess let out a slow breath. "It is more," she admitted. "But I am mad. I promise I won't push him away—I don't want to do that. But it hurt, Chris. Don was supposed to be the one person I thought had my back about returning to work. I thought he was in my corner."
Chris understood what she meant. Their dad and their other brother Andrew hadn't been very supportive either. They were scared—scared of her going back into the field, of what might happen if she got hurt again.
"Jess, I may not like all of your decisions," Chris said, "but we are always in your corner—Don included. I don't like you being in the field. I don't think I ever will. But you're a damn good cop, and you make me proud to be your brother."
Jess smiled faintly.
Chris nudged her shoulder. "Now, let's be real. What's going on?"
Jess inhaled deeply, taking in the crisp fall air. The trees were ablaze with orange and red, the season shifting around them. She turned back to Chris, her expression uncertain.
"I need to ask you something," she said, her voice quieter now. "And it may sound weird, but I need an honest answer. As best as you can."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Alright. Shoot."
"If you knew before you married Megan that you wouldn't be able to have kids, would you still have married her?"
Chris frowned. "But I have kids," he said, trying to follow where she was going with this.
"Let's say Megan couldn't," Jess clarified. "Would it have mattered?"
Chris hesitated. "I love my wife," he said carefully. "That's a hard question, Jess, because I love my kids and I cannot imagine my life without them."
Jess reworded it. "Would Megan have been enough?"
Chris studied her now, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What's going on?"
Jess let out a slow breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "The shooting… It destroyed my ovaries. They had to remove my left, and my right isn't functioning properly. Dr. Morris gave me a two percent chance of ever having kids."
Chris's expression softened. "Jess…"
She swallowed hard. "I'm moving in with Don. He has no idea. Maybe I'm betraying him too—leading him on."
Chris exhaled slowly. "Jess, this isn't something you have to go through alone."
She let out a shaky breath. "I know. But it's not just about me. It's about Don, too. I know I'm enough for him. I don't doubt that he loves me, that he'll stay—but is it fair to him?"
Chris reached for her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "That's not for you to decide alone. Don gets to have a say in this too. And if he loves you—and I know he does—he's not going anywhere. But you have to be honest with him. You owe him that."
Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I don't know how to tell him."
"You just do," Chris said simply. "Because no matter how scared you are, he deserves to hear it from you—not later, not down the road, but now."
Jess nodded, her grip tightening around his. "Okay."
Chris studied her for a long moment before standing up. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
Jess took one last deep breath, then followed him. She wasn't sure how the conversation with Don would go, but one thing was clear—she couldn't keep
Later that evening, Jess let the hot water cascade down her back, the steady stream soothing her tense muscles. Steam curled around her, wrapping her in a temporary cocoon of warmth, but it did little to ease the weight pressing down on her chest. She tilted her head forward, letting the water drum against her shoulders, eyes closed as she tried to let the day's events rinse away—tried, but failed.
Don had texted about half an hour ago. He was finishing up some paperwork and would pick up Thai food on his way home.
She had given him a simple thumbs-up response, avoiding anything more. She hadn't wanted to get into the fight over text. Not then. Not like that.
But even now, standing under the spray, the emotions churned inside her. The sharp, immediate fury she had felt in O'Bryan's office had faded, replaced with something heavier—something raw. She wasn't as mad as she had been when she was with Chris.
Hurt. That was what remained.
And hurt, if left unchecked, had a habit of twisting into anger.
Jess exhaled, pressing her palms against the cool tiles. She needed to figure out what to say when Don walked through that door. She had to confront him about what he had told O'Bryan—because she couldn't let that slide.
But how?
She needed to make him see why it mattered. Why it wasn't okay.
At the same time, she dreaded the moment when the words would slip past her control, when the tangled mess of her feelings would take over and she would lash out. She didn't want to push him away. Not again.
JJess knew she also needed to talk to Don about what she had told Chris. She was done avoiding it—she planned to tell him, to face it head-on. But first, she had to deal with this.
The water began to cool, breaking her out of her thoughts. With a sigh, she reached for the handle, shutting it off with a firm twist. As she stepped out onto the bath mat, wrapping a towel around herself, she knew one thing for certain.
This conversation was coming. And it wouldn't be easy.
