Erin and Jay had been talking pretty much every night, but they were still tiptoeing around the heavy stuff. Not on purpose—it just sort of happened. Like there was this unspoken rule between them to keep it light and safe.
Jay was following her lead. He could tell she wasn't ready to dig into their past or all the messy feelings between them.
And he? He was still avoiding Hailey. As if time might somehow make it easier. He wasn't proud of it. He knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But Erin hadn't brought her up… and maybe that made it easier to pretend they could just keep things simple for a little while longer.
So instead, they stuck to easy conversation. Random things about their day. Silly stuff. Stuff that made them laugh and forget the rest for a little while.
But there was one thing Jay couldn't ignore: the doorbell.
It rang almost every night while they were on the phone, and Erin never explained. Sometimes she'd say, "Hang on," and disappear for a few minutes. Other times, she'd cut the call short completely. No real reason, no details. Just a quick "I gotta go."
It bugged him. He didn't want to be the jealous, nosy guy—he didn't think he had the right to question it—but it gnawed at him. Who was at her door so often? And why wasn't she telling him?
That night, the internet connection at the base was better. They'd just upgraded the network, so he took his shot and called her on video.
It had been three weeks since he left. Since he saw her. Since he held her.
He missed her like hell.
The video quality wasn't perfect, but it was good enough. He could still make out her face when she picked up—and God, she was beautiful.
"Hey," she said with a soft smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Hi," he smiled back, his voice warm. "Signal's holding up for once. Figured I'd try a video call."
Her smile widened just a little, and she tilted her head.
"It's really nice to see you," she said softly.
He nodded, taking in her features—the tired eyes she tried to hide, the way her lips curved just enough to show her dimples that he loved so much.
"It's nice to see you too, Er."
They kept talking like they had been doing—easy, low-stakes stuff—but Jay couldn't stop glancing past her. Something in the background. The way she kept half-looking off screen, distracted for just a second at a time. Like she was waiting for something.
And right on cue, the doorbell rang.
"There it is again," he said, raising an eyebrow.
Erin blinked. Just a flicker. Her face tensed for a beat before she forced out a casual laugh.
"Yeah, it's nothing. Just a neighbor. Hang on."
She set the phone down. He heard her footsteps fading, then nothing.
Jay leaned back, eyes still on the screen. The camera gave him a partial view of her room.
When she came back, she didn't say anything. She seemed a little distant and Jay noticed that she avoided his eyes.
"So… this mysterious visitor," he said, leaning a little closer to the screen, teasing but not totally joking. "Is this neighbor your new best friend or what?"
Erin rolled her eyes, but her laugh came out a little too quick. A little nervous.
"It's nothing, Jay. Seriously."
"Uh-huh," he said, raising an eyebrow, not buying it.
"It's just someone checking on me, okay? Don't make it a thing," she added, waving it off and pivoting to something else.
Jay leaned back, pressing his lips together. She was clearly dodging. He could feel it. A big part of him wanted to keep pushing… but something in her face made him stop.
Not now.
They slipped back into their usual rhythm—light and easy—but he couldn't stop wondering who this neighbour was and why she was trying to hide it.
He told her about his day—drills, briefings, endless paperwork. Erin smiled faintly as he spoke, tossing in the occasional comment or question to keep things light.
When it was her turn, she shared bits of her own day—long meetings, a stubborn case file, and a ridiculous moment involving a spilled coffee cup. It all felt simple. Familiar. Easy.
But not for Jay.
Because under it all, his thoughts kept circling the same thing. The damn doorbell.
It had been three weeks now, and he still didn't know who was on the other side of that door almost every night. And he couldn't take it anymore.
"Is it a guy?" he blurted.
It came out too fast—sharper than he meant.
Erin froze, visibly thrown.
"What? Who?"
"Whoever keeps showing up at your place," he said, softer now. "You're always hanging up because someone's at the door." His voice dipped at the end, like maybe he didn't even want the answer.
And just like that, the air shifted.
"Seriously? You think—"
"I know I have zero right to ask. I know I'm still…" he trailed off, the weight of the word married hanging heavy between them.
"No, Jay. It's not a guy. Geez."
"I'm sorry… I just—who is it then?"
She let out a long sigh, dragging a hand through her hair.
"You're really not gonna drop it, huh?" Her voice had a hint of amusement, but it couldn't cover the tension underneath.
"Nope." He tried for a smirk, but his stomach was in knots.
She hesitated—biting her lip, weighing her answer.
"It's Dr. Cass. She's my psychiatrist."
Jay blinked. That was… not what he expected.
"Your doctor makes house calls?"
"She's my neighbor too," Erin explained, shifting in her seat, clearly uncomfortable.
"And she just… stops by every day?"
His brows pulled together, the jealousy still there—but now mixed with confusion and concern.
"Hhmm… we kind of had a deal," she said, her voice softer now. "After… you know…" She looked off to the side, like the words were just too heavy to say.
"After the burnout?" he finished gently.
"Yeah." She nodded, even though the truth was a little messier than that. "I wasn't supposed to miss any sessions. But… I did."
"Why?" he asked, leaning in a little, his voice low and careful.
"I… I forgot," she admitted, her voice cracking just enough to give her away.
Jay didn't say anything at first. He just watched her—how she kept her eyes down, how small she looked all of a sudden.
He could feel the weight under her words. Her voice sounded light, sure. But he knew Erin. He could hear the heaviness she was trying to hide.
"Er?" he said, voice softer now, careful. "I know we haven't really been talking about… everything, but I'm worried about you. What's going on? Just… talk to me, please."
There was a pause. On screen, he could see her shifting, clearly uncomfortable.
"I've just been going through some… stuff," she said finally, her voice low. "Dr. Cass has been helping me a lot. But I missed one of our appointments, so she's been checking in—just making sure I'm okay. That's all."
"Why'd you miss it?" he asked, his brows pulling in. "You've been slammed at work again?"
"No," she answered quickly, a little too quick. Her tone turned defensive. "I was just… busy."
"Busy with what?" he asked, a hint of frustration creeping in. "What could be more important than your health? If you had a deal not to miss any sessions, it must've been important."
Her silence stretched, and Jay felt his chest tighten. He knew this wasn't easy for her. Every pause between his questions felt heavier.
Finally, her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"It was when you were here."
"Oh," he murmured, the breath catching in his throat. "That day?"
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I just… forgot. I had my mind on other things. You know. Pancakes. Whipped cream…"
Jay let out a soft chuckle.
"Okay, fair enough. That was pretty distracting," he said, his voice lighter now. "But you should've told me."
"I just forgot a session, Jay," she said, her voice firmer now, a little defensive. "It's not a big deal. And it was weeks ago."
"But she's still coming over every day?"
"Not every day," Erin said, her tone softening. "She stops by sometimes after work. Just to say hi, check if I took my meds. Sometimes we talk a little. But my actual sessions are Wednesdays and Saturdays."
Jay's stomach twisted.
"Two sessions a week?" he asked quietly. "Plus check-ins just to make sure you're taking your meds?"
"Yeah," she said after a pause, with a dry, self-deprecating smile. "Guess I'm pretty screwed up, huh?"
"Oh, babe…" Jay's voice dropped to full of concern. "What kind of meds are we talking about?"
Erin hesitated for a second before answering.
"For depression and anxiety…"
"Depression?"
The word hit him like a punch to the gut. He'd suspected things hadn't been easy, but hearing her say it out loud was a different story.
"Maybe we add this to the list of stuff we talk about in person?" she offered, her tone lighter, but not without that nervous edge.
"Wait—we have a list?"
She just shrugged.
Jay paused. He didn't want to push and have her shut down.
"Mmm… okay," he said quietly, keeping it gentle. "But… are the meds helping at least?"
"It's not magic or anything…" Erin said, her fingers absently tracing circles on her knee. "But yeah. It helps. And Cass… she is amazing. She's been reminding me I don't have to do everything alone—or prove I'm strong all the time. That I'm human. And with what we do…our jobs… we need people to lean on."
Jay let out a long breath, dragging a hand through his hair as her words hit him.
"I tried to be that person for you when we were together," he said quietly. "But I never really knew how to balance it. Give you space but still be there. I was always afraid that pushing too hard would just make you pull away more. I never knew where the line was…"
"I know," Erin said, her voice softening. "I've been learning in therapy that… it's okay to be more open. Vulnerable. With people I trust. It's been… good. Actually helpful."
"I'm glad." He paused, trying to find the words. "I gave therapy a shot once… well, your dad kind of forced me to do it," he added with a small, sheepish chuckle. "But I couldn't get into it. It just… didn't work for me."
"I'd tried before too," Erin said with a shrug. "But with Cass, it's different. I don't know… we just clicked. Her voice is super soothing, and she's got this calm energy. It's like… she knows how to pull stuff out of me without even trying."
"She must be really good," Jay said, his tone lighter now but still surprised. "That's not easy. I mean… I think I learned more about you in the interrogation room than I ever did from us actually talking…"
Erin let out a soft laugh, a mix of humor and something heavier.
"Same for you, Jay."
Her words lingered in the air, their shared past wrapping itself around the conversation like a thread neither of them pulled too hard. Jay leaned back, his fingers tightening around the phone as he stared up at the ceiling of his cramped dorm.
"Maybe we were just crap at this," he said with a faint, crooked smile.
"Maybe," Erin said, just as softly, but this time there was warmth in her voice.
"We just need to talk more. Try to lean on each other."
"It is not always easy. To change…"
"I know," he nodded. "But that's what pulled us apart last time… we held too much in."
"I think we're getting better now."
"Yeah," Jay murmured. "And I'll keep trying, Er. For you… for us."
"Me too," she whispered, her chest tightening at how real that sounded. "One step at a time."
She paused for a while, wishing she could just reach out through the screen.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Cass sooner. It's just… hard."
"I get it, babe. I'm glad we talked. And I'm sorry if I sounded like a—"
"Unreasonably jealous idiot?"
"Woah. That's not—"
She laughed.
"Just admit it, Jay."
"Okay, fine… maybe I was a little jealous."
"You do know you have nothing to worry about, right? I'm completely…" She trailed off, grinning.
"Completely what?" he asked, that boyish smile creeping onto his face.
"You know."
"Nope. And didn't we just agree to be more open with each other?" he teased.
"Completely in love with you, you jealous, silly bastard."
He laughed, full and warm.
"And I'm with you, babe."
For a few moments, they just looked at each other in silence. The flirty, playful tone had eased their hearts a bit. Erin could see it in his eyes—the way he was searching hers, like he was trying to read every unspoken thought. But then, his gaze shifted slightly, drifting to something just out of frame.
"What is it, Jay? What are you thinking?" Erin asked softly, noticing the sudden sadness creeping back into his expression.
Jay tilted his chin toward her right.
"It just… breaks my heart to see him by your side," he said, his voice low.
"What? Who?" she asked, glancing to her side, genuinely confused.
He nodded again, more pointed this time.
"Him."
Erin followed his gesture and picked up the small stuffed bear sitting beside her.
"This? Chuckles?" she asked, lifting it with a bemused smile.
"Yeah," he said quietly, his eyes flickering with emotion.
"But why?" she asked, brow furrowing. "You gave him to me…"
"I know," Jay replied, voice tight. "It was probably the first thing I ever gave you… but I didn't know you kept it. I never saw him again after that day."
"Of course I kept him," Erin said, hugging the bear to her chest. Her cheeks flushed, her voice soft. "I just didn't keep him around. I was scared you'd mock me for being soft, I guess."
Jay's expression melted, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.
"I wouldn't," he murmured, shaking his head gently.
And it broke his heart even more—to realize how much she'd hidden from him out of fear. How much she felt the need to build walls, to tuck away the softness she thought he'd see as weakness.
"He's cute," Erin said with a small laugh, her fingers brushing the worn fabric as she hugged the bear tighter.
Jay's gaze lingered on her. His voice dropped to a near whisper.
"I remember what I said when I gave him to you… and it's been haunting me."
Erin's smile faded a little, her eyes locking on his.
"Yeah… he's been doing what you said he would, I guess…" she murmured.
Jay shook his head, the sadness in his eyes deepening.
"I'm so sorry, Er," he said, voice cracking. "For hurting you."
Her chest tightened at the sound of his voice—how real it was, how broken.
"Jay… we both made mistakes…" she said gently, even as her grip on the bear tightened.
"No, Erin," he cut in, his eyes locking onto hers through the screen. "Everything you went through… that's on me. I should've fought harder. For you. For us."
Her lips trembled as she looked down at the bear, fingers slowly tracing the tiny nose.
"Chuckles has been through a lot with me," she said softly. "Even when I was mad at you… I couldn't let him go. He reminded me of you. Of us."
Jay let out a shaky breath, leaning forward like he could somehow close the distance between them.
"I wish I'd been there for you… like I promised. I'm so sorry I wasn't."
"You're here now," she whispered, her voice catching as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
The silence between them was heavy. Erin hugged the bear tighter. Jay's gaze softened, full of love and guilt all at once.
"I thought we were gonna wait to talk about the past in person…" Erin said softly, tension creeping into her voice.
"I'm not really talking about the past," Jay said gently, his voice low, vulnerable. "It's just… when I was on the plane coming down here, I couldn't stop thinking about that day. About how many times I made you cry—just in that one day."
"Jay…" Erin started, her voice caught between protest and concern.
"No, Er," he cut in, firm but full of guilt. "Don't brush it off. I hurt you. Over and over. And still, you spent the day just… listening. Helping me. I can't stop thinking about how selfish I was. And how maybe I don't deserve you."
Erin looked away from the screen, swallowing hard, the words hitting her right in the chest.
"You held me each time… remember?" she said, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to ease the weight in his words.
"That's not enough," he whispered, shaking his head, jaw tight. His voice cracked as he added, "It kills me to hear you say you're on meds… that your doctor checks in on you every single day. Because of a depression I know I caused."
Erin's lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. She tried to lighten the mood, even if just a little.
"Don't be so cocky," she teased gently, her tone playful but soft. "So now you think you're the only thing on my mind? Please. I'm pretty messed up all on my own, thank you very much."
Jay didn't smile. His face stayed still—haunted. A single tear slipped down his cheek.
"I keep thinking maybe you'd be better off if I hadn't shown up… just to leave again."
Erin's heart ached at his words. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
"I'm not gonna lie to you, okay?" she said softly, her voice caught between honesty and hesitation. "It was hard… watching you leave… and…" She looked down, her voice cracking. "I spent the whole day crying. So much that I kinda freaked Cass out."
Jay closed his eyes, shaking his head like he was trying to block it out. His expression twisted with guilt.
"And that's why I called in sick," Erin added, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay opened his eyes, staring at her through the screen.
"Er… I never meant to hurt you like that," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I… I don't even know how to fix this."
"You don't have to fix it," Erin replied gently. "It's not about fixing anything. It's about being here now. Talking. Listening. Being honest. That's enough for me."
"I'm so sorry… I shouldn't have…" Jay's voice faltered, guilt pressing down on him. He looked away from the screen, fingers nervously tapping the edge of the phone.
"Shouldn't have what, Jay?" Erin's voice was steady but sharp, her brows furrowing as she leaned in, chest tight. "Make my heart stop just by saying my name? Make my whole body melt with the slightest of your touch? Shouldn't have hugged me and made me feel safe again? Let me have the best night of sleep I've had in five years—because I was in your arms?"
Her words spilled out fast, all the emotions rushing to the surface. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the phone tighter, clinging to him through the distance.
"Or you shouldn't have let my jaw drop to the floor when I saw you in the shower? Shouldn't have made my whole body ache for you while you flipped pancakes? Shouldn't have kissed me so deep I forgot to breathe? Or maybe… maybe you shouldn't have kissed me so tenderly I felt like I was floating? Which one, Jay? Which one shouldn't you have done? Which one would you take away from me?"
She paused, and her voice softened, steady now.
"Because—I wouldn't trade those moments for anything."
Jay's breath hitched, her words dragging him deeper into the storm he'd been trying to avoid. He blinked rapidly, his hand covering his eyes for a moment before letting it fall. His chest ached, a dull, familiar pain gnawing at him.
"I wouldn't trade those moments either…" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Or when you soothed me to sleep… or when you cooked for me… or when you just listened." He paused, the weight of regret clouding his features as he added softly, "But… to know that I caused you even more pain… that I left you hurting so much…"
Erin paused, her eyes searching his face through the screen. She swallowed hard before holding up the bear in her hands, her fingers curling around it as she spoke.
"I was hurting before… I was hurting for five years. Ask him…" She nodded towards the bear, her voice carrying both sadness and acceptance.
Jay's heart clenched at the sight, his breath catching in his throat.
"It doesn't make it better…" he muttered, his fingers brushing over his lips in helplessness.
"I like what we have going on now, Jay," Erin said, her voice steady but soft. "That we are reconnecting…"
"I like it too," he replied, his gaze softening as he met her eyes.
"And I want to try us again," she continued, the words weighing heavily in the air. "I know it's not going to be easy… but… I really want to try."
His heart swelled with emotion, his eyes closing for a brief second before he whispered,
"That is all I want."
"So don't say you regret coming over, please," Erin's voice was firm yet full of vulnerability. It trembled just enough to give her away.
Jay shook his head slowly, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and tenderness.
"I'm just worried about you…"
"I'm okay," Erin reassured him softly, a small but genuine smile appearing on her lips. "I just miss you…"
"I miss you too, babe," Jay replied, his voice gentle, as the connection between them settled into something new, something tender, as if they were healing in these quiet moments together.
They stayed quiet, just looking at each other. The road ahead wouldn't be easy—but they both knew they'd walk it. One step at a time.
"So… your jaw really dropped pretty low in that bathroom, huh?" Jay teased, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He leaned back slightly, his eyes sparkling with playful amusement trying to shift the mood. "Couldn't take your eyes off of me, huh?"
Erin rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with a soft smile.
"You should've gotten a towel to cover yourself!" She laughed, her voice light, the sound of it warm and genuine, though there was still a playful edge to her words.
Jay chuckled, his fingers running through his hair.
"Why? Prevent your poor little eyes from the joy of admiring me?"
"You're such a cocky bastard!" she shot back, shaking her head, but her eyes softened, warmth spreading through her chest at his teasing tone.
"And you just love it…" he teased, his voice lowering, the familiar, comfortable rhythm between them settling in.
"I do…" Erin admitted with a slight blush creeping up her neck, a soft laugh escaping her lips. She looked away for a moment, but not out of discomfort—more out of the warmth that his words had stirred inside her. She found herself unexpectedly at ease, the banter feeling like a breath of fresh air after everything that had been weighing on her.
"I love you, Er," Jay's voice softened, the teasing gone, replaced by something deeper, more sincere.
"I love you too, soldier."
His heart seemed to lighten—a weight he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying, lifting just a bit.
"Can I just ask you something?"
Erin's heart skipped a beat. She could feel the shift in his tone, the vulnerability that slipped through, even over the phone.
"What?"
"Don't try to hide it from me anymore… your pain…" he continued, his voice a little hushed, like he was treading carefully, yet there was a determination in his words. "Let me try to fix my mistakes… let me try to be there for you… please."
Erin took a slow breath, the weight of his words sinking in. She felt the familiar tightness in her chest, but this time, it wasn't fear—it was a spark of hope.
"I promise," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it carried the weight of everything she was willing to give.
"She's not coming again tonight?" Jay asked, a soft curiosity in his voice as if he were still trying to piece together the fragments of her life.
"Cass? No… we have a session tomorrow." Erin replied, shaking her head as she sat back, her hand resting lightly on her knee.
Jay paused for a moment, letting the silence settle, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a brief pause before he spoke again.
"I hope to meet her someday."
Erin smiled softly, a trace of affection in her expression.
"Oh… you definitely will," she said, her tone warm, as if she could already imagine it.
Jay yawned slightly, the exhaustion from the day starting to creep in. He stretched his arms overhead, his shoulders relaxing.
"I should sleep… gotta be up early. Tomorrow's gonna be long."
"Okay… sleep well," Erin replied, her voice softer now, but there was an undercurrent of something tender in it.
"You too, my angel…" Jay murmured, his eyes drifting closed as he imagined her—his lips curling into a small, tired smile. "I will hopefully dream of you…"
Erin smiled to herself, her heart aching in the sweetest way. She settled into her bed, closing her eyes, the warmth of their words lingering in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.
A/N:
A little bit of fluff, a little bit of teasing… but they're finally starting to open up. One step in the right direction.
Thanks for all the comments — totally agree, Jay needs to man up… he will. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. Probably slowly and painfully. Might need a little push though. ;-)
Let me know what you think of this chapter!
