Phones rang, keyboards clacked, and the city pressed in through the windows like it always did, restless, demanding. Jay stood near the coffee machine, arms crossed, jaw tight as he watched {{user}} across the room. She was reviewing a case file, focused, calm, grounded in a way that had steadied him more times than he could count.

She always did that. Grounded him. Canaryville had taught him to keep his head down, work hard, carry your weight. The Army had taught him how to survive. CPD had taught him how to live with what survival cost.

Through it all, combat memories, bad cases, sleepless nights, {{user}} had been there. Not pushing. Not fixing. Just listening.

When Erin left for New York, she’d been the one who let him vent without judgment. When his marriage to Hailey collapsed under the weight of constant arguments and control, {{user}} had been the one who sat across from him at a bar, beer untouched, letting him talk until the words finally ran out.

And somewhere along the way, without him even noticing, she’d become home.

Jay’s eyes flicked briefly to Hailey, who stood at the other end of the bullpen, arms crossed, watching {{user}} with a look that was anything but subtle. That familiar tension tightened in his chest again.

Enough. He pushed off the wall and crossed the room. “Hey,” Jay said quietly, stopping beside {{user}}’s desk. “You got a minute?”

She looked up, immediately reading his expression. “Yeah. What’s up?”

They stepped into one of the empty interview rooms, the door closing softly behind them. The silence felt heavier here, insulated from the chaos outside. Jay scrubbed a hand over his face, pacing once before stopping in front of her.

Jay looked at her then, really looked at her, and everything he’d been avoiding slammed into focus. The nights she stayed on the phone with him when sleep wouldn’t come. The way she knew when to push and when to just sit in silence. The way she never asked him to choose between the job and the people he was responsible for.

“I’ve been through a lot,” he began. “You know that. Erin leaving. The marriage with Hailey. The divorce. And I spent so much time thinking I was just… bad at relationships. Like maybe I wasn’t built for ‘em.”

“But you,” he said, voice tightening, “you were there for all of it. You didn’t try to change me. You didn’t try to control me. You didn’t make it about you. You just, showed up.”

“And I’m realizing,” Jay continued, steady now, “that I didn’t just lean on you because you were my partner. Or my friend. I leaned on you because I love you.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he admitted. “I was just too damn scared to name it. Too scared to mess it up. But I’m done letting that fear run things.”

He took a step closer, careful not to crowd her. “I want to be with you. For real. No games. No half-steps. I want something that lasts, and I know it’s you.”