Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

College was a kaleidoscope of personalities and extremes. Some students saw it as a free pass to reinvent themselves, leaving behind the pressures of high school and diving headfirst into the wild side. Parties, impulsive decisions, hookups, and nights that blurred into early mornings became their normal. Others, though, approached it with the kind of laser focus that bordered on obsession, determined to prove themselves and secure their futures. These students lived in libraries, balancing textbooks and caffeine-fueled nights, while the rest of the campus lived for the next party.

Lucy fell into the former category. From the moment she stepped onto campus, she approached college with the kind of discipline usually reserved for future surgeons or engineers. For her, it wasn’t just about getting through; it was about being the best. Part of that drive came from her own fear of failure, but another part of it was the weight of expectations that came from her parents—both of them therapists, both of them perfectionists in their own way. Lucy felt the unspoken pressure every time she got a grade that wasn’t perfect, every time she chose to study a little longer instead of taking a break. Their subtle looks and quiet questions pushed her forward. They’d never outright said it, but Lucy knew—mediocrity wasn’t an option.

So while most of her classmates were out exploring this new world of freedom and fun, Lucy was here, hunched over her desk in the dorm, head buried in books. Her desk was cluttered with notes and flashcards, a pile of textbooks open to various pages, and her phone buzzed with reminders of the exams she had to ace. She was in the zone, her mind busy with formulas and definitions, oblivious to the world outside.

She should have been excited. It was Halloween, after all, and Halloween had always been her favorite time of year. Not for the parties and the half-baked costumes, but for the thrill. Lucy loved everything scary. The darker, the bloodier, the better. Jump scares made her heart race in the best way, and she could watch horror movies for hours, always on the lookout for the next scream. Haunted houses, slasher flicks, ghost stories—the more terrifying it was, the more she loved it. The excitement of being scared was something she cherished, a rush she craved. But in college, that excitement was lost. Halloween here was just another excuse for everyone to get drunk and wear skimpy outfits. It had turned into a hollow version of itself, with none of the thrill she used to love.

The door swung open, and in came Rachel, her roommate and the complete opposite of Lucy. Rachel lived for nights like this. She was the party girl, the one everyone noticed when she walked into a room. Tonight, she wore a skin-tight black lace bodysuit, with cat ears perched on her head and a fake tail that swished as she moved. She looked flawless, of course, like she always did. Rachel was effortlessly beautiful—with brown curly hair highlighted in soft golden hues that caught the light. Her brown eyes sparkled with a kind of vibrancy that drew people to her. She was confident, outgoing, and fun—the kind of person who could ace her classes and still show up to every party, never missing a beat.

Rachel glanced at the pile of books on Lucy’s desk and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Are you seriously studying right now?” she asked, arms crossed, shaking her head, her costume barely containing the wild energy of the party outside.

Lucy didn’t even look up from her flashcards, her brow furrowed like Rachel had just said something completely nonsensical. “Obviously. What does it look like?” she muttered, still scribbling away, as though the thought of doing anything else was out of the question.

Rachel wasn’t about to let it go. She planted her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she gave Lucy a once-over, like she was gearing up for a debate. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s Halloween, Lucy. The one night you can actually have some fun and forget about grades and your precious future. And here you are—studying with flashcards?”

“Yes, Rachel,” Lucy replied, her tone clipped. “Some of us have responsibilities. You know, exams? Classes? That thing we’re all here for?”

Rachel groaned dramatically, throwing her head back in mock frustration. “Okay, but it’s one night. You’re acting like going to a party is going to make you fail out of school or something.”

Lucy finally put down her pen, turning fully toward Rachel, her eyes flashing with irritation. “You don’t get it, do you? I have to do well. I don’t have the luxury of just blowing off my responsibilities. My parents are counting on me. They’re paying for all of this.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, plopping down onto Lucy’s bed. “And? That doesn’t mean you can’t have a life, Lucy. One night won’t kill you. Hell, it might even help you relax a little.”

Lucy crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m already behind in psych, and if I don’t get a good grade on this midterm—”

Rachel cut her off, her voice rising with frustration. “Lucy, you say the same thing every time. There’s always some exam or some assignment, and you never let yourself breathe. You’re wound so tight, it’s a miracle you haven’t snapped yet.”

Lucy’s jaw tightened. She hated these conversations with Rachel. She hated how easily Rachel dismissed her concerns, like her grades and her future didn’t matter. “Not everyone can just float through college like you,” she shot back. “Some of us actually have to work for it.”

Rachel’s face softened, but there was still a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “I’m not saying don’t work for it. I’m saying balance, Lucy. You can’t just lock yourself away every time there’s something fun going on. You’re going to burn out.”

Lucy clenched her fists, the familiar weight of expectation pressing down on her. “I don’t have the luxury of ‘balance,’ Rachel. I don’t get to screw up.”

Rachel leaned forward, her voice gentler but firm. “You’re not screwing up by going to a party for one night. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll be tired tomorrow? You’ll still ace your midterm, just like you always do.”

Lucy shook her head, her frustration building. “You don’t understand. My parents—”

“Your parents are controlling you from miles away!” Rachel interrupted, her voice rising again. “You’re here, in college, and they’re not living your life. You are. You have to stop letting them dictate every single thing you do.”

Lucy flinched, the truth in Rachel’s words hitting too close to home. “It’s not that simple.”

Rachel huffed, standing up and walking back to the closet. “You know what? Fine. It’s not simple. But you need to live a little, Luce. You need to have fun. And since you won’t pick something for yourself—” She began rifling through the closet again, pulling out a tiny, black dress that looked more like a strip of fabric than an actual outfit. “—I’ll pick something for you.”

Lucy’s eyes widened in horror. “I am not wearing that.”

Rachel held up the dress with a grin, waving it in front of her like it was some kind of prize. “Oh, come on. You’d look hot. It’s Halloween, no one’s going to judge you for showing a little skin.”

“I’m not showing that much skin,” Lucy shot back, her voice firm.

Rachel rolled her eyes and tossed the dress onto the bed. “Fine, fine. You don’t like this one. What about…” She pulled out another outfit, this time a black leather skirt and a crop top that barely reached past the chest. “This one?”

“Rachel!” Lucy’s voice was exasperated now. “I’m not going out, and I’m definitely not wearing any of that.”

Rachel groaned, tossing the clothes back into the closet with dramatic flair. “Lucy, you’re impossible. It’s one night. Just one. You don’t have to dress like a nun. It’s Halloween, everyone looks ridiculous!”

Lucy stood up, crossing her arms and glaring at Rachel. “I’m not going to a party half-naked just because you think it’s fun.”

Rachel threw her hands in the air, clearly fed up. “Fine! Wear whatever you want. I don’t care. Just come out with me. Please. I can’t go alone, and I’m not letting you rot in here with your stupid flashcards while the rest of the world has fun.”

Lucy hesitated, her eyes flicking to the pile of books on her desk. She knew Rachel wouldn’t let this go, but the thought of going out, of leaving her studies behind, felt wrong. Her parents’ voices echoed in her mind, reminding her of everything that was at stake.

Rachel softened again, stepping closer. “Look, you don’t have to stay out all night. Just come with me for a little bit. We’ll have some drinks, dance, and if you’re really not having fun, we can come back early. But give it a chance, Luce. You deserve to have fun, too.”

Lucy bit her lip, torn between the responsibility she felt and the nagging thought that maybe Rachel was right. Maybe she did need a break, just for one night.

Finally, with a long, defeated sigh, she muttered, “Fine. I’ll go.”

Rachel’s face lit up instantly. “Yes! I knew you’d come around!” She bounced back to the closet, grabbing a slightly less revealing outfit. “Okay, let’s find something that’s a little more… you.”

Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “I’m not wearing anything too skimpy.”

Rachel grinned, holding up a short, glittery dress. “We’ll see about that.”

“I’m serious, Rachel. I don’t want to go out there looking like a slut.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “And what’s so bad about that? There’s nothing wrong with looking like a slut.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Really? That’s your big argument? It’s Halloween, not some trashy reality show.”

Rachel shrugged, unbothered, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Look, if I can do it, why can’t you? You’d look hot as hell in this, Lucy. Own it.”

Lucy shook her head, frustration bubbling up. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got that confidence. You know you’ll look good in anything.”

Rachel crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Confidence? Please. You just decide you have it, girl. It’s not some magical gift only a few of us get.”

“Yeah, right,” Lucy shot back, half-laughing. “You walk into a room, and people notice. Me? I walk in, and people don’t even realize I’m there.”

Rachel sighed dramatically, tossing the red dress onto the bed. “Okay, fine. Let’s get real for a second. Do you actually think people care that much? I promise you, Lucy, no one’s sitting around judging. And even if they are, who cares? It’s a party, not a pageant.”

Lucy bit her lip, not willing to let go yet. “I just don’t want to look ridiculous. It’s not me.”

Rachel leaned forward, eyes blazing with determination. “No, it’s not you to look like a nun every night either, but here we are. Seriously, what’s the worst that could happen? You’re gonna feel a little sexy? Someone’s gonna notice you for once? You say you’re sick of fading into the background—well, this is how you change that!”

“I’m not trying to be noticed for all the wrong reasons,” Lucy shot back, defensive now. “I just don’t wanna walk around half-naked.”

Rachel threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine, we’ll tone it down. But I’m telling you, you need to get out of your head. You’re worried about people judging when half the girls out there are probably in way less. It’s Halloween! Everyone’s supposed to look a little ridiculous.”

Lucy crossed her arms tighter, still stubborn. “Yeah, well, I’m not interested in being one of them.”

Rachel huffed, clearly growing impatient. “You know what? Fine. You don’t have to wear this. But you’re wearing something. And I have just the thing.” She spun around, heading back to her closet and rifling through it like she was on a mission. “Something a little more your speed. Still sexy, but a little more subtle.”

Lucy watched, skeptical, as Rachel finally pulled out a long-sleeve, slightly longer red dress and a bright red firefighter hat to match. “Here,” Rachel said, tossing the outfit onto the bed with a grin. “It’s cute, it’s flattering, and it’s still Halloween-worthy without showing off every inch of skin.”

Lucy eyed the dress, the fabric catching the light in a way that made it seem a little less intimidating. “And the hat?”

Rachel laughed, holding it up. “Come on. You can’t just wear the dress—it’s a whole look. Sexy firefighter! It’s perfect.”

Lucy couldn’t help but smirk. “I don’t know…”

Rachel placed her hands on her hips, daring her. “You’re not chickening out now, are you? It’s this or that other dress I had. Your call.”

Lucy stared at the firefighter dress for a beat longer, her patience snapping. She was done with the back-and-forth, done being convinced. “Just give me the damn dress,” she said, snatching it out of Rachel’s hands without another word.

Rachel grinned but stayed quiet, stepping aside as Lucy marched into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She turned the lock on the bathroom door, the click echoing in the small space as she took a deep breath.

The anticipation of putting on the red firefighter dress filled her with equal parts dread and curiosity. I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought, fighting back the urge to back out.

With a sigh, she peeled off her last piece of clothing and slipped into the dress, feeling the tight material hug her curves. It felt foreign against her skin, and she immediately grimaced as it clung to her in all the wrong places. The hem barely grazed her thighs, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Why did I let Rachel talk me into this?
She couldn't shake the sensation of being one wrong move away from a wardrobe malfunction.

After tugging at the hem and adjusting the neckline that seemed to plunge dangerously low, Lucy stepped back and examined her reflection. The dress was bright and eye-catching, but the more she looked, the more she felt like a walking cliché. I look ridiculous, she thought, rolling her eyes at her reflection. Who thought it was a good idea to wear something like this?

with a final sigh, she stepped out of the bathroom, still fidgeting with the hem of the red firefighter dress that barely covered her thighs. Every step felt like the dress was crawling higher, and she could already feel the impending doom of having to tug at it all night. Her face was flushed from both the tightness of the dress and her own embarrassment. "Rachel," she muttered, "I look like I'm about to offer someone a 'fire safety demonstration' on a fucking OnlyFans."

Rachel, sprawled across her bed with her phone in hand, took one look at Lucy and burst out laughing, nearly dropping her drink. "What no, Lucy, you look like you're about to shut down the party. You're on fire."

Lucy groaned, crossing her arms over her chest in a vain attempt to make the plunging neckline more modest. "I'm two steps away from a wardrobe malfunction. This dress is going to betray me the second I breathe too hard."

Rachel hopped up, circling Lucy like a predator with a mischievous grin.
"Wardrobe malfunction? Babe, you're a walking five-alarm fire. Trust me, half the guys there will be begging you to ride their firetruck."

Lucy's eyes widened in shock, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red.
"Rachel! What the hell? Why would you even say that?"

Rachel shrugged, unfazed by Lucy's mortification. "Because it's true! You could use a little action, Luce. When was the last time you even handled a hose?"

Lucy's entire body tensed as her mouth opened and closed, struggling for words. "I-what? That's none of your - I mean, my sex life is none of your business!" she sputtered, her voice higher than usual as she stumbled over the words, her hands now flailing as if that would distract from her obvious discomfort. "And it's not important anyway! I don't need-ugh!"

Rachel laughed even harder, clearly delighted by Lucy's reaction. "Oh, come on, I didn't mean it like that. Well, maybe a little. But seriously, you've been locked up in this dorm for weeks with nothing but textbooks and coffee. I'm just saying, tonight's your night. Maybe someone will offer to 'inspect your equipment!"

Lucy's face was practically glowing red at this point, her words fumbling as she tried to compose herself. "Rachel! I don't need anyone inspecting anything! I'm not going to this party to-God, stop talking about hoses and equipment!"

Rachel was grinning ear to ear, enjoying how flustered Lucy had become.
"Alright, alright! But come on, girl, when's the last time you had any fun with someone that didn't involve Freud or flashcards?"

Lucy could barely respond, her voice cracking. "That's... not important! I'm here to go to this party, not-ugh, I'm not interested in whatever this conversation is!"

Rachel shook her head with a teasing grin, wrapping an arm around Lucy's shoulders as they both faced the mirror. "Relax, babe. I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to let loose a little. You're practically a walking fire hazard in this dress, so you might as well own it."

Lucy glared at her through the mirror, tugging at the neckline again in a hopeless attempt to cover more skin. "I swear, if one guy makes a joke about handling their 'equipment, I'm leaving."

Rachel snickered and gave her a playful nudge. "Oh, you know that's gonna happen. You might as well prepare yourself for it now. Hell, someone's probably already rehearsing their best 'hose' line, just waiting for you to show up." Lucy groaned, pressing her palms against her face in utter mortification.

"Rachel, please stop. I don't need this right now."

Rachel grabbed the firefighter hat off the bed and plopped it onto Lucy's head with a flourish. "Trust me, the second you walk in, some poor guy's gonna drop his drink and ask you to 'put out his fire! I give it five minutes, tops." Lucy groaned again, feeling completely overwhelmed as they made their way toward the door. "I hate you so much right now.“

Rachel laughed as she pulled the door open. "You love me, and you know it. Besides, you're gonna have fun tonight whether you like it or not."

Lucy tried to hold onto the last bit of her dignity as they stepped into the hallway, praying no one else from their dorm would see her in this ridiculous outfit. She felt exposed, her legs and shoulders on full display, and every step felt like the dress was trying to betray her.

"Honestly," Rachel continued as they walked down the hall, "you're gonna walk into that party, and some guy's gonna drop everything and say, 'Damn, where have you been all my life?' Then immediately follow it up with, 'Need help handling your hose?'"

Lucy cringed, her voice shaking with embarrassment. "Rachel, I swear, if someone says that to me, I'm walking straight back here."

Rachel cackled, pushing open the door to the parking lot. "Fine, fine. No more hose jokes from me. But trust me, you're about to be the star of that party. If people aren't stopping dead in their tracks, I'll be shocked."

Lucy's face burned as they walked toward Rachel's car, her nerves on edge. "I swear, I'm going to die of embarrassment before we even get there."

Rachel threw her head back, laughing as she unlocked the car. "You'll survive.
And hey, maybe you'll surprise yourself.
Who knows? Maybe you'll be the one starting the fires tonight."

Lucy groaned, sliding into the passenger seat with a sigh. "Kill me now." She glanced at Rachel, who was adjusting her costume in the mirror. “Can we just change the subject?”

Rachel laughed, her excitement undeterred. “Alright, alright. Let’s focus on how fun tonight’s going to be, okay?” Lucy sighed, grateful for the shift. “I hope so. What’s the plan once we get there?”

“Well, first off, it’s going to be wild. They’ve got music booming, lights everywhere—it’s a full-on Halloween party, so everyone’s dressed up,” Rachel said, her enthusiasm palpable. “And get this: Amanda hired a stripper.” Lucy blinked, surprised. “Wait, what? For a college party?”

“Yep! And he’s going to be dressed up as a cop,” Rachel continued with a grin.

“That’s just weird,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Who hires a stripper for a party? It feels… a bit much, don’t you think?”

Rachel shrugged, a playful smile on her face. “I guess it’s part of the whole Halloween vibe. And it’ll definitely add some drama to the night.”

“Drama is one way to put it,” Lucy said, still skeptical. “I can already picture Amanda making a scene just to get his attention.”

Rachel laughed. “Right? She’ll probably be the first one to make a move. But hey, at least we can laugh at it together if it gets out of hand. And don’t worry, we’ll leave whenever you want.”

Lucy gave a small nod, appreciating Rachel’s consideration. “Thanks. I just don’t want to feel trapped in the middle of all this.”

“You won’t be. And really, it’ll be fun. Just think about all the ridiculous costumes and the dancing!”

As they pulled up to the house, Lucy’s eyes widened. The party was massive. Lights flashed against the dark sky, and the music pulsed so loudly she could feel it in her chest even from inside the car. People were everywhere—dressed as zombies, superheroes, witches—spilling out onto the lawn and gathering around the porch, red cups in hand, laughter and shouting blending with the booming music.

“Wow,” Lucy said softly, taking it all in. “It’s… a lot bigger than I thought.”

Rachel glanced at her with a reassuring smile. “It’s big, yeah. But it’s going to be a blast. Just stick with me, and if it gets overwhelming, we can bail.”

“Yeah… okay. Let’s do this,” Lucy said, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the car door.

The moment they stepped out, it was like walking into a different world. The thumping bass from the music hit them harder, and the shouts of people already tipsy or outright drunk filled the night air. As they walked toward the house, a sudden burst of whistles echoed from the porch, making Lucy tense up. It was loud, chaotic—people whistling at each other, some howling in excitement as new arrivals walked up the driveway.

Lucy instantly felt small, like she was shrinking under the noise and the lights flashing in sync with the music. The energy of the party was overwhelming—far beyond what she was used to. She tucked her arms around herself, trying to avoid making eye contact with the rowdy crowd by the entrance.

Rachel was unfazed, of course. She strode ahead, confident and at ease, waving at familiar faces and calling out to friends. Lucy tried to keep pace, but it felt like the scene was swallowing her whole. The mix of laughter, music, and constant shouting only made the space feel more suffocating.

As they got closer to the door, more people turned to look at them. Lucy caught some of the stares, a few grins, and she heard the faint whisper of jokes being tossed around. Her heart beat faster, and she fought the urge to turn back to the car.

Rachel glanced back and noticed Lucy’s discomfort, slowing her pace. “You good?” she asked softly.

Lucy nodded, even though she didn’t feel entirely okay. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a lot all at once.”

They finally stepped inside, where the scene shifted even more dramatically. The house was packed, music blasting from massive speakers set up in the corners. Neon lights pulsed over the crowd, casting everything in deep blues and purples, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat. Lucy could barely hear herself think over the noise. The ceiling seemed lower with so many people crammed together, and the walls felt like they were closing in.

She swallowed, her hands clenching slightly as she stayed close to Rachel’s side. The vibrant lights of the party pulsed in rhythm with the thumping bass, illuminating a chaotic swirl of bodies. The energy was infectious, yet Lucy felt small and overwhelmed, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

“Let’s grab drinks,” Rachel suggested, pulling Lucy toward a long counter laden with colorful bottles and cups. It wasn’t a traditional bar, but rather a makeshift station where partygoers gathered, filling their cups with whatever concoction they could whip up.

Lucy hesitated, glancing back at the raucous crowd. “You know I don’t really drink,” she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

“Oh, come on!” Rachel exclaimed, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “Just grab something. I promise it’ll help loosen you up.” She reached into a cooler filled with ice and pulled out a couple of beers, the cold droplets glistening against the glossy aluminum.

Lucy eyed the beers with skepticism, her mind racing with doubts. “I don’t know about this…”

“Just try it,” Rachel insisted, her tone coaxing as she popped one open and took a long sip, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s just a beer, Lucy. It’s not like you’re signing up for a lifetime membership or something.”

With a resigned sigh, Lucy accepted the second can Rachel handed her, feeling the cold metal against her palm. She hesitated before raising it to her lips. The moment the bitter liquid hit her tongue, her face scrunched up in distaste. “Ugh! This tastes awful!” she exclaimed, sputtering slightly as she set the can down.

“Really?” Rachel laughed, her eyes wide with amusement. “You didn’t expect it to taste like candy, did you?”

“I don’t know what I expected,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “I thought maybe it would taste like soda or something. This is just… bitter and gross!”

“Welcome to the world of beer,” Rachel said with a grin, clearly enjoying Lucy’s reaction. “It’s an acquired taste. You’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, right,” Lucy replied, grimacing at the can. “I’d rather stick to soda, thanks.”

As they navigated through the throng of partygoers, Lucy gradually felt the atmosphere shift around them. The air was thick with the scent of body spray, sweat, and the sweet undertones of mixed drinks. People were dancing everywhere—some moving with wild abandon, while others clustered in animated groups, their laughter punctuating the music that pulsed through the room like a living entity.

With each drink Rachel grabbed, Lucy found herself easing into the flow of the party. The DJ was in full swing, spinning a mix of the latest hits and nostalgic throwbacks that resonated with the crowd, making it impossible not to sway. At one point, a group near the dance floor broke into a spontaneous dance-off, drawing cheers and applause from the onlookers. Lucy couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm; it was infectious.

After a while, they stumbled upon a quieter corner, finally finding a slightly worn-out couch that had seen better days. They perched on the edge, feeling like they had discovered a little sanctuary amidst the chaos. The noise surrounded them, a low hum in their little bubble, allowing them a moment to breathe.

Rachel leaned back, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she surveyed the room. “Damn,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the crowd. “I bet he has a nice hose.”

Lucy followed Rachel’s gaze, curiosity drawing her in despite herself. “Rach, please don’t—”

“No, seriously!” Rachel cut in, leaning forward with growing excitement. She motioned toward the tall, striking figure stationed near the counter. The man stood out effortlessly, his cop uniform perfectly tailored to his muscular frame, each detail drawing attention. His dirty blonde hair, tousled just enough to look rugged, framed a face that was all sharp lines and stern focus. His intense gaze swept over the room like he was assessing everything, as if he belonged to a world much more serious than the one around him.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, her voice full of playful suspicion. “Do you think he’s the stripper?”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed instantly. She opened her mouth to argue, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment too long. “I don’t know…” she muttered, unable to shake the sudden thought that Rachel might be right. He didn’t have the look of someone here for casual fun, but there was something undeniably… magnetic about him.

Rachel smirked, clearly enjoying Lucy’s reaction. “Look at him! He’s standing there like he’s about to break up a crime scene. And come on, that uniform? It’s got to be part of the act.”

Lucy tried to suppress a grin. “He looks way too serious for that.”

“Exactly! That’s what makes it so good. I mean, he’s hot, but like… in that ‘I know what I’m doing’ kind of way,” Rachel continued, her tone teasing. “Tell me you wouldn’t let him throw you over his shoulder.”

Lucy’s heart raced, her face growing warmer by the second. She could hardly believe she was even considering it, but the thought of him being a stripper – or maybe something more – had her pulse thrumming. She caught herself staring again, the way his eyes flickered between the people around him, every movement deliberate. “Okay, I’ll give you that,” she admitted, a bit breathless. “He’s… definitely something.”

“Right?” Rachel’s eyes sparkled with victory. “He’s the kind of guy who could make anyone weak in the knees. Plus, he fits the theme perfectly.” Lucy chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“Come on, just look at him!” Rachel insisted, nudging Lucy playfully. “You should totally go talk to him.”

“What? No way!” Lucy exclaimed, her eyes widening. “I’m not going to talk to the stripper!”

“Why not? He’s right there!” Rachel urged, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You’ll never know unless you try. Just go up and say something fun. Get touchy, flirt a little!”

“Touchy? Are you serious?” Lucy laughed nervously, her cheeks heating up at the thought. “That’s so not me! What would I even say? ‘Hey, I think you might be the stripper; can we take a selfie together?’”

“Why not?” Rachel teased, nudging her again. “Or just give him a little compliment! You know, tell him he looks great in that uniform. Play it cool!”

Lucy shook her head vigorously, her heart racing at the thought. “No way! I can’t just walk up to a guy like that. It’s not like I’m some… some party girl.”

“Just loosen up!” Rachel said, rolling her eyes playfully. “You’ve got to live a little tonight. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lucy felt her stomach flutter at the idea. She glanced back at the handsome cop, his serious demeanor momentarily lifted by the camaraderie around him. The world felt like it was spinning a little faster, her mind racing with a mix of excitement and anxiety. “I don’t know,” she muttered, fidgeting with her hair, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“Come on! Just give it a shot,” Rachel encouraged, her voice full of enthusiasm. “What do you have to lose?”

Lucy took a deep breath, her palms sweaty as she glanced at the cop again. He looked completely unapproachable yet undeniably attractive, and the thought of talking to him sent a wave of nerves through her. “Okay, okay,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

With a nervous flutter in her stomach, she shifted on the couch, her heart pounding louder than the music around them. The bass thumped like a heartbeat, echoing her mounting anxiety as she stood up slowly, feeling as if all eyes were on her, even though she knew that wasn’t true. This is ridiculous, she told herself, mentally rolling her eyes at her own hesitation. Her stomach twisted with uncertainty as she smoothed her shirt and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Just go!” Rachel urged, a grin plastered on her face, her excitement radiating. “You’ve got this!” Lucy shot her a pleading glance, hoping for a burst of confidence, but it didn’t come. Instead, she felt that same wave of anxiety wash over her again.

She forced her legs to move, each step toward the cop feeling like she was wading through molasses. He stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the part in his crisp uniform. The music thumped in her ears, mixing with the racing of her heart as she took another step closer. What the hell am I doing? she thought, nearly stopping in her tracks.

“Hi,” she managed to say, her voice barely louder than a whisper. The word felt inadequate, like she’d stumbled over the simplest greeting in the world. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable, those dark eyes sweeping over her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he replied, his tone even, yet there was an undercurrent of something deeper—curiosity, perhaps. “How are you doing?”

She chuckled nervously, shaking her head slightly as she fought to collect her thoughts. “I’m, um, doing well, just… enjoying the party.” God, could you sound any more lame? Her mind screamed at her. She cleared her throat, desperately searching for something, anything to keep the conversation flowing. “So, you’re the entertainment for tonight, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion in his gaze. “Entertainment?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “I’m just here to make sure everyone’s having a safe Halloween.”

The way he said “ma’am” had Lucy’s cheeks flushing hotter than the room already was. It struck her as both formal and oddly intimate, and she realized how her words must have come across. Her brain scrambled to find the right thing to say, but all that came out was a flustered mess. “I—I just meant, you know, with the costume and all. It’s really good, very authentic looking. For the party, I mean. You must get a lot of compliments on it.” Her voice rushed out, tripping over itself like she was running a race she hadn’t signed up for.

He chuckled again, a low, rich sound that made her stomach flutter. “Thanks. I try to keep it professional.” His eyes flickered with a hint of amusement, but the way he straightened, posture relaxing yet poised, made her acutely aware of his authority.

Lucy felt the heat radiating from her cheeks. “Right, I get that. Just, um, thought it was a little… different from what I imagined a stripper would wear.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she winced internally at her own audacity.

His brow furrowed slightly, confusion playing across his features. “Excuse me?”

“Uh, well…” She felt her confidence waver as she fumbled for her words. “You know, I thought you would’ve been a little less clothed.” The admission slipped out, and she regretted it immediately, her heart racing as she realized how bold she sounded.

His confusion deepened, and he straightened a bit, clearly trying to make sense of her comment. “Less clothed?” he echoed, his voice laced with incredulity. “What exactly are you implying here?”

She looks at him for a couple more seconds, trying to think what to say, and finally with a nervous sigh she says “ M-maybe I can give you a hand taking some things off....”

Lucy’s voice came out so quietly it barely made it over the pounding music. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. Her heart raced wildly, palms clammy, every nerve in her body tingling in alarm. What are you doing?! her brain screamed at her.

This wasn’t some fantasy where she knew what she was doing. She wasn’t bold; she wasn’t flirty. She was standing in front of this man, this stripper, but the way his deep blue eyes studied her—with a mix of confusion and something else she couldn’t quite place—made her stomach twist tighter.

The cop blinked, clearly thrown off by her suggestion. His brows furrowed even more as he took in her awkward posture, her hands hovering near his chest as if she couldn’t decide whether to touch him again or bolt in the opposite direction. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but—”

“No, I mean—” Lucy’s laugh came out high-pitched and breathless, like she was trying too hard to act confident. “I just thought… you know… with the uniform and all…” She gestured vaguely toward his shirt, her fingers brushing against the crisp fabric before she realized she’d touched him again. Her cheeks burned. What are you doing?! Stop touching him!

But instead of pulling back, she went in with even more determination, feeling like she had to commit now or completely lose face. Her hand fumbled clumsily with the top button of his uniform shirt. “This looks really uncomfortable,” she rambled, her voice cracking nervously. “I’m sure you’d feel a lot better with… less on.” Her laugh died awkwardly in the back of her throat as she popped the first button open, her fingers shaking as she moved to the next.

Surprisingly he didn’t stop her at first, probably too stunned to process the mess of a situation unraveling in front of him. Lucy’s pulse was deafening in her ears. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and for some reason—probably nerves—she found herself leaning in closer, like she was about to whisper something, like she was some pro at this sexy thing, her hands gripping the front of his shirt to steady herself.

That’s when it happened. As she tugged at the neckline of his shirt, her mind raced for something to say, but nothing came out. She opened her mouth to say something bold, something flirty, but instead, silence enveloped them, amplifying the chaos in her head. In her awkward shuffle, her grip yanked at the fabric with just enough force to rip it. The tear was loud, a sharp contrast to the music thumping in the background. Her eyes went wide, and her heart practically stopped as she realized what she’d just done.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

“Oh my God!” she gasped, stumbling back in horror, her hand flying up to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to—”

The officer’s expression darkened. He straightened immediately, his body tense, his gaze dropping to the torn fabric at his chest before flicking back up to her, full of disbelief. He wasn’t laughing. Not at all.
“Ma’am,” he said, his voice suddenly low and stern, “you need to stop.”

But Lucy, in her panic, only made things worse. “No, no! I can fix it!” she blurted, her hands darting forward again as if she could magically mend the damage. Her fingers scrambled to re-button his shirt, trying to cover the rip like she could somehow make it disappear if she just acted fast enough. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Ma’am, stop,” he repeated, grabbing her wrist firmly but not harshly, pulling her hands away from him. His voice was firm now, no longer confused or amused. He was serious—really serious.

Lucy froze, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. Her mouth went dry, and her stomach churned with humiliation. “I… I just thought… I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“Look,” he said, his grip still gentle but unyielding as he lowered her hands to her sides. “Whatever misunderstanding led you to this, it stops now. You’re digging yourself into a hole, and you need to step back before you make things worse.”

Her eyes widened, her face a deep shade of crimson as she stammered, “I thought you were… I mean, you’re here for the party, right? The, uh… entertainment?”

The officer’s brow furrowed further, and he took a small step back, giving her a clearer view of the badge pinned neatly to his uniform. “Ma’am, I’m an officer with the LAPD. I’m here because we got a noise complaint about this party, not because I’m part of the entertainment.”

And with that everything around her went black

Chapter Text

Suddenly, she was enveloped by a void that swallowed the vibrant colors of the party—the flashing lights, the laughter, and the pulsating music—leaving her disoriented and breathless. Panic surged through her like a tidal wave, each frantic heartbeat reverberating in her ears like a relentless siren. The atmosphere, once lively and celebratory, transformed into a suffocating blanket of anxiety that constricted her chest and muddled her thoughts. Stumbling backward, she collided with the hard edge of a table, grasping it desperately for support as she fought against the disorienting wave of chaos that threatened to engulf her.

“Ma’am,” a commanding voice sliced through the fog, firm yet calm, cutting through her mental haze like a lifeline thrown to a drowning swimmer. “Can you hear me?”

Lucy struggled to focus her bleary vision, shadows dancing at the periphery of her awareness. “I—I can’t!” she gasped, her voice trembling with raw anxiety. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Please, remain calm,” he instructed, his tone authoritative but imbued with a sense of urgency. “I need you to listen to me. We’re going to step outside to a quieter area where we can talk and help you collect yourself.”

His grip was steady on her arm, warm and reassuring, as he guided her through the throngs of revelers still lost in the festivities. Each laugh and shout felt like a taunt, intensifying her embarrassment, but the officer’s presence anchored her amidst the storm of swirling bodies and noise. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm threatening to spiral out of control as her mind raced.

As they stepped outside, a rush of cool night air enveloped her, sharp and invigorating, cutting through the stifling weight of the party. The cacophony of music and laughter fell away, replaced by the distant hum of the city and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed, his voice steady and authoritative. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Lucy obeyed, inhaling deeply as the crisp air filled her lungs, gradually clearing the fog of panic from her mind. She could feel her heart rate begin to normalize, the suffocating grip of anxiety loosening its hold. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her voice steadier but still tinged with guilt. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“You’re not causing trouble,” he reassured her, his demeanor professional and composed. “I appreciate your cooperation, ma’am. I need to ask you a few questions. Can I start with your name?”

“Lucy,” she managed, meeting his steady gaze. The intensity of his focus made her feel heard in a moment when she felt utterly lost.

“Thank you, Lucy,” he said, nodding as he scribbled notes in his notepad. “Are you a student here?”

“Yes, I’m a psychology major,” she replied, pride creeping into her voice despite the turmoil of the moment.

“Good. And what were you doing at the party tonight?” he continued, his tone serious, eyes focused intently on her responses.

“I just wanted to unwind after a long week of studying,” she explained, her voice gaining strength. “It’s been a tough semester with finals coming up.”

“Did you come to the party with anyone?” he asked, his pen moving swiftly across the paper.

“Yes, I came with my roommate,” she said, recalling the brief moments of laughter and camaraderie before everything had spiraled. “But we got separated.” He paused, pen hovering above the paper. “What’s your roommate’s name?”

“Rachel,” Lucy replied, a flicker of concern crossing her mind as she thought of her friend in the midst of the chaotic party.

He noted the name, his expression serious. “I appreciate your cooperation, Lucy. Now, I need to ask if you’ve had anything to drink tonight. It’s important for your safety.”

Lucy hesitated, her thoughts racing. “Just a little,” she admitted, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “But I’m fine. I mean, I’m not drunk or anything.”

“Understood,” he replied, his pen moving again. “And have you ever had any issues with alcohol or other substances in the past? It’s crucial for me to have a complete picture here.”

“No, not really,” she responded, shaking her head. “I’ve never had a problem. I just… wanted to relax tonight.”

He nodded, maintaining his professional demeanor. “Thank you for your honesty, Lucy. I need to emphasize that in typical circumstances, I would have to document this incident, as it could be classified as an assault on an officer.”

Lucy froze, the officer’s words slamming into her like a punch to the gut. Assault on an officer? Her eyes widened as panic returned with a vengeance, wrapping itself tightly around her chest. Her heart, which had just begun to slow, started racing again, her breath quickening into shallow gasps.

“What?” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. “No—I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—” Her hands trembled at her sides, her mind spinning as she tried to grasp what was happening. Assault? Her thoughts scrambled backward, trying to piece together the events of the night, the blur of faces, the flashing lights, the chaotic rush to get away from the suffocating crowd. Had she done something without realizing it? Had she—

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know… I didn’t mean to touch you, I swear! I just—” Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush, her hands flying up as if to ward off the accusation. “Please, I didn’t mean anything like that! I didn’t—”

“Hey, hey,” the officer said, cutting her off, his voice firm but much gentler than before. He held up a hand, a clear gesture for her to stop. “It’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about. Really.”

Lucy shook her head, her chest tightening even more. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he interrupted again, this time with a touch of understanding in his tone. “And I meant it as a technicality. But you don’t need to freak out. It’s just a misunderstanding—a very unusual one—but still, just that. A misunderstanding.”

Her breathing slowed a little, his words starting to sink in. “A misunderstanding?” she repeated, half disbelieving, half hopeful.

He nodded, his stance relaxing slightly, though his voice remained professional. “Yes. You panicked, and things got a bit out of hand, that’s all. No one’s accusing you of anything serious, Lucy. You didn’t hurt anyone, least of all me.” He glanced down at his torn uniform, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Though it looks like you did give the uniform a run for its money.”

Lucy’s eyes widened as she followed his gaze to the ripped fabric of his sleeve, a fresh wave of mortification crashing over her. She could still feel the shame washing over her face, the memory of her hand tearing at his shirt vividly replaying in her mind. “I know, I’m so sorry. Anyway, I can pay you back for it,” she said, trying to push past the embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice lighter now. “It’s department-issued. They’ll give me a new one. Happens all the time.”

She peeked out from behind her hands, still feeling the burn of embarrassment. The officer seemed so calm now, so unconcerned, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d completely embarrassed herself. After a long pause, she finally nodded, letting out a slow breath as the weight of the moment started to lift.

The officer seemed to notice her calming down, and after another beat of silence, he spoke again. “How about this,” he said, his tone shifting once more. “It’s been a long night for you. Why don’t I give you a ride home? It’ll be easier than trying to find your way back alone.”

Lucy blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “Oh, no, that’s really not necessary,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be any more trouble than I already have been.”

He raised a brow, his tone still firm but with an edge of finality. “You’re not any trouble, and I insist. It’s late, and I’d feel better knowing you got home safely.”

Lucy hesitated, her mind immediately flashing to Rachel. Could she just leave her here? It didn’t feel right. But then again, Rachel had encouraged her to let loose tonight, to step outside her comfort zone, to adventure, as she’d put it. Maybe this was part of that. Maybe Rachel would understand.

“Okay,” she said quietly, a nervous smile creeping onto her face. “I’ll take the ride.”

“Great,” he replied, relief evident in his voice as he shifted the car into gear. They pulled away from the chaotic scene of the party, and the rhythmic hum of the engine began to soothe her nerves.

“So, where to?” he asked, maintaining his professional tone while also trying to lighten the mood.

“I live in the dorms on Hawthorne Street,” she said, feeling a flutter of anxiety in her stomach. “It’s just a short drive from here.”

“Got it,” he replied, nodding as he made the turn onto the main road. “You’re lucky. Most dorms aren’t this close to all the excitement.”

Lucy chuckled, her embarrassment starting to fade a bit. “Yeah, excitement is one way to put it. I don’t really go out that much. I’m more of a study-at-home kind of girl.”

“Not everyone is cut out for the party scene,” he said, his tone friendly but still professional. “Peer pressure can be a lot to handle.”

“Pretty much,” she agreed, a small laugh escaping her lips. “My roommate, Rachel, wanted me to come out tonight and made me wear this ridiculous costume.” She gestured to her firefighter outfit, feeling a hint of self-consciousness wash over her.

“Well, you definitely committed to the theme,” he teased, shooting her a sideways glance. “I mean, not everyone can pull off a firefighter look, especially not at a party like that.”

“Right? I’m not sure how I ended up in this,” she replied, shaking her head, a smile lingering on her face. “But Rachel insisted it would be fun.”

“Good friends can be persuasive,” he replied, a hint of warmth in his voice. “At least you have the right spirit for Halloween. You know, it’s not every day that someone mistakes a cop for a stripper. You’re making memories tonight.”

“Yeah, memories I’d rather forget,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully. “But I guess it’ll be a story I can tell later.”

As they pulled into the parking lot of her dorm, the atmosphere between them felt lighter. “So, what are you going to do now?” he asked, turning off the engine and giving her a curious look.

“I think I’ll curl up with a book,” she said, feeling a bit sheepish. “Nothing like some thrilling psychology to take my mind off the night.”

“Sounds riveting,” he replied, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “Maybe throw in some popcorn for good measure?”

Lucy laughed, the warmth of his presence easing her earlier tension. “I’ll be sure to add that to my quiet night in.”

He turned to her, his expression shifting slightly more serious. “Just remember, if you ever need to talk about tonight—or if you have any questions—don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Before she could respond, he pulled out a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “This is for you. Just in case.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling a flutter in her chest as their fingers brushed. She tucked the card away, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Have a good night, Lucy,” the officer said, his tone friendly yet professional as he handed her his card.

“Right, you too,” she managed to reply, feeling warmth creep into her cheeks as he climbed back into the cruiser. She watched him for a moment, heart racing not just from the residual adrenaline of the night but from the flicker of something else she couldn’t quite identify. As the cruiser pulled away, she stood still for a moment, the weight of the evening settling over her—a mix of embarrassment, relief, and a flutter of excitement.

What had just happened? She replayed the events in her mind—the chaos of the party, her panicked flight, and then the officer’s calm demeanor. He had handled the situation with such professionalism, and yet there had been a softness in his eyes that had made her feel safe. Lucy couldn’t help but smile at the memory, despite the embarrassment still lingering in her chest.

The ride home had been surreal. The way he’d reassured her, trying to ease her anxiety, while also cracking jokes to lighten the mood, had made her feel oddly comfortable, even though the situation was so unusual. She felt a mixture of gratitude and shyness wash over her.

As she entered the dorm building, her heart raced again, but not from panic. It was something else entirely. This was crazy. She had just shared a strangely intimate moment with a cop, someone who had every reason to be stern yet had chosen to be kind.

Once in her room, she slipped into the bathroom, peeling off her firefighter costume with a sigh of relief. The fabric had felt constricting, and she wanted to shed the night along with it. The shower was a welcome embrace, the warm water washing away the tension from the evening. She closed her eyes, letting the steam envelop her.

After rinsing off, Lucy wrapped herself in a towel, feeling refreshed yet still buzzing from everything that had transpired. Stepping out of the bathroom, she caught sight of Rachel, who had just returned.

“Good to know you’re not dead!” Rachel exclaimed, her tone teasing.

Lucy rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a smile. “Very funny,” she replied, moving toward her bed.

“I’m serious, Lucy. You just disappeared!” Rachel said, mock concern dancing in her eyes.

“I got a different ride,” Lucy said casually, trying to downplay the situation.

“Did you now?” Rachel raised an eyebrow, her expression gleeful with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Lucy replied, but she could feel her smile giving her away.

“Who gave you a ride?” Rachel pressed, her interest piqued.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy said, attempting to sound indifferent, but Rachel’s knowing look made her feel exposed.

“Oh, it totally matters! Someone has a big case of smiles,” Rachel teased, nudging Lucy playfully.

“I do not!” Lucy retorted, her cheeks flushing a bright crimson as she struggled to hide her grin. The heat creeping up her neck was both embarrassing and oddly exhilarating, a telltale sign of how flustered she felt after the night’s unexpected turn.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Rachel laughed, tossing her bag onto her own bed with a flourish. “But you’ve definitely got that look, Lucy. Spill!”

Lucy hesitated, biting her lip as she weighed whether to share the details of the night. Rachel’s excited gaze felt like it was probing right through her, and the last thing she wanted was to relive the awkwardness of it all. “I got a ride home with the… stripper,” she finally admitted, trying to keep her tone nonchalant but failing miserably.

Rachel’s eyes widened, practically sparkling with mischief and excitement. “Oh my God! Things went well, I take it?”

Lucy paused, her stomach flipping as she thought back to the entire encounter. “I mean,” she began, her voice hesitant, “they could’ve gone better… but they weren’t awful, I guess.”

Rachel’s brows shot up as she leaned in, intrigued. “Could’ve gone better? What the hell does that mean? What happened?”

Lucy waved her hand, feeling her embarrassment rising again. “I don’t know! It was just so awkward. I don’t really flirt with people! I had no idea what I was doing, and it was so… weird.”

“Weird? Weird how?”

Lucy stammered, unsure how to even explain the mess of emotions she’d gone through. “Just—awkward. I don’t even know how to talk to guys like that. I never do this!” Rachel was clearly loving every second of this. “Come on, Lucy, you survived, right? You talked to him, you didn’t run away, and you got home safe! That’s a win.”

Before Lucy could respond, Rachel’s grin widened and she cut her off with a flood of questions. “So, what did he say? Did you touch him? Did he flirt with you? Oh my God, did he talk dirty to you?”

Lucy's eyes widened, feeling her face grow impossibly hot. "Rachel, no-" she tried to protest, but Rachel was already on a roll.

"Oh my God, you totally touched him, didn't you? Was it his chest? His abs?
Oh wait, was it lower? Did you cop a feel? I swear, if you touched his-"

"Rachel!" Lucy blurted, her embarrassment rising to an unbearable level. She fidgeted on her feet, trying to deflect her friend's barrage of questions. "I didn't — I mean, no, that's not what happened!"

But Rachel was relentless. She flopped back onto her bed dramatically, laughing. "I knew it! You totally touched him! This is amazing. So, what did he say when you grabbed him? Was he into it? Did he give you the look, you know, like that look?"

Lucy groaned and sank down onto her own bed, burying her face in her hands.
"Rachel, can you please stop?" she mumbled through her fingers, but Rachel only leaned in closer, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Oh, come on! Don't get shy now. Was he hot? Did he take off the uniform? Was he ripped under there?" Lucy groaned louder, her patience wearing thin. "Rachel, seriously-"

Rachel, completely ignoring her, gasped. "Wait, did he kiss you? Oh my God, he kissed you, didn't he? Is that why you're blushing? I swear, if you made out with the stripper, I'm going to lose my mind!"
Lucy finally snapped. She threw her hands up in the air and yelled, "He wasn't a stripper!"

Rachel froze mid-laugh, blinking in confusion. "Wait, what?"

"He wasn't a stripper, Rachel," Lucy said, her voice exasperated as she sat back down on her bed, crossing her arms. "He was a real cop. A real cop. Not some guy in a costume."

Rachel blinked again, processing, then laughed loudly. "Shut the fuck up! Are you serious? I thought-oh my God-l told you to go talk to him thinking he was a stripper! We both thought-"

She broke into a fit of laughter, clutching her stomach. "Oh, this is priceless. We both thought he was a stripper, and he was a cop the whole time?"

Lucy nodded miserably. "Yeah. Turns out, we were both wrong. He told me after the whole thing. I wanted to die."

Rachel wiped tears from her eyes, still grinning. "This is too good. So, did the cop flirt with you then? You've got to tell me he at least flirted a little."Lucy shook her head, covering her face with her hands again. "I don't know! I was too embarrassed to notice anything. It was the most awkward night of my life."

Rachel, still chuckling, leaned over and grabbed something off the nightstand.
"Oh, this just keeps getting better," she teased. "Let me guess-he gave you his number, right?"Lucy peeked out from her hands, cheeks burning again. "Well... he did give me his card."

Rachel’s grin widened as she snatched the card from Lucy’s hand, flipping it over dramatically. “Let’s see this guy’s name. Ooooh, Tim Bradford,” she said, dragging out his name in an exaggeratedly flirty voice. “That’s such a hot name for a cop, Lucy. You’ve got yourself a sexy real officer. Forget strippers. We’re leveling up!”

Lucy groaned, covering her face with her hands as she sank back into the bed. “Rachel, stop…”

But Rachel was already pacing, caught up in the hilarity of the situation. “I’m serious! Tim Bradford. Like, come on, that’s a movie star cop name. You know he’s probably out there solving crimes, rescuing kittens, and flexing those muscles under the badge.”

Lucy peeked through her fingers, laughing despite herself. “Rescuing kittens? Really?”

Rachel waved a hand, unfazed. “Or something. Point is, it’s kind of perfect. I mean, here you are at a party, thinking he’s some hunky stripper, and boom—turns out he’s the real deal. You’re living a romance novel plot.”

Lucy shook her head, feeling the heat return to her cheeks. “A romance novel? Rach, this is real life. And it wasn’t like that, at all.”

Rachel stopped pacing for a moment and gave Lucy a look, one eyebrow arched. “Oh really? Because last time I checked, cops don’t usually let cute girls rip their shirts off and then drive them home. Seems pretty ‘romance novel’ to me.”

Lucy felt her stomach twist at the reminder, a wave of embarrassment hitting her all over again. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. “It was an accident, okay? And he was just doing his job. Making sure I got home safe.”

Rachel sat down on her own bed, folding her legs underneath her. “Sure, sure. But still… you’ve got to admit it’s a little funny.”

Lucy gave a weak chuckle, biting her lip. “Funny? It was mortifying.”

Rachel leaned in, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, come on, Luce. I’m telling you—this is a sign. He gave you his card, didn’t he?”

Lucy froze, then looked down at the card in her hand. “Yeah… but that doesn’t mean anything. He was just being polite.”

Rachel snorted, rolling her eyes. “Polite? No, honey. Polite is giving you a wave and telling you to have a nice night. Giving you his card? That’s a whole different story.”

Lucy hugged her knees tighter, feeling her face burn even more. “Rachel, no…”

Rachel grinned, clearly not about to let it go. “You should totally text him.”

Lucy’s head shot up. “What? No! Why would I do that?”

Rachel waggled her eyebrows. “Because he obviously wants you to. The guy didn’t have to give you his card. I mean, that’s basically his number! He was making sure you have a way to contact him. That’s not just ‘being nice.’”

Lucy shook her head, her heart racing at the thought. “He was just… I don’t know… being professional.”

Rachel scoffed, leaning back on her bed. “Professional? Girl, please. If he wanted to be professional, he could’ve called you a cab. Instead, he drives you home himself? This man wanted to make sure he left an impression.”

Lucy hugged her pillow, feeling her stomach flip as she replayed the whole ride in her mind. She hadn’t thought about it like that—she’d been too focused on getting through the awkwardness. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’m just some college girl who had a few drinks and ripped his shirt. He probably thinks I’m some kind of… I don’t know, delinquent.”

Rachel shook her head, smirking. “Oh please. If anything, he probably found the whole thing adorable. Cops deal with assholes all day. You were probably a breath of fresh air. I mean, come on—he drove you all the way back here. And he gave you his card.”

Lucy’s heart pounded in her chest. “He was just making sure I got home safe. It’s his job.”

Rachel shot her a skeptical look, rolling her eyes. “Oh, his job? Please, Lucy, his job isn’t chauffeuring adorable girls around L.A. in the middle of the night. The man was into you.”

Lucy felt her face flush. “He wasn’t into me. I literally mistook him for a stripper. He probably thinks I’m a total idiot.”

Rachel threw her hands up in exaggerated disbelief. “Lucy, the guy gave you his card. He’s a cop, not a bouncer handing out club flyers. That was a move!”

“I don’t think so. He was just being nice,” Lucy insisted, burying her head into her pillow.

Rachel groaned and shook her head dramatically. “You are impossible. Lucy, I love you, but seriously, give yourself some credit for once. You’re hot, you’re smart, and you’ve got this shy, awkward thing going that guys eat up! You think he didn’t notice?”

Lucy peeked up from her pillow, feeling torn between her embarrassment and the sliver of curiosity Rachel had planted. “I don’t know… It’s just—how would I even know if he was interested?”

Rachel gave her a playful shove. “You could, I don’t know, text him? He gave you the damn card, what more do you need? The man basically said, ‘Here’s my number, please call me.’”

Lucy cringed, holding up the card between her fingers. “It’s just… it’s too weird. What would I even say? ‘Hey, thanks for not arresting me after I assaulted your uniform?’”

Rachel burst into laughter. “Okay, maybe not exactly like that. But something casual, like, ‘Hey, thanks again for the ride. Hope your shirt survived.’ You know, something cute!”

Lucy groaned again, flopping back onto the bed. “I don’t know, Rach. He probably just felt bad for me. I was a mess.”

Rachel crossed her arms, leaning over with a teasing grin. “A hot mess. Come on, Luc, when are you going to stop thinking of yourself as some invisible, nerdy girl? You’re the whole package! And I guarantee you, that cop noticed.”

Lucy fidgeted with the edge of the card, her mind racing. “I don’t know, I’m just… I’ve never done this before. I’m not good at flirting.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to be! It’s not like you have to pull out some cheesy pick-up line. Just be yourself. You went up to him, didn’t you?”

Lucy nodded reluctantly. “Yeah… only because you basically dared me to.”

“And look where that got you! A ride home with a hot cop, and his personal number. You’re doing way better than you give yourself credit for.”

Lucy bit her lip, staring at the card. “I just… I don’t want to make it awkward.”

Rachel waved her off. “Girl, it’s already awkward! Own it! Besides, awkward is charming. Just text him something simple and see what happens. Worst case? He doesn’t respond. Best case? You’ve got a date with a sexy cop.”

Lucy groaned, covering her face. “I hate you.”

Rachel laughed, poking Lucy in the ribs. “You love me. Now text him, or I’ll do it for you.”

Lucy sighed, half-annoyed and half-amused, but the tiny grin on her face gave her away. She glanced at the card again, uncertainty swirling in her mind.

As Rachel headed to the bathroom, Lucy sat on the edge of her bed, the card trembling slightly in her hand. She looked at it, heart racing as she traced the embossed letters with her finger—“Tim Bradford, Los Angeles Police Department.” The name sent a jolt of heat through her cheeks. The memory of his warm smile and genuine concern flickered in her mind, but so did the anxiety of what came next.

What if he didn’t remember her? What if he laughed at her? A wave of panic washed over her, and she bit her lip, trying to push away the fear. Maybe it was all just a silly crush, something that would fade by morning.

But what if it wasn’t? The thought of going to see him made her pulse quicken, fear and excitement colliding in her chest. She could practically hear Rachel’s voice egging her on, urging her to take a chance. But with that urge came the anxiety that twisted in her stomach.

Lucy took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions. She stared at the card again, the potential it held feeling both thrilling and terrifying. The glow of her lamp illuminated it, casting a spotlight on her decision, and she felt flustered, torn between courage and doubt. What was the worst that could happen?

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing in the silence of the car. Tim gripped the steering wheel tighter, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, the pressure in his chest building with every passing second. A routine call—just a noise complaint—should have been an easy in-and-out. Forgettable. But it had become something else, something that clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

His mind wasn’t just on the mess of the party, though. It was everything else, piling on like bricks he couldn’t set down. His wife hadn’t come home in months. What started as whispers of doubt, those nagging suspicions in the back of his head, had turned into something darker. He thought maybe if he could catch her in a lie, he’d have something to hold onto—some excuse, some reason for the unraveling. But it was bigger than that. She had left, in all the ways that mattered, long before she’d stopped coming through the door.

There was nothing to fix anymore. He knew it, felt it in his bones. But even knowing that didn’t stop the ache. He hated that it still mattered, hated that some small, pathetic part of him held onto the hope that maybe, one day, she’d walk back in and throw him that playful grin like she used to. Call him “Eagle Eye,” as if things were still okay.

She had given him that name, back when he was fresh on the force—before life got complicated, before the weight of the job and everything else had settled into the cracks. The name had come after vandals trashed his patrol car, right there on his watch. He’d felt like a complete failure. She’d just laughed, teasing him with the nickname, but it had been more than a joke. It was a reminder, a way of telling him she still believed in him, even when he’d screwed up.

Now, the nickname felt like a cruel echo of a time that had slipped through his fingers. Back then, her belief in him had been enough. But now? Now, it felt hollow. Just like the empty house.

And as if that wasn’t enough to weigh him down, there was the Halloween party.

It had started as nothing—a routine noise complaint, just some drunk kids disturbing the peace. But somewhere along the way, Tim had stumbled into a misunderstanding he couldn’t escape. The girl—Lucy—had been too far gone to realize who he was, and before he could get her to calm down, she’d yanked at his uniform in a drunken attempt to flirt. His undershirt had ripped halfway open before he managed to step back, face burning as she slurred out an apology.

Now, the fallout was waiting for him at the station.

“Yo, Magic Mike! Save some moves for the rest of us next time!”

The teasing started the moment he stepped inside, sharp and relentless. A couple of the older guys grinned like they’d been waiting all day.

“Need backup, Magic Mike, or are you running solo now?”

The nickname latched on effortlessly, like it had always been waiting in the wings for the perfect moment to strike. Within minutes, “Magic Mike” morphed into “MM,” and by lunchtime, a few of the more senior officers had decided on “Twinkletoes.” Tim knew better than to fight it. In the station, nicknames were like wildfire: the harder you tried to smother them, the faster they spread. All it took was a spark—a misunderstanding, a dumb joke, or a single moment where you let your guard down. And now, because of one drunken encounter at a Halloween party, Tim was officially branded.

It didn’t help that he could hear the laughs echoing in the hallways long after the teasing stopped. He’d turn a corner and catch a few officers chuckling, slapping each other on the back as they replayed his night in exaggerated detail, complete with imaginary dance moves. And every time the words “Magic Mike” left someone’s lips, it was like a tiny barb getting lodged under his skin. But instead of snapping back or telling them to shove it, he kept his head down and waited for the storm to pass.

They would move on. They always did.

But, of course, they never really did. Nicknames in the station had a way of hibernating, lying dormant until someone dug them up for a cheap laugh. The next time he screwed up—or hell, even did something remotely noteworthy—Magic Mike would rear its head again, sneaking back into conversation with a smug grin and a wink. Just like “Eagle Eye.” It was all a joke to them, a stupid name he’d never live down.

And right now, with everything going to hell in his personal life, Tim didn’t have the energy to care.

He sat there, staring at the dashboard, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a lead blanket. The shop offered a small reprieve, a little slice of space where he could shut out the world for a few minutes. But even in that quiet, he couldn’t escape the thoughts that had been gnawing at him for weeks. Months, really.

Isabel was gone. Not physically—her things were still there, her name still attached to the mortgage—but the person he had married was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t sure when it had happened exactly. Maybe it was a slow fade, something that crept up on them without either of them noticing. Or maybe it was always there, a fault line between them that was bound to crack open eventually.

But it didn’t matter how it started. What mattered was that she wasn’t coming back. She hadn’t been home in months, and every text he sent, every call he made, felt like screaming into a void. At first, he’d convinced himself that she was just staying late at the office, or maybe she was blowing off steam with friends—hell, maybe there was someone else. Someone she actually wanted to be with. And if that was the case, he could deal with it. He could hate her for cheating, yell, throw stuff around the house, and then maybe move on.

But no. It wasn’t another man.

It was just nothing. Silence. Her absence felt like a deliberate choice, a slow, calculated withdrawal. And that was worse than any affair.

He’d tried to fix it. God, he had tried everything. He made dinner for two, only to eat it alone at the kitchen counter, staring at the empty chair across from him. He sent apologies, long, desperate texts about how he could change, how they could start over, but they were either ignored or given half-hearted replies. Everything between them had rotted away while he was too busy being distracted by the job, the calls, and the late nights. By the time he realized, it was too late. The house felt like a mausoleum—a place where the ghost of their marriage lingered in every corner, mocking him with memories of better days.

Tim sighed, rubbing his hand across his face, the scruff of his beard scratching against his palm. The station jokes, Isabel’s disappearance—they all blended into one giant mess that clung to him, making everything feel heavier than it should. The light outside had started to change, the sun angling lower, casting long shadows across the street. People were out now, walking to wherever they needed to be, lost in their own worlds, unaware that life for him felt like it was falling apart.

And then he saw her.

A girl rushed past, moving quickly down the sidewalk, her arms full of books stacked precariously high. A loose notebook flapped from the side of her backpack, dangling dangerously close to falling out. She moved with a sort of frantic energy, as if time was chasing her down, and in her haste, she tripped over her own steps. The books tumbled from her arms, scattering in all directions, pages flipping in the breeze as they hit the ground.

Tim’s instinct kicked in before his brain could catch up. He eased the shop over to the curb and stepped out, his boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud. She was already crouching, muttering to herself, trying to scoop the mess back into her arms. As he approached, something about the way her hair fell over her face, the soft curse that slipped from her lips, made him pause.

It couldn’t be.

No

No

No

There was no way

But it was.

It was her

Lucy

The firefighter, the same girl who had confused him as being a stripper

Of all the people in Los Angeles, of all the streets he could have been on at that moment, it had to be her. The girl from the party. The one who’d mistaken him for a stripper, who’d yanked at his shirt while he stood there awkwardly, trying to explain he was just there on a noise complaint. The one who’d made his life at the station a living hell ever since.

And now she was here, scrambling to pick up her books, completely oblivious to the fact that she was about to collide with her own embarrassing past.

Tim stood there for a second, unsure whether to help or retreat. His first instinct was to turn around, pretend he hadn’t seen her, and get the hell out of there. But something in him hesitated. Maybe it was the way she cursed under her breath, or the way her hands shook as she tried to gather everything into a neat pile. Maybe it was the fact that she looked just as lost as he felt.

“Need a hand?” Tim’s voice cut through the noise of the busy street as he stepped forward, his eyes locking onto the familiar figure kneeling on the sidewalk, surrounded by scattered books and pens.

Lucy froze mid-reach, blinking up at him. “Officer Bradford?” she stammered, her voice tight with surprise.

Tim couldn’t help but grin as he crouched down beside her, easily scooping up a notebook. “Yep. We seem to keep bumping into each other.”

“Yeah, literally,” she muttered, flustered, her hands fumbling as she tried to gather her things. Her eyes flickered between her fallen items and the ground, avoiding his gaze. She reached for a book just as Tim did, and their fingers brushed. She quickly recoiled, clutching the book to her chest with an awkward laugh. “I promise I’m not always this clumsy.”

She’s nervous, Tim thought, watching the pink flush creep up her neck. There was something endearing about how flustered she became every time they met. He held out the last of her notebooks, his smile softening. “Maybe I just bring it out of you?”

Lucy’s face burned brighter. “Oh God, no!” she blurted, then immediately backpedaled, stumbling over her words. “I mean, it’s just… bad timing, or… maybe it’s just me being… ugh.” She bit her lip, visibly cringing at her own rambling.

Tim chuckled, shaking his head as he rose to his feet, offering her a hand up. “Relax, I know what you mean. We all have those days.”

Lucy took his hand, her grip firm but quick, as if she was embarrassed to hold on too long. “Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling her bag over her shoulder, looking anywhere but at him. “For helping. Again.”

“No problem,” he replied, dusting off his pants as he stood beside her. He watched as she tugged nervously at the strap of her bag, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement. She was wound up tight, and he could almost see the thoughts spinning in her head. “So, you headed to class, or just taking your books for a walk?”

Lucy laughed, the sound a little too high-pitched. “Class. I’m actually late, which is… great,” she added, sarcasm heavy in her tone as she checked her watch. “I’m usually on time. Like, always.”

That explains the nerves, Tim thought. She was the type who liked to have everything together, and being late probably felt like the end of the world to her. “You strike me as the kind of student who shows up just in time to slide into a seat,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you think when you see me dropping all my stuff in the middle of the street.”

Tim’s grin widened. “Hey, I’m just making an observation. Maybe I’m wrong.”

Lucy shook her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, you’re not. I hate being late, but I guess it’s inevitable today.” She sighed, glancing down the street like she was already calculating how many minutes she’d lost.

Tim leaned casually against the side of his cruiser, folding his arms. “Don’t stress about it too much. One late day won’t kill your grade, right?”

She hesitated, looking up at him with a small, exasperated laugh. “I mean… I’d rather not test that theory. I’m kind of one of those perfectionists.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her candor. Perfectionist, huh? It made sense, given how put-together she always tried to appear. He’d noticed that about her the first time they’d met—how everything had to be just right, even in the middle of her mess. “Well, in that case, I’ll let you get back to it. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for your GPA dropping.” Lucy’s laugh came out softer this time, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Right, because running into Officer Bradford always seems to derail my day.”

Tim chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I like to think I’m more of a helpful detour than a derailment.”

Her lips twitched, and for the first time since they started talking, she looked directly at him, her eyes meeting his. “Helpful, yeah,” she said, her voice soft, almost teasing. “I think that’s a good way to put it.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, Tim thought about how easy it was to fall into this back-and-forth with her. She was flustered, sure, but there was something genuine in the way she spoke, like she was trying to hold herself together in front of him. It made him wonder if she was always this uptight, or if he just had a knack for throwing her off her game.

“So,” Tim said, breaking the silence, “you planning on acing this psych class you’re late for?”

Lucy shrugged, clearly not too thrilled with the topic. “I guess. I mean, it’s just psych.” She waved her hand dismissively, looking down the street again, her mind clearly more focused on the fact that she was late than on the actual subject of her class.

Tim nodded, not really interested in the class either, but more in the way she seemed to care so much about being perfect at everything. “Well, if it’s just psych, maybe they won’t notice you’re late.”

Lucy let out a breathy laugh, adjusting her bag. “I hope so. I’m already mentally drafting my apology to the professor.”

Tim smiled, watching her for a second longer. She had that look again—the one that said she was ready to run but didn’t want to seem rude. He pushed off from the car, stepping back slightly to give her space. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Lucy hesitated, then gave him a small, nervous smile. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Preferably not in another mess.”

“Uhhhh...Y-Yeah, I’ll look forward to it.” he said with a slight stutter. Since when did he stutter he thought to himself? Why did he even do that? why did he keep on embarrassing himself? He had talked to civilians before what made this time any different?

“Good, I’m glad,” she said through her wide smile, before she turned and began to walk away, he felt an unexpected flutter in his chest, a warmth that spread through him like a slow burn. It was ridiculous, really. He had no business feeling this way about a girl he barely knew—especially one who had literally stumbled into his life. But here he was, leaning against the side of his shop, the sun casting a golden glow on everything around them, and he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Once she was out of sight, Tim climbed back into the shop, still replaying their conversation in his mind. He couldn’t believe he had said that—I’ll look forward to it. It sounded so stupid, so out of character for him. He was a cop, for crying out loud, not some lovesick schoolboy. And yet, the thought of running into her again sent another rush of heat through his body that he couldn’t quite understand.

It was strange, feeling this lightness mixed with uncertainty. Part of him was still wrapped up in the lingering shadows of his life, haunted by Isabel’s absence, but another part was drawn to the chaotic energy that Lucy exuded, the way she made even the simplest interactions feel charged with something more.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This is dumb, he told himself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. But as he started the engine, he couldn’t deny the small flicker of excitement he felt at the idea of seeing her again. It felt nice, almost refreshing, and he couldn’t wait to find out what happened next.

Chapter Text

Thump

Thump

Thump

Her heart felt like it was doing cartwheels, each beat heavy and insistent, rattling in her chest like it was trying to make an escape. Lucy’s pen hovered uselessly over her notebook as she stared blankly at the page. The words on the board, the professor’s voice—they blurred into background noise, drowned out by the rapid pulse pounding in her ears. She shifted in her seat, trying to will herself to focus, but it was no use.

All she could hear was that stupid phrase. That stupid, innocent, yet not-so-innocent phrase.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Why did he say it like that? Her mind clung to the words, dissecting them over and over again. Was it just polite? Casual? Or was there more to it than that? Lucy bit the inside of her cheek, her fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on the desk. She hadn’t even registered the rest of what he said, not really—just those four words. They echoed like a song stuck in her head, looping endlessly.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

The way his mouth curved slightly when he said it, how his eyes softened, like he knew something she didn’t. Lucy’s stomach twisted. It couldn’t have meant anything… right? He was probably just being nice. But then again, there was something about the way he’d looked at her, like he was actually looking forward to it.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought, and she quickly looked around the classroom, hoping no one noticed her zoning out. Not that it mattered—everyone was absorbed in their own notes and laptops. The professor’s droning voice felt miles away as her thoughts continued to spiral.

She scribbled down a few sentences, trying to look busy, but the notes didn’t make sense. She couldn’t shake the memory, the way his voice had sounded so casual, yet something about it seemed like more than just a simple goodbye. Was she overanalyzing? Absolutely. But still, her mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

Maybe he was looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe it wasn’t just polite. Maybe—

Stop it, Lucy. Stop it. Her inner voice tried to reason with her, to drown out the absurd fantasies she was constructing, but the thumping in her chest refused to settle. She could still picture his face so clearly, his eyes on her, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he’d said it.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

With a frustrated sigh, Lucy gave up on the lecture entirely. Her pen stopped moving, and she slouched back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling.

This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

The clock on the wall ticked agonizingly slow as the class dragged on, and Lucy counted every second until she could get out of there. When the professor finally dismissed them, she stuffed her things into her bag, her movements hurried and clumsy. She just needed to get out, to clear her head.

The walk back to the dorm felt longer than usual. The cool breeze against her flushed skin was refreshing, but it did little to calm the frantic thoughts swirling in her mind. Her footsteps were quick, her heart still pounding away like it had a mind of its own. She was still replaying their conversation in her head, dissecting every glance, every word.

By the time she reached her building, her mind was in knots. She pushed open the door, stepping into the familiar warmth of her shared space with Rachel. She dropped her bag by the couch and pulled off her jacket, her head still buzzing.

Rachel glanced up from where she sat scrolling through her phone. “Hey, how was class?”

Lucy hesitated, her face heating up again. “Uh, yeah, it was… good,” she mumbled, hoping her vague answer would be enough to avoid more questions.

Rachel arched an eyebrow, immediately picking up on the weird energy. “You okay? You’re all… blushy.”

Lucy’s eyes widened, and she quickly turned away, heading toward the kitchen to grab some water. “I’m fine! Just… tired.”

But Rachel wasn’t buying it. She set her phone down and leaned back with a smirk, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “Oh yeah? ’Cause you’re looking a little too blushy for ‘tired.’ What happened?”

Lucy groaned internally, already dreading where this was going. There was no way she could talk about Tim without sounding like a total idiot. “Nothing happened, seriously,” she insisted, trying to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her.

Rachel cocked her head to the side, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. So you’re telling me you didn’t just spend the entire walk home looking like you were about to pass out from embarrassment? Come on, Luce, spill. Who was it? What happened?”

Lucy shook her head, her fingers anxiously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “No one. Nothing. I’m just… stressed. You know, classes and all that.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing wider. “Classes, huh? So your anatomy class suddenly started including lessons on blushing profusely? Yeah, I don’t think so. Come on, something happened. You’re way too flustered for this to be just school stuff.”

Lucy’s heart raced as she fumbled for an excuse, anything to get Rachel off her back, but her mind was blank. She could feel her cheeks heating up even more under her friend’s knowing stare.

“Did you run into someone? Or did you get a message from a certain someone?” Rachel pressed, leaning forward now, clearly enjoying Lucy’s discomfort. “Don’t make me pry it out of you, Luce. Just tell me. What. Happened.”

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, knowing there was no escaping this interrogation. Rachel was like a dog with a bone when she sensed something juicy, and Lucy’s blushing only made it worse. She took a deep breath, finally deciding to just get it over with.

“I, uh… I ran into Officer Bradford,” she muttered, barely loud enough for Rachel to hear.

Rachel’s eyes lit up instantly, her smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “Officer Bradford? That Officer Bradford? The cop from the party?” She practically bounced in her seat, leaning in closer. “What do you mean, ‘ran into’? What did he say? What did you say? Did something happen?”

Lucy wanted to disappear into the couch. “Nothing happened!” she insisted, though her voice sounded far too defensive. “We just… bumped into each other, and he said something weird, that’s all.”

Rachel’s grin widened impossibly more. “Weird? What kind of weird? Oh my God, did he flirt with you? Was it cute? Was it awkward? Oh my God, both?”

Lucy buried her face in her hands, groaning. “Why are you like this?” she mumbled through her fingers.

“I’m like this because I know there’s more to this story than ‘nothing,’” Rachel said with a laugh. “Come on, you’re clearly all worked up over it. Just tell me what he said!”

Lucy sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. Rachel wasn’t going to let it go, and honestly, keeping it bottled up was only making her more flustered. She let her hands fall into her lap, face still hot, and glanced at Rachel, who was waiting eagerly like she was about to hear the juiciest gossip of the year.

“Fine, I told him thanks… you know, for what happened at the party. And I said, ‘Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.’”

Rachel leaned in even closer, eyes wide with excitement. “And? And what did he say?”

Lucy swallowed hard, her heart pounding again just thinking about it. “He… he said, ‘You know what? I’ll look forward to it.’”

Rachel’s mouth dropped open, her eyes practically sparkling. “He what?”

“Yeah,” Lucy mumbled, feeling that familiar heat rising in her cheeks again. “He said he’d look forward to it.“

“Girl, that’s not just ‘nothing’! He said he’d look forward to it? You’ve got to be kidding me! That’s definitely more than just polite small talk!”

Lucy felt her stomach twist at the realization. “I don’t know, Rach. Maybe he was just being nice. I mean, we’ve only talked twice! It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

Rachel shook her head, her voice taking on a serious tone. “Doesn’t matter. He could’ve just shrugged it off, but he didn’t. You need to stop overthinking it. Just because you’ve only talked a couple of times doesn’t mean he’s not interested. He obviously enjoys talking to you.”

“But what if he doesn’t really mean it? What if he just says that to be polite?” Lucy countered, her hands fidgeting nervously with her hair. “I can’t have a crush on him, Rachel! We’ve literally spoken, what, twice?”

“Exactly! You’ve only talked twice, and he’s already made a lasting impression. You need to trust that gut feeling, Luce,” Rachel urged, her excitement bubbling over. “What’s the harm in having a little crush? It’s not like you’re marrying the guy! You’re young; just let yourself feel something!”

Lucy let out an exasperated sigh, torn between her insecurities and the fluttering excitement that Rachel’s words inspired. “It feels ridiculous. I don’t even know him that well. I mean, come on, I can’t just like him because he’s cute and said something nice. That’s insane.”

“Is it?” Rachel raised an eyebrow, challenging her. “It’s not insane to feel something for someone you think is cute. You’re allowed to have a little fun! Plus, if he’s cute and nice, then what’s the issue? Just embrace it!”

Lucy leaned back against the couch, her heart still racing as she tried to process Rachel’s enthusiasm. “I don’t know, it just feels like I’m setting myself up for disappointment. What if he’s not really interested?”

“Then at least you’ll know! Better than imagining all these ‘what ifs’ in your head,” Rachel argued, her voice softening a little. “Just think about how fun it could be to explore this. You deserve to have some fun in your life!”

“Fine, fine,” Lucy relented, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “But I’m not going to go chasing after him or anything. That’s just… embarrassing.”

Rachel leaned in closer, her excitement palpable. “You don’t have to chase him! Just call him! You have his card, right? Why not go for dinner? Talk about nothing serious. Just see where it goes!”

Lucy stared at Rachel, incredulous. “Call him? Just like that?”

“Exactly! What’s stopping you? It’s just dinner! You can keep it light, and if it’s weird, then you’ve only wasted an hour or two of your life,” Rachel said, her enthusiasm unwavering.

Lucy bit her lip, her mind racing with possibilities. “But what if it’s super awkward?”

“Then you’ll have a funny story to tell! Seriously, you’re overthinking this. If you like him, go for it!” Rachel insisted, her eyes shining with encouragement. “You won’t know unless you try, and who knows? Maybe he’s just as interested in you as you are in him.”

Lucy leaned back into the couch, wrestling with the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions churning inside her. Rachel’s words echoed in her mind, a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“Okay, okay, let’s say I actually do it,” Lucy said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if he says no? Or worse, what if he thinks I’m a total weirdo for even asking?”

Rachel waved a dismissive hand, her confidence unwavering. “He won’t think you’re a weirdo. He’s a cop, Luce! He’s probably dealt with way weirder things. Plus, if he’s even half as nice as you think, he’ll be flattered you reached out.”

Lucy groaned, running a hand through her hair. “It just feels so… bold. Like, I’ve never really done this before. I mean, sure, I had a boyfriend in high school, but that was different. I didn’t have to worry about what he thought of me as an adult, or whether I was making an idiot of myself.”

Rachel shot her an incredulous look. “This isn’t high school! You’re not fifteen anymore, and you’re not looking for a prom date. You’re both adults, and this is the kind of thing adults do. If you don’t take a chance, you’ll never know what could happen. Just think about how much you like him—why not see if he feels the same?”

Lucy felt her pulse quicken at the thought. The idea of reaching out to Officer Bradford made her stomach flip, both with excitement and a tinge of dread. “What if he thinks I’m just being nice? Or that I’m some naive girl crushing on him? What if he laughs it off?”

“Then he’s a loser, and you move on. But I don’t think he will,” Rachel replied, her tone insistent. “You’ve got to believe that he’s not going to laugh at you for having feelings. You’re smart, funny, and pretty! Just take a chance, Luce. Life is too short to wonder ‘what if.’”

Lucy let out a heavy breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she contemplated the possibility. “You really think I should just… call him?”

“Yes! Or text him or whatever! Just make a move. You’ll never get anywhere by sitting back and waiting. Just think of it as a casual hangout,” Rachel urged, her enthusiasm palpable.

With a reluctant smile creeping onto her face, Lucy considered it again. What did she really have to lose? “Okay, but if I do this, you have to promise not to freak out when I tell you how it goes.”

Rachel clapped her hands, practically vibrating with excitement. “Deal! I promise I won’t freak out. Just text him something simple, like ‘Hey, I enjoyed talking to you today and would love to meet up again sometime ! Want to grab dinner with me?’ Easy peasy!”

Lucy nodded, the fluttering in her stomach shifting from anxiety to something more hopeful. “Alright, I can do that,” she said, her resolve growing. “But if I humiliate myself, I’m blaming you.”

“Bitch, please. You think I’d let you embarrass yourself? I’m in your corner, and if he can’t handle a little awkwardness, he’s not worth your time,” Rachel said firmly, her tone a mix of sass and sincerity.

“But—”

“Lucy, I’m serious. If he can’t appreciate the amazing person you are, whether you’re a nervous wreck or not, then he’s just not the one for you. You won’t know until you send that text, so stop overthinking it. Just do it. If it turns out bad, there’s always ice cream and a marathon of that ridiculous cooking show we love.”

Lucy chuckled, feeling the weight of her doubts lift a bit. “Okay, you’re right. It’s just… what if he thinks I’m too much?”

“Then he’s too basic. Trust me, you’re worth it. Now quit talking and type something out, dammit.”

With Rachel’s words still echoing in her mind, Lucy took a deep breath, fingers hovering over her screen. She glanced at the blinking cursor, a reminder of the task ahead. Just do it, she thought, her resolve solidifying. She began to type: Hey, Officer Bradford. This is Lucy. I just wanted to say that I had a really good time talking with you today and would love to do it again sometime over dinner if you’re up for it.

As she reread the message, her heart raced. Was it too casual? Too forward? But she quickly reminded herself that if he couldn’t appreciate her quirks, he wasn’t worth the worry. With a final glance at the screen, she hit send, watching the message disappear into the digital void.

The little “delivered” notification popped up, and she felt a rush of anxiety mixed with a flutter of hope. What if this was the start of something new? What if he liked her just as she was?

She stared at her phone, thoughts swirling in her mind, each scenario playing out with excitement and fear. Taking this leap felt monumental, but now all she could do was wait and see.

Chapter Text

The day had been grueling, stretching on like some endless marathon, and by the time Tim and Angela finally settled down outside the food trucks, the world felt a little quieter, a little slower. The sun had dipped behind the horizon, leaving a chilly breeze that carried the smell of grilled meat, fried food, and spices through the air. Their small table was tucked away from the bustling crowd, a perfect spot for Angela’s relentless teasing and their usual back-and-forth banter.

Tim’s body felt heavy, weighed down by the stress of the day, but Angela’s energy was contagious. She sat across from him, picking at her fries and sipping on a beer, recounting a story about her disastrous attempt to flirt with a bartender. Tim chuckled, though his mind wasn’t fully in the moment, the exhaustion starting to creep in.

“You should’ve seen his face, Tim,” Angela said, throwing a fry at him for good measure. “Like, if rejection had a look, it was that. Dude didn’t even try to let me down easy. Just gave me a blank stare and asked if I wanted my receipt.”

Tim smirked, shaking his head as he picked up his burger. “That bad, huh?”

“The worst,” she said dramatically, but she smiled, waving it off. “Whatever, his loss. I’ll survive.”

Just as Tim was about to take another bite, his phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a new message. He glanced at it casually, but his stomach dropped the moment he saw the message flash across the screen. He paused, his hand hovering over the phone.

Angela, ever perceptive, caught the shift in his expression. Her eyes zeroed in on him, her smile curling into something mischievous. “What was that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Tim said quickly, trying to act nonchalant as he reached for his phone.

“Oh, it’s never ‘nothing,’ Timmy,” Angela teased, her voice full of suspicion. And before he could react, her hand shot out, snatching the phone right off the table. She was quick, faster than Tim on a tired day like this.

“Angela, give it back,” Tim said, half-serious, half-laughing as he tried to grab for it. But she was already reading the message, and when she looked up at him with that wide, devilish grin, he knew he was in for it.

Angela cleared her throat, her voice dripping with mock-seriousness as she read Lucy’s message aloud: “‘Hey, Officer Bradford. This is Lucy. I just wanted to say I had a really good time talking with you today and would love to do it again sometime over dinner if you’re up for it.’” She barely finished before a burst of laughter escaped her. “Oh-ho-ho, Tim! Somebody’s got a girlfriend!”

Tim groaned, swiping for the phone again, but Angela kept it out of his reach, practically bouncing in her seat with glee.

“I do not have a girlfriend,” Tim said, his face growing hotter by the second. He could feel the flush creeping up his neck, but there was no escaping Angela’s relentless teasing.

“Really?” Angela teased, holding the phone up as evidence. “Because this sure sounds like girlfriend material.”

“It’s just some girl,” Tim muttered, finally managing to yank his phone back from her grasp. He shoved it into his pocket like it might disappear if he didn’t look at it.

Angela leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a triumphant grin. “Just some girl, huh? And who is this ‘just some girl’ you’re having dinner with, Mr. Officer Bradford?”

Tim shot her a look, but she wasn’t backing down. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, it’s exactly like that!” Angela said, her eyes sparkling. She leaned forward, a glint of mischief in her expression. “C’mon, spill. How’d you meet her?”

Tim sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. “The Halloween party.” Angela blinked, and then, as if the realization hit her all at once, she burst out laughing—loud, cackling laughter that drew stares from a few people nearby. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, unable to control herself.

Angela’s laughter erupted so loudly that heads turned at nearby tables, but she didn’t care—this was too good. “Oh my God,” she wheezed, slapping the table. “It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one who thought you were a stripper!”

Tim groaned, sinking lower into his seat, already regretting giving her even an ounce of the truth. He’d never live this down.

Angela grinned wide, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Tim, this is too rich. You can’t make this stuff up. The girl who thought you were about to give her a lap dance is now asking you out to dinner. Please tell me you’re wearing your police uniform to the date, just to really sell it.”

Tim rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide the embarrassment burning through him. “Angela, I swear to God…”

“What?” Angela threw up her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, it’s not every day someone mistakes you for a stripper and still wants to have dinner with you. That’s a sign, Timmy. You’ve got something going for you.”

“Yeah, and that ‘something’ is apparently being mistaken for entertainment,” Tim muttered, though he couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

Angela leaned in, lowering her voice like they were planning a top-secret mission. “So… what’s the plan? You’re gonna go see your girlfriend soon? When’s the date? You better wear something tight, show off those cop muscles.”

Tim rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he reached for his drink. “I’m not going to dinner with her, Angela.”

Angela’s playful grin didn’t falter. She was having too much fun with this. “What? Why not? I mean, she asked you out. She’s clearly into you. I’m sure you could rock the whole ‘dangerous cop’ vibe.”

Tim shot her a deadpan look. “ Are you fucking kidding me, Angela?” She blinked innocently, as if she couldn’t possibly understand why he’d even hesitate. “No, I’m not. I don’t see the point. Why wouldn’t you go?”

Tim scoffed, his frustration simmering just under the surface now. “Oh, I don’t fucking know. Maybe because I’m still married.”

Angela groaned, rolling her eyes so dramatically Tim half-expected them to stay stuck. “Tim, seriously? We’re back to this?”

“Yeah, we’re back to this.” His voice was sharper than he intended, the weight of the word “married” still heavy on his chest. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms defensively. “I can’t just… go out with her like nothing’s wrong.”

Angela stared at him for a moment, her playful expression fading into something more serious. She wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. “Tim,” she said, her voice softer but firm, “nothing’s wrong. That’s the point. You’re not cheating on anyone. Isabel isn’t in your life anymore.”

“Yeah, legally she is,” Tim shot back, his tone dripping with frustration. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to steady himself, but all he felt was the pull of the past, the constant nagging reminder that he was still tied to someone who didn’t want to be tied to him. “I’m still married, Ange. It’s not some little thing I can just ignore.”

Angela tilted her head, giving him a sympathetic look, but there was still that sharp edge in her voice as she pressed him further. “Tim, come on. You’re clinging to this idea of marriage like it means something in your situation. Isabel‘s been gone for months, and you’ve barely talked since. You’re living separate lives. How much longer are you going to let this hold you back?”

Tim’s jaw tightened, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he tried to push down the rising frustration. He didn’t want to hear this, not again, not tonight. “It’s not about holding me back,” he said, voice low. “It’s about what’s right. I made a vow, Angela. I vowed that I would love her forever, till death do us part. I-I can’t just pretend that doesn’t matter.”

Angela sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair as she took another sip of her beer. She studied him for a moment, then shook her head. “I get it. I really do. But, Tim, you made that vow to someone who’s not even here anymore. Somebody that left you without a word. You’re punishing yourself for something that’s already over.”

Tim didn’t respond, just stared off into the distance, watching as people moved through the crowd around them, their lives seeming so simple in comparison. His mind buzzed with everything he wasn’t saying, all the doubts, all the guilt that had become second nature by now.

Angela leaned forward again, her tone growing more urgent. “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m not even saying you should dive into something serious with this girl. But one dinner? What’s the harm in that?”

Tim sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze fixed somewhere past the food trucks. “The harm, Ange, is that I’m still married. And I… I can’t just act like that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to lead her on or make her think this is something it isn’t.”

Angela gave him a sympathetic, slightly frustrated look. “Tim, you’re not living like you’re married. You and Isabel have been separate for, what, almost a year now? You’re not cheating on anyone by having dinner with a nice girl who wants to spend time with you.”

“Maybe it feels different for you,” he replied, his voice quieter, almost like he was trying to convince himself. “But I made promises, Ange. I can’t just ignore that because things didn’t work out. It feels… wrong.”

Angela reached across the table, her expression softening. “Tim, you’re not moving on. You’re just… surviving. And I think this girl, well—she’s just asking you to dinner. Not a vow-breaking ceremony, okay?”

He cracked a reluctant smile but still shook his head. “She’s a nice girl, Angela. Sweet, grounded. She deserves more than whatever mess I bring. And I can’t risk making things worse for her.”

“Maybe she’d be okay with it, Tim. Maybe you’re the one who needs to be okay with it, too.”He raised an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh. “And just how would she be ‘okay’ with dating a married guy?”

Angela sighed, folding her arms. “Simple—you just tell her upfront. Be honest.”

“Oh, perfect,” he scoffed. “Because nothing says ‘sweep her off her feet’ like, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m married.’” He leaned back against the food truck, arms crossed, as if the weight of his reality pressed down on him.

Angela rolled her eyes, refusing to let him wallow. “Come on, Tim. You can’t keep using that as an excuse. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t have a life. You’re allowed to feel something for someone else.”

“I still love Isabella,” he murmured, staring off into the distance, where the lights of the food trucks flickered like distant stars. “I mean, no matter what’s happening between us, I still care.”

Angela’s expression softened for a moment, but she didn’t let him off the hook. “I know you love her, Tim. But she’s gone. She hasn’t been home in months. She doesn’t answer your calls. She doesn’t even read your texts. How much longer are you going to put yourself through this?”

Tim let out a frustrated breath, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “I keep hoping she’ll come back. Things will go back to normal.”

“Normal?” Angela leaned in, intensity flooding her voice. “What’s normal about this? You’re stuck in this limbo while she’s out there, living her life. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already slipped away. It’s not fair to you.”

He clenched his jaw, the truth of her words biting hard. “But what if she comes back? What if we can fix things?”

Angela shook her head, her frustration palpable. “You can’t live your life waiting for someone who may never come back. It’s been months. You deserve to move on, to find happiness again, whether that’s with this girl or anyone else.”

“Just like that?” he challenged, the fear in his voice surfacing again. “I can’t just forget everything we had.”

Angela softened her gaze, the warmth in her expression steadying his spiraling thoughts. “No one’s asking you to forget, Tim. It’s about letting go of the idea that you need to hold on to the past. What you had with Isabel was real, but so is the fact that she’s not here now. You can carry those memories and still be open to new ones.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he wrestled with her words. “But what if it feels like I’m moving on too fast? Like I’m just… giving up on her?”

“Moving on isn’t giving up. It’s living,” Angela replied firmly. “You’re not abandoning her; you’re allowing yourself to heal. Look at you, Tim. You’re stuck in this cycle of waiting and hoping, and it’s draining you. You deserve to find joy again, even if it feels scary right now.”

Tim met her eyes, searching for reassurance. “It’s just hard. What if I start dating this girl, and then she comes back? What then?”

Angela shrugged, her tone softer now. “Then you deal with it when it happens. Life isn’t neat and tidy, and neither are relationships. You can’t put your life on hold because of what might happen. You have to choose to live in the moment, to experience everything—good and bad. And if she comes back, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

He considered her words, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “I guess I just don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Angela smiled knowingly. “You won’t hurt anyone by being honest. If you’re upfront about where you stand, you can navigate this. Plus, if this girl is as interesting as you say, she might just surprise you.”

Tim chuckled at that, the idea of Lucy making him smile against his better judgment, his cheeks turning bright red. “Yeah…. she’s definitely different.”

“Oh, different? That sounds promising. Are we talking ‘she’s got a pet lizard’ different, or more like ‘she’ll drag you to an art gallery and make you appreciate the beauty of abstract sculptures’ different?”

Tim felt himself flush even more. “Uh, well… she’s definitely the second one. She actually knows what she’s talking about, and it’s kind of refreshing.”

Angela smirked, clearly enjoying his embarrassment. “So you’re saying different is a good thing? Look at you, getting all flustered! Sounds like somebody’s got a crush!”

“Shut up!” Tim laughed, shaking his head as he tried to hide his red face. “It’s not like that! She just—she gets me thinking about things I usually don’t even care about.”

“Exactly! See? That’s a win,” Angela teased, waggling her eyebrows. “You need someone who can challenge you, not just sit around looking pretty. Different might just be what you need right now.”

Tim looked down at his phone, still fidgeting, his thumb lingering over Lucy’s name. “I don’t know… it just feels like a big step, jumping into something new.”

Angela sighed, crossing her arms with an amused, exasperated look. “Tim, it’s dinner, not a proposal. You’re not committing to anything here. Just go. See what happens. No pressure.” He hesitated, glancing up at her. “Yeah… maybe. I just don’t want it to get complicated. What if it’s awkward, or she starts expecting something?”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Then don’t overthink it. Keep it simple: take her to dinner, talk, laugh, see how it goes. Worst-case scenario, you get some good food and a break from overthinking. Best-case?” She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You actually enjoy yourself for once.”

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of indecision. “Fine, fine, okay! Just get off my back.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “But seriously, what do I even say? It’s been so long since I had to worry about the beginnings of a relationship. Isabel and I… she was the one who made the first move. I’m completely out of practice here.”

Angela softened, sensing his hesitation. “Just be honest. Ask her about her day or what she likes to do for fun. You don’t have to have a perfect script. Just be yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” he muttered, still staring at the screen. “I don’t want to come off as some awkward guy who doesn’t know how to flirt.”

“Just remember,” Angela said, nudging him again, “you’re not trying to impress her. You’re just trying to get to know her. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

After a moment of contemplation, Tim took a deep breath, his finger finally pressing on the text bar as he typed: “Hey, Lucy. Good to hear from you. I also had a good time talking with you today. I would love to grab dinner.” After a quick glance at Angela, he hit send, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

“See? Was it really that fucking hard?” Angela said, her arms crossed and a triumphant smirk on her face.

Tim rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool despite the rush of adrenaline. “It’s not like I do this every day, you know.”

“Exactly! So why the hell did you wait so long?” she shot back, leaning in closer as if to challenge him. “You’ve been coasting for too long. Get out of your own head and just live a little.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. But I don’t need a lecture,” he replied, still feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

“Good, because I’m done with the lectures. Now all you have to do is wait for her to respond,” she said, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And when she does, don’t screw it up.” Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah, thanks for that. No pressure at all.”

“I’m just saying you don’t wanna ruin your chances before you even get to the date.” Tim laughed dryly, though his nerves were still thrumming under the surface. “Great pep talk, Angela. Really puts a guy at ease.”

Angela raised an eyebrow, her expression half-mock, half-serious. “Hey, I’m just looking out for you. Wouldn’t want your awkward charm to scare her off before you even sit down.”

Tim scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Awkward charm? Pretty sure that’s not even a thing.”

“Oh, it’s a thing, alright,” she shot back, nudging his arm. “And it’s all yours. Just…try not to overthink it, okay? You’re meeting her for dinner, not a court deposition.” He sighed, nodding, though the weight of it still lingered. “Yeah, but what if I say something dumb? Or worse, she realizes I’m… I don’t know, not worth the effort?” Angela’s smirk softened, and she looked at him squarely, her tone shifting to something gentler. “Tim, listen to me. You’re worth way more than you give yourself credit for. If she’s worth her salt, she’ll see that, too.”

He met her gaze, feeling a flicker of reassurance. “Thanks, Ange.” Angela gave him a light shove. “Don’t thank me yet. Just make sure to at least show up. Otherwise, I’ll drag you there myself.”

Tim mumbled to himself, “I’m sure you would.” The words barely left his lips, trailing off into the quiet as he looked down at his phone.

He knew he’d always carry a part of Isabel with him, no matter what. She’d been his first real love, and that wasn’t something you just erased. Loving her had been intense and all-consuming, and even though that chapter was closed, some memories were like imprints he’d probably never fully shake.

But this girl, Lucy… there was something different about her, something that caught him off guard. She wasn’t flashy or over the top—just real, and a little guarded. And he couldn’t help but want to know more, to get past that wall she seemed to keep up. She had this way of being tough but somehow sweet, like there was a lot more to her than she let on.He wasn’t diving headfirst, wasn’t about to make it into more than it was. But he was curious—interested enough to want to see where it could go.

Chapter Text

Lucy hadn’t really expected an answer. Sure, she had hoped, maybe even allowed herself a little sliver of optimism that he’d say something. But in her mind, it was a distant hope—something that would fall apart gently, maybe with a polite, “Thanks, but I’m busy” or a vague, friendly “maybe sometime.” That kind of denial she could handle; she could shrug it off and go back to her routine without getting caught up in something she couldn’t control.

She was stretched out on her bed, scrolling through her phone, glancing at the TV, half-aware of Rachel lounging across from her, half-watching the movie they’d agreed to play in the background. The faint hum of conversation on the screen was almost soothing, her mind floating somewhere between nervous anticipation and resignation, when suddenly, her phone buzzed.

The sound cut through her thoughts, pulling her out of her daze. She glanced down, expecting some notification from social media or a reminder, but instead, she saw his name. Tim Bradford. Her breath caught in her throat, and before she knew it, she’d gasped audibly.

Rachel looked over, slightly with a straight face.” What?” Lucy didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on her screen, her heart racing as she read his reply. Then, just to be sure, she read it again.

From: Tim Bradford
To: Lucy Chen
Hey, Lucy. Good to hear from you. I also had a good time talking with you today. I would love to grab dinner.

She read it one more time, each word sinking in like a slow, steady pulse. The message was short, simple—nothing overly personal—but it hit her like a shockwave. I would love to grab dinner. That one line looped through her mind, each repetition making her heartbeat feel louder. She bit her lip, trying to hold in the excitement that threatened to spill over, and read it again, almost like she needed to convince herself that it was real. 

Rachel raised an eyebrow, noticing Lucy’s wide-eyed stare and how she was clutching her phone with a kind of stunned intensity. “So… did he answer?” Lucy managed a nod, her voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a laugh. “Yeah… he answered.”Rachel pushed herself off her bed, crossing over to Lucy’s, leaning in to see the screen. “And?”

Lucy swallowed, her fingers trembling just a little as she showed her friend the message. “He… he said yes....he actually wants to go to dinner with me.”

Rachel let out a laugh of triumph, practically bouncing on the bed. “I told you! I knew he’d say yes!”

Lucy could only stare, her mind running in a thousand different directions. “But… I mean, I didn’t think he would. I thought—maybe he’d just be polite, or brush it off somehow. Not actually say yes.”

Rachel nudged her shoulder, grinning. “Well, he did. Now, the question is, what are you going to say back?”

Lucy felt her stomach flip, her thoughts racing. What am I going to say? A dozen questions sprang up, colliding in her mind like a whirlwind.

What day? What time? Where would they even go? Her mind darted to her closet, mentally cataloging outfits, wondering if anything she owned would be enough. Was her favorite sundress too casual? What if it was a more upscale place? Maybe the fitted jeans paired with that cute blouse? No, that was too basic. Ugh, why was this so complicated?

“Hey, focus!” Rachel teased, waving a hand in front of Lucy’s face. “Just breathe. You’ve got this! Look, you could ask him what he likes to eat first. That way, you can plan around his tastes.”

Lucy nodded absently, but her heart was still racing. The thought of texting him felt monumental, like a leap into the unknown. She could already picture their conversation playing out in her head. What if she stammered? What if he regretted saying yes?

“Come on, Lucy! Stop overthinking it,” Rachel urged, leaning closer. “You’re just making this harder for yourself. Just be yourself, remember?”

Lucy chuckled nervously. “That’s the problem! What if my ‘self’ isn’t good enough?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “You are more than good enough! Just be honest. Tell him you’re excited, and maybe suggest a couple of places? Or ask him if he has any favorites.”

With a deep breath, Lucy forced herself to look back at the screen. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, her pulse quickening as she contemplated the response. Would it really be so bad to be honest? What if she just acknowledged the awkwardness and expressed her excitement?

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I can do this,” Lucy said, determination creeping in. “I’ll just say… say something like, ‘I’m really looking forward to it! Do you have a place in mind, or should I suggest a couple of spots?’”

“That sounds perfect!” Rachel clapped her hands together, bouncing slightly on her bed. “And don’t forget to add something cute at the end. Maybe a smiley face or something!”

Lucy hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “A smiley face? Seriously? Isn’t that a little too…much?”

“Trust me, it’ll make you seem fun and approachable! Just do it,” Rachel insisted, her enthusiasm infectious.

Taking a steadying breath, Lucy finally began to type, her heart pounding as she sent the message into the void, hoping it would land in Tim’s hands with the same thrill she felt. The waiting was the hardest part, her mind still racing with thoughts of their upcoming dinner. Would it be awkward? Would they connect like they had before?

As she hit send, she felt both liberated and terrified, caught in the thrill of what lay ahead. Her heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through her. What if he didn’t respond? Or worse, what if he did but only out of politeness? She couldn’t shake the thought that maybe she had misread their connection, but deep down, a flicker of hope ignited.

The seconds stretched, each moment heavy with anticipation. Just when she thought she might burst from the waiting, her phone lit up with a notification. Her breath hitched, and she quickly opened the message.

From: Tim Bradford
To: Lucy Chen
Me too! Honestly, I don’t care where we go. Anything is fine with me.

Lucy read the message multiple times, the words tumbling over each other in her mind. A wave of exhilaration washed over her, accompanied by an undeniable thrill. He was interested; he wanted to spend time with her. But that excitement quickly spiraled into a whirlwind of questions.

“What do I say now?” she blurted, glancing at Rachel, who had been silently observing her reaction with an amused grin. “What do we do? Where should we go? What time? What day?”

Rachel, still buzzing with energy, bounced a little on the bed. “First of all, breathe! This is good! You need to reply, but keep it casual. Maybe suggest a couple of places you like and see what he says?”

Lucy felt her stomach churn at the prospect. “But what if I pick somewhere he hates? I don’t want to mess this up right out of the gate.” Her mind darted through a list of restaurants, each one fraught with potential disappointment. What if he didn’t like Italian? Or what if he was in the mood for something completely different, like Thai or sushi?

“Okay, so let’s think,” Rachel said, tapping her chin in thought. “What’s your go-to place? The one you love?”

Lucy’s thoughts raced as she considered her favorite spots. “There’s that little Italian place downtown with the amazing tiramisu. I love it, but… what if he doesn’t? I mean, it’s all about him too, right?”

Rachel rolled her eyes playfully. “Come on, Lucy! You know it’s not that serious. If he’s responding like this, he’s clearly excited to see you. Pick a place that you love! And if he doesn’t like it, then he’s a fool, right?”

Lucy chuckled, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll suggest that Italian place. But what about the day? Should I go for tomorrow or give it a couple of days?”

“Definitely wait a couple of days,” Rachel advised, leaning back casually. “You don’t want to seem too eager. Plus, he’s a cop, right? Who knows what his schedule looks like.” Lucy nodded slowly, biting her lip. 

“Yeah…..I guess he might have some crazy shifts. I don’t want to make him feel pressured.” Rachel noticed the uncertainty in Lucy’s eyes and leaned in a bit closer. “You don’t need to worry. He’s already shown he’s interested. Just ask him what his schedule looks like and suggest that Italian place.”

Lucy took another steadying breath, letting Rachel’s confidence bolster her own. Her fingers hovered over her phone as she typed out a response, heart hammering with the thrill of finally stepping into the unknown.

From: Lucy Chen
To: Tim Bradford
That sounds great! There’s this little Italian place downtown I love. How’s your schedule looking? Would a couple of days from now work?

As Lucy hit send, she felt a mix of anticipation and relief wash over her. Rachel leaned in closer, her excitement palpable. “Okay, now the waiting game begins. Just imagine, dinner with a hot cop at your favorite Italian place. It’s like a rom-com waiting to happen!”

Lucy laughed, shaking her head as she settled back against her pillows. “I can’t believe this is actually happening. It feels surreal. I mean, I’ve only met him twice, and now we’re going on a date?”

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! But think about it—he seems really sweet and genuine. You mentioned how easy it was to talk to him. That’s a good sign, right?”

“Yeah, and he’s attractive in that cute, soft way,” Lucy admitted, a smile creeping across her face. “There’s just something about him that makes me feel… I don’t know, comfortable. He seems like someone who really cares.”

“See? You’re already crushing!” Rachel teased, nudging Lucy playfully. “Now, the real question is, what are you going to wear? You’ve got to make a good impression, you know.”

Lucy felt her heart flutter at the thought. “I was thinking of wearing that sundress, but what if it’s too casual? It’s Italian; I don’t want to look underdressed.”

“Forget the sundress! What about that navy dress?” Rachel suggested, her eyes lighting up. “Girl, you’ll look fucking sexy! You’ve got the legs, you’ve got the tits, you’ve got the ass—you’re going to look amazing!”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely!” Rachel exclaimed, practically bouncing on the bed. “You’ll turn heads, especially his! You need to show off that gorgeous figure of yours!”

Lucy couldn’t help but smile at the boost of confidence. “Okay, I’ll wear the navy dress. But what about shoes? I don’t want to be too over the top.”

“Girl, just wear those cute heels! They’ll elevate the whole look,” Rachel insisted, waving her hands as if she were conducting an orchestra. “And you’ll walk in there like you own the place. Trust me, he’s going to be blown away!”

Before Lucy could respond, her phone buzzed again, making her jump. Heart racing, she glanced down to see Tim’s name lighting up her screen.

From: Tim Bradford
To: Lucy Chen
Friday night at 8:30 work for you?

Lucy stared at the message, her heart racing at the simplicity of his question. Friday night at 8:30. It was happening. A date with Tim. The reality of it sent a thrill coursing through her.

Rachel leaned closer, her excitement palpable. “What does he say?”

Lucy read the text out loud, her voice trembling slightly. “Friday night at 8:30 work for you?”

Rachel bounced in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “Yes! That’s perfect! What are you going to say?”

Lucy’s mind whirled. It was Friday—just a few days away. “I need to respond,” she muttered, her fingers hovering over the screen. What if she played it too cool or came off as too eager?

“Just keep it simple! Maybe something like, ‘That works for me! Looking forward to it!’” Rachel suggested, her eyes shining with anticipation.

“Okay, okay,” Lucy nodded, feeling the pressure of the moment. She took a deep breath and began typing:

From: Lucy Chen
To: Tim Bradford
That works for me! Looking forward to it!

Before she could second-guess herself, she hit send, the message disappearing into the void. The seconds that followed felt like hours, her heart thudding as she waited for his response. Would he say something else? Would he include a place or some cute comment?

Rachel watched her intently, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You’re going to be fine. Just imagine how cute it’ll be, the two of you sitting there, sharing a plate of pasta, getting to know each other better.”

Lucy tried to picture it, but her imagination raced ahead. What if the conversation flowed easily? What if they laughed together? What if—

Her phone buzzed again, jolting her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see Tim’s name lighting up her screen once more.

From: Tim Bradford
To: Lucy Chen
Great! Can’t wait. I’ll pick you up!

Lucy’s heart raced, a rush of excitement flooding through her. He was actually picking her up. She could already picture him at her door, that charming smile of his lighting up the room. It felt surreal.

Rachel leaned in, practically vibrating with energy. “Oh, girl! He’s not just a hot cop; he’s a gentleman too! Talk about a freaking dream!” She burst into laughter, shaking her head. “You’ve hit the jackpot, babe. He’s got the whole package—looks, charm, and he’s not afraid to treat a girl right.”

Lucy grinned, her thoughts already drifting back to Tim. He was everything she could have wanted and more.

But Rachel wasn’t done. “And listen, let’s be real here. The man’s got training in handcuffs, babe. If he’s as good in the bedroom as he is in uniform, you’re in for one hell of a ride—literally.”

Lucy’s cheeks went hot. “Rachel! We haven’t even had our first date yet! Sex is the last thing on my mind!”

Rachel rolled her eyes, undeterred. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. But just picture it—Officer Bradford, fully equipped and ready to serve. You’ll be begging to call him ‘Sir’ by the end of the night.”

Lucy shook her head, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. Despite Rachel’s playful teasing, her mind was nowhere near that kind of territory. All she could think about was how perfect this night was shaping up to be. The idea of spending time with him, feeling his attention entirely focused on her… it was everything she’d secretly hoped for but never dared to admit.

As she glanced down at her phone, reading his message once more, her heart did that familiar little flip. Friday night at 8:30, just the two of them.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a fairytale, but she had a feeling it would be something close.

Chapter Text

It was Friday night, the air thick with anticipation as Tim stood under the relentless spray of the shower, the water cascading over him like a rushing river. His heart raced, pounding hard against his ribcage as he ran a hand through his wet hair glancing for the hundredth time at the clock on his phone. 8:00 p.m. His stomach tightened. Thirty minutes.

Soap and water flew as he hurried to finish up, mentally racing through a checklist: shirt, slacks, flowers. He still had to get dressed and—did he even know what he was going to say when he saw her? He pictured himself fumbling out a greeting, maybe something about how great she looked, but that sounded lame. He needed something smoother, something that didn’t make him sound like he was a freshman going on his first date.

Stepping out of the shower, Tim wrapped a towel around his waist and hurried to the mirror, water dripping onto the bathroom tiles as he stared at his own reflection. He looked as rattled as he felt, his damp hair a mess, his skin still flushed from the heat of the shower. His eyes had that wide, nervous look that only made him feel more like a damn fool.

“Alright,” he muttered, squaring his shoulders, trying to muster a bit of confidence. “Just… play it cool.” He tested a smile, forcing it to be casual, easy, but the grin that stared back at him was stiff and awkward, like he was about to ask a girl out for the first time in high school. “Hi, Lucy, you look…”

His words faltered, and his reflection looked back at him, unimpressed. “Fantastic? Gorgeous? Perfect?” Each word felt like more of a screw-up than the last. He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t supposed to be so hard. Just dinner. Just two people spending time together. But here he was, sweating bullets in front of his bathroom mirror, battling a mix of nerves and embarrassment.

It was fucking ridiculous—he’d faced down suspects at gunpoint, wrestled with criminals in dark alleys, but now he was about to have dinner with a woman who made his heart race and his mind spiral into a mess of insecurity. “Get your shit together, Tim,” he scolded himself. He needed to look decent—not because he wanted to impress her or anything like that, but because the last thing he wanted was to trip over his words while wearing something that screamed “I just rolled out of bed.”

Rummaging through his closet, he cursed under his breath as he pushed aside a couple of shirts that seemed way too casual. He needed something that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot. His fingers brushed against a few options, and he hesitated, considering a dark button-up before his gaze landed on a light blue dress shirt—the one Isabel had gifted him for their last anniversary.

It was sharp, a classic color that felt both familiar and like a punch in the gut. The memory of Isabel’s voice floated back to him: “You’ll look great in this, Tim. Trust me.” The irony stung like hell, wearing it for a date that wasn’t with her. But he pushed that feeling aside and slipped it on, the fabric cool against his skin. It felt good, but it was also a painful reminder of everything he was trying to move away from. The last thing he needed tonight was to spiral into guilt.

He paired the shirt with black slacks, making the look simple yet polished. Nothing flashy, just something that wouldn’t embarrass him. Standing there, he took in his reflection, feeling an odd mix of uncertainty and frustration. He wasn’t trying to impress Lucy, he told himself—not in the sense that he needed her to find him dashing or irresistible. He just wanted to look decent, like a guy who had his act together, who could pull off a normal evening without fumbling every step. But damn if he didn’t look like he was trying too hard.

He took a steadying breath, running a hand through his hair in one last effort to tame the mess. “Alright, man. Just don’t screw this up,” he muttered, half a pep talk, half a warning. Satisfied—or maybe just resigned—he grabbed his keys and wallet from the dresser, glancing once more around the room as if he’d forgotten something crucial. Finally, he picked up the bouquet he’d bought on impulse: a handful of flowers that were simple, understated. Not too much.

Stepping outside, the cool night air hit him, grounding him for a moment as he locked the door behind him and headed to his truck. Climbing in, he gripped the steering wheel tighter than he needed to, his pulse a steady thrum as he made his way to her dorm. The drive was filled with his mind reeling back to the last time he’d seen her there—Halloween, a noise complaint he’d responded to. A damn mob of people, all in costume, music pounding from behind the walls. And Lucy… thinking he was some kind of prank-stripper. He’d been seconds from putting her in cuffs when she’d leaned in, grinning like she was in on some secret.

Pulling into the parking lot, Tim turned off the engine and glanced over at the passenger seat. The flowers he’d picked out looked bright and hopeful, maybe a little too much for how he was feeling, but they’d have to do. Grabbing them, he climbed out of the truck and headed inside, his steps feeling heavier the closer he got to her floor.

By the time he reached her door, his pulse was a drumbeat in his ears. He knocked, exhaling slowly as he waited. The door swung open, and for a split second, he was speechless. Lucy stood there, her hair perfectly curled, wearing a long navy dress that hugged her figure in a way that took his breath away. Her eyes widened as they met his. “Wow, you clean up… like, really well,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing.

A grin tugged at Tim’s lips, the earlier nerves momentarily forgotten as he looked her over. “And you… You look…” He swallowed, searching for a word that wasn’t going to make him sound like a bumbling idiot. “Stunning. Really stunning.”

Lucy ducked her head with a smile, smoothing down the front of her dress. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice almost shy. Her fingers toyed with the fabric as she glanced at the flowers in his hand. “Are those… for me?”

Tim nodded, feeling a little silly for standing there with a bouquet he suddenly worried might seem too much. “Yeah, thought maybe you’d like them,” he said, handing them over, hoping the gesture didn’t come off as over the top. “I wasn’t really sure what kind, so… went with safe.”

Lucy took the flowers, her fingers brushing his for a split second. “They’re perfect,” she said softly, looking at him with a warmth that made his throat feel tight. She held the bouquet close, her eyes flicking between him and the flowers. “I… didn’t think you’d actually bring something.”

Tim let out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly, wasn’t sure either. Just felt like… the right thing to do, I guess.”

Lucy’s face softened, her eyes on the flowers as she hugged them closer. “Well, thank you. It’s really sweet.” She glanced over her shoulder toward her room with a shy smile. “Do you want to come in for a second? I can put these in some water.”

He nodded, stepping inside behind her, and she gave him a quick, almost bashful look. “My roommate’s out of town this weekend,” she said, heading toward the bathroom to fill a glass with water. “It’s actually kind of nice to have the place to myself for a change… it’s been a tough week with classes, so I’m really looking forward to just relaxing tonight.”

Tim leaned against the wall, taking in her room—the books stacked on the desk, the photos pinned to her wall, her camera carefully placed beside a potted plant. Everything felt warm and personal, a side of her he hadn’t seen before.

When she came back, arranging the flowers with a delicate touch, she looked up at him with a smile. “I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers. It’s a nice way to start the weekend.”

“Yeah, I thought it’d be a good way to kick things off. You know, set the mood,” he said, attempting a casual tone, though his cheeks felt warm.

Lucy giggled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Set the mood? I didn’t realize I was in for such a romantic evening!”

Tim raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, if it’s too much, I can turn it down. Maybe just breadsticks and a glass of water at that Italian place?”

“No, no! I love it,” she said quickly, her laughter bubbling up. “I was just teasing. I don’t think I’ve had anyone bring me flowers on a date before.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “Then it’s about time.”

Her expression softened as she gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Officer Bradford. It really does make tonight feel special.”

He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “You really don’t have to call me that. Tim is fine.”

“Alright, Tim,” she said with a playful emphasis, her smile widening.

The comfortable silence between them lingered for a moment, and then she cleared her throat, giving the flowers one last adjustment. “Alright, should we head out?”

Tim’s lips curved into a grin. “Yeah, let’s go. Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting on that pasta.”

They walked side by side down the hallway and into the cool evening air, any initial awkwardness dissolving. When they reached his truck, Tim moved ahead, opening the passenger door for her. She stopped, looking up at him with a soft, appreciative smile.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft.

“Anytime,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light as he closed the door behind her and circled around to the driver’s side.

As he climbed in, he glanced over at her, catching the sparkle in her eyes. “So, tell me—what’s your go-to order at this place?”

Lucy leaned back in her seat, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Well, I used to get the chicken Alfredo all the time. It was my absolute favorite—creamy and comforting, you know? But last time I came here, I decided to try something new. I got the pesto pasta, and it was to die for! The flavors were incredible—fresh basil, garlic, a touch of parmesan. It all came together perfectly. I’ve been dreaming about it ever since!”

Tim smiled at her enthusiasm, imagining her delight as she discovered a new favorite. “That sounds amazing. I usually stick with what I know. Can’t go wrong with a classic marinara, right?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “True, but you should totally branch out! You might find something you love even more. Pesto is like a little burst of happiness on your plate.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, feeling a twinge of nerves mixed with excitement as they chatted. “What else do you like? Is pasta your favorite?”

“I’m a total foodie, so it’s hard to pick just one thing,” she said, glancing at him with a grin. “I love trying new dishes, especially if there’s a unique twist on something classic. And don’t even get me started on desserts! I have a serious weakness for tiramisu.”Tim chuckled. “That’s a solid choice. I can’t say no to dessert either. You think you can handle sharing a slice after dinner?”

Lucy’s eyes sparkled as she met his gaze. “Only if you’re prepared for me to steal the last bite,” she teased, her voice warm and playful.

Tim grinned, leaning back in his seat. “I think I can handle that.”

When they arrived at the restaurant, Tim parked and stepped out, quickly moving around to open her door. Lucy’s cheeks warmed as she accepted his hand, her smile soft.

“Thanks,” she murmured, glancing down as they walked side by side toward the entrance.

At the reception desk, a polished hostess greeted them with a professional smile. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

Tim nodded. “Yes, under Bradford.”

The hostess scanned her list, then nodded. “Of course, Mr. Bradford. Right this way, please.”

They followed her through the softly lit restaurant, the cozy ambiance and quiet murmur of conversation creating an inviting atmosphere. Tim walked slightly ahead, glancing back at her with a reassuring smile as they arrived at their table.

The hostess gestured to their seats. “Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your evening.”

Lucy settled into her chair, smoothing her napkin across her lap as Tim sat down across from her. The warm glow of the restaurant’s lighting and the cozy atmosphere eased her initial nerves—though she could still feel a slight blush on her cheeks every time she caught him looking at her.

“So,” Tim began, giving her a curious smile, “how’s school going? What’s got you buried in books this semester?”

Lucy chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Honestly, it’s been intense, but there are a few classes I actually love. Chemistry, for one—I’m kind of a nerd about it,” she admitted, feeling a little shy.

Tim raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Chemistry? Sounds like you’re way ahead of me on that one. I can handle a lot of things, but chemical formulas and reactions are not in my skill set.”

She grinned, glancing down to hide her smile. “It just makes sense to me, you know? Balancing equations, figuring out reactions… it’s like solving a puzzle.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind if I ever need a chem expert on a case. Just don’t hold me accountable if I mix something wrong and end up setting off the fire alarm.”

Lucy laughed, the playful tone helping her relax even more. “I can’t promise disaster-free advice, but I’ll try to keep the explosions to a minimum.”

Tim chuckled, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Good to know. I think I’ll stick to my day job, though—less chance of blowing things up.”

She smiled, a bit more at ease now. “Probably a smart move. Though, you must get into some pretty wild situations yourself.”

He nodded, his expression shifting as he thought about it. “Yeah, some days are… interesting, to say the least. But I like that about the job—never a dull moment.”

Lucy leaned forward, intrigued. “Do you ever get nervous?”

Tim leaned back, considering her question. “Sometimes, yeah. There are moments that catch me off guard. But I think that’s part of the job. You have to stay alert.”

Lucy nodded, her curiosity piqued. “That makes sense. I can’t imagine the kinds of things you see.”

“Definitely,” he replied, the seriousness in his tone reflecting the weight of his experiences. “But I try to focus on the positives—helping people, making a difference. That’s what keeps me going.”

Lucy admired his outlook. “That’s really admirable. It must take a lot of strength to handle everything you come across.”

“Exactly,” he said, his posture relaxing as they shifted into a more comfortable rhythm. “And it’s nice to have friends who can listen to the wild stories. Keeps things light.”

Lucy chuckled softly. “I’d love to hear some of those stories. I bet they’re fascinating.”

Tim’s eyes brightened with a hint of mischief. “Oh, I have a few that would definitely keep you on the edge of your seat. But fair warning, some of them are pretty intense.”

“Bring it on,” she said, her smile widening. “Just don’t expect me to stay calm during any explosions.”

Their laughter faded, and Tim leaned in, catching Lucy’s eye with a curious look. “So,” he said, shifting the conversation’s direction, “what are you thinking about doing after college? Got any plans?”

Lucy’s expression clouded, her fingers tracing absent circles on the table. “Well… you know I told you my parents are both therapists,” she began, a hesitant edge to her voice. “So, it kind of makes sense for me to go into that too, right?”

Tim raised an eyebrow, catching the wavering in her tone. “You say that like you’re not sure you want to.”

She sighed, almost as if letting out a secret. “It’s just… I don’t know. They’ve always had such high expectations for me, always pushed me to be the one who ‘gets it right.’” She gave a small, sad laugh. “They just expect me to follow in their footsteps, to make them proud. I feel like… I don’t want to disappoint them, you know?”

Tim’s face softened, though his tone stayed blunt, honest. “Lucy, sometimes you’re gonna disappoint people, even the ones you care about. It’s just part of it. Sometimes you’ve gotta do what feels right for you—even if it doesn’t make them happy.”

Lucy gave him a small, grateful smile, but there was a sadness in her eyes. “I know. I just… I don’t know if I can. I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to their expectations, and it’s like… I don’t even know who I am outside of that.”

Tim studied her for a moment, seeing the weight she was carrying. He wanted to say something, but before he could find the right words, their waiter appeared beside them, offering them a quick smile as he held a small notepad.

The waiter appeared at their table with a friendly, professional smile. “Good evening! Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” Lucy glanced at Tim, feeling a slight nervous flutter, before looking back at the waiter. “Yes, I think I’m ready. I’ll have the… um, pesto alla Genovese, please.”

Tim nodded, glancing at the menu one last time. “And I’ll go with the rigatoni marinara, thanks.”

“Excellent choices,” the waiter said approvingly, jotting down their orders before leaving with a courteous nod.

As he walked away, a quiet, almost shy silence settled between them. Lucy took a sip of water, glancing at Tim over the rim of her glass, and bit her lip to keep from laughing. The awkwardness between them felt a little ridiculous—like two kids at their first school dance. Finally, Tim cleared his throat and leaned forward, his gaze bouncing around the room before landing back on her.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence with a lopsided grin, “I have to ask—on a scale of one to ten, how awkward am I making this date right now?”

Lucy laughed, feeling her own nerves melt away a bit as she set down her glass. “Only about a seven,” she teased, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe an eight if you keep looking around like you’re trying to spot suspects.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, and his grin softened into something a little more vulnerable. “Alright, fair enough. Guess I’m not exactly used to feeling nervous.” He met her gaze, his voice a little quieter. “Usually, I’m the guy people are nervous around. This… this is different.”

Lucy felt her heart flutter at the confession. “You know, I was nervous too,” she admitted, her voice just as soft. “Like, what if you showed up and thought this whole date was a mistake?”

Tim’s eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head with a smile that looked both amused and a little shocked. “Are you kidding? I was the one worried. I mean, you’re smart, funny, and you seem to have your life together. And I… well, let’s just say I don’t get out much.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving him a gentle smile. “Honestly? You’re doing a lot better than you think. You’re here, right? And you brought flowers. Not many guys do that.”

Tim’s smile turned almost boyish as he leaned back in his chair. “Guess I just wanted to make a good impression. It’s not every day I get to take a pretty girl out to a place like this.”

Lucy felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, and she tried to laugh it off, though she was sure he noticed. “Well, you’re… you’re definitely making a memorable impression,” she said, suddenly shy under his gaze.

“Good,” he replied, his voice softening as he leaned forward. “Because I’d really like to see you again.”

Lucy’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink as his words hung in the air, unspoken yet loaded with a hint of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She looked down, her fingers nervously tracing circles on the edge of her napkin before looking back up to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’d like that too.”

Tim’s shoulders seemed to ease at her words, and his eyes warmed with a sincerity that softened the rugged edge of his usual expression. They exchanged a quiet look, one filled with the unguardedness that comes only from a moment shared without need for words, where everything they needed to say lay in the silence between them.

Their meals arrived shortly, and the scent of fresh basil and garlic filled the space around them, acting as a gentle reminder of the real world outside of their bubble. They dived into their food, the initial tension of the evening melting away as they exchanged stories and laughter between bites.

As the conversation drifted into memories of embarrassing moments and childhood dreams, Tim found himself watching the way Lucy’s face lit up when she talked about her favorite books or a hilarious prank her best friend had pulled in high school. He felt a warmth in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t expected or prepared for. Being here with her felt like taking a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding—a reminder that there was life outside the weight he carried daily.

By the time dessert arrived—a rich, decadent slice of tiramisu that Lucy all but swooned over—they were so at ease that sharing the last bite felt like the most natural thing in the world. She insisted he take it, and he insisted back, but in the end, it was Lucy who managed to swipe it before he could protest, laughing as she savored the taste.

Walking back to his truck under the soft glow of streetlights, the comfortable quiet between them was punctuated by shared glances and easy smiles. Tim opened the passenger door for her once more, and as she climbed in, she looked up at him with a look that left him rooted to the spot. “Thank you,”

His hand hovered on the door frame as he held her gaze, feeling something between excitement and calm settle in him. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice roughened by the quiet intensity of the moment.

The drive back to her dorm was filled with soft music and easy conversation, but as they arrived, the air turned thick with the feeling that neither of them wanted the night to end. Tim walked her to her door, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, savoring the weight of her presence beside him.

Lucy turned to face him, her smile soft and warm. “I really had a good time tonight, Tim. This was… really perfect.”

Tim’s hand found its way to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly as he looked down, then met her gaze with a gentle smile. “Yeah… me too.” He paused, gathering his thoughts before speaking again, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “So… when do you think I can see you again?”

“Maybe… sometime next week?” Tim nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting into an easy grin. “Next week works. Gives me something to look forward to.”

They shared a lingering look, one that felt warm and unhurried, like neither of them wanted to be the first to step away. Then, before he could say anything else, Lucy surprised him by leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a soft, quick kiss to his cheek. He barely had time to react, feeling the warmth of her lips just near the corner of his mouth.

She stepped back with a playful sparkle in her eye. “Good night, Officer Bradford,” she whispered, her voice light and teasing.

Before he could find the words to respond, she slipped inside, closing the door gently behind her. Tim stood there for a moment, stunned and smiling, his hand lifting to his cheek where she’d kissed him. As he made his way back to his truck, he couldn’t shake the thought of her, already counting down the days until he’d get to see her again.

Chapter Text

She kissed him.

She had actually kissed him.

Oh my God. Her pulse surged as the realization hit, her breath hitching like she’d just taken a dive off a cliff. Sure, it wasn’t a kiss on the lips—it was barely a brush against his cheek—but the way her lips had touched his skin felt like an electric shock, igniting a flutter in her stomach that she couldn’t shake. Her heart was pounding so hard it was dizzying, the thought racing around her mind, relentless and thrilling. It counted, all right.

As the memory of that moment played on a loop, her mind reeled. Had she really done that? Had she really just leaned in like that, barely thinking, and closed the gap between them in some spontaneous burst of confidence? They’d been laughing, her guard completely down, and without a second thought, she’d reached up, her lips meeting his cheek as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And the look on his face afterward—surprised, warm—only made her pulse race faster, leaving her flustered beyond belief.

What had she been thinking? It was as though some part of her took over, moving her forward before she even realized it. Now, she felt the weight of that single, unplanned gesture pressing down on her, a thrilling, terrifying mix. She didn’t even know him that well—just a few encounters, a couple of conversations, and here she was, blushing like a lovesick fool. What if she’d moved too fast? What if he thought she was too impulsive, too much? But still, the memory of that touch kept replaying, each detail vivid: his warmth, the slight stubble on his cheek, the way he’d looked at her.

Her mind spiraled, taking her down a road of endless what-ifs. What would their next date be like? Would there be another chance for a kiss, a real one this time? Or would she just die of embarrassment if she even tried? She’d never been in a serious relationship before, and the excitement and fear were almost overwhelming, like she’d stepped into some uncharted world and couldn’t find her footing.

She turned, leaning her back against the door, and slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up as she tried to steady herself. Her heart was still racing, her cheeks flushed, the ghost of that brief touch still vivid in her mind. Hugging her knees tightly, she buried her face against them, her fingers tingling with a nervous energy she couldn’t shake. Every detail of that moment felt crystal clear: his surprised expression, the warmth in his eyes, the way his cheek had felt soft and real under her lips. She was terrified and giddy all at once, unable to shake the thrill coursing through her veins.

Why would she do that? Why, after barely knowing him, would she lean in and kiss him—well, almost kiss him? It wasn’t even on the lips, but it was a kiss, damn it. And she’d really gone for it, like a burst of courage had gripped her out of nowhere. She was both thrilled and terrified, replaying every second in her mind and feeling her heart race all over again.

But who could blame her? He was such a gentleman. He’d shown up with flowers. Flowers! When was the last time someone did that? The bouquet was simple but thoughtful, like he’d actually put effort into picking out something just for her. And then, as if the flowers weren’t enough, he’d opened every door, guiding her inside with the gentlest hand on her back that left her feeling warm, grounded—and totally nervous. She wasn’t used to that. The whole evening he’d been this perfect mix of kind and attentive, like he actually gave a damn, and that alone was enough to throw her off balance.

And then, at dinner, he’d done that thing. He listened. He asked about her studies, her favorite classes, what she wanted to do after graduation. And he didn’t just nod along; he listened like he actually cared about her answers. His eyes were on her, completely focused, like he was hanging on every word. She’d never had that—never had someone look at her with such undivided attention, like she mattered. She was used to her dates checking their phones or watching other people in the restaurant, barely pretending to care. But him? Not once did he glance away, and somehow that felt even more intimate than anything she could’ve imagined.

Now here she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her dorm room, heart pounding and mind spinning like she was losing it. They’d only had one date, and yet she was already wondering when she’d get to see him again, what they’d do, where he’d take her. Would he surprise her with flowers again? Would he look at her like she was the most important thing in the world?

Now here she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her dorm room, heart pounding and mind spinning like she was losing it. They’d only had one date, and yet she was already wondering when she’d get to see him again, what they’d do, where he’d take her. Would he surprise her with flowers again? Would he look at her like she was the most important thing in the world?

Every little detail was burned into her mind, replaying in endless loops—his smile, the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, that genuine interest he’d shown in every little thing she said. She didn’t know if it was the way he seemed so attentive, or maybe it was just him, but damn, he made her feel special. Like, really special. Not just pretty or cute, but like he actually wanted to know her, wanted to be there, wanted to make her feel…important.

And what was she doing now? Sitting here, losing her mind over a guy she barely knew. She hugged her knees to her chest, letting out a groan. This was insane. How could she feel this way after just one date? She’d always been the cautious type, the one who didn’t get attached easily, who kept her guard up. But with him, all that melted away. It was like he had slipped right under her skin without even trying.

She leaned back, letting her head thump against the wall, thoughts swirling like a storm she couldn’t escape from. She could almost picture it—the two of them on another date, sitting close, his hand brushing against hers in that casual, effortless way that would make her heart race all over again. She could already feel the thrill of anticipation, wondering if he’d reach out, pull her in a little closer. And if she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of a real kiss this time. A full-on, heart-stopping, breath-stealing kiss that would leave her completely undone.

And the thought of that? It made her cheeks burn. She shook her head, laughing at herself. Wasn’t this rushing things a bit? But she couldn’t help it; the idea had wormed its way in, setting her heart on fire. She didn’t want to text him tonight, didn’t want to look too desperate or make it seem like she was clinging. But, God, did she want to. Every time her phone lit up, she felt a spike of excitement, wondering if it was him, and every time it wasn’t, she felt a pang of disappointment that was way too intense for someone she barely knew.

She bit her lip, trying to calm the riot in her mind. This was just a crush. Maybe. Or maybe it was more—who knew? But whatever it was, it was messing her up in the best possible way. And if she was being honest with herself, all she really wanted was for him to be thinking about her the way she was thinking about him.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, he was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, still grinning like an idiot. The date had been perfect—as perfect as perfect could be. Every detail kept replaying in his mind: the warmth of Lucy’s laughter, the easy conversation, the way she’d looked at him when he walked her back to her dorm. And then that gentle kiss she’d left on his cheek before she slipped inside, leaving him standing there like a fool, smiling at the night air.

It was just a date, he reminded himself. Just one date. But the thought didn’t lessen the strange thrill he felt every time he thought of her. He’d had first dates before, plenty of them. He’d even fallen in love once, but this was different. There was something about Lucy that pulled him in, something that made him feel like he’d been waiting a long time for a night like this.

The next morning, as he poured himself a cup of coffee, he caught himself grinning into his mug, feeling like a teenager with a crush. It was stupid, he thought, this schoolboy excitement. He hadn’t felt like this in months . But here he was, checking his phone every five minutes, hoping she might text. He thought about reaching out himself, maybe a quick message just to say good morning, but he wasn’t sure if that was too eager.

Here’s the continuation with the message and Angela’s perfectly-timed arrival:

Finally, he couldn’t help himself. He picked up his phone, typing out a simple message.

To: Lucy Chen
From: Tim Bradford
Good morning, Lucy. Hope you have a good day.

He paused, reading it over, feeling ridiculous at how much he’d debated over something so simple. But before he could second-guess himself, he hit send, grinning slightly as he slipped his phone back into his pocket and reached for his coffee.

As he turned around, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Fucking shit!” Tim hissed, gripping his coffee mug a little tighter. Angela was standing there, arms crossed, staring at him with that knowing look—the look she gave when she was two steps ahead and ready to make his morning hell.

She raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch.

“What?” Tim asked, trying to sound casual, but feeling his face flush as he glanced anywhere but at her.

Angela’s gaze didn’t waver, her expression deadly serious, though he could see the smirk she was barely holding back. “You know what.”

He blinked, pretending not to know where this was going. “I don’t fucking know what. Why are you looking at me like that?”

She let out a short laugh, crossing her arms a little tighter. “You seem really happy this morning wanna talk about that?”

Tim rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of coffee. “Am I not allowed to have a good morning? Or do I need to fill out a report on that?”

Angela leaned in, eyebrow still raised, looking completely unimpressed. “Normally, you walk in here scowling like you’ve just had the world’s worst night. But today? You’re practically glowing, Tim. So,” she said, drawing out the question, “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. If you have to know, I went to dinner last night. With Lucy. Happy now?”

Angela’s eyes widened, her smirk giving way to a grin. “Ohhh, so last night was the date. And you weren’t even gonna tell me?” She shook her head, clearly enjoying every second. “I feel betrayed Timothy I thought you were my bestie.”

“ Im a grown man I don’t have a ‘bestie’”

Angela snorted, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. You can call it whatever macho crap you want, but we both know you’d be a mess without me. So, yeah, bestie.” She emphasized the word, crossing her arms and giving him a smug look.

Tim groaned, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost giving him away. “Fine. Think what you want. I’m still not telling you any more.”

“Oh, come on!” Angela protested, barely holding back a grin. “You walk in here grinning like a damn fool after spending the night with Lucy, and now you’re just gonna leave me hanging?”

Tim took a long sip of his coffee, trying to act casual. “It was a date, Angela. Just one date. Don’t get your hopes up.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Right. Just a date. That’s why you look like a kid who just got his first kiss.” She leaned in, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smirk. “So, how’d it go?”

He sighed, realizing she wasn’t about to let it go. “It went fine, okay? We had dinner, we talked, I walked her back. End of story.”

Angela raised an eyebrow, looking like she didn’t believe a word of it. “Just dinner, huh? Nothing else?”

Tim’s jaw tightened, but he felt his face heat up. “Alright, she… she kissed me on the cheek. That’s it.”

She grinned, looking way too satisfied. “Oh, I see. So, what’s the plan for date number two?”

“Who says there’s gonna be a second date?” Tim shot back, but even he couldn’t hide the slight, hopeful smile. Angela just shook her head, laughing. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You like her, Tim. I can see it. Don’t even try to play it cool.”

Tim snorted, glaring over his coffee. “I’m not playing anything, Angela. It’s just a fucking date. Relax.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck off, Tim. I know you better than that. I haven’t seen you this whipped since…well, hell, ever.” She grinned, leaning against the counter. “So, admit it. You’re into her.”

Tim groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, okay? Yeah, I like her. Happy now?” He took another sip, trying to hide behind his mug. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not like she’d stick around if she knew the whole damn story.”

Angela’s smirk faded, and she gave him a knowing look. “Because of Isabel?”

He shifted uncomfortably, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “Yeah. Because of Isabel. Because I haven’t even dealt with that crap, and it’s not fair to drag Lucy into it.”Angela shrugged. “So tell her. Rip the damn band-aid off. She might surprise you.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s complicated, Angela.”

She tilted her head, giving him that look he’d come to know all too well—the one that meant she saw straight through him, down to the parts he didn’t want anyone to see. “Complicated or not, you’re gonna have to, Tim,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “You can’t keep something like this from her. Not if you actually care about her.”

He didn’t respond, just took a long, thoughtful sip of his coffee, letting her words sink in. The truth was, he cared about Lucy—more than he’d expected to. But telling her everything? That would tear apart the fragile start of whatever they had. He knew he was being selfish, knew he was treading dangerously close to a line he shouldn’t cross, but he just… wasn’t ready to give it up.

What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, he told himself, holding tightly to the thought. Isabel wasn’t a part of his life anymore, and as long as he kept his past buried, maybe—just maybe—he could keep things from falling apart before he’d even had a real chance to see what this could become.

Chapter Text

The days following their first date felt like a whirlwind of anticipation and excitement, each moment stretching and speeding by in equal measure. In the quiet hours of her dorm room, she found herself replaying every detail of that night—the way Tim had laughed at her jokes, the warmth of his hand brushing against hers, and the way he’d looked at her as if she were the only person in the room. Their conversations lingered in her mind like a sweet melody, and she couldn’t help but replay their texts, savoring the lighthearted banter that made her heart flutter.

Their messages flowed like an effortless stream—playful exchanges punctuated with teasing remarks and witty memes. Tim would text her a simple, “Hey, how’s your day going?” and she’d reply with a barrage of quirky anecdotes about her psych class or even the latest rom-com she had seen. Each notification sent a jolt of excitement through her, a reminder that he was just a message away, and with every back-and-forth, they wove a closer connection.

As Friday evening rolled around, Lucy felt the familiar rush of excitement mixed with nerves. The soft scent of her lavender candle filled the dorm room as she carefully rifled through her closet, searching for something that would make her feel undeniably attractive. She had already gone through a dozen different outfits, discarding each one with a sigh of frustration.

Why was this so hard?

Nothing seemed to capture the vibe she was going for—something hot, something that would turn heads and leave no question that she was putting herself out there for Tim.

After a few moments of indecision, her hand landed on a sleek black bodysuit that had been tucked toward the back. The fabric clung to her curves in all the right places, accentuating her shape while revealing a little more cleavage than he was used to. It was daring, maybe even a bit provocative for some, but the way it made her feel confident won her over on it completely.

To balance the boldness of the bodysuit, she slipped on a burnt orange cardigan, letting it drape casually over her shoulders. The warm color complemented her skin beautifully, bringing out a healthy glow, while the cardigan still allowed the striking neckline to stand out. It was the perfect mix of edge and ease, a look that spoke volumes without trying too hard.

After adjusting her hair, letting it fall in loose waves around her shoulders to frame her face, she took a moment to admire her reflection. Tonight, she wanted Tim to see her confidence and the way she had embraced herself.

Finally satisfied, she stepped out of the bathroom and made her way back into the room. Rachel looked up from her phone, and her eyes went ever so slightly wide as she took in Lucy’s outfit and whistled.

"God damn mama," Rachel said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You look hot as hell. Officer Bradford’s gonna cream his pants the second he sees you."

Lucy’s face instantly turned bright red, and she buried her face in her hands, laughing. “Oh my god, Rachel! You can’t just say things like that!” she just shrugged, grinning. “What? I’m just being honest here. You’re practically a heart-stopping goddess right now. Trust me, that man is gonna be sweating.” Lucy glanced down at her outfit with a pouted expression, smoothing a hand over the sleek fabric. “Are you sure this is okay? I mean… it’s only our second date, and I don’t want him to think I’m trying too hard or, like, coming on too strong.”

Rachel shook her head, crossing her arms. “No absolutely not. You look perfect Luc. You’re confident, bold, and a little mysterious. Guys love that in a girl, and he is definitely gonna be all over it. Besides, it’s not like you’re showing up in a wedding dress or anything!” Lucy laughed, feeling her nerves start to ease. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I just… really really want this to go well. Last time was amazing, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You won't, and speaking of the last date, you still haven’t given me any of the details! How did it go? Was it as cute and romantic as I’m hoping?”

Lucy let out a small, breathless laugh and, without a second thought, threw herself back onto her bed, sprawling across it with her arms flung out as if to release all the giddiness she’d been holding in. She stared up at the ceiling, her smile turning soft as the memories came flooding back, each detail wrapping around her heart in the sweetest way.

“It was… perfect,” she murmured, her voice dreamy. “He showed up with a bouquet of sunflowers. Not just any flowers—sunflowers, Rach. My favorite. It was like he knew exactly what would make me melt. I mean, who does that? I wasn’t expecting anything like that, and there he was, standing there with this huge smile and this giant bouquet. I felt like I was in one of those old black-and-white movies where the guy actually tries.”

Rachel grinned, tucking her legs underneath her as she leaned in, eager to hear more. “Oh, he’s got it bad. Keep going.” Lucy pressed a hand to her chest, still feeling the flutter of that moment as she continued, “And he was so… considerate. He listened to everything I said like it was the most important thing in the world. I was rambling about random stuff—my classes, my art projects, some silly stories I didn’t even think were interesting—but he looked at me with this focus, like he wanted to know me, the real me. I didn’t feel like I had to hold anything back. He just… got it.” She turned her head to look at Rachel, her eyes shining with excitement. “And he did all these little things, too. He opened every door for me, made sure he was always walking on the outside of the sidewalk. I know it sounds small, but it felt like he was showing me he cared in a hundred tiny ways.”

“Girl, he sounds like a dream.”

Lucy laughed, blushing as she continued, “Then, when he walked back to the dorm, we talked about how nice the night was. It was just amazing. I can’t even explain it. The conversation flowed so effortlessly, like we were two friends catching up after ages. I remember telling him I had such a great time, and I really wanted to see him again. He smiled, and I could tell he was happy to hear that.”

Rachel leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “What happened next?”

Lucy’s heart raced as she recalled the moment. “When we got to the door, there was this pause. We just stood there, and I felt this surge of nerves. He looked at me, and his expression was so sweet—like he was unsure but also really excited. It was adorable.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “And in that moment, I panicked a little. I kissed him on the cheek, and his face was just priceless—completely shocked and bright red. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t even give him a chance to respond; I just turned and went inside before he could say anything.”

“You left him hanging like that?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, still grinning. “I know, Rach! I feel terrible about it. I just didn’t know what to do. It was such a sudden thing; I just didn’t know how to react, so I just went back inside. But I can’t stop thinking about how he looked.” She shook her head, a smile creeping back onto her face. “He was so surprised and flustered, his cheeks were bright red.”

Rachel leaned back, a teasing smile on her lips. “You’re such a dork, but I get it. Sometimes those moments just catch you off guard. But you’ve gotta figure out what’s next.” Lucy sighed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Yeah, I guess I need to figure that out. It’s just… I don’t want to assume he wants something serious. What if he just thinks we’re having fun and nothing more?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “But everything you’ve told me makes it sound like he’s into you. You should definitely talk to him about it!” Just then, a knock on her door interrupted their conversation. Lucy and Rachel exchanged knowing glances, and Lucy’s heart raced with anticipation.“Looks like the man of the hour is here!” Rachel exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Lucy’s breath hitched as she rushed to the mirror, anxiously smoothing her hair and adjusting her outfit. “Oh my god, Rach, are you sure I look good?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic. She turned this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of any flaws in the reflection.

“Lucy, calm down!” Rachel said, trying to hold back a laugh. “You look fantastic. Just stop fidgeting and open the door!”

“I just want everything to go perfectly! What if I’m overdressed or underdressed?” Lucy fretted, running her fingers through her hair one last time.

“Seriously, you look amazing! The bodysuit is perfect, and that cardigan adds the right touch. Just be yourself!” Rachel reassured her, grabbing Lucy by the shoulders to steady her. “Now go! You’re going to have a great time.”

Lucy took a deep breath, her nerves still fluttering, but Rachel’s confidence started to sink in. “Okay, okay, I can do this,” she said, taking a step toward the door. With one last glance at Rachel, who gave her an encouraging nod, Lucy steadied herself and opened the door, revealing Tim standing there with a warm smile.

“Hey,” she greeted, trying to ignore the quickening beat of her heart. “Hey,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. “You look amazing Lucy.” She felt her cheeks heat up. “Thank you...” With a quick smile, she stepped out and closed the door behind her, leaving Rachel safely out of earshot.

As they made their way down the hall and out of the building, Tim shot her a curious look. “So… you ready for the mystery date? ”Lucy gave a light laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess so. Are you finally going to tell me what it is?” He shook his head with a mischievous grin. “Nope. What’s the fun in that?” She sighed in mock exasperation. “Fine. But if this ends up being one of those ‘thrill-seeker’ dates, I swear…” Tim chuckled, hands in his pockets as they walked. “Guess you’ll have to trust me.”

“Oh, that sounds promising,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully. “Are you the type to throw someone into a surprise bungee jump or something?”

“I like to think I’d have a little more creativity than that.”

As they reached his truck, he pulled the passenger door open, gesturing her inside. “Ready?” Lucy climbed in, laughing softly. “I mean, I guess I’ll find out soon enough, right?”

“Exactly,” he said, closing her door and jogging around to his side. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he looked over at her with a smirk. “So… no last-minute guesses?” She tilted her head, pretending to give it serious thought. “Well, I doubt it’s just dinner, and you don’t seem like the romantic picnic type, so… amusement park?”

“Good guess, but nope,” he said, starting the engine and pulling out of the lot. “I promise it’s better than that.” They drove through the city, and as the city lights faded to quieter streets, Lucy’s curiosity only grew. Every so often, she shot him a look, trying to catch any hints from his expression, but he kept quiet, enjoying her guessing.

“Is it, like, a haunted house?” she asked after a while, her tone half-joking. “Not quite,” he said, glancing over with an amused smile. “You’re getting further away.”

“Oh, so it’s classy then?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Like… ballroom dancing?” Tim scoffed, giving her a playful side-eye. “Definitely not my style. Trust me, you do not want to see me trying to waltz.”

Lucy laughed, tilting her head as she challenged him. “What’s wrong with dancing, huh?”

“Everything, if I’m involved,” he said with a smirk. “What’s not wrong with dancing?”

She shook her head, grinning. “You know, for someone who’s up for almost anything, you’re oddly anti-dance.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little. “Maybe I just need the right partner to change my mind.”

They shared a smile as he turned onto a quiet side road, pulling into an open parking lot, the sign ahead catching her attention. Lucy’s curiosity grew as she took in the dim glow of lights up ahead.

“ Your mystery date is a shooting range..?”

Tim chuckled, clearly pleased with her reaction but also a little uncertain. “Yeah, I know it’s not the usual date spot, but I thought it’d be fun to try something different.”

Lucy hesitated, her mind racing with thoughts. “Different is definitely one way to put it. I’ve never done this before.”

He noticed her hesitation, his smile faltering for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, we don’t have to do this if you’re not into it. I just thought it might be a cool way to spend some time together.”

“No no no that's not it, I really want to try it!” she insisted, her voice firming up. “It sounds like a unique experience, and I’m always up for something new. I just didn’t expect this.”

Tim’s expression softened, relief washing over his face. “Okay, then let’s do this,” he said, his tone reassuring. He opened the glove compartment, retrieving a sleek handgun case and securing it under his arm. “After you,” he said, offering her his hand to help her out of the truck.

As they walked toward the entrance, a sense of excitement mixed with nerves thrummed in the air. Once inside, they approached the front desk where an instructor greeted them.

“Welcome! Do you have any prior experience?” the instructor asked, glancing between them.

Tim stepped forward confidently. “Yeah, I do. I’m a cop, so I’ve had my fair share of practice.”

The instructor nodded, impressed. “Great! We’ll just need to see your IDs and have you fill out a couple of forms.”

Lucy handed over her ID with a nervous smile, feeling slightly out of her element, but excited nonetheless. Tim did the same, his confidence steadying her nerves as she watched him effortlessly handle the process.

Once the paperwork was complete, the instructor handed them both protective eyewear and ear protection. “You’re all set! Head on over to lane three, and I’ll get everything ready for you.”

As they walked to their assigned lane, the scent of gunpowder lingered in the air, and the muffled sounds of shots fired in nearby booths created an oddly exhilarating atmosphere. Lucy adjusted her protective glasses and glanced around, her heart racing with anticipation.

“So, how does this work?” she asked, looking up at Tim, who stood confidently next to a table where his own gun lay ready. His badge glinted slightly on his belt, a reminder of his role as a cop.

“Pretty simple, actually. You just practice shooting,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face as he picked up the handgun.

“Just practice?” She raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge how straightforward this would really be. “No complicated steps or anything?”

He laughed lightly, shrugging. “Not really. When you know what you’re doing, it’s not that complicated. You’ll see.” He loaded his gun with practiced ease, demonstrating how to prepare for a shot. The confidence of a seasoned officer was evident in his movements.

“Okay, but what if I mess up?” she asked, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling in her stomach.

“Don’t worry. Just focus on what you’re doing,” Tim reassured her, his tone steady and encouraging. He stepped up to the lane, positioning himself with ease. “Watch closely.” He aimed at the target downrange, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, and he hit the target cleanly.

“Wow,” she breathed, impressed. “You make it look so easy! How do you do that?”

“Practice,” he said, lowering the gun after another successful shot. “It just takes time to get comfortable. Between my time in the military and now being a cop, I’ve spent a lot of time at the range. Plus, I had some great instructors.” Lucy laughed, feeling the tension ease a bit. “I can’t imagine it’s like riding a bike. Doesn’t it make you nervous?”

“Sometimes,” he replied, leaning against the booth, relaxed yet focused. “But mostly, I just concentrate on my breathing and what I’m doing. It helps keep me steady. Most people learn about stuff like that in the Academy, but with my prior experience, I already knew enough about staying calm under pressure. It’s all about focusing on the task at hand.”

She nodded, trying to absorb his advice. “Okay..… have you ever been shot?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself.

Tim raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Well, yeah. It’s not a regular thing for most people, but in this line of work it’s a possibility,” he admitted, his expression turning more serious.

“Seriously? How many times?”

“ Not as many times as you would think I think it’s only been like three times. Once in the shoulder, once in the leg, and another time in the side. It’s part of the job.” He shrugged, as if the matter were no big deal.

“Wow, that’s… a lot,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Does it hurt?”

Tim chuckled softly, though the seriousness of his experiences lingered in his eyes. "Oh yeah, it definitely hurts. But you just learn to deal with it and move on. It's all part of the gig, you know?"

“Is there a ‘dealing with it’ course?” she joked, trying to lighten the mood, but her heart raced at the thought of what he had been through.

“Not really,” he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin. “But you learn quickly that you’ve got to stay focused on the job. That’s why I’m here today—to keep you focused and safe.”

“Okay, fine,” she said, trying to shake off the heavy topic. “But you better not laugh if I do anything embarrassing.”

“Never,” Tim promised, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll just be right here to help you.”

After a moment, he turned back to the table, holding out the gun toward her with an encouraging smile. “Here, now it’s your turn.”

Lucy hesitated, her heart racing at the sight of the gun. “Me? I’m okay, really. I’d rather just watch.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tim replied, his smile faltering just a bit. “You came here for an adventure, right? Besides, I’m going to teach you how to do this.”he said, smiling as she took the gun from him. “Okay.... but you’re not allowed to get mad when I don’t understand this.”

“ I could never be mad at you, Lucy, besides I’ll be too busy being impressed with my amazing teaching skills.”

She smiled, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement. “Alright, what do I do first?”

“First things first,” he began, guiding her stance. “Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart. This helps you stay balanced.” He demonstrated, shifting his feet, and she couldn’t help but admire how the muscles in his legs flexed.

“Now, grip the gun firmly but not too tight,” he continued, showing her the proper way to hold it. “Keep your wrists straight and your elbows slightly bent. This gives you more control.” She nodded, trying to absorb his instructions while battling the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

“Remember to keep your dominant hand high on the grip, and use your other hand to support it,” he instructed, placing her hands on the gun. “This is all about control and precision. You want to feel comfortable with it.”

Lucy looked at him, feeling the warmth of his body close to hers as he adjusted her grip. “Got it,” she said, trying to focus, her heart racing as she took the gun from him.

“Now, when you’re ready to shoot, bring the gun up to eye level,” Tim said, his voice steady. He positioned himself behind her, his warmth enveloping her as he gently adjusted her arms. “Aim at the target and focus on it. Take a deep breath to steady yourself.”

“And if I miss?”

“Like I said you just try again. It’s all part of the process,” he reassured her, his breath warm against her ear. “Just remember to let the gun recoil naturally after you pull the trigger. Don’t tense up. Follow through.”

“Easier for you to say,” she joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “You’re practically a pro.”

“Trust me, you’ll get there,” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. “Now, go ahead and give it a try. I’ll be right here.”

Taking a deep breath, she raised the gun, trying to focus on the target. She lined up her shot, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Okay, here goes nothing,” she murmured, squeezing the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing in the enclosed space, but her aim went wide, missing the target completely.

“Ugh!” she groaned, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I can’t believe I missed!”

Tim chuckled, his laughter rich and infectious. “You’re too tense,” he said, stepping closer, the heat radiating off him making her skin tingle. “Try again. Just relax and have fun with it.”

She sighed, her frustration slipping into a small scowl. “How exactly is this supposed to be relaxing? I’m sweating, my heart’s racing, and I can’t hit a thing.”

Tim chuckled, his amusement unfazed. “You’re just overthinking it.” Without a second thought, he moved right up behind her. “Here—let me help you out.”

Before she could protest, his hands slid over hers, adjusting her grip. Being so much taller than her, he had to lean down slightly, his chest aligned against her shoulder blades, his head just above hers. His arms wrapped around her easily, almost engulfing her hands with his own as he corrected her hold on the gun.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but entirely focused on the task. “Lift your elbows a little…that’s it. Now relax your grip. You’re holding it too tight.” He adjusted her stance, his hands gentle but firm as he guided her, and she felt the strength in his arms, how steady and certain they were. His chest was solid against her back, and every shift of his movements grounded her, almost as if he was anchoring her to the floor.

She could feel his breath by her ear, steady and calm, and it somehow magnified her own racing heartbeat. But Tim seemed completely unaware, as calm as ever, his focus on lining her up with the target.

“Alright,” he said, his tone completely practical, “let your shoulders drop a bit.” His hands rested over hers, firm and warm, adjusting her position. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on his instructions, not on the way her skin tingled with every small, unintentional brush of his arm against hers.

“Now, breathe out as you pull the trigger,” he continued, his mouth close enough to her ear that she could almost feel the words.

Exhaling, she let herself settle into his hold, trying to mimic his relaxed, unhurried breathing as she squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing in the space around them. When she opened her eyes, she saw she’d missed again, not by as much as before, but enough to make her groan in frustration.

“I missed! Again.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that rumbled through his chest and into her back. “Hey, don’t worry. You’re close. Let’s just go one more time.” His tone was light, completely unbothered, as he kept his hands on hers, steady as ever. “You’re starting to get it.”

Still holding her hands in his, he adjusted her aim once more, his focus fully on helping her get it right. She inhaled, doing her best to steady herself as she felt him press against her, tall and sure, his calmness settling over her like a blanket.

“Alright,” he said, his voice smooth and low, “same thing. Just relax and take the shot.”

She pulled the trigger, and this time the bullet hit close to the center of the target. Her eyes widened, a surprised smile breaking through her frustration.

“There you go,” he said with a nod, finally releasing her hands and stepping back. She felt a strange, sudden coolness as his warmth disappeared, like he’d taken a piece of her steadiness with him.

He crossed his arms, watching her intently, his eyes steady with that same calm confidence. “Alright,” he said, giving her an encouraging nod. “Try it again. By yourself this time.”

She steadied herself, lifted the gun, and took the shot. This time, it landed just shy of the bullseye. Her eyes went wide, and she spun around to face Tim, excitement bubbling up.

“Did you see that? I was so close!” she exclaimed, unable to keep the huge grin off her face.

Tim’s face softened, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “See? I told you. You’re getting it.” He looked at her for a moment, shaking his head with a slightly amused expression. “You’re kind of cute when you’re all proud of yourself, you know.”

She felt her cheeks warm as she laughed, brushing it off. “Oh, stop. I barely hit it.”

He chuckled, clearly pleased to see her like this. “Yeah, well, it took you about two minutes to go from ‘I can’t hit anything’ to ‘almost hitting the bullseye.’ Not bad at all.” Then, as if he’d just had an idea, he pulled out his phone with a mischievous grin. “Hold on—this moment deserves to be captured.”

She groaned, trying to fight a smile. “Seriously? A picture? I probably look ridiculous with these goggles on.”

He raised an eyebrow, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Nope, you look pretty damn cute, actually.” He snapped the picture before she could say anything, holding it up to show her. “Yup, definitely my new lockscreen.”

She gasped, her eyes wide as she looked at him. “What? No way! You’re not actually gonna keep that.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, giving her an exaggerated once-over. “I mean, who wouldn’t want this adorably awkward, goggles-wearing badass on their phone?”

She immediately blushed, feeling the heat spread to her cheeks. “I look like a total nerd Tim.”

He stepped closer, his grin widening. “Not even close. You look… like you’re about to kick ass.” His voice lowered, teasingly serious. “And I’m here for it.”

Her mouth went dry as she tried to look away, crossing her arms defensively. “God, you’re impossible,” she muttered, half-laughing, half-glaring at him.

He just leaned in a little closer, his voice low and playful. “Yeah, but you like it. Admit it.”

“Maybe I do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, feeling an unexpected flutter in her chest. “But I’m still gonna find a way to get revenge.”

He winked, backing off just a little, though his smile lingered, soft and teasing. “I’ll be waiting for it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the grin tugging at her lips wouldn’t quit as they started walking back to the truck. Every step felt light, their laughter filling the cool night air, and she found herself glancing over at him more often than she meant to, her heart beating a little quicker each time their eyes met.

When they reached the truck, he moved ahead to open her door, holding it with a slight, almost sheepish grin. “You’re welcome,” he said, shooting her a playful look as she climbed in, catching the way her eyes lingered on him for just a second longer.

“Look at you,” she teased. “A gentleman and a crack shot. Who knew?”

He laughed, leaning in for a moment as he braced his arm on the doorframe. “I’m full of surprises,” he murmured, his voice low, his gaze warm. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, but she didn’t look away. “Guess I just might,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

When he slid into the driver’s seat, he looked over at her, and for a second, he just watched her, his eyes softening. “I had a really good time tonight, you know,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a new sincerity. “Even if it wasn’t the classic dinner date or whatever… I’d definitely go for another.”

Her heart skipped, and she met his gaze, feeling warmth spread through her chest. “I had a really good time too. Not what I expected, but it was… amazing, actually.” She paused, her smile turning playful. “And I guess, if you play your cards right, you just might get that third date.”

His smile widened, a flicker of excitement and something deeper in his eyes. “Play my cards right, huh? Well, now I’m motivated. I’ll make sure date three is unforgettable.”

She laughed, nudging him. “Alright, Mr. Confidence, don’t get ahead of yourself. But yeah… I’d like that. Just us, no goggles.”

He chuckled, reaching over and giving her hand a light squeeze before letting go, his eyes softening. “Just us. Sounds perfect.”

For the first few minutes of the drive, the world outside seemed to fade away. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, though. It was comfortable—like something between friends and something more. Their soft glances, the way their smiles would meet in the dim light of the dashboard, all of it felt like a quiet dance. Neither of them said much, but the energy between them was undeniable.

When Tim pulled up outside her dorm, he parked the truck and walked around to open her door. He extended a hand to hers as she stepped out, and their fingers brushed, sending a small spark between them. She looked up at him with a soft smile.

“Hey,” she began, her voice soft with curiosity, “I’ve always wondered, when you get shot—what happens? I mean, I know it’s one of those high-stakes situations, but do you just push through it? Or do you stop and reassess everything?”

Tim took a breath, his gaze turning distant for a moment as he thought. “Luckily, I’ve been fortunate. But when it happens, it’s not always clear how bad it is right away. It all depends on where you get hit, how deep. Sometimes, you just have to keep moving, no matter what. You don’t have the luxury of slowing down. The situation keeps going, so you don’t really have a choice.”

Lucy felt a chill, her eyes widening as she processed his words. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must be.”

Tim shrugged, though his expression was far from indifferent. “You learn to live with it. You adapt. It becomes part of the rhythm of the job. And if I’m being honest, I’ve always been careful about it. Can’t afford not to be.”

“You better be. You’re not getting out of that third date that easily.”

Tim chuckled softly, the playfulness in his eyes still there, but a warmth settling in his voice. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, the words carrying a promise, as if he meant every part of it.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the cool night air wrapping around them as they neared the entrance to her dorm. It felt easy, the quiet shared between them. Lucy couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way—so at ease, so… connected.

When they reached the door, Tim paused. His hand rested against the doorframe, his eyes searching hers, like he was savoring the moment before it ended. “Well,” he said softly, his voice filled with a kind of reluctant finality, “here we are.”

Lucy smiled up at him, her heart still racing from everything they’d shared that evening. “I had a really good time tonight,” she said, her voice a little softer now, her smile more genuine. “Thanks for making it fun.”

Tim grinned, his eyes lighting up with something sincere but playful. “Same here. I’ll make sure the third date knocks your socks off.”

Lucy laughed, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “You’d better. I’m expecting big things now.”

They both lingered for a moment, unsure of how to end the night. But then, as if on impulse, Tim stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. It was warm, lingering—a quiet moment that felt like it could last forever, where everything else faded away. The simple act of holding her felt right, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, grounding her.

For a long moment, they just stood there, the world outside disappearing. When he finally pulled away, it was only just enough to look down at her, his hands resting lightly on her arms. His eyes were soft, and there was something unspoken between them, something deeper than the casual exchanges of the night.

“Good night, Lucy,” he said, his voice low, but with a hint of something more—something they both knew but hadn’t yet said.

“Good night, Tim,” she replied, her voice almost a whisper as she met his gaze. “Same time next week?”

He grinned, leaning just a little closer. “Wouldn’t miss it. See you then.”

She took a step back, her fingers lingering on the doorframe. “Not if I see you first.”

Chapter Text

It had been a good day. Hell, it had been a good couple of days, and Tim couldn’t help but smile as the thought of Lucy floated into his mind once again. He’d been trying not to think about her too much, especially while on duty, but it was hard not to. They had spent some time together recently, and every time he saw her, it felt like everything else around him faded away for just a while. She had this way of making everything else seem insignificant.

Her laughter still echoed in his head from their last date—at the shooting range. Watching her steady her aim, the way she focused so intensely, was almost mesmerizing. The way she carried herself, so confident and strong, had a raw energy about it that he hadn’t realized he was craving.

But it wasn’t just her. It was the way she made him feel when they were together. He didn’t have to be anyone else. He could just be. And for someone like Tim, who had spent so much of his life playing a part, that kind of freedom was intoxicating.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but Tim didn’t bother to check it. He already knew who it was—probably a text from her, asking how his day had been. She always seemed to know when to check in, when to let him have his space, and when to pull him back in. He hadn’t responded yet, though. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was just that he’d been caught up in the day, the calls, the routine of it all.

He could still hear the faint sound of her voice, and for a moment, it was like he could almost feel her beside him. But he snapped out of it. There was work to be done. The day had been good so far, uneventful even, and that was something he appreciated in his line of work. But his attention quickly shifted to the rookie sitting next to him.

Johnson. The kid was trying. Tim had to give him that. But the frustration still lingered when he thought about how far the rookie had to go before he could handle the job on his own. It wasn’t just about following orders—it was about thinking on your feet, making decisions when every second counted. Johnson had moments where he’d impress Tim, but there were still too many times when he froze, caught off guard, unable to act when it mattered. Tim had warned him time and time again: no room for hesitation out here.

Tim had already written up Johnson for a few mistakes—small ones, but in their line of work, they could add up quickly. A hesitation to call for backup. A missed detail in a report. The kid wasn’t a lost cause, but he wasn’t where he needed to be yet. It was frustrating, because Tim could see the potential. He remembered his own rookie days, how the pressure of the job sometimes felt unbearable. But there had been no time for second-guessing. Tim knew he’d have to push Johnson harder if he wanted to survive this job. The streets weren’t forgiving.

As they rolled through the city, the radio stayed quiet for the most part, giving Tim time to think about the next steps. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by the mistakes Johnson kept making. His focus was on the job, on the unknowns ahead. But still, as they turned a corner, he found his mind drifting to Lucy. Her smile. The way she challenged him. He’d spent more time than he should thinking about her, replaying their last date at the shooting range in his head up until the moment that his thoughts were interrupted. The radio crackled loud and his hand immediately shut up, grabbing it.

“7-Adam-19, respond to 123 Oak Street for a possible 415 in progress. Reports of loud arguing, sounds of breaking glass.”

Tim’s grip on the mic tightened as he spoke. “7-Adam-19, responding.” He glanced at Johnson, his expression hardening slightly. “This could get messy. You with me?”

“Yeah, sir. I’m ready.”

The shift was immediate, his body going from a steady calm to the heightened alertness of someone about to face the unknown. Tim’s mind shifted gears, already anticipating the chaos that awaited them. He couldn’t help the gut feeling that things were about to escalate.

The engine hummed steadily beneath him, the hum of the tires on asphalt grounding him as they neared the address. His thoughts sharpened as the adrenaline started to trickle in, pushing everything else to the background. The last few days had been routine—almost too smooth—but that quiet lull made Tim uneasy. Things always changed quickly out here, and he wasn’t going to be caught unprepared.

The sound of shouting pierced the still evening air as Tim and Officer Johnson stepped out of the shop and approached the scene. A small, modest house sat in front of them, but the chaos could be heard clearly—yelling, arguing, and the unmistakable heat of a volatile confrontation. The tension was thick, and Tim’s instincts kicked in immediately. He motioned for Johnson to stay alert as they moved toward the front yard.

As they neared, the scene unfolded. A man and a woman were face-to-face, their voices rising in a fevered argument, their anger palpable. The man was shouting at the woman, his face red and contorted with rage, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“You think you can treat me like this? After everything I’ve done for you?” His voice was deep and venomous, every word laced with the fury building in him.

The woman let out a harsh, mocking laugh, folding her arms across her chest, eyes narrowed in defiance. “Oh, please. If you put even half the effort into this marriage that you do into yelling at me, maybe we wouldn’t be here!”

He scoffed, his fists clenching tighter as he took a step closer. “Me? Running my mouth? You’re the one who couldn’t keep your legs closed!”

Her eyes flashed, and she moved even closer, standing toe-to-toe with him, her voice cutting like ice. “Maybe if you knew how to use it right, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere!” She tilted her chin up, her glare daring him to respond.

Tim cleared his throat, stepping forward with a commanding tone. “Alright, that’s enough. Ma’am, sir, I need you both to take a step back.” The man shot Tim a furious glare, his voice dripping with contempt. “This doesn’t concern you, officer. This is between me and her.”

Tim kept his gaze steady, his voice unwavering. “It concerns us now, sir. Let’s take a step back and handle this calmly.”

The woman rolled her eyes, clearly unfazed by the situation escalating. “Oh, look at you—finally acting tough now that there’s an audience.” Her sarcasm was biting, her arms still crossed as she gave her husband an infuriatingly smug look.

The man’s expression darkened. “You think you can humiliate me like this in front of everyone?” She didn’t back down, her posture tense and defiant. “Maybe if you’d stop acting like a child, I’d have something to respect.”

“Ma’am,” Tim interrupted, his tone firm but steady, “Please, let’s keep things civil. Sir, I asked you to take a step back.”

The man glared at Tim, chest heaving with frustration, before turning and storming off toward the house. The screen door slammed shut behind him, rattling in its frame.

The woman exhaled sharply, still tense, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared after him with a look of disdain. “Can you believe him?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “After everything, he has the nerve to act like he’s the victim.” Tim kept his expression neutral, watching her closely. “Ma’am, do you mind telling us what happened?”

She let out a bitter laugh, clearly more than willing to share. “What happened? I married an overgrown child who thinks he can run this house by stomping around and making threats. All he cares about is himself. Spends all day complaining about me but doesn’t lift a finger to make anything better.”

Johnson stayed by Tim’s side, watching the house carefully in case the man came back, but his expression tightened as the woman continued. “Every single time something goes wrong, it’s somehow my fault,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing’s ever good enough for him. And when he finally pushes me too far and I tell him off? Suddenly, I’m the bad guy.”

Tim nodded, staying calm but encouraging her to continue as she vented.

“If he put half the effort into our marriage that he puts into his temper tantrums, maybe we wouldn’t be here,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “But no, it’s easier for him to blame me for everything.”

His eyes were trained on her face, but his senses were alert, his gaze flicking briefly toward the house. He was about to ask another question when the front door crashed open. Tim's head snapped up, just in time to see the man stepping out, a glint of metal in his hand.

"Gun!" Johnson's warning cut through the air, and before Tim had time to think, his instincts took over. He lunged forward, positioning himself between the woman and her husband. In a split second, there was a loud, deafening crack as the gun fired.

A searing pain tore through his shoulder, white-hot and relentless, catching him off-guard. The impact sent him stumbling back a step. He felt a rush of warmth spreading across his chest and down his arm—a sensation he recognized all too well. His mind registered it in fragments: the sting, the way it pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, the sticky warmth of blood beginning to seep through his shirt. But there was no time to dwell on it.

His jaw clenched, Tim zeroed in on the man, who was shifting his stance, readying himself for another move.

Ignoring the pain, Tim propelled himself forward, crashing into the man with the full force of his body, and they hit the ground hard. The man struggled beneath him, his free hand swinging up and landing a solid hit across Tim's jaw, sending a dull ache spreading across his face. Tim gritted his teeth, keeping his grip firm, fighting through the pain that radiated from his collarbone with every motion.

The gun had skidded a few feet away on impact, and the man twisted, eyes locked on it, but Tim wasn't about to give him the chance. In one swift move, he drove his knee down, pinning the man's shoulder to the ground and leaning in with his weight, every pulse in his wounded shoulder sending fresh waves of heat through him.

Tim's hand shot out, reaching for the gun, his fingers brushing against the cold metal as he kicked it farther out of the man's reach. But the fight wasn't over-the man pushed back, twisting sharply, and Tim felt a jolt of pain as the man's elbow connected with his ribs.

Tim's vision blurred momentarily from the impact, but he shook it off, clenching his teeth as he forced himself back into control, his strength driven by sheer willpower.

In the scuffle, the man managed to land another punch, this time squarely on Tim's cheek. The blow sent a sharp jolt through his head, but Tim locked down, rolling the man onto his stomach and wrenching his arms behind his back with practiced precision. Breathing heavily, Tim managed to click the cuffs into place, his blood-slicked hands gripping the chain as he pulled the man to his feet.

Pain flared through his shoulder with each step, but Tim gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay steady. He guided the suspect toward the shop, his steps heavy and deliberate. He shoved the man into the back seat, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Only then did he pause, pressing his hand against his shoulder to try and stem the blood flow. His pulse pounded painfully against his palm, but there was no time for weakness now.

As he took a breath, Tim turned, his gaze immediately locking on Johnson. The rookie was still standing by the car, wide-eyed, frozen in place as if the whole scene had just washed over him. Tim’s frustration boiled over. His voice cut through the night air—sharp, low, and demanding an answer. “What the hell was that, Boot?”

Johnson flinched, the shock still evident on his face, and his mouth opened, struggling to find the words. Tim stepped forward, eyes burning with fury. He wasn’t about to let this go. Not tonight.

“I’m out there, wrestling with that bastard on the ground, getting hit, getting hurt, and you’re standing there like a fucking statue, watching me fight for my life. Watching me bleed, and you did nothing!” Tim’s voice cracked as the anger surged through him, but his pain was sharper than ever. His shoulder, still bleeding, screamed with every breath, but he barely felt it compared to the fury that surged through his veins.

“I’m risking my ass, Johnson, and you were just standing there? Like you’re on a training drill, not in the fucking streets where it counts? You’re supposed to back me up. You’re supposed to protect me, and you just froze.” He jabbed a finger toward the rookie’s chest, eyes burning with the weight of his words. “You think this is some kind of game? You think people don’t die when you stand there like a fucking idiot?”

Johnson opened his mouth, but his words faltered, a mess of apology and fear caught in his throat. Tim wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

“What if I hadn’t gotten him on the ground, huh? What if I didn’t disarm him in time? What would’ve happened then?” His voice was a growl, each word thick with disbelief. “Would you have let me die? Would you have stood there, just frozen, while he shot me in the fucking head? You’d be just as dead as me, Boot.”

Johnson didn’t speak. His face flushed with shame, his eyes darting to the ground. He couldn’t look Tim in the eye. Tim’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths as the anger threatened to burn him from the inside out.

“Answer me, Johnson!” Tim barked. “What would you have done if I didn’t make it out of that?”

“I—I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry. I froze.” The rookie’s voice cracked, the words breaking his pride, but Tim was done with excuses.

“You froze?” Tim sneered, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. “Well, that’s not good enough. You don’t get to freeze out here. People don’t get second chances when they’re staring down the barrel of a gun. You don’t get to panic, you don’t get to hesitate. You do your fucking job, or you stay the hell out of my way.”

The words hit like a hammer, each one carrying the weight of the reality of their job. Tim could see the guilt on Johnson’s face, the shame twisting his features, but it didn’t matter. The rookie was supposed to be ready for moments like this. There was no room for hesitation in this line of work.

Johnson looked down, his hands shaking at his sides. “I wasn’t ready, sir. I… I didn’t know what to do in the heat of the moment.”

Tim exhaled sharply, a burst of frustration escaping from his chest as he shook his head. “Ready? You’re never going to be ready for this job. But you’ve got to act, Johnson. You’ve got to think. If you’re out here, you better be prepared to do what needs to be done, even when your heart’s pounding and your head’s spinning. That’s what separates the rookies from the men who last. And right now? You’re still a rookie. And you’re fucking lucky that I was here to cover your ass.”

The words cut through the air, thick with the reality of their work, but Tim wasn’t done. He stepped back, his chest still heaving from the adrenaline and the hurt that pulsed through his body, refusing to show it.

“Good,” he said, his voice cold, final. “Now get your ass over there and make yourself useful. Go check on the wife. She’s the witness. We need her statement, and you’re gonna get it. And you’re gonna do it right. Don’t freeze up again. Not on my watch.”

Johnson blinked, his face still pale but with a flicker of resolve in his eyes. “Understood. I’m sorry, sir.”

Tim barely nodded, too exhausted and pissed off to say anything else. The blood still seeped through his uniform, the pain in his shoulder unbearable now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off. His movements were slower, his body stiff from the injuries, but he knew he had to keep it together for just a bit longer.

“Good,” Tim said again, voice softer, but his eyes still furious. He turned away, feeling the weight of his exhaustion threatening to take him down, but he couldn’t let it. Not yet.

Johnson walked away, his back straight but his steps unsure. Tim stayed where he was for a moment, staring after him, trying to push through the growing dizziness in his head.

Before he could move, the world tilted. The pain hit him all at once, crashing like a wave, and Tim stumbled, his legs buckling beneath him. He caught himself against the doorframe of the shop, but it wasn’t enough. His vision blurred, and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Lucy was sprawled out on her bed, surrounded by a mess of psych notes, highlighters, and half-open textbooks. Her exam was only a few days away, and she was in full-on study mode, highlighting theories, folding sticky notes, and mentally cataloging everything she needed to review. The quiet room seemed to help her focus, its silence broken only by the hum of her desk lamp and the soft rustling of pages.

Then her phone buzzed against the bedspread, pulling her out of her concentration. She glanced down at the screen: Unknown Caller. She rarely answered unknown numbers, but something made her hesitate. A strange feeling of unease settled over her, urging her to pick up. After a moment’s hesitation, she pressed “Answer” and held the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she asked cautiously.

There was a slight pause before a woman’s voice responded, calm and professional. “Hi, is this Lucy?”

Lucy frowned, instinctively tightening her grip on the phone. The voice was unfamiliar—firm, serious. “Uh, yeah, this is Lucy,” she replied slowly, her tone guarded. “Who’s this?”

After a brief pause, the woman introduced herself. “My name is Angela Lopez. I work with Tim.”

At the mention of Tim, Lucy felt a spike of apprehension. She couldn’t imagine why one of his coworkers would be calling her directly. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she asked, “Oh… okay. Can I help you with something?”

Angela continued, her tone still level, professional, yet gentle. “There was an incident at work today, and Tim sustained some injuries. He’s currently being treated at the hospital.”

Lucy felt her heart drop, her mind struggling to process what Angela was saying. She was frozen for a moment, the words echoing in her head. Tim’s in the hospital. Her voice was barely steady when she managed to ask, “Is he… is he okay?”

“I can’t disclose too many details over the phone, but he’s in stable condition,” Angela replied, her voice calm and measured. “I wanted to reach out and let you know because I believe he would appreciate it if you were able to come. It may be comforting for him to see… his girlfriend.”

Lucy’s breath caught, the word girlfriend hanging in the air between them. She struggled to find her voice, her thoughts racing with worry and confusion. “Right… of course. Which hospital is he at?”

Angela provided the hospital’s name and instructions on where to go, remaining as courteous as possible. “Thank you for your time, Lucy. I just thought it was important to let you know,” she added, before they ended the call.

Lucy sat there for a long moment, the quiet of her room suddenly feeling heavy and oppressive. Her heart was racing, not just from the shock and worry, but from Angela’s words—his girlfriend.

Lucy stared at her phone, Angela’s words still echoing in her mind. His girlfriend. The word hung in the air, pressing on her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Was that what Angela thought of her—that she was Tim’s girlfriend? And more importantly, was that what he thought too?

A swirl of emotions tightened her chest—surprise, a flicker of hope, and something far more complicated. She hadn’t spent much time defining what she and Tim were, or where this thing between them was going. They hadn’t labeled it, hadn’t said anything aloud. And yet, here was someone close to him, reaching out to her in a moment of crisis as if she were his partner.

Her heart pounded at the thought, faster than it should have. Had she meant more to Tim than she’d let herself believe? The realization was disorienting. There was no denying how close they’d grown, the quiet moments, the unspoken connection. But it had felt like something fragile, unspoken. Hearing it acknowledged in such a real, definitive way… it was like that one word had cracked open everything they’d built, bringing a new weight and reality to it all.

She glanced around her room, her mind in a haze. Taking a deep breath, Lucy stood up, running her hands over her face, as if she could shake off the disorientation clinging to her. But she couldn’t shake the urgency—the need to be there, to see him, to know that he was okay. She pulled on her shoes, moving with shaky purpose, barely thinking about the motions.

Grabbing her keys, she was out the door in seconds, her thoughts scattered as she hurried down the hall and out of the building. The drive to the hospital was a blur, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, every red light and passing second feeling like an eternity. Her mind kept replaying Angela’s voice, calling her his girlfriend, each repetition making her heart pound a little harder, a little faster.

As she pulled into the hospital parking lot, she felt the weight of what she was about to face. Her stomach churned, nerves tightening, but the need to see Tim—to be by his side—was stronger than anything else.

Lucy walked through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, her pulse quickening as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The antiseptic smell and harsh hum of the fluorescent lights felt unnerving, creating a sense of detachment from the place. But Tim was here, and that was all that mattered.

She moved purposefully toward the reception desk, where a woman sat flipping through papers, her expression one of practiced detachment. As Lucy approached, the receptionist looked up, offering a polite yet preoccupied nod.

“Good evening,” the woman said, her tone professional. “How can I help you?”

Lucy cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m looking for Timothy Bradford. He… he’s been admitted.”

The receptionist’s fingers hovered over her keyboard as she pulled up the information. After a few keystrokes, she looked up. “He’s currently in surgical recovery,” she said with a measured tone. “I’ll need to confirm your relationship to the patient before granting access.”

Lucy felt a pang of discomfort at the word relationship. She hadn’t thought to prepare for this, hadn’t defined her connection to Tim, especially not in the sterile language of hospital policies.

“I’m…” she started, hesitating. The words felt tangled, slipping from her grasp. “I’m his… well, we’re close.” She shifted, glancing at the receptionist’s neutral expression, and tried again, feeling the pressure of the moment. “My name is Lucy Chen. I’m, um, a close friend. Really close.”

The receptionist looked at her steadily. “I understand, Ms. Chen. However, we generally require verification of a formal relationship—immediate family, a legal partner, or other established connection. Otherwise, I’m unable to provide details or grant access to the patient’s room.”

Lucy’s heart sank, but she took a deep breath, leaning slightly forward, her words coming faster. “Please. I’m not just anyone. I know him well. I know he’d want me there. We—we were together just a few days ago.” She fumbled to pull out her phone, navigating to a photo of them at the shooting range, one from their last outing together. She held it up, her expression earnest. “This is us. I promise I’m not here on a whim.”

The receptionist glanced at the photo, considering Lucy for a moment, her expression softening ever so slightly. She paused, tapping a few more keys on her computer, then looked up.

“Ms. Chen,” the receptionist repeated, her voice a notch softer, as if acknowledging Lucy’s urgency. “I can’t formally confirm access without documented verification. But… let me see what I can do.”

Lucy’s chest tightened with hope as she watched the woman’s fingers move across the keyboard with practiced efficiency, her gaze never leaving the screen. The seconds stretched, the only sounds in the sterile lobby the steady clacking of keys and Lucy’s own racing heartbeat.

The receptionist glanced over at her briefly, a flicker of understanding in her expression, then returned her attention to the computer. “Normally, only immediate family or authorized individuals are allowed in this section, especially after hours,” she explained, her voice professional but not unkind. “But I can make a temporary exception—one-time courtesy access—if I input you as a secondary contact.” She paused, meeting Lucy’s gaze with a hint of a sympathetic smile. “It’s a bit of a workaround, and you may be asked to check in again if you need to return, but this should get you through to him tonight.”

Lucy nodded, her breath catching in her throat. She had expected resistance, but the small concession felt like a lifeline. She couldn’t help but let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thank you,” she murmured, a mixture of relief and desperation in her voice.

The receptionist’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as she continued. “I’ll need to input your name as a secondary contact, but I’ll also need you to sign off on this temporary access. It’s hospital policy, but it’s nothing too complicated.” She slid a clipboard toward Lucy with a blank form.

Lucy’s hands were shaky as she took the pen, her mind still on Tim. She signed her name quickly, her handwriting uneven, but her mind couldn’t focus on the details. Her thoughts were consumed with the hospital room that felt so far away, with Tim, with his injury. What would she find when she got there? Would he be awake? Would he be okay?

As she handed the clipboard back, the receptionist typed Lucy’s name into the system and glanced at the screen again. “All set,” she said. “You’re cleared for one-time access. Timothy Bradford is in Room 406. Down the hall to the left.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Tim’s name. 406. She could feel herself physically leaning toward the hallway that would take her to him. She had been afraid this moment might never come, but now that it was here, her body seemed to react without thinking. Her feet were already moving toward the hallway before she’d even processed the room number fully.

The receptionist’s voice brought her back to the present. “When you get to the recovery wing, you’ll need to check in again with the nurse on duty. Let them know you were cleared for access.”

Lucy nodded, the weight of her racing heart not easing, but at least there was now a path forward. She gave a quick thanks and turned to head down the hallway. The sterile smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Each step felt heavy, her mind bouncing between frantic thoughts of Tim’s condition and the sharp sting of her own anxiety.

As she walked, her shoes clicking softly on the polished floors, her thoughts flitted to all the “what-ifs.” What if it was worse than she imagined? What if he wasn’t okay? The thought sent a fresh wave of dread through her, but she pushed it down, determined to reach him.

She finally arrived at the recovery wing, the doors swishing open as she approached. Inside, the atmosphere was quieter, the sterile white walls offering no comfort, just an unnerving calm. The nurse’s station sat ahead, a few figures moving quietly between beds, checking monitors and adjusting drips. A nurse looked up as Lucy approached the desk.

“Can I help you?” the nurse asked, her voice professional yet warm.

“I’m here to see Timothy Bradford,” Lucy said, her voice a little shaky despite her best efforts to sound steady. “I was cleared for access at the front desk.”

The nurse gave a quick nod. “Bradford… Let me see…” She checked her computer, typing in the name before looking back at Lucy. “He’s in Room 406. But we’ll need to do a quick check-in, just a formality. It’s protocol.”

Lucy nodded, the nerves beginning to build again, but she kept her focus. “That’s fine. I just… I need to see him.”

The nurse pointed toward a hallway. “Room 406 is at the end. I’ll alert the staff you’re coming.”

Lucy thanked her and hurried down the hall, the door to Room 406 coming into view. She reached for the handle, pausing for just a second. Her breath hitched as she pushed it open, her gaze immediately falling on Tim.

He was propped up in the bed, eyes closed but shifting slightly. His face was battered—swollen black eye, a busted lip that was still crusted with dried blood. Her heart tightened in her chest at the sight.

Lucy took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She had seen him hurt before, but this was different. This was so much worse. Her hands trembled as she reached for the door, knocking softly before pushing it open.

“Tim?” she called softly, stepping into the room, her voice wavering with concern.

He stirred at the sound of her voice, blinking open his eyes, his gaze falling on her. For a brief moment, there was confusion in his eyes, followed by a weary sigh. “What the hell are you doing here?” he muttered, his voice rough and hoarse from the pain.

Lucy shook her head, stepping closer to the bed. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? They called me,” she said, her voice softening, eyes not leaving his bruised face.

He shifted slightly, wincing as he did, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Who called you?”

“Angela,” she answered, her fingers reaching out to gently brush the hair off his forehead, her touch tender. “She said you were hurt—she said you needed someone.”

Tim groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow with a slight shake. “Of course she did,” he muttered, closing his eyes again as though he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Lucy didn’t mind his sarcasm. It was just his way of coping, a defense mechanism. She took a seat on the edge of his bed, her hand instinctively reaching for his. The warmth of his skin beneath her fingers calmed her, even if only a little. But the sight of him—bruised and battered, lips cracked and swollen—still made her heart tighten. She tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach, the unease that grew with every second she sat there, trying to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it was.

Tim cracked his eyes open slightly, noticing her concerned expression. “You didn’t have to come,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I’m fine.”

Lucy shot him an incredulous look. “Fine? They called me and said there was an accident. What else was I supposed to think?”

Tim shrugged slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his swollen lip. “I’ve been shot before. It’s not like it’s the first time.”

She stared at him, utterly floored. “You were shot, Tim! Oh my god, that makes it worse, not better!”

Tim chuckled, wincing a bit from the motion. “Really, Lucy. It’s not as dramatic as it sounds. I’ve been through worse.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “You say that like it’s normal. It’s not! Getting hurt—getting shot—is not something you just brush off.” Her voice softened, but the worry remained. “You don’t get to pretend this doesn’t matter.”

Tim gave a small sigh, the edges of his expression softening. “I’m not pretending it doesn’t matter,” he replied quietly. “I just… don’t want it to be a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she replied, her tone insistent but quiet. “You don’t get hurt like this and then act like it’s nothing. And I don’t just get a call saying you were hurt and stay home like it doesn’t matter.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. There was a tension in his jaw as he glanced away, as if struggling to find the words. “I didn’t want to drag you into it,” he muttered, finally. “Didn’t want you here, worrying over… this when I haven't even taken you on our third date.”

Lucy shook her head, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “I don’t care if I’ve known you for three weeks or three years,” she said firmly, her voice steady but her eyes full of worry. “You think that matters? You got hurt, Tim. That’s enough for me to be here.”

Tim looked down, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though he couldn’t hide the softness in his gaze. “Guess I underestimated you.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” she shot back, a hint of warmth breaking through her frustration. “Because this won’t be the last time I show up if you’re in trouble.”

He chuckled slightly, then winced, but his hand tightened on hers, almost as if grounding himself. “Alright, I get it. Just… I don’t want you worrying about me. I’m not some lost cause you have to save.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I never said you were. But don’t act like I’m going to stand by and not care, either.”

He glanced away, that tension in his jaw softening. “I just thought it’d be easier for you if you didn’t have to deal with this… with me.”

Lucy let out a breath, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. “Too late. I’m here because I want to be. Easier doesn’t matter when someone actually means something to you.”

They fell into a quiet, comfortable silence, her hand still warm in his. Then, almost instinctively, she reached up, brushing a few strands of hair from his face. Her hand lingered, cupping his cheek gently, and with her thumb, she carefully traced along his jaw, avoiding the bruises but brushing over his cracked lip with a feather-light touch.

“You really scared me, you know that?” she murmured, her thumb moving gently over his busted lip, her worry evident in every careful motion.

Tim’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice low and a little rough. “Guess I owe you… maybe I can make it up to you somehow?”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and her hand stayed resting on his face, thumb tracing over his lip once more. “Oh, yeah?” she replied softly, her eyes not leaving his.

They held each other’s gaze, and the room seemed to fall away as they leaned closer, their breaths mingling in the quiet. Her hand slid gently from his cheek, but just before she could pull back, he closed the gap, their lips meeting in a soft, unhurried kiss. His mouth was tender under hers, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.

When they finally pulled away, they lingered in silence, both a little unsure, a little awkward. Tim cleared his throat, his voice slightly rough but light. “Well, that was… different.”

Lucy chuckled, a little nervous, and nodded. “Yeah, it was,” she replied softly, her hand still resting near his cheek. She hesitated before asking, “So… how long are you stuck here?”

Tim shifted slightly in the bed, grimacing a little as he adjusted. “They’ll probably keep me overnight, just to monitor things. You know, make sure the concussion’s not too bad. They’ll want to observe me for a bit, keep an eye on the wound, and make sure I’m stable.” He paused, glancing at her with a slight smile. “Nothing too serious.”

Lucy nodded, taking in his words with a soft sigh. “So, you’ll be able to leave tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Tim confirmed. “I’ll be good to go after that, but my sergeant’s probably going to put me on leave for a week or so, just to make sure I’m not pushing myself too hard. You know how it is.” He gave a small, wry smile. “It’s all about the paperwork and making sure I don’t end up in trouble for trying to get back on the job too soon.”

She smiled, but there was concern in her eyes as she looked at him. “Well, I guess if you’re stuck at home for a week, you could always call me if you need some company.”

Tim’s eyes softened, a small chuckle escaping him. “I might just have to take you up on that offer,” he said, his tone light but with a hint of warmth.

Lucy smiled, her chest feeling a little lighter as she met his gaze. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Tim leaned back slightly, his expression more relaxed now. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but it’s nice to know you’re around.”

The silence settled between them for a moment, comfortable and peaceful. Tim’s eyes fluttered slightly as he let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll let you get going. Don’t want to keep you here too long.”

Lucy nodded, standing up with a soft smile. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow. Just… rest up, okay?”

“Promise,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. As she walked toward the door, she turned back to look at him. “And hey, don’t forget about that offer,” she added with a wink.

“I won’t forget.”

Chapter Text

Lucy had come to the hospital that morning, anxious to see how Tim was doing. As she pushed open the door, she didn’t expect to be greeted with the sight that awaited her.

Tim was sitting on the edge of the bed, his jeans on but his shirt missing, exposing his well-toned torso. He was relaxed, one leg dangling off the bed while the nurse stood next to him, cleaning his stitches with practiced hands.

The moment their eyes met, Lucy froze in the doorway. Her heart skipped a beat, and her face instantly turned bright red. She didn’t know where to look—at his eyes, his chest, the floor. It was all too much. She could feel the heat of the blush spreading across her cheeks as she awkwardly fumbled for words.

Tim raised an eyebrow, catching her flustered expression, and a faint, amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, Lucy,” he greeted her, his tone calm and unfazed, as if standing shirtless in front of her was the most natural thing in the world.

Lucy cleared her throat, desperately trying to keep her gaze near his face. “Hey,” she replied, her voice soft and slightly shaky. She forced herself to take a steadying breath and stepped fully into the room. “I, uh, just came by to check on you… and to, you know, take you home.”

“Guess you caught me at an awkward time,” he chuckled, glancing at the nurse who was finishing up with his stitches. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she replied quickly, her cheeks still burning but managing to sound a bit more collected now. Her eyes flicked briefly to his shoulder, noting the fresh stitches and bruising. “Looks like they’re taking good care of you.”

Tim gave a small chuckle, the sound a little dry from the discomfort, but there was an undertone of gratitude in it. “Yeah, they do their best,” he said, trying to keep the mood light, though his voice was tinged with a quiet exhaustion. He looked down at his shoulder, where the nurse had just finished applying the final bandage. “Not exactly my idea of fun though.”

Lucy smiled softly, her expression sympathetic. “I bet,” she replied, her voice quieter now, a little warmer. She took a small step closer but hesitated to get too close, still giving him space, unsure of how to act with him still half-dressed. Her eyes flickered briefly to his chest before she caught herself, mentally forcing herself to focus on his face. “I’m glad it’s healing though.”

Tim nodded, his gaze shifting to the nurse who was putting away her supplies. “Yeah, I’ll be back to normal in no time,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of impatience. “Just need to take it easy for a few days.”

The nurse finished cleaning up and looked at Tim with a teasing smile. “Remember, no strenuous activity,” she said, her tone light but firm. “Keep the area clean, don’t lift anything heavy, and if you feel any pain or discomfort, make sure to come back.”

Tim gave her a half-smile, already feeling the itch to be up and moving again. “Understood,” he replied, trying to keep his frustration in check. “Thanks.”

With that, the nurse gave one last look toward Lucy, an encouraging smile playing on her lips. “He’s all yours now. Make sure he rests, okay?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes still a little wide from the awkwardness of the situation but feeling more relaxed as the nurse left the room. She turned her attention back to Tim, who was now glancing around, obviously ready to leave. “You’re ready to go, huh?” she asked with a small, teasing smile.

Tim met her gaze with a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, definitely. This place isn’t exactly my favorite.”

“Let me grab your shirt for you,” Lucy said, moving toward the chair where his shirt was folded. She grabbed it, the fabric soft under her fingers, and handed it to him. When he reached for it, their fingers brushed, and she could feel a small jolt of electricity at the contact. She quickly pulled her hand back, trying not to make it obvious how flustered she was.

Tim gave her a quick, grateful smile before carefully pulling the shirt over his head. He moved slowly, wincing slightly as his shoulder protested the movement. She watched him, not wanting to stare but unable to look away for too long. There was something strangely intimate about seeing him like this, injured but still so composed.

As he finished pulling the shirt down, he glanced at her, a soft look in his eyes. “Thanks for helping me out,” he said, his voice sincere. “Really, I appreciate it.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his tone. She smiled, her cheeks still warm from the earlier awkwardness. “Anytime,” she said, her voice a little quieter now. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Tim stood up, stretching carefully to avoid straining his injured arm. He grabbed his bag from the chair, and his gaze flickered toward the door. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Definitely,” she replied, her tone light, trying to shake off the tension that had been lingering since she walked in. “Let’s get you home.”

He gave her a small, tired smile as he headed for the door. “Lead the way.”

She stepped aside, letting him walk out first. As they moved down the hospital corridor, Lucy couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease he seemed now, walking with a slight but confident stride, despite his bandaged shoulder. The closer they got to the exit, the more the tension in his body seemed to fade.

When they finally stepped outside, the cool air hit her face, and she took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the hospital room lift from her shoulders. Tim paused, squinting up at the sky, before turning his attention to the parking lot.

Lucy caught the direction of his gaze, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “You see my car?”

Tim’s eyes landed on her pride and joy parked a little ways off—her orange 1977 Datsun 280Z. His face lit up in surprise and admiration as he took in the classic car, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Wow, that’s… something.”

Lucy shrugged, trying to hide her fondness for it. “Yeah, I know she’s old, but I love my baby.” Tim walked closer, his eyes scanning the car in awe. “This is a classic. You’ve had her for long?”

“Since I turned eighteen,” Lucy replied, a soft smile on her face. She patted the hood affectionately. “She’s been with me ever since. A little temperamental, but she always gets me where I need to go.”

“I bet,” Tim said, running a hand over the orange paint, clearly impressed. “Not many people take such good care of a car like this. It’s in better shape than some of the newer ones I’ve seen.”

Lucy couldn’t hide her pride now. “She’s been good to me. I make sure she’s always running smooth.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, impressed. “I can tell. You’ve got a real connection with her. Lucy chuckled. “Guess you could say that. She’s like family.” He nodded, clearly respecting the bond she had with the car. “I can see that.”

She climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low rumble. Tim slid into the passenger side, the car rocking slightly as he buckled in. They exchanged a brief glance, and he gave her a grin.

“Ready to go?”

“Lead the way,” he replied, the weariness in his voice replaced by a quiet confidence. The engine roared to life, and they pulled out of the parking lot, the warm afternoon sunlight casting long shadows across the road.

As they made their way through the streets of Hollywood, Lucy couldn’t help but glance around at the familiar surroundings. “So, where to?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as they drove through the bustling city.

Tim gestured toward a calm, residential street. “It’s just a few blocks from here. 11922 Westwood Ave. It’s a quiet neighborhood, a little tucked away from the main strip.”

They continued down the road, passing palm trees lining the streets, and eventually pulling into a more peaceful area. As they turned onto a street lined with charming houses, Lucy’s eyes were drawn to Tim’s place. It was a one-story, white house with a well-kept yard. The front yard was filled with a collection of cute, colorful bushes, their vibrant blooms adding a pop of color to the otherwise serene setting. The garage sat off to the side, neatly parked with a few plants scattered around it.

“Nice place,” Lucy remarked as she parked the car, eyeing the cozy, welcoming house.

Tim smiled, glancing over at the house as they both got out of the car. “Thanks,” he said, leading her toward the front door. “It’s not much, but it works for me.”

As they walked up the small pathway, Lucy couldn’t help but notice the neat landscaping—some bushes and flowers adding a pop of color against the white exterior. She followed him up the steps, admiring the simplicity of the place.

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” she said, giving him a quick smile. “It’s got a good vibe.”

Tim unlocked the door and held it open for her. “Thanks. I can give you a quick tour, if you’d like.”

She stepped inside, glancing around at the clean, minimalist decor. The white walls, light wooden floors, and neutral furniture gave the home a serene and comfortable feel.

“Wow, this place is really clean,” Lucy commented with a soft laugh, almost surprised by how neat everything looked.

Tim shrugged, a modest smile tugging at his lips. “I try to keep it tidy. Not much for clutter.”

She nodded, her eyes landing on the sparse yet well-placed decorations. “You’ve got good taste for a guy.”

Tim chuckled at that, clearly pleased. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, stepping further inside. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Lucy followed him through the house, taking in the simple but elegant layout. She liked the way it felt—comfortable without trying too hard, stylish but not overdone. Everything in its place, yet still inviting.

Tim led Lucy down the hallway, his voice steady as he pointed out the rooms. But when they reached the door to his bedroom, something changed. The lighthearted air around them suddenly shifted. He felt a tightness in his chest.

“This is my room,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended.

Lucy reached for the door handle, her fingers brushing against the metal. Before she could turn it, Tim’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist lightly but firmly.

“No,” he said quickly, his voice almost breathless. “Just—just give me a second.”

She froze, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. “I just need to check a few things, okay?” His words came out in a rush, as if to justify the sudden urgency. Without waiting for her to respond, he pushed past her and entered the room, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

Inside, the room was still. The bed was made, everything in its place, but that only made it worse. His eyes darted around the space, scanning for any sign of Isabel. He couldn’t let Lucy see anything, anything at all that hinted at his past life.

His gaze landed on the bedside table.

And there it was.

A framed photograph of him and Isabel. Smiling. Happy. The way they once were.

His stomach twisted, and his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he reached for it. His breath caught in his throat, the old memory of the life he used to have clawing at him.

Tim grabbed the frame and shoved it into the drawer without a second thought, slamming it shut as if doing so would somehow erase the past. His hands were trembling, his mind racing. The photo was gone, but the weight of it, of everything, still hung heavy in the air.

He stood there for a moment, hands pressed against the edge of the bedside table, trying to steady himself. Get it together, Tim, he thought. This was not the time to fall apart.

Taking a deep breath, he turned toward the door. He opened it slowly, knowing Lucy was waiting just outside. When he stepped into the hallway, he gave her a sheepish smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just wanted to make sure everything was… in order.”

Lucy tilted her head, an amused smile playing at her lips. “What, you got something embarrassing in there?” she teased, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity.

Tim shook his head quickly, trying to shake off the tension. “Nothing like that,” he said, offering a light laugh. “Just, you know, checking.” He reached for the door and opened it, stepping aside to let her in.

As she entered, Lucy took in the room, her gaze sweeping over the simple, clean decor. The gray striped comforter on the bed paired with the soft cream carpet gave the space a calming, minimalistic feel. A leather ottoman sat neatly at the foot of the bed, adding just the right touch of warmth to the room. Everything was well-kept, with nothing out of place.

Lucy gave a small, appreciative nod. “This is nice,” she remarked as she walked in further, running her hand lightly over the comforter. “Simple, but it works.”

Tim smiled, feeling some of the tension in his chest ease. “Glad you think so. It’s just… comfortable, you know?”

She shrugged playfully, settling herself on the edge of the bed. “I think it suits you. Clean, no clutter, but still inviting.” She glanced around the room again, nodding thoughtfully. “It’s comfy, though. Perfect for just… kicking back and relaxing. I can see why you like it.”

Tim smiled, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, it’s simple, but I like it that way. It’s easy to unwind here.”

Lucy looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Perfect place for a guy to recover,” she said, her voice soft. “You know, somewhere you can just lay back, relax… and maybe have someone take care of you.”

Tim tilted his head slightly, giving her a playful look. “Oh yeah? And what, you’re volunteering for that role?”

Lucy smiled, her fingers brushing lightly over his knee. “Maybe I am,” she replied, voice soft but certain. “Someone’s gotta keep you in line, make sure you’re not overdoing it.”

He chuckled, but there was something more in his gaze now—a softness as he looked at her, a spark of something he hadn’t let himself fully feel until this moment. “I can’t say I’d complain,” he admitted quietly. “Having you here… looking out for me like this.”

Lucy took a deep breath, her eyes flickering away for a moment, like she was choosing her words carefully. “You know, it’s more than that, Tim,” she said, her fingers tracing a slow, thoughtful line along his knee. “It’s not just about helping you with recovery. I actually really like being here… with you.”

Tim swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of her words, the tenderness of her touch. His heart quickened, and he leaned in a bit closer, his voice almost a whisper. “Lucy…”

“I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot lately,” she admitted. “Especially after your friend—what was her name again? Angela? She called me your girlfriend, and it just… stuck with me.” She paused, her fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt nervously. “It got me thinking about us. About what this is. About what I want.”

Tim’s heart began to race, his nerves kicking in as he met her eyes. He tried to keep his voice steady, but it came out a little uncertain. “Angela said that? She called you my girlfriend?”

Lucy nodded, her cheeks flushed with the quiet confession. “Yeah, she did. And at first, I thought it was just… well, I thought it was just her being a little playful or teasing. But then, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept replaying it over in my head. And honestly, the more I thought about it… the more I realized I liked the idea.”

Tim blinked in surprise, still processing her words. “Wait, so… you want that? With me?” His voice was quieter now, still unsure of how to respond, a little stunned.

Lucy’s lips parted, but she paused before continuing, clearly feeling vulnerable as she let herself be this honest. “Yeah,” she said softly, her eyes searching his, “I don’t want to just be the girl you’re seeing. Or the girl helping you out with your stuff. I mean, I don’t mind being there for you, but… I want more than that. I want to be more to you. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, about how kind you’ve been and how you just seem to care about me even when I don’t ask. That night at the party, when I was… when I was being a mess, you didn’t just stand there or arrest me, or even report me. You could’ve done all that, but you didn’t. Your main concern was me. You made sure I was okay, even when I was freaking out. You didn’t just see me as some girl who messed up. You just looked out for me. And that… well, that stuck with me. And even when I was at my worst, you stayed calm and you made me feel safe. That’s rare, Tim. I’ve never had someone do that for me before.”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of her words settling in his chest. His mind was racing, but he couldn’t quite find the right words. He simply stared at her, stunned by her honesty.

She smiled softly, but there was a nervous edge to it now. “And, I guess that’s why I’m saying this. I want more than just what we have now. I want to be with you, Tim. I want to be your girlfriend. I really like you, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

There was a long silence between them, and Tim shifted nervously, unsure of what to say. His thoughts felt scrambled, but he could feel a warmth in his chest, something that made him want to say yes, but he was still processing everything.

“I… I like you too,” he finally said, his voice quieter, unsure but sincere. “I just didn’t expect… I mean, I didn’t think you’d feel this way about me. I was just trying to keep things cool, and now you’re throwing this at me and I… I don’t want to say no. It’s just a lot to take in.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks again, but she held his gaze, trying to make him see that this was real for her. “I understand if you’re not ready. I know we’ve only been on two dates, but I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”

Tim shook his head, a small laugh escaping him as he leaned in a little closer. “No, no, I’m just… I’m not saying no, Lucy. I just— I wasn’t expecting you to feel this way so soon. But honestly, I think I feel the same. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Lucy let out a soft breath of relief, her smile warm and genuine. “Yeah?” Tim nodded, his expression softening as he reached out to gently take her hand in his. “Yeah. I like you, Lucy. More than I realized.”

They were both a little nervous, a little unsure, but there was something so real in the moment, in their shared vulnerability. The air between them felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted.

Lucy’s smile deepened as she leaned in just a little, closing the distance between them, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” she whispered.

Tim nodded, his face inching closer, and with one final glance at her, he kissed her softly. It was gentle, slow, as if both of them were savoring the moment and the newness of what they were about to start.

As they pulled away, Lucy couldn’t stop smiling, her heart fluttering in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He felt perfect, and everything seemed to fall into place in that moment. But as she sat there, still feeling the warmth of his kiss, something else was on Tim’s mind—something he hadn’t had the courage to tell her yet.

Chapter Text

Lucy couldn’t believe it. She had a boyfriend! An actual, real boyfriend. And not only that but it had lasted, for real this time. They had been together for about two weeks at this point. She felt like she was floating, her mind racing as the realization sank in. She’d replayed the moment over and over in her head since he asked her, unable to fully process it. Tim wasn’t just the guy she’d been seeing or her close friend; he was her boyfriend now. Her heart skipped a beat every time she thought about it, and she could feel her cheeks getting warm, a silly smile spreading across her face.

The word felt strange and wonderful, like a secret she’d been handed and didn’t know what to do with. She couldn’t help it—her thoughts kept spinning, like she was in some dream she was afraid to wake up from. The more Lucy thought about it, the more surreal it felt. She had a boyfriend, and the thrill of it kept tugging at her, even here at dinner. But under her parents’ scrutiny, she forced herself to stay present, even as her mind kept drifting back to Tim. Across the table, her parents leaned forward, eager to dive into their usual topic: her future.

“So, Lucy,” her mother began, a familiar note of expectation in her tone, “Tell us about your Cognitive Psychology class. I trust you’re finding it insightful?” Lucy forced herself to nod as she picked at her plate.

She hated meeting them for dinner

“Yep it sure is....” she stopped trying to think of the right thing to say.“ Well you know how it is Mom, it’s interesting. We’ve been studying memory and perception—how people process information.”

Her father chimed in with a nod of approval. “Well thats good Lucy, thats the kind of foundation you need. Every competent therapist understands how their patients interpret their surroundings. Perception is everything in therapy.” Lucy bit back a sigh, forcing herself to engage. “Yeah, we’re doing some hands-on work with case studies to see how memory can be reconstructed based on emotional triggers. It’s fascinating how something as small as a scent can bring back a wave of memories.”

Her mother smiled, but there was a clinical gleam in her eye. “Excellent. That kind of understanding will be invaluable when you start seeing clients. A therapist has to know not just how to listen but how to decode what’s being left unsaid.”

Lucy nodded, trying to follow along, but her thoughts slipped again to Tim, to the little moments they’d shared, how he seemed to understand her without words. It felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the pressure weighing her down now.

“Lucy,” her father’s voice broke through, “are you following? You seem… distracted.”

She blinked, refocusing on her parents. “Sorry. I’m just… processing.” It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know.

“Well, then, think of this as practice,” her mother said with a smirk, leaning in. “If you’re already overwhelmed, you’ll struggle when you’re seeing multiple clients a day. You need a focused mind to be effective.”

Lucy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I get it, Mom. I can handle it.”

“Good,” her father replied, his tone serious. “Because our practice isn’t for the faint of heart. When you join us after graduation, you’ll have to manage complex cases. Some of our clients have been with us for decades. They expect a therapist who can give them full attention.”

The reminder hit her like a weight pressing down on her chest. “Right. I know.”

“Then you understand why this degree is so important,” her mother added, her voice softening only slightly. “It’s not just a piece of paper. It’s the cornerstone of a life built on stability, purpose, and helping others.”

Lucy took a deep breath, nodding. She understood, even if she didn’t entirely agree. “I get that. I’m doing my best.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, assessing. “Your best should mean top marks, focus, and no distractions. That degree isn’t just for you; it’s the next step in our family’s work. I hope you appreciate what’s being handed to you.”

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but just then, her phone buzzed. She glanced down instinctively, seeing a message light up her screen, and before she could stop herself, a small smile slipped across her face. A second buzz followed, and then a third. Her heart fluttered as she read the messages, each one pulling her back into that warm feeling she’d been carrying all day.

But the smile vanished as she looked up and noticed her parents watching her, their expressions growing impatient.

“Lucy, who on earth is texting you so much during dinner?” her mother asked, her voice tight with irritation.

She quickly flipped her phone face-down, but the buzzes kept coming, relentless. “It’s just… someone from class,” she mumbled, hoping they’d drop it.

Her father’s brow furrowed, his gaze hardening. “You don’t have friends who text you like that, especially not during family time. Who is it?”

Lucy hesitated, feeling the tension building. “It’s just… people from my study group,” she said, glancing down, cheeks warming. “They’re just checking in on the paper, I think.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she gave a disappointed sigh. “Lucy, you need to set boundaries with these ‘friends.’ You can’t be available to every distraction when you should be focused on your future.”

“Yes, Mom,” Lucy said, her tone more subdued than she felt. But when her phone buzzed again, her hand instinctively drifted toward it, her thumb itching to read the latest message.

“Lucy!” Her father’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up, blinking. “This is unacceptable. If you can’t keep yourself focused here, what does that say about your priorities? It seems like this class ‘friend’ is more important than we are.”

Lucy clenched her fists under the table, feeling her frustration simmering. “It’s not that,” she said carefully, choosing her words. “I’m just… trying to keep up with everything.”

“Keeping up doesn’t mean texting all through dinner,” her mother interjected sharply. “It’s disrespectful to us and to your studies. You’re in a psychology program, Lucy, not a social club.”

Her father leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied her. “I certainly hope this ‘study group’ isn’t a distraction from your education. After all, we’re paying for you to focus on your future, not to socialize with people who aren’t going to benefit your career.”

Her father leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied her. “I certainly hope this ‘study group’ isn’t a distraction from your education. After all, we’re paying for you to focus on your future, not to socialize with people who aren’t going to benefit your career.”

Lucy felt her face flush with frustration, but she kept her voice steady. “He’s not distracting me,” she said, almost instinctively.

Her mother’s eyes snapped to hers, and her expression shifted, a slow, knowing look settling on her face. “So that’s the issue. It is a boy,” she said, her voice tinged with disapproval.

Lucy’s heart raced as she realized her slip. “That’s not… I didn’t mean…” she stammered, but the words died under her parents’ incredulous stares.

Her father’s face darkened, and he shook his head. “Lucy, this is exactly the kind of thing we were worried about. A boy. We expected better judgment from you.”

Her mother leaned forward, her tone quiet but cutting. “We’ve given you every opportunity, every resource, to build a respectable career. And you’re risking all that for… for some boy?”

“He’s not a risk,” Lucy protested, trying to keep her voice even. “He’s not affecting my studies. I’m keeping up with everything.”

“‘Keeping up’ isn’t enough,” her mother said, folding her arms. “You’re supposed to be excelling, Lucy, not just skating by.”

Lucy bit her lip, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes. “I am excelling. My grades are fine, my projects are on track. Having a boyfriend doesn’t change that.”

“A boyfriend!” Her mother’s voice cracked with disbelief. “So this is what we’re doing now? You’ve got time for a boyfriend but not for your future?” Her words cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving. “You’ve got your face buried in someone’s lap instead of in your books.”

Lucy’s skin prickled, the sting of her mother’s tone sinking deep. She wasn’t some teenager sneaking around behind her parents’ back; she wasn’t that girl. But her mother’s words made her feel like she was.

“I’m still focused,” Lucy said, her voice trembling with the effort to keep calm. “I’m excelling. My grades are fine. I’m on track. Nothing has changed.”

Her mother didn’t seem convinced. “Really? Because all I see is you glued to your phone, grinning like an idiot. That doesn’t look like focus to me.”

Lucy’s stomach twisted, her hands clenched around the edges of the table. “It’s not like that. I’m doing everything I need to do. It’s not a distraction.”

Her father, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke, his voice cold and measured. “We’ve spent a lot of money on your education, Lucy. Don’t waste it on something as frivolous as a relationship. You can’t afford distractions.”

“I’m not wasting anything,” Lucy said, her voice growing louder, more defensive. “I’m still going to succeed. I’m still doing everything I’m supposed to.”

Her mother sneered. “Do you really think this boy is going to help you? Do you think he’s going to be there when you need a career? When you need a job to pay your bills?” She scoffed. “No, Lucy, he won’t. He’s not going to help you build your future. You’re just chasing after something that’s going to disappear.”

Lucy felt the weight of her mother’s words pressing down on her, and for a moment, she wanted to shrink away from the table. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“You don’t even know him,” Lucy said, her voice shaking with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You don’t know anything about him.”

Her mother crossed her arms, her expression hard. “I don’t need to know him, Lucy. All I see is you being distracted, thinking this boy is going to solve everything for you. But he won’t. And when it all falls apart, don’t come running back here.”

That was it. Lucy’s heart raced, the frustration finally boiling over. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She slammed her hands down on the table, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Stop. Just stop!” she yelled, her voice shaking but firm. “I’m not some project for you to fix. I’m not some failure waiting to happen. I can handle both, okay? I’m not throwing my future away just because I care about someone. You don’t get to control my life, and you certainly don’t get to make me feel like crap for having a relationship.”

Her mother’s eyes widened in shock, but Lucy didn’t care. She could feel the tears burning at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was done. Done being judged, done being treated like she didn’t know what was best for her.

Without another word, Lucy spun on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant, the sound of the door slamming shut behind her echoing in the night. The cool air hit her face, grounding her just enough to steady her trembling hands. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding with the lingering hurt and frustration from the confrontation with her mother. She felt raw, her emotions a tangle of anger, hurt, and a deep, gnawing sense of loneliness. The streets around her were quiet, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows, but she barely noticed any of it as she walked quickly to her car, her hands still shaking as she fumbled for her keys.

As she sat in the driver’s seat, she gripped the wheel tightly, trying to hold herself together. But the silence pressed down on her, amplifying the echo of her mother’s words, the sting of judgment still fresh. She had fought so hard to assert herself, to stand up for her right to choose her own life, her own happiness, but now, alone in the quiet, the weight of it all threatened to pull her under. She took a deep breath, feeling her chest tighten with the effort to keep from breaking down completely.

Without consciously deciding, she found herself starting the car and driving. She didn’t even think about where she was headed—her mind was numb, the ache in her chest so consuming that all she knew was she didn’t want to be alone. She needed to feel like she wasn’t carrying this weight by herself. She needed someone—and there was only one person who came to mind.

The drive felt like a blur, her mind lost in a haze of exhaustion and hurt, but when she pulled up outside Tim’s house, reality snapped into focus. The familiar sight of his home brought her a sense of calm she hadn’t felt all night, though a new nervousness crept in, too. She hadn’t told him she was coming, and the last thing she wanted was to seem needy or impose on him.

But before she could second-guess herself, she was out of the car and walking up his driveway, the night air chilling her skin as she approached his door. She hesitated for a heartbeat, her hand hovering over the wood, her emotions teetering on the edge. And then, without further thought, she knocked.

She heard footsteps approaching from the other side, the sound muffled but steady, and then the door opened to reveal Tim. He was dressed casually in a T-shirt and sweats, his hair tousled like he’d just been relaxing, but the relaxed expression vanished from his face the moment he saw her. His eyes widened slightly, his gaze taking in her mascara -streaked face, the lingering hurt in her eyes. For a split second, she saw him tense, as if expecting a stranger knocking at this hour, but his face softened the instant he recognized her, concern replacing any hint of irritation.

“Lucy…” he started softly, his voice warm but edged with a hint of uncertainty as he looked at her. She tried to speak, but her throat tightened, emotions too tangled to put into words. She simply shook her head, looking away as if embarrassed, and before she could retreat into herself, he stepped back, opening the door wider, welcoming her inside with a gesture that spoke volumes. His hand gently found its place at the small of her back, grounding her, and she leaned into his touch, feeling steadied by the warmth radiating through the thin fabric of her shirt.

He led her into the quiet of his living room and guided her to sit on the couch beside him. They didn’t speak, and he didn’t press her for any explanations or try to make sense of her silence. Instead, he simply wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close against his chest. That small gesture—steady and unspoken—was all it took for the fragile composure she’d held onto to break. She buried her face in his shoulder, clutching his shirt tightly as her tears finally spilled over. All the words she’d kept to herself, all the pressure she’d tried to hold in, poured out in waves, the ache in her chest loosening with each sob.

Tim just held her, a quiet strength that matched her vulnerability, his hand moving gently along her back in slow, comforting circles. He didn’t rush her, didn’t attempt to fix anything, and for the first time in so long, she felt like she didn’t have to hold anything back. Here, wrapped in his arms, the weight of her pain felt somehow lighter, as though his presence was sharing the burden without either of them saying a word.

Time passed in silence, her muffled cries the only sound, filling the stillness of the room. She felt his fingers brush through her hair, his touch calm and unhurried, grounding her as her breathing gradually began to steady. When her tears had finally ebbed, she pulled back, a little self-conscious as she wiped her cheeks, still feeling raw and exposed, yet strangely relieved. She glanced up at him, her eyes shadowed with gratitude and a hint of lingering embarrassment, as if she wasn’t sure how to explain why she’d come to him.

Tim didn’t rush her, letting the silence sit between them as he watched her process. His presence remained a steady, quiet anchor, offering her space but never making her feel alone. She took a deep breath, still feeling the weight of everything she’d been holding in, but a little lighter now that she wasn’t carrying it alone.

“I—I should go,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze dropped to the floor, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as if looking for something to hold onto. “I didn’t mean to show up like this…”

Tim’s expression softened, and without thinking, he moved a little closer, his hand gently touching her arm, grounding her. “Lucy, you’re not going anywhere.” His voice was firm but caring, his tone not giving room for argument.

She blinked, caught off guard by his certainty. “Tim… I’m okay, really. I just don’t want to impose, I—”

“You’re not imposing,” he interrupted, his hand still on her arm, but this time he gently cupped her elbow, leading her back toward the couch. “But what I’m not letting you do is drive off in the state you’re in. I’ve seen enough to know when someone’s emotionally compromised, and I’m not letting you make any decisions when you’re like this.”

Her chest tightened, a new wave of guilt flooding her. “I don’t want to be a burden…”

, you’re not a burden,” Tim’s voice was steady, carrying that unyielding warmth that left no room for argument. “Look, I’m a cop. I’ve seen enough cases where someone who wasn’t emotionally competent ended up in a wreck. It never ends well.” His gaze softened just slightly, though his resolve remained clear. “So, no, you’re not leaving tonight.”

Lucy blinked, absorbing his words, her emotions still raw, uncertain how to respond. “But… where do you even want me to sleep?” she asked, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if questioning whether she really belonged there.

“You’re going to sleep in my bed,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm. “I’ll take the couch.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already shaking his head. “There’s no way I’m going to make my girlfriend sleep on the couch.” The last few words were softer, almost like a promise, his gaze holding hers in a way that made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Tim, this is your house. I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” he interrupted, his tone gentle yet firm, leaving no room for her to argue. His hand found hers, giving it a steady, reassuring squeeze as his thumb brushed over her knuckles in a calming, instinctive motion. “You need to rest. You need to be comfortable. And that’s what I want for you tonight.”

Lucy looked down, the last bit of resistance fading under his quiet insistence. She nodded slowly, feeling an odd mix of gratitude and relief settle over her. “Alright…thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He offered a small nod, his gaze holding hers for a moment longer before he stood and gestured for her to follow. “Come on, let’s get you settled,” he said, guiding her gently down the hallway. His hand lingered at her back, a steady, comforting presence as they walked.

Once inside his bedroom, Tim released her hand and went to his dresser, pulling open a drawer. After a moment of searching, he pulled out a well-worn LAPD t-shirt and handed it to her. “Here, it should be comfortable,” he said, his voice warm but casual, as if he’d already decided she belonged here.

She took the shirt from him, clutching it tightly, the familiarity of it grounding her. “Thanks, Tim,” she said softly, her words laced with a quiet gratitude that she couldn’t fully express.

He gave a small, reassuring nod, his hand brushing her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “It’s no big deal,” he replied, shrugging slightly. Then, almost as an afterthought, he pointed toward the bathroom. “If you want to freshen up, grab a towel from the cabinet. Take as much time as you need.”

Lucy nodded, the weight of the day slowly giving way to a quiet sense of calm. She glanced back at him, a faint, grateful smile forming on her lips. “Thank you,” she repeated, her voice a little stronger now.

Tim’s expression softened, and without thinking, he pulled her into a brief but heartfelt hug, his arms wrapping around her securely. As he pulled back, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest, Lucy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last reassuring smile, he stepped back and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Chapter Text

It felt surreal, almost as if he’d stepped into someone else’s life. Tim moved around his kitchen, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the morning sunlight filtered through the windows. The word “girlfriend” echoed in his mind—a title he hadn’t used in years, one that had seemed like it would always belong to someone else. But now, it was Lucy’s, and the thought was somehow both strange and natural.

Last night lingered in his mind, clearer than he expected. The way she’d looked when he opened his door—tear-streaked cheeks, eyes shadowed with worry. She hadn’t needed to say anything before the dam broke, and she’d buried herself in his chest, holding on as if he were the only steady thing in her world. He’d been shocked, but all he could think about was making sure she felt safe. He’d wrapped his arms around her, just holding her through it, as she let herself feel everything she’d been holding back.

Now, he glanced toward his bedroom door, where she was still asleep. The idea of her there, trusting him enough to fall apart in his arms, felt humbling. It was a feeling he hadn’t expected to have again, yet he found himself grateful.

With a focused ease, Tim flipped a pancake on the skillet, checking on the turkey bacon sizzling in the pan next to it. Cooking wasn’t something he did much, but it had its own appeal, especially this morning. He’d always liked cooking more than he let on—a quiet ritual he rarely shared with anyone. And if it meant giving her a soft landing for the morning, it was worth every moment.

The eggs were next. Tim cracked them into a bowl with practiced hands, quickly whisking them before pouring them into the pan. The sizzling sound filled the air as the aroma of breakfast began to fill the kitchen—pancakes, turkey bacon, and eggs all coming together in a fragrant symphony.

Just then, he heard the softest shuffle of footsteps, and before he could look up, a voice broke the silence. “Smells good,” Lucy said, her voice still thick with sleep but carrying a smile.

Tim glanced up from the stove to see her standing in the doorway, wearing his oversized LAPD shirt. Her hair was tousled, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, giving her a slightly rumpled but endearing look. She had that sleepy-eyed morning glow, and despite the late night, she was awake and alert, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Glad you think so,” Tim said with a grin, flipping another pancake with a practiced flick of his wrist. He could see her eyes scanning the kitchen, taking in the spread he’d made for breakfast, clearly impressed.

She stretched her arms above her head with a soft yawn, then walked over to the counter and hopped up onto one of the stools, her movements easy and casual, as though she was right at home. “Turkey bacon and pancakes?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not bad. I didn’t take you for the chef type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim raised an eyebrow, turning to face her with a playful smirk as he flipped a pancake onto the stack. “You saying I don’t look like I know my way around a skillet?”

She shrugged, a teasing glint in her eyes. “I don’t know. You just strike me as more of a takeout-and-burger kind of guy.”

Tim laughed, flipping the last pancake onto the plate and adding the turkey bacon and scrambled eggs. He scooped everything onto a second plate and set it in front of her. “I can do both. But today, I felt like stepping it up a bit.”

Lucy leaned forward, eyeing the food, then looked up at him, impressed. “Guess I’ll see if you can keep it up.”

“You better believe I will.”

She took a bite of the pancake, her face lighting up in delight. “Alright, I’ll admit it—this is good. You might have more talent in the kitchen than I gave you credit for.”

“Good to know I’m living up to your standards,” he said, feigning a dramatic sigh of relief. “So does that mean you’d consider coming back for breakfast again sometime?”

Lucy smirked, tapping her fork against her plate thoughtfully. “Depends. You planning on making me breakfast every time I stay over?”

Tim leaned across the counter, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I could be persuaded. Just say the word, and I’ll make sure there’s a whole breakfast feast waiting for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. “Careful, Tim. Make promises like that, and I might just have to start showing up every weekend.”

His eyes met hers, a spark of something playful and a little bit daring between them. “I wouldn’t mind that at all. You coming around, making yourself at home… It’d be a nice change.”

She tilted her head, smirking. “So you’re saying I could just invite myself over whenever I feel like pancakes?”

“Only if you’re planning on sticking around for the rest of the day, too,” he replied, his tone softer but still playful. “Pancakes are just the start.”

Lucy felt a warm thrill run through her, his words catching her off guard but somehow feeling perfectly natural. There was a part of her that wanted to dive into this new rhythm with him, to let herself believe that she could have these kinds of mornings with him whenever she wanted. She hadn’t felt that sort of freedom in a long time.

As the laughter faded and they settled into a comfortable silence, Tim noticed a subtle shift in her expression—a momentary flicker of something heavier beneath her smile. He decided to take a chance, sensing that she might be ready to talk.

“So…about last night,” he said gently, keeping his voice light. “If you’re comfortable talking about it…what happened exactly?”

Lucy took a breath, her shoulders dropping as she looked down, tracing her finger absently along the rim of her coffee mug. “Yeah, I guess I should probably explain that.” She gave him a small, tired smile, as if grateful for his patience. “It’s…it’s my parents. I don’t know why it hit me so hard last night, but they just…got to me.”

Tim stayed silent, encouraging her to continue. He could see the frustration in her expression, mixed with something like weariness, like she’d been carrying this weight around for a long time.

“It’s always been like this with them,” she went on, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “They have this idea of who I should be—the perfect daughter, following their perfect plan for my life, making all the ‘right’ choices. And when I try to live for myself, when I step out of line even a little, they treat me like I’ve done something horrible. Like I’m still some little girl who needs to be controlled.”

She paused, her eyes flashing with frustration. “And when they found out about you?” she scoffed. “They lost their shit. Like I’d destroyed everything they’d planned for me. Like having a boyfriend is some massive betrayal to their perfect little world.”

She leaned forward, eyes narrowing with the heat of her words. “Do you know what my mom said when she found out about you? She said I was too busy ‘burying my face in men’s laps’ to worry about school.” She snorted bitterly, shaking her head. “Like that’s all I’m good for. Just there to be perfect and obedient, with no space for anything that’s mine.”

Tim’s voice was low, disbelief creeping in. “They really reacted that badly over me?”

“They really reacted that badly over me?” Tim asked, his voice low and disbelieving.

Lucy’s laugh was bitter, sharp. “Yes! They acted like I’d joined a cult or something, or just decided to drop everything and run off. It’s ridiculous. Like I’m still a fucking kid who can’t make my own choices. They treat me like I don’t know what’s best for me. I can’t even take a breath without them coming in and acting like I’ve done something wrong. I’m so fucking tired of it!”

Tim didn’t say anything, just watching her. He could feel the heat in her words, the anger that had been building for so long. She needed to let it out, and he wasn’t about to interrupt.

“I’m just trying to live my life! And they keep treating me like I’m incompetent!” She slammed her hand down on the counter, her breath coming faster. “Like I’m supposed to just keep smiling while they tell me what to do and what’s ‘best.’ I’m not a fucking child anymore! I’m twenty fucking years old! Why can’t they see that?!”

Tim stayed silent, watching her hands tremble, her face flushed with the fury she’d been holding in for so long.

“And then—then—there’s work! My boss just keeps piling more and more shit on me like it’s nothing, like I’m a robot who can take it all. It’s like I’m supposed to just… what? Keep taking it until I break?!” Her voice was growing louder now, her frustration raw. “And school? I can’t even focus on the things I do enjoy because I’m so worried about keeping up with everyone’s fucking expectations. I’m drowning, Tim. Drowning! And no one gives a shit. I can’t even breathe without someone coming down on me.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush now, and Tim just let her vent. The weight of it all was thick in the air, and he could feel how much she was struggling, the way everything seemed to be crashing down on her all at once.

“I’m supposed to have it all together, but I’m falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.” She shook her head, pacing, her hands wringing together. “I don’t even know what my future looks like anymore. Everything’s so… fucking uncertain. I’m failing before I even have a chance to try!”

Tim’s heart ached for her, but he didn’t try to interrupt. She was so tangled in it all, and he knew she needed this. Needed to say all of it, let it out before she could even begin to think about fixing any of it.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with all that,” Tim said softly, his voice warm and steady, no judgment in his tone.

Lucy paused, still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling as she looked back at him, eyes full of frustration and hurt. “I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Every part of me feels like I’m just… failing. And everyone around me is telling me what I should be doing, what’s right, what’s wrong… it’s like I can’t breathe.”

He held her gaze, his hand reaching across the counter to gently cover hers. “Lucy, you don’t have to carry all that by yourself,” he murmured, his thumb brushing soothingly over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to have all the answers, and you definitely don’t need anyone else’s permission to take a break.”

She glanced down at his hand, a bit of the hardness in her expression melting into something softer. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but there was vulnerability too. She let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Tim. Really… for listening. I don’t know what I’d do without someone who actually gets it.”

Tim’s fingers tightened around hers, a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

She smiled, a faint, genuine smile as her shoulders began to relax. “Thank you.”

They stayed like that for a moment, the silence between them comfortable and calm, the weight of her words settling into something lighter. After a beat, she looked back up at him, her voice a little softer now.

Lucy looked at him, her expression a little softer, almost hesitant. “Do you really mean that?”

Tim’s gaze stayed steady. “Yeah, Lucy, I’m here for you,” he said sincerely, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Whatever you need. I’d do anything to help you out.”

She raised an eyebrow, a small, playful smile tugging at her lips. “Anything?”

He chuckled, a warm, easy laugh that made her relax just a little more. “Depends. What are you thinking about?”

“Well, I have this project for my psych class,” Lucy started, her tone shifting to something almost professional. “We’re supposed to analyze how different environments affect people’s decision-making, especially under intense or high-stress situations. And I thought… what better environment than a police ride-along?”

Tim blinked, caught off guard. “A ride-along? With me?”

“Yeah!” she said, leaning forward, her eyes bright. “If it’s a real thing, I mean. I’ve heard about them, but I wasn’t sure if civilians are actually allowed to do that. It would be perfect for my project—to observe real-world, high-pressure situations and see how people react. Think about it: I could take notes on everything, then compare that with existing research on decision-making and stress responses.”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. “Well… technically, ride-alongs are real, and it’s possible. But it’s… not that simple. There’s a lot of paperwork, background checks, permissions—plus, I’d have to talk to my sergeant. It’s not just like signing up for a class trip.”

“Right, I figured,” she replied, nodding along, clearly unfazed by the red tape. “But it could actually happen, right?”

Tim’s face softened, though he looked a bit nervous. “In theory, yes. But ride-alongs can be unpredictable, and sometimes dangerous. I mean, we don’t know what we’ll encounter, and… I just don’t want you in a situation that could get intense. It’s… it’s a lot to handle, even for people who do this every day.”

Lucy waved off his concern, too engrossed in the academic possibilities to worry. “Tim, I totally get that it’s not like some movie or TV show. I’d be prepared, and I’d listen to all the rules. It’d just be such a valuable experience for my project.”

“You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“Yes!” she said, her excitement evident. “I’m willing to go through whatever is necessary. It would make my research so much more credible, plus it would be nice to see you in action.”

Tim felt his face flush slightly, and he looked away for a moment, trying to hide his sudden self-consciousness. The thought of her wanting to see him in action—him, of all people—made his heart race a little. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, his voice a bit quieter but still steady.

Lucy’s face brightened, her excitement palpable. “Really? Thank you! This is going to be incredible! I’ll get to see what you actually do on the job. And don’t worry—I’ll be completely professional. Just observing, taking notes, and learning. I mean, this will give my project so much more weight!”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks warm as he watched her light up. “Well, I’ll talk to my sergeant, see if I can work something out,” he said, trying to sound casual.

She grinned, leaning forward. “Thank you! I promise I won’t be a distraction. I’ll be the best ‘ride-along’ guest you’ve ever had.“

He chuckled, nodding. “I’ll make sure you’re official then. Just… don’t get your hopes up too much until I check. It might take some convincing.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, practically buzzing. “Even the chance is enough. Thanks, Tim—seriously.”

Tim chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll make sure you’re official then. Just… don’t get your hopes up too much until I check. It might take some convincing.”

Lucy grinned wider, her excitement spilling over. “You’re the best,” she murmured, and before he could respond, she stepped around the counter, wrapping her arms around his neck. Rising onto her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was both soft and intent, a deep connection in that one small gesture.

Tim’s hands instinctively found her waist, pulling her just a bit closer, and he felt himself sinking into the moment. Her kiss was warm, filled with something he hadn’t known he’d needed until right then. When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of exhilaration and nerves.

“Thanks again,” she said, almost breathless, her fingers lingering lightly on his arm.

He looked down at her, feeling the warmth of the kiss still lingering. “Anytime,” he said, voice soft.

As she stood there, beaming up at him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was changing things between them—deepening them, setting something in motion he didn’t quite have words for yet, but he knew he didn’t want it to stop.

Chapter Text

The paperwork had been a mess, a labyrinth of forms and regulations that stretched on far longer than it should have. Even though he’d purposely left out the detail about his relationship with Lucy, getting her ride-along approved had still been a hassle. It had taken hours of navigating Grey’s skeptical gaze, convincing him it was a legitimate request. But now, it was finally done. All the boxes were checked, the permissions granted, and he could finally breathe.

As he walked down the hallway, the buzz of the office fading behind him, he let out a long sigh. It felt like he was moving on autopilot, his thoughts scattered, still processing everything. That was when Angela appeared at his side, walking a little too quickly to be coincidental.

“Well, well,” she teased, her voice warm with amusement. “Look at you, Mr. Smooth Operator, getting all the paperwork done. Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

He glanced at her, shaking his head. “It wasn’t as smooth as you think. It took forever.”

Angela raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “I’m sure it did. But I hear you’re doing a little something special for someone…care to share?”

Tim shot her a glance, feeling the familiar twinge of nervousness at the thought of discussing Lucy with anyone, let alone Angela. He forced a tight smile, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic. “It’s just a ride-along, Angela. Nothing special.”

H er teasing expression didn’t waver. “Uh-huh. Just a ride-along, huh? Sure, sure. I bet she’s dying to see you in action, huh? You and her, stuck in a tiny car all day? That’s got to be a little… exciting, right? Maybe you’ll give her a hands-on lesson between calls, huh?”

“Angela, come on—”

“Oh, come on,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a teasing tone. “She’s right there, all close and cozy next to you. You can’t tell me you’re not thinking about it. She’s probably picturing what’s under that uniform, and you’ve got to be good at keeping it all professional, right? I mean, with her sitting so close, you must be getting a little… distracted, huh?”

“Okay, gross. For one, I’m not about to do anything with Johnson sitting right there. Kid’s already so clueless half the time, he’d probably think he’s witnessing some new interrogation tactic.”

Angela let out a laugh. “True. Poor guy. I’m surprised you haven’t sent him running yet.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried. But he keeps showing up, bright-eyed and lost as ever. I have to explain basic protocols to him three times, and he still acts like it’s rocket science. I’m just praying he doesn’t get in Lucy’s way on the ride-along.”

“How romantic it’ll be like he’s a third wheel.”

Tim shot her a look, his voice flat. “It’s not romantic, Angela. It’s just a ride-along. Simple.”

Angela raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Uh-huh, sure. Just you, your rookie, and your special friend in the car all day. Sounds ‘simple’ to me.”

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but then he froze, his eyes catching sight of Lucy approaching. Angela noticed too and whispered, “Oh, here she comes.”

Tim quickly cut her off, whispering, “Shut up,” as straightened up to greet her.

“Hey. How are you?”

“I’m good!” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s… really great to see you here. In, you know, the work setting .”

Tim chuckled, trying to keep things casual. “Yeah, it’s a bit different, huh?”

Lucy nodded, her smile warm but a little nervous. “Definitely. But it’s good to finally see everything in action, you know? To see where you… work.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit different, huh?”

Lucy nodded, her smile warm but a little nervous. “Definitely. But it’s good to finally see everything in action, you know? To see where you… work.”

Tim smiled back, his voice softening. “Yeah, I get that. You ready for the ride-along?”

She shrugged slightly, her eyes lighting up. “Yeah, definitely. Just… trying to keep up with everything I’m learning.”

Tim’s grin widened. “You’ll do fine. Just don’t let Johnson distract you too much.”

“Who is Johnson?”

Tim smirked, crossing his arms. “He’s my rookie. He’ll be riding with us today.” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Oh boy. And?”

Tim sighed, shaking his head. “He’s kind of an idiot, but don’t let him get in your way.”

Lucy laughed. “I’ll try my best.”

Angela, who had been watching from a distance, leaned in with a teasing grin. “Alright, alright, lovebirds. I’ll leave you to it, but don’t forget to keep it professional.”

Tim shot her a look, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Can you not?” he muttered.

Angela just winked before walking off, leaving Tim to focus back on Lucy. Tim cleared his throat, his tone shifting as he turned to her. “Ready to roll?”

Lucy gave a nod, her eyes sparkling. “Definitely.”

Tim gestured toward the garage where the police cruiser was waiting. “Let’s go then. Just gotta grab my boot and we’ll head out.”

As they reached the vehicle, Tim spotted Johnson, already standing by the shop . The rookie had loaded the bags into the back of the cruiser, his stance rigid and professional, ready for the day’s shift. As soon as Tim saw him, his whole demeanor shifted. No more casual conversation, no more easygoing attitude. When it came to Johnson, it was all business.

“Good morning, sir,” Johnson said, standing at attention, his voice firm, just as it was expected of him. The rookie looked every bit the part—his uniform sharp, his posture impeccable.

Tim nodded curtly, his tone dropping into that no-nonsense cadence he used with his rookie. “Morning, Johnson. Everything set?”

“Yes, sir,” Johnson replied, his eyes forward, his voice unwavering. “Ready to go, sir.”

Tim gave a quick, approving nod before turning to Lucy. “Lucy, this is officer Markus Johnson. He’s my rookie, and he’ll be riding with us today.”

Johnson turned toward Lucy and gave a stiff nod. “Ma’am,” he greeted, his voice a little less formal than his greeting to Tim but still professional.

Lucy smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Markus . I’m looking forward to seeing how this all works.”

Johnson nodded once, his expression focused but polite. “I’ll do my best to make sure everything goes smoothly, ma’am.”

Tim gave a quiet sigh, his gaze lingering on Johnson for a moment longer. The rookie was professional, no doubt, but his stiffness still showed. He was trying, but Tim knew he still had a long way to go before he could relax and adapt to the unpredictable nature of the job.

Tim shot a glance back at Lucy, a small smile returning to his face. “Don’t let him get in your way. He’s still learning.”

Lucy chuckled, clearly unbothered by Johnson’s stiffness. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him.”

Tim’s gaze shifted back to Johnson, who stood straight and rigid, ready for whatever was coming their way. “Johnson, you good to go?”

“Yes, sir,” Johnson replied, eyes locked forward. Tim gave him a curt nod. “Alright then. Let’s get moving.”

The three of them climbed into their respective spots in the shop —Tim in the driver’s seat, Lucy in the back, and Johnson up front in the passenger seat. Tim quickly started the engine, giving the rookie a brief glance to make sure he was settled.

“You good?”

“Good to go,” Johnson confirmed, voice steady. Tim’s eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Lucy, who was adjusting herself in the backseat. She gave him a small smile, and he returned it with a nod. The rookie’s presence might make things a little less comfortable, but this was still just another shift on the job.

As the engine hummed to life, Tim pulled out, heading out onto the streets, ready for whatever came next. The garage doors rolled shut behind them, and the day began to unfold with the familiar hum of the city. The streets were already busy, people out in full force, commuters hurrying on foot and in cars. The usual ebb and flow of traffic filled the air, but the pace felt calm, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going to happen today. Tim’s grip on the wheel was steady, his eyes scanning the road ahead, his mind already shifting into a routine mode. It was just another day on the job.

Lucy sat quietly in the backseat, her gaze flicking between the passing scenery and the occasional glance at Tim. Every now and then, she’d ask a question, her curiosity about the job sparking the occasional conversation. “So, what’s the hardest part of this job?” she’d asked at one point, and Tim had answered with a simple, “Not knowing what the next call will bring.” Her follow-up was always thoughtful, genuine, and easy to respond to. It felt natural—no pressure, no sense of urgency, just a quiet ride with an undercurrent of curiosity from Lucy and experience from Tim. He found himself easing into the rhythm of the day, enjoying the simplicity of the drive.

The conversation shifted as they passed by a local coffee shop. Lucy asked about Tim’s routine, if he ever got a chance to stop for coffee on his shifts. Tim gave a half-smile. “On the rare occasion,” he said. “But when you’re always on the move, it’s not exactly a luxury you get.” He continued to drive, answering more questions, telling stories from his time on the force. A small smile crept across his face as he recalled some of the more absurd moments of the job. It was calming, almost comforting, to talk about the job this way. A few questions about protocol, some lighthearted back-and-forth. It was nothing that felt like a sudden emergency, just a normal ride-along.

The radio crackled to life, breaking the calm. The dispatcher’s voice came through, clear and authoritative.

“Show us responding, 10-5 . Two juveniles, at the convenience store on Fourth and Maple.”

Tim reached for the microphone, his voice steady as he responded.

“7-Adam-19 responding.”

He released the mic, turning to look at Lucy. “Looks like we’re making a pit stop. You good back there?”

“Ready when you are.”

Johnson, in the front seat, gave a dry chuckle. “Same old place. Those kids will probably try to run.” Tim smirked, easing the cruiser into gear. “Maybe. But it’s just a simple call, so let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The convenience store appeared ahead, its bright fluorescent lights flickering under the overcast sky. Tim parked the cruiser just in front of the store and cut the engine.

“You stay here okay?”

Lucy nodded Lucy in response leaning up against the shop

As they entered, the door chimed with the soft, familiar jingle. Inside, the small store smelled of stale coffee and cheap snacks. Behind the counter, the store owner, an older man with a graying beard, shot Tim a quick nod.

The two boys were inside, looking out of place among the candy racks and magazines. One stood near the counter, trying to act casual, his hoodie pulled low over his face. The other lingered near the back, his hands stuffed in his pockets, avoiding eye contact.

Tim gave a slight nod toward the owner. “Keep ’em here, alright?”

The owner, looking relieved, nodded back, stepping aside just enough to let the officers approach the teens.

Tim moved toward the two boys, his voice calm but firm. “Afternoon, fellas. Got a minute to talk?”

The taller of the two boys avoided his gaze, jaw tight, while the younger one’s eyes flicked nervously toward the door, his hand hovering near his pocket.

Johnson adjusted his stance, planting himself more firmly between the boys and the exit, his calm, firm voice unwavering. “We’re just here to talk. Nobody’s in trouble yet. Just tell us what’s going on.”

The taller boy shot him a hard look, eyes flashing with defiance as he clenched his jaw. “We’re not saying anything,” he muttered, his shoulders tense. Beside him, the younger one looked nervously at his friend before glancing down, hands fidgeting with the box barely hidden in his jacket pocket.

Tim kept his tone even but unyielding. “Look, walking out with something you didn’t pay for? Not the best call. Hand it over now, and maybe we can keep this simple.”

The younger boy looked unsure, glancing at the taller boy, who narrowed his eyes at Tim, sizing him up. “We don’t have anything,” he scoffed, lifting his chin in defiance. “You got no proof.”

But before his friend could finish, the younger one reluctantly pulled the earbuds from under his jacket and handed them to Tim, mumbling, “Fine. Take it.”

The taller boy scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “Seriously? That’s all you got?” With a smirk, he reached into his own pockets, moving with exaggerated casualness as if he had nothing to hide. “Fine, here’s what I got,” he said, almost mocking, as he emptied his pockets.

But as he shifted, something slipped from his waistband and clattered onto the floor—a small handgun, landing between them with a hollow, echoing sound. Silence fell over the group, and both officers’ eyes dropped to the gun, now gleaming on the linoleum in stark contrast to the boy’s feigned bravado.

Tim’s gaze returned to the teen, calm but steely. “I take it you don’t have a license for that, do you, kid?”

The boy’s bravado cracked just slightly, and he cast a nervous glance around, clearly unsettled.

Tim’s voice grew firmer, the weight of authority unmistakable. “And do you know what the charges are for theft and possession of an unlicensed firearm in the state of California?” He let the question hang in the air, each word sharpened with an edge that even the most rebellious teen would feel.

The younger boy shifted, staring hard at the floor, his body tense. His eyes flicked up for a moment before quickly darting back down, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie. The silence between them thickened, heavy with the anticipation of what might happen next.

But it was the older boy who broke the stillness. His eyes darted nervously toward the door, and in a split second, he spun on his heel and bolted for the exit. His movements were fast, desperate—there was no hesitation in him, no second thoughts. He ran as though his life depended on it, throwing open the door with a loud crash, and sprinting into the street with wild urgency.

Tim’s instincts kicked in immediately. “What the hell are you waiting for, Boot?” he snapped at Johnson, his voice low but sharp, the tension in the air thickening. “Go after him!”

Johnson hesitated, his eyes following the kid as he raced down the sidewalk, already a good distance away. He looked back at Tim, unsure. “He’s halfway down the block already, sir,” Johnson said, his voice hesitant. “I mean… there’s no way to catch up at this point.”

Tim’s frustration flared, his tone hardening. “That’s not your call to make,” he snapped, cutting him off. “Now move! Go!”

But as Johnson remained frozen, Tim caught something out of the corner of his eye. Through the store window, he saw Lucy standing just outside. Her eyes were locked on the running figure of the older boy, and before Tim could even register what was happening, she started moving.

She took off after him without a second thought.

Tim’s stomach dropped. His heart slammed against his ribs, panic coursing through him. What the hell was she doing? She was a civilian—she wasn’t trained for this.

“Wait here with the kid,” Tim ordered, his voice hard as steel, before he bolted out the door, not waiting for Johnson’s response. His feet hit the pavement, and adrenaline surged as he chased after her.

His mind raced—he shouldn’t have let her get involved, shouldn’t have let her think she could just dive into something like this. But there she was, sprinting down the street, closing the distance between herself and the older boy with surprising speed.

Tim pushed himself harder, barely noticing the burn in his legs as he picked up the pace, but then, just ahead of him, he saw it.

Lucy was gaining on the boy.

He watched, almost in slow motion, as she reached the older kid, her arms outstretched, and before he could even shout at her to stop, she dove—her body colliding with his legs, and both of them went down in a tangle of limbs. The boy hit the ground with a loud thud, while Lucy held fast, grabbing onto his legs with surprising strength.

Tim froze for a split second, the shock running through him. What the hell?

His heart thudded in his chest as he rushed toward them, but his mind was a blur of worry and frustration. “Lucy!” he shouted, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. “What the hell do you think you’re
doing?”

Lucy, her breath coming in ragged gasps, looked up at him, a determined but frantic expression on her face. “I got him, Tim!” she said quickly, still clinging to the boy’s legs.

Tim forced himself to stay focused, pushing aside the wave of frustration and fear threatening to bubble over. Without sparing her a glance, he knelt down on the sidewalk beside the struggling boy. The teen writhed beneath him, his sneakers scuffing against the pavement as he twisted, but Tim’s grip was steady and unyielding.

“Stop moving,” Tim said firmly, pulling the boy’s arms behind his back. He slapped the cuffs on with practiced precision, his tone low and authoritative. “It’s over. You’re not going anywhere.”

The kid froze for a moment, his breath coming in shallow bursts, his face pressed against the cold concrete. Tim adjusted his grip to guide him upright, still avoiding Lucy’s gaze. His mind raced with everything he wanted to say to her, but now wasn’t the time. He had to stay professional.

“Get up,” Tim commanded the boy, who reluctantly complied, his shoulders slumped in defeat. With a firm hold on the cuffed arm, Tim steered him toward the shop, his steps measured but purposeful.

Lucy followed closely, her breaths still uneven as she trailed them, but Tim didn’t look back. The tension in his jaw was evident, his focus entirely on getting the boy secured. The walk back felt longer than it was, the silence heavy except for the muffled sounds of the city around them.

By the time they reached the shop, backup had arrived. Talia, one of Tim’s coworkers, approached with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile, her tone teasing. “Quite the chase, Bradford,” she said, glancing at Lucy, who stood near the cruiser catching her breath. “Your ride-along’s got some guts. I saw her take that kid down. Not bad for a civilian.”

Tim was unamused, his expression tight as he loaded the older boy into the backseat of his cruiser, shutting the door firmly. “She shouldn’t have been involved at all,” he said sharply, turning to face Talia.

Talia chuckled, crossing her arms. “Maybe not, but she handled herself better than some rookies I’ve seen. You sure you don’t want to fast-track her to the academy?”

Tim shot her a glare. “This isn’t a joke, Talia. She’s not trained, and she could’ve gotten hurt. You think it’s impressive, but all I see is how close this could’ve gone sideways.”

Talia raised her hands in mock surrender, though her smile lingered. “Alright, calm down. I’m just saying—it was effective. But I can see you’re in no mood for compliments.”

Tim turned to Johnson, his frustration sharpening as he shifted his attention to the rookie. “And speaking of things going sideways…” He let the words hang in the air for a moment, his gaze cutting through Johnson like a blade.

Johnson straightened, trying to hold Tim’s glare, but the guilt in his expression was impossible to miss.

“You froze back there,” Tim said, his voice tight with controlled anger. “The second that kid ran, you just stood there. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? A civilian—” He motioned toward Lucy, who stood near the cruiser, watching from a distance. “—had to step in because you didn’t move. It’s not just unprofessional; it’s embarrassing. And worse, it’s reckless.”

Johnson’s face flushed, and he looked down at his boots. “I know, sir. I screwed up. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Tim’s jaw tightened. He took a deliberate step closer, lowering his voice but making it no less severe. “You’re damn right it won’t happen again. Because you’re done.”

Johnson’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait—what?”

“When we get back to the station, you’re packing your gear,” Tim said coldly. “You’re off my squad. I’ve given you every chance to get it together, and every time, you’ve proven you’re not cut out for this. You’ve put your life—and the lives of others—in danger too many times. I’m done risking it.”

“Sir, please,” Johnson stammered, his tone desperate. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

Tim’s expression didn’t soften. “It’s not just about doing better, Johnson. This job isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay. But hesitation out here gets people hurt—or worse. And if you can’t handle basic instructions, I’m not going to keep training you. You’re a liability.”

Johnson shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward Talia for support, but she simply raised her eyebrows and stayed silent.

“Pack your gear when we get back,” Tim said, finality in his tone. “You’re done.”

He turned away, leaving Johnson standing there, stunned and pale. Talia finally spoke, her voice low but firm. “He’s right, boot. You’ve had more chances than most would’ve given you. Take the out while you still can.”

Johnson didn’t respond, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the moment. He simply stared after Tim, his face a mix of anger and frustration, as if searching for a way to salvage something from this disaster.

Talia gave a soft, knowing sigh, watching him for a moment before turning back to the shop. “Don’t make it harder than it already is,” she muttered under her breath, and followed after Tim.

Tim opened the door to the patrol car, gesturing for Lucy to climb in. She slid into the passenger seat, her movements precise but stiff, her expression unreadable. Tim followed, settling into the driver’s seat with a heavy sigh. The engine rumbled to life, a low hum beneath the tension that still hung in the air.

Tim glanced in the rearview mirror at the older boy, who was still fidgeting in the backseat, his face hard with defiance. The kid was muttering under his breath, still angry, still refusing to take responsibility. Tim’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and direct. “You know what you did was fucked up, right? You brought a gun into that store. You were ready to shoot someone for a couple of bucks.”

The boy shifted, trying to avoid Tim’s gaze. “I wasn’t gonna shoot nobody.”

Tim scoffed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “You brought a gun, kid. That means you were willing to do whatever it took. You think about what could’ve happened if we hadn’t gotten there in time? Could’ve been a lot worse. You’re lucky. You’re damn lucky you didn’t get somebody hurt.”

The boy’s anger simmered, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes now. Maybe regret, maybe fear. Tim wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. The kid had made his choice.

Silence filled the car as Tim focused on the road, the weight of the situation settling in. After a few moments, they reached the police station. Tim parked the car and turned to the backseat, his voice cool but firm. “Alright, get out.”

The kid’s eyes flickered toward Tim, the anger still there but muted by the cuffs biting into his wrists. Tim didn’t wait for him to move, already stepping out of the car and heading toward the entrance. He could feel the tension of the day pressing in on him like a vise, the frustration and anger threatening to spill over.

Inside the station, Tim moved like a man on autopilot. The paperwork piled up in front of him, forms to fill out, the kid’s details to enter into the system. Each signature, each fingerprint taken felt like a reminder of how this had all spiraled out of control. He moved quickly, not sparing any glances at the kid, his thoughts still bouncing between the mess with Johnson, the gun in that store, and the long list of things he needed to process.

It wasn’t until hours later, after the kid had been booked, that the weight of the day hit him fully. Every part of the afternoon had been more draining than the last, from dealing with the kid’s mess to signing off on Johnson’s removal from the force. The frustration simmered beneath his skin, eating away at him. The weight of it all was suffocating.

He barely spoke, moving through the motions of the rest of the day, his mind clouded with frustration. Filling out paperwork, processing the kid, dealing with Johnson—it all felt like one endless, draining cycle. Every task only reminded him of how fucked up everything had gotten. By the time the shift ended, the anger had settled in his bones, leaving him stiff and irritable.

Tim didn’t bother with small talk as he grabbed his things and walked toward the parking garage. The cold air of the evening only seemed to intensify the weight of the day on his shoulders. His truck was parked a few spots down, and Lucy’s car was beside it, a reminder of the ride-along that had turned into everything but what he’d hoped for.

He reached his truck, unlocking it with a quick press of the key fob, but before he could climb in, Lucy spoke up from behind him. Her voice was cautious, like she was testing the waters. “I had a really good time today.”

Tim didn’t look at her, his back still to her as he grabbed the handle of his door. His voice came out low and distant, lacking any real interest. “Uh-huh.”

There was a brief pause, the air thick with tension before Lucy spoke again, her words a little firmer this time. “What’s wrong?”

Tim’s jaw tightened. The anger from earlier in the day surged again, a familiar pressure building in his chest. He spun around to face her, frustration leaking out in his voice. “What the fuck do you think is wrong?” The words were sharper than he intended, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Lucy blinked at him, caught off guard. “I… I don’t know,” she said softly, her confusion giving way to defensiveness. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Tim’s frustration boiled over. “You chased after a kid who just robbed a store and had a gun! That’s what’s wrong! You didn’t know he dropped it. You didn’t know what he was capable of, and you still went after him. Do you realize how reckless that was?”

Lucy’s face flushed with frustration and hurt. “I’m sorry, okay? But no one else was doing anything, and he was getting away. What was I supposed to do? Just stand there?”

“Yes!” Tim snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. That’s not your job, Lucy. It’s mine. I’m trained for this. You’re not. You had no idea what could’ve happened. You could’ve been shot, or worse.”

Her voice rose, her own emotions bubbling over. “I didn’t know he had a gun! And I wasn’t just going to let him get away. I couldn’t. I thought I was helping.”

“Well, you weren’t!” Tim fired back, his tone sharp enough to cut. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Do you know what that would’ve done to me? What the hell were you thinking?”

Lucy’s eyes glistened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “I was thinking that someone needed to do something! That’s what I was thinking. If I hadn’t gone after him, he would’ve gotten away, Tim. And maybe you’re too busy being pissed off to see that, but it’s the truth.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue but stopped, his jaw clenching as her words hit home. She stared at him, her voice trembling but firm. “You know what? Call me when you get that stick out of your ass.” Her tone broke, her frustration and hurt bleeding through as she turned and walked ato her car, wiping at her face.

Tim watched her go, a mix of anger and guilt swirling inside him. The sound of her car door slamming echoed in the garage, and he was left standing there, alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

It had been a couple days since he last heard from Lucy. He knew she was upset, knew that she did risk her life but the way he acted was harsh.

His phone felt like a lead weight in his hand as Tim stared at Lucy’s name on the screen. His thumb hovered over the call button, but doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve, making him hesitate. Tim Bradford wasn’t the kind of man who second-guessed himself—at least, not usually. On the job, he thrived under pressure. He could storm into chaos with a clear head and a steady hand. But this? This was different.

Apologies weren’t his thing. They never had been. He’d learned early in life to keep his guard up, to never let emotions slip through the cracks. Yet here he was, trying to summon the courage to make this right. Because if he didn’t, he’d lose something—someone—he didn’t even realize he was so desperate to keep.

Finally, he pressed the call button. Each ring felt heavier than the last, the silence between them stretching endlessly. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to hang up.

“Hello?”

Her voice came through calm but cool, a thread of tension woven into the single word. It wasn’t cold exactly, but it lacked the warmth he’d gotten used to.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying again. “What are you doing right now?”

There was a pause, one that felt deliberate. “Studying,” she said finally, her tone clipped. “Why?”

Tim ran a hand over his face, the weight of his frustration at himself pressing harder against his chest. “I wanted to see you,” he said honestly. The words felt raw, stripped of any pretense. “And… I owe you an apology.”

Her sharp exhale cut through the phone. “You think?”

The bite in her voice was like a slap, but he didn’t flinch. He deserved it. He’d been a complete ass earlier, letting his fear and anger spiral out of control, and she had every right to call him out on it.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I do.”

Silence stretched between them, the kind that felt impossibly loud. He waited, the seconds dragging as he wondered if she’d just hang up and leave him there, sitting with his regret. But then she spoke, her voice quieter now, tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

“My roommate’s out of town,” she said, the words coming slowly, like she was still debating whether to let him in. “You can come over if you want.”

Relief coursed through him, though it didn’t erase the tension in his chest. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, not even close. “I’ll be there soon,” he said quickly, as if she might change her mind.

“Alright.”

The call ended with a soft click, leaving him standing there in his apartment with the lingering weight of what he’d said—and what he hadn’t. He grabbed the bouquet of daisies and sunflowers from the counter. It wasn’t much, but it was something. As he stepped out into the cool night air, he turned the conversation over in his mind, replaying every word, every pause.

By the time he reached her dorm, his nerves were frayed. He stood outside her door longer than he cared to admit, the flowers clutched tightly in his hand. The hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights humming faintly above him. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, each second he waited making him question whether he should even be there.

The flowers suddenly felt small, almost laughable—a flimsy olive branch for the way he’d spoken to her. What if she didn’t want to hear him out? What if this just made things worse?

Taking a deep breath, he knocked, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. For a fleeting moment, he considered leaving the flowers at her door and walking away. But the thought of leaving things unresolved—leaving her unresolved—made his stomach twist in a way he couldn’t ignore.

He shifted his weight, ready to knock again, when the door swung open. Lucy stood there in a t-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. The sight of her made his throat tighten. She looked comfortable, casual, like she’d been caught off guard. But her eyes—her eyes were sharp, guarded in a way he wasn’t used to seeing.

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as her gaze flicked to the flowers in his hand. Her expression was unreadable, and it left him scrambling for the words he’d practiced over and over.

“You’re lucky my roommate’s out of town,” she said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

Tim’s throat felt dry as he held the flowers out to her. “I know I deserve that. These are for you,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I know they don’t fix what I said, but I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Lucy eyed the bouquet for a moment before taking it, her movements deliberate. “You think flowers make up for being a total jerk?”

He winced. “No, I don’t. I just… I don’t know how to make it right except to start with this.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, his usual confidence shaken. “Lucy, I—” He sighed. “I like you. A lot. And when you went after that kid, I was scared out of my mind. He had a gun earlier, and you didn’t know he’d dropped it. You could’ve been shot. You could’ve been killed.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she held the flowers closer to her chest, her expression softening just a fraction.

“That’s my job, Lucy,” Tim continued, his voice raw, the words spilling out like a confession. “To take those risks, to protect people. Not yours. You’re not trained for this, and the thought of something happening to you because of me…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair, his frustration giving way to vulnerability. “It scared the hell out of me. And instead of dealing with that, I lashed out at you. I’m sorry.”

Lucy was quiet, her expression unreadable as she clutched the bouquet tighter. Her gaze shifted from the flowers to his face, and for a moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unspoken.

“You’re an idiot,” she finally said, her voice soft but edged with lingering frustration.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, letting out a faint, self-deprecating smile. “I am.”

Her lips curved into a reluctant smile, her resolve softening. Then, without another word, she stepped forward, rising onto her toes, and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was gentle but certain, the tension between them dissolving as his free hand came to rest lightly on her waist. When she pulled back, her gaze met his, warm but still tinged with exasperation.

“Come inside,” she said, stepping back and holding the door open. “We’re not done talking, but you might as well be comfortable while we do.”

Tim hesitated for a second, still searching her face for any trace of anger or hesitation, but all he found was a quiet invitation. Nodding, he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind them.

Lucy moved toward the small kitchenette, pulling a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. Tim followed her, feeling the tension between them start to ease as the silence grew less heavy.

“So,” Lucy said finally, her tone casual but tinged with curiosity. “How long were you standing out there with those flowers before you knocked?”

Tim huffed a quiet laugh, leaning against the counter. “Long enough to feel like an idiot.”

“You’re lucky I even opened the door,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder.

He smirked. “You weren’t going to leave me out there. You’d miss me too much.”

Lucy turned back around, a playful look in her eyes. “Oh, is that so? You’re very confident for someone who was basically groveling five minutes ago.”

Tim held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair point. I’m sorry. Again.”

Her expression softened, the teasing fading. “I know. I could tell you meant it on the phone. But seriously, Tim, you didn’t have to come all the way over here. I get that you were scared, but I’m fine. I’m not mad anymore.”

“I needed to say it in person,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care or that I wasn’t taking this seriously.” Lucy smiled faintly, setting the glass down on the counter. “Well, I appreciate it. Really. But…” She gestured toward her desk, where textbooks and notes were sprawled across the surface. “I do need to get back to studying.”

Tim straightened up. “I can leave if you want,” he offered, trying not to sound disappointed.

“No, come on. Stay,” she said, waving him off as she moved toward her bed. “It’ll be fun.”

“Watching you study? That’s your idea of fun?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Lucy flopped onto her bed and looked up at him with a grin. “Shut up. You know what I mean—just spending time with you.”

Tim chuckled and shook his head. “Alright. Where do you want me?”

She patted the space next to her on the bed, which was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. “You can sit here with me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s kind of small.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “So? I don’t have cooties, Tim.”

Tim smirked, giving in. “Alright, but if I fall off, you’re catching me.”

“Deal,” she said with a laugh, scooting toward the wall to make room. The twin bed was comically small for two people, and Tim had to twist slightly as he climbed in, his shoulder brushing hers as he settled beside her.

“Comfy,” he said dryly, arching an eyebrow at the cramped space.

“It’s not exactly a California king,” Lucy shot back with a grin, “but it gets the job done.”

Tim chuckled, shifting just enough that their legs lightly pressed together. “I’ll try not to fall off. No promises, though.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you survived getting shot, I think you can handle a twin bed.”

He smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Touché.” After a beat, he glanced at the laptop balanced on her knees. “How’s the report going? The one on the ride-along?”

Lucy let out a small groan and rested her head against his shoulder. “Don’t remind me. It’s fine, I guess. I wrote about everything that happened, broke it into observations, and added a section about what I learned. Pretty straightforward.”

Tim tilted his head to look at her, his voice softening. “You know, in all seriousness, you scared the hell out of me that day… but you were a fucking badass.”

Her head shot up, and she blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, smirking. “You handled yourself better than my rookie. Better than some cops I know, actually.”

Lucy couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “Well, maybe I missed my calling.”

“Maybe,” Tim said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping. “You’d make a damn good cop.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat at the warmth in his tone, her grin turning teasing. “You think so?”

“I know so,”

The words hung in the air between them, charged with meaning, and Lucy felt a warm flush spread across her cheeks. Tim’s gaze darkened, his eyes flickering down to her mouth before returning to hers, and she knew he felt it too. The air in the room grew thick with tension, the kind that crackled like electricity before a storm.

He leaned in closer, his hand brushing her cheek gently. “You know, you’d look really good in a uniform,” he murmured, his voice deep and gruff. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension breaking.

“Is that your pick-up line?” she teased, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Tim’s smirk grew. “Could be. You like it?”

Before Lucy could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of desire and passion, of the weeks of tension they’d been dancing around. She felt his hand snake around her waist, pulling her closer, the heat of his body enveloping her.

Her laptop slipped from her grasp, landing with a thud on the floor, forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The room spun around them, the only anchor the softness of the bed beneath her. His kiss grew more insistent, and she responded eagerly, her heart hammering in her chest.

Tim’s hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, pressing her closer. But then, as if realizing what he was doing, he abruptly pushed her back onto the mattress and pulled away, panting. He stared down at her, his expression torn between desire and doubt.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just—”

“It’s okay,” Lucy murmured, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “It’s fine, really. I—”

Tim searched her eyes, his own concern growing. “No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I just got carried away, I didn’t mean to—”

“Tim, really, it’s okay,” Lucy assured him, her voice shaky. She sat up, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She hadn’t felt this anxious, this nervous, in years. It was a feeling she’d thought she’d outgrown, but here it was, crashing over her like a wave. “I liked it. It’s just—it’s been a while for me, okay?”

He nodded slowly, his thumb brushing over her cheek as if to reassure her. “How long is a while?” Lucy shrugged, her eyes darting to the side. “Long enough that I’m not exactly used to this kind of attention anymore.”

Tim’s expression grew more serious, his thumb still brushing gently against her skin. “I don’t want to push you, Lucy. If you want me to stop, just say the word and I will. No questions asked.”

Her eyes searched his, the vulnerability in them making his heart clench. “I want this, Tim. I do.” The admission came out in a whisper, but it was enough to make him pause.

He leaned in, his lips hovering over hers. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tim. I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Lucy whispered, her eyes locking onto his. The tension in the air was palpable, a heady mix of desire and anticipation.

Tim took a deep breath, his hand sliding from her cheek to cup the back of her neck, drawing her in for another kiss. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. As they kissed, he gently slid his other hand down her side, feeling the soft curve of her waist before resting it on the inside of her thigh. She gasped lightly against his mouth, her legs instinctively parting.

They broke the kiss, their eyes locked as they both panted for air. Lucy’s chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, her eyes searching Tim’s for any hint of hesitation. “I want this,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time.

Tim nodded, his gaze intense. “Good. Because I’ve been dying to touch you, Lucy. To feel all of you. But I’ll go slow, okay? I want you to enjoy every single second of it. I want to make sure you’re okay with everything that happens here tonight.”

Than without waiting for her response, he leaned in and captured her mouth in another deep, searching kiss. Lucy’s body responded instantly, arching into him, her arms tightening around his neck. He felt the urgency in her touch, the same desperation that thrummed through his veins. He kissed her deeply, his hand sliding from her thigh to the hem of her shirt.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her shirt up and over her head, breaking the kiss just long enough to remove the barrier between them. His eyes took in the sight of her, her beautiful olive skin glowing and smooth in the harsh light of the dorm room. She was beautiful, more so than he’d allowed himself to admit even in his most private thoughts.

Tim’s lips trailed down her neck, planting feather-light kisses along her collarbone, making Lucy’s breath hitch. She leaned into him, her eyes closing in pleasure as his teeth grazed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. His hands roamed over her torso, tracing the lines of her body as if he were committing them to memory. When he reached her stomach, his kisses grew more insistent, his tongue darting out to taste the soft skin there.

Her skin was warm and smooth under his touch, and Tim felt his desire for her grow with every breath she took. He kissed her navel, the dip of her waist, and then slid his hands under her to lift her hips slightly. With deft movements, he peeled her shorts down her legs, leaving her in only her panties. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, his eyes dark with lust, before leaning in to kiss the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.

As his mouth moved higher, Lucy’s moans grew louder, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, urging him closer. He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers, searching for any sign of doubt or discomfort. Her eyes were glazed with desire, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Encouraged, he gently nudged her legs apart and pressed a soft kiss to the damp fabric of her panties.

Tim felt the heat radiating from Lucy’s core as continued he kissed her through the thin barrier of fabric. He could feel her body tremble slightly with each touch of his lips, and he knew he had to be careful not to overwhelm her. He sucked gently, the sound muffled by the material, and Lucy’s hips bucked involuntarily. He held onto her thigh tightly, his hand firm and reassuring as he continued to explore her with his mouth.

Her breathing grew more erratic, and she whispered his name, a plea and a warning all in one. Tim felt his own arousal strain against his jeans, but he kept his focus on her, wanting to ensure she enjoyed every moment of this as much as he was. With a soft tug, he pulled the fabric aside, revealing the slick, swollen flesh beneath. He took a moment to appreciate her beauty before his mouth descended, eager to taste her.

The first touch of his tongue sent a shiver through Lucy’s body. She’d forgotten how intense this could be, the way a simple caress could make her entire being tighten with need. She gripped the bedsheets, her eyes rolling back as Tim explored her folds with gentle strokes, his tongue mapping the sensitive landscape of her arousal. His touch was tender, yet firm, as if he knew exactly what she needed without her having to say a word.

“You taste amazing, Lucy,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin.

Her eyes fluttered open, a small smile playing on her lips. “Keep going,” she breathed.

Tim’s mouth curved against her, his tongue teasing her clit before sliding back down to delve into her wetness. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he devoured her, the sound of her moans and the feel of her wetness against his lips driving him wild.

“Oh, Tim, don’t stop,” Lucy gasped, her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

He chuckled against her, the vibration sending another shiver through her body. “I don’t plan on it,” he murmured, his tongue swirling around her clit in a delicious dance.

“You’re going to make me come,” she panted, her voice breathless with desire.

Tim’s eyes flicked up to hers, a smug grin playing on his lips. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

With a final flick of his tongue, Lucy’s body tensed, and she let out a cry of pleasure as she climaxed. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body trembling against his mouth. He waited, his breath hot against her, until she relaxed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Satisfaction thrummed through him, his own desire pulsing in time with her aftershocks. He kissed his way back up her body, his lips tracing the path of his earlier exploration until he reached hers. She tasted faintly of salt and sweetness, and he kissed her deeply, sharing her pleasure.

When she could breathe again, Lucy pulled back, her eyes searching his. “You’re hard, Tim,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Tim’s smirk was unapologetic, his hand resting on his erection. “It’s a bit of a giveaway, yeah?”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “It’s not every day a guy goes down on you like that.”

Tim’s smile grew, his hand moving to cup her cheek. “It’s not every day I get to taste something so sweet, either.” His thumb traced the corner of her mouth, and she leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Take your shirt off,” Lucy murmured, her voice still breathless from the orgasm.

Tim’s heart raced as he sat back, his eyes locked on hers. He didn’t need to be told twice. With swift, practiced movements, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abs. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of desire through Lucy, her eyes drinking in the planes of his body, the dusting of hair leading down to his waistband. His erection was obvious, straining against his jeans, and he watched her with a mix of hope and concern.

“Are you sure you want to keep going, Lucy?” he asked, his voice gruff with restrained need.

Her eyes never left his face as she nodded, the word slipping out in a rush. “Yes, Tim, I’m sure. I really want you to make love to me.”

Tim’s breath hitched, and he swallowed hard. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his voice low and ragged.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. “No,” she admitted. “But I’m on the pill, Tim. I promise, I’m protected. I just want to feel you, all of you.”

Tim’s eyes searched hers, the gravity of her words hanging in the air. He didn’t want to rush her, but the desire was too intense to ignore. He took a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly as he reached for the button of his jeans. With a quiet click, the button gave way, and he slid the zipper down, revealing his erection that was straining against his boxers.

Her gaze dropped, taking in the sight of him. Without breaking eye contact, she reached out, her fingers trembling as they found the waistband of his boxers. With a gentle tug, she pulled them down, freeing his cock. It sprang forth, hard and ready, and Tim had to bite back a groan at the sight of her hand so close to him.

“Wow,” Lucy breathed, her eyes wide. Tim felt his face flush. He wasn’t a small guy, but he’d never had anyone look at him with quite so much awe before.

“Is that a good wow or a holy-shit-you’re-going-to-split-me-in-half wow?” he asked with a smirk, trying to ease the tension.

Her cheeks flushed a darker shade of red, but she met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s definitely a good wow,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

Tim chuckled, his cock twitching in anticipation. “So you’re not too intimidated, then?”

“Should I be?” Lucy asked, her voice a teasing challenge as she leaned back onto her elbows, her breasts rising and falling with every breath.

Tim’s smirk grew, his hand sliding down to stroke her side. “If you are, I promise to be very, very gentle,” he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. He shifted his body over hers, aligning his cock with her entrance. He could feel her heat, her wetness, and he had to fight the urge to slam into her right there.

Instead, he pressed in slowly, watching her face intently. Lucy’s eyes fluttered closed, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise and pleasure as he filled her up. He groaned, his own need momentarily overwhelming him as he pushed all the way in, the tightness of her pussy gripping him like a glove.

For a moment, they just stayed like that, Tim’s cock buried deep inside Lucy, their chests heaving with the effort of holding back. The feeling of her warm, wet heat surrounding him was almost too much, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to pound into her right then and there. But he knew she deserved more than that. He wanted this to be perfect for her.

So he waited, his muscles taut with restraint, until she opened her eyes and met his gaze again. Her eyes were dark with passion, the pupils blown wide, and she nodded, giving him the signal to move. He began to pull out, dragging his cock almost all the way before pushing back in, savoring the way she tightened around him.

Her nails dug into his back, urging him on, and he picked up the pace, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had them both moaning. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, mingling with their gasps and whispers of pleasure. Tim’s mind was a haze of sensation, the feel of Lucy’s skin beneath his fingertips, the way her breath caught every time he hit just the right spot.

“You’re so beautiful, Lucy,” he murmured against her neck, his voice rough with need. “So perfect. So fucking perfect.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as his hips picked up their pace, his movements growing more urgent as he buried himself deeper inside her. The bed protested beneath them, the squeaks and creaks a testament to their passion. The heat in the room seemed to thicken, the air charged with the scent of their mingling arousal. Sweat began to bead on their skin, making their bodies slick with desire.

Tim’s breath grew harsher, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched Lucy’s face contort in ecstasy. He knew she was close again, and the knowledge fueled his own need. He slid one hand between their bodies, finding her clit with unerring precision. His thumb began to rub circles around the sensitive nub, the friction sending bolts of pleasure through her.

Her hips bucked against him, a silent plea for more. Tim was more than happy to oblige. He increased the pressure, his strokes growing faster, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Her breath grew ragged, and she let out a strangled cry that sent a shiver down his spine. He could feel her tightening around him, her body coiling like a spring about to snap.

“Come for me, Lucy,” he groaned, his voice low and commanding. “Let go. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his, and she nodded. With a final, deep thrust, Tim felt her body tense, her walls clenching around him. She let out a cry that seemed to tear through him, her orgasm shuddering through her as he pushed her over the edge. He watched as she fell apart beneath him, her face a mask of pleasure, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

As the last tremors of Lucy’s climax faded, Tim pulled out slowly, his cock still rock-hard and glistening. She looked up at him, her chest heaving, and asked the question that had been hovering in the air.

“What about you?”

The words were barely a whisper, but they resonated in the quiet of the room. Tim looked down at Lucy, her eyes still hazy with the aftermath of pleasure, and felt his heart swell. He’d never had someone care so deeply about his needs in the heat of the moment—especially after he’d just made her feel so incredible.

“What about me?” he asked, his voice gruff with his own need.

Her eyes searched his, a hint of sadness in their depths. “You didn’t—I mean, you didn’t get to—”

A faint smile tugged at Tim’s lips, and he reached out to brush the damp strands of hair from her forehead. His fingers lingered, gently tucking them behind her ear. “Lucy,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm, “That’s not why I came here.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, the sadness in her expression tugging at him. “But I just…” She shifted slightly beneath him, her fingers brushing against his arm. “I don’t want it to be one-sided. I want to make sure you’re okay, too.”

Tim felt a rush of warmth spread through him—not just desire, but something deeper. He stroked his thumb across her cheek, his touch reverent. “I’m okay,” he assured her, his voice quieter now. “Better than okay. I didn’t come here for that. I came to make things right with you.” He paused, his gaze softening as he took her in—every detail, from her trembling lips to the way her skin glowed in the dim light of her dorm. “And this… this was more than I ever expected.”

Lucy smiled, her face still flushed from the heat of the moment. She nestled closer, resting her head on his chest. The steady rise and fall of his breath calmed her, the warmth of him grounding her in the moment. Her fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on his stomach, beginning with the faint scars on his ribcage before drifting down toward the soft lines of his muscles. Each stroke was slow, careful, as if memorizing him.

Tim’s hand rested on her back, fingers brushing her spine with a tender touch. He sighed contentedly, his voice playful but soft. “You’re distracting, you know that?”

Lucy lifted her head to look at him, her lips curling into a smile. “I’m distracting? I’m the one who was supposed to be studying, remember?”

Tim chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you can thank me for that later. I’ll be your personal study buddy if you want.”

“ So you want me to fail?”

Tim's eyes sparkled with humor. "Hardly. But a little distraction never hurt anybody." He leaned in, his breath warm against her neck. "Besides, it's not every day you get to study with a man who can recite the entire penal code."

Lucy giggled, squirming slightly as his lips brushed against her skin. "Yeah, that's a real turn-on," she said, her voice a mix of sarcasm and amusement. "Maybe I'll just write 'Tim Bradford said so' and see if that gets me an A."

Tim's chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her ear. "Well, it's got to be worth some extra credit, right?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips tugging up in a smirk. "Extra credit? Tim, you're more of a distraction than anything else.”

Tim grinned, brushing his lips against her jaw before pulling back to look at her. "I'm an effective distraction. Think of it as hands-on learning."

Lucy let out a playful groan. "Seriously, I think you're trying to get me in trouble."
He leaned closer, his grin widening. "If trouble means spending more time with me, then maybe that's not so bad," he said softly, his voice warm and teasing.

Lucy laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Oh, it's definitely a problem," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But I think I'm getting a little too used to you."

Tim's gaze softened as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Good," he murmured, his voice tender now, but with a hint of something deeper. "I'm glad you're getting used to me. You're the best part of my day."

Lucy's heart fluttered at his words, and she leaned in, brushing her lips against his softly. As they kissed, she melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

When they finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against his, a smile lingering on her lips. "I think that was definitely worth more than extra credit," she teased.
Tim grinned, but as he looked at her, something in him shifted. He felt perfect-like everything was right, but also... a little dirty. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but the weight of the moment was heavy in a way that made him feel both content and a little reckless.

Tim grinned, but as he looked at her, something in him shifted. He felt perfect-like everything was right, but also... a little dirty. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but the weight of the moment was heavy in a way that made him feel both content and a little reckless.

It was perfect. Perfect, but dirty.

Chapter Text

The early morning light streamed softly through the thin curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. Lucy stirred, her senses waking gradually to the warmth around her and the gentle rise and fall beneath her cheek. She blinked, her thoughts hazy, until the steady rhythm of Tim’s heartbeat grounded her.

Her body was draped over his, one leg tangled with his, her arms loosely across his chest. The twin bed offered no room for distance, their closeness inevitable but far from unwelcome. Tim’s warmth enveloped her, and she let herself sink into the comfort of the moment, feeling his strong chest beneath her fingertips.

Her hand rested over the soft cotton of his T-shirt, its fabric slightly wrinkled where her fingers had absentmindedly traced patterns during the night. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze settling on his face. The sharp lines she’d grown used to—the furrow of his brow, the tightness in his jaw—had melted away in sleep. His features were softer now, almost boyish, a faint shadow of stubble brushing his skin. His hair was adorably mussed, and her heart gave an unexpected pang at the sight.

She let out a quiet breath, unwilling to move but growing more aware of her own body. Her muscles ached faintly, a soreness she hadn’t expected but one that brought a soft blush to her cheeks. She closed her eyes again, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the intimacy of waking up beside him. She’d never experienced this before, the quiet closeness of morning with someone she trusted so deeply.

Eventually, the stiffness from the narrow bed nudged her to move. Carefully, Lucy lifted her head, her hair falling messily into her face. Tim stirred briefly, his arms tightening around her as if on instinct, before relaxing again. She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, and slowly slid out of his embrace.

Her bare feet sank into the soft carpet as she stood, taking a moment to stretch. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of Tim’s steady breathing behind her. She hesitated, glancing back at him one last time. He was still sound asleep, his face peaceful, the morning light casting a golden glow over his features.

Without disturbing the calm, Lucy made her way to the bathroom, slipping inside and closing the door softly behind her. She flicked on the light, her eyes adjusting to the brightness, and stepped up to the mirror. Her reflection stopped her in her tracks.

Her hair was an untamed mess, strands sticking out at odd angles, and her cheeks were still flushed from sleep. She raised a hand to smooth her hair but froze as her gaze shifted to her neck. The soft light highlighted the faint but unmistakable marks blooming across her skin—purple and red patches tracing her neck and shoulders.

Her breath caught as she touched one gently with her fingertips, feeling the warmth of the bruise. The memory of Tim’s teeth grazing her skin during their passionate encounter sent a shiver down her spine. The night before had been intense, a whirlwind of sensation that had left her feeling both vulnerable and incredibly alive.

With a soft sigh, Lucy turned away from the mirror, deciding that she needed to wake up fully. She reached into the shower and turned on the faucet, the sound of the water hitting the tiles filling the small room. The warm spray grew steadier, and she stepped closer, the steam beginning to curl around her body. She reached back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor before sliding her panties down her legs.

Climbing into the shower, she stepped under the spray, the water cascading down her body and washing away the last vestiges of sleep. She closed her eyes, allowing the warmth to soothe her muscles, the sensation bringing her thoughts back to Tim and the night they’d shared. Her hand drifted to her neck, tracing the marks he’d left. She could almost feel his touch again, the way his hands had roamed her body, and his cock pressing against her, demanding entrance.

Her breath hitched as she remembered how he’d filled her so completely, his size surprising but thrilling. The way he’d moved inside her, so gentle and tender, had made her feel cherished. He’d been so attentive, reading her responses like an open book, ensuring she felt everything she needed. The memory grew more vivid, and she felt a sudden ache between her legs.

With a tremble in her hand, Lucy reached down to her clit, her thumb brushing the sensitive bud. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering shut as a soft moan escaped her mouth. The water cascaded over her, mixing with the slickness of her arousal. Her other hand found her breast, squeezing gently, her thumb rolling over the hardened nipple.

The sensations grew stronger, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She slipped two fingers inside herself, the memory of Tim’s thick cock driving her movements. She stroked herself in a rhythm that matched the pulsing beat in her chest, her hips rocking slightly against her hand. The moan grew louder, echoing off the tiles, as her thumb circled her clit, the pressure building.

Her hand moved faster, the sound of her wetness joining the patter of the shower. Her body was alive with sensation, her muscles tightening around her fingers. She leaned against the shower wall for support, her head tilting back as she whispered his name. The sound was lost in the cacophony of water and her own pleasure.

“Tim...oh, Tim...” she moaned, the intensity growing. She imagined his eyes on her, watching her come apart like this, and it only spurred her on. She pictured his hands replacing hers, his touch sure and skilled, and she could almost feel his teeth grazing her neck again. Her body responded eagerly to the memory, and she increased the pressure on her clit, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Her movements grew more urgent, her hand a blur between her thighs as she chased the building orgasm. The warm water sluiced over her, carrying away her inhibitions and leaving only raw, unbridled need. The tension coiled tighter, a delicious ache spreading through her core. With one final, desperate stroke, she shuddered, crying out his name as her climax crashed over her.

The water rinsed away the last tremors of pleasure, leaving Lucy panting and leaning heavily against the shower wall. She took a moment to catch her breath, the sound of the running water the only companion to her racing heart. With a sigh of contentment, she turned off the faucet and stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself.

The bathroom mirror was fogged with condensation, obscuring her reflection. She reached up, swiping a hand across the glass until her face came into view, flushed and glowing from the heat. Avoiding her own eyes, she focused instead on combing her fingers through her damp hair, willing the rising warmth in her cheeks to settle.

Grabbing a fresh pair of underwear and a clean T-shirt from the small pile she’d brought in, she dressed quickly, the cotton shirt cool against her skin. Letting out a deep breath, she hung her towel on the hook by the door and pulled it open, stepping barefoot onto the dorm’s thin carpet.

The shift from steamy warmth to the cooler air of the room was jarring, but not as jarring as the sight of Tim stirring in his bed. He was propped up slightly on one elbow, his hair an unruly mess and his eyes heavy-lidded with sleep. He blinked at her slowly, clearly still shaking off the remnants of a dream.

Lucy hesitated for a second, caught off guard by his unexpected wakefulness, but then her lips curved into a soft, teasing smile. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Tim blinked again, his expression somewhere between confusion and embarrassment as his gaze darted away from her. “Morning,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. He sat up straighter, the blanket pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.

She padded over to her bed and plopped down, folding her legs beneath her as she watched him. There was something undeniably cute about the way his ears were tinged pink, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a sleepy awkwardness.

“You okay?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Tim’s hands fidgeted with the edge of his blanket, his movements stiff. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly, though the crack in his voice betrayed him.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Liar.”

His cheeks flushed deeper as he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to—” He faltered, his words trailing off into a nervous laugh.

Her smile faltered, curiosity giving way to concern. “Tim,” she said gently, leaning forward. “What’s wrong?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally looked at her, his expression caught between guilt and mortification. “I… I heard you,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell silent, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Lucy’s cheeks flared red as the meaning of his admission hit her, her pulse pounding in her ears. She glanced away, biting her bottom lip to suppress the wave of embarrassment threatening to overwhelm her.

“Oh,”

Tim’s hands twisted the blanket nervously, his own face a shade of red she hadn’t thought possible. “I wasn’t trying to,” he blurted out, his words tumbling over one another. “I swear. I just… I woke up, and—”

Lucy held up her hands, trying to ease the tension. “It’s okay, Tim,” she said, her voice soft but amused. “I promise, I’m not mad. I mean, I’m a little mortified, but not mad.” She bit her lip, trying to suppress the giggle bubbling up in her chest. “It’s just… the image of you, all groggy and hearing… that—it’s kind of hilarious.”

Tim’s eyes widened, his cheeks darkening further. “Hilarious?”

The tension in the room eased slightly as Lucy chuckled, her shoulders shaking with mirth. “Well, yeah. It’s not like you were peeking, right?” She leaned back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just one of those awkward morning-after things, I guess.”

Tim’s eyes searched hers, looking for reassurance. “I just didn’t want you to think I was some kind of creep, listening in on you like that,” he said, his voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

Lucy’s laughter grew, the sound bubbling over and filling the small space between them. She shook her head, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Tim, it’s fine. It’s not like you were peeking through a keyhole or anything. Besides,” she paused, her smile growing more wicked, “it was pretty hot, knowing you heard how much you turned me on last night.”

Tim’s eyes went wide for a split second before a grin tugged at his lips. “Well, when you put it that way,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through Lucy’s body. He leaned forward slightly, closing the gap between them, and Lucy’s breath hitched in anticipation. “Maybe I’ll have to make sure you’re a little louder next time,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Before she could respond, he pushed her gently backward, his hands landing on either side of her on the bed. She giggled, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he captured her mouth in a kiss that was playful and full of promise. His tongue danced with hers, teasing and tasting, and she felt the heat of his arousal pressing against her through the fabric of their clothes.

Tim’s fingers found the hem of her T-shirt, sliding it up and over her head with surprising ease. She giggled into his mouth, the tickle of his stubble against her skin sending a delicious shiver through her. He pulled away slightly, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of mischief. “I think we’ve got a pretty good thing going here, Lucy,” he murmured, his hands skimming over her bare torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“Mm, I definitely don’t disagree,” Lucy replied, her voice breathless as she traced the contours of his abs with her fingertips. “I never knew you could be so sweet and attentive.”

Tim chuckled, the sound low and warm as he leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Sweet and attentive, huh? Don't let it fool you-l have a reputation to maintain."

Lucy smirked, her fingers trailing lower until his muscles tensed beneath her touch. "Oh, don't worry, Officer Tough Guy. Your secret's safe with me.

Tim’s eyes sparkled with humor as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Just so you know, I’ve got a reputation to protect. Can’t let the guys think I’ve gone soft.”

Lucy giggled, her hand lightly tapping his chest, feeling the muscle shift under her touch. “Oh, no, definitely not,” she teased, her grin widening. “But maybe you should take a shower. You know, just to rinse off all that… sweetness before it gets too overwhelming.”

Tim blinked, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Are you telling me I stink?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful smile. “I’m just saying, you’ve got a little too much charm going on. Might want to dial it back before it gets out of hand.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he slowly stood up. “Alright, alright. I’ll go shower before you get too distracted.” He shot her one last grin before walking toward the bathroom, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room.

Lucy watched him go, a smile still lingering on her lips. Once the bathroom door clicked shut, she sighed, glancing around the room. Time to get dressed. She slid into a long, flowy skirt and a cozy sweater, the soft fabric feeling comforting against her skin. As she made her bed, she noticed the faint scent of his cologne still lingering in the air, a reminder of the playful, heated moment that had just passed.

She finished tidying up and adjusted the pillows, making the bed look perfect when the main door creaked open. Rachel stepped into the room, carrying her purse and a couple of shopping bags.

“Hey, look at you—getting everything all neat,” Rachel said, glancing around as she set the bags on the desk. “I didn’t think you had it in you to make the bed without me here to—”

Her voice trailed off as she noticed the clothes scattered across the floor. Lucy froze, her eyes quickly darting to the pile of clothes, then to the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar with the sound of the shower running.

Rachel grinned, clearly enjoying Lucy’s discomfort. She stepped fully into the room, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, well… guess you got lucky, huh?”

Lucy’s eyes shot wide open as she stammered, “What? No! It’s not—”

Rachel grinned, clearly enjoying Lucy’s discomfort. She stepped fully into the room, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, well… guess you got lucky, huh?”

Lucy’s eyes shot wide open as she stammered, “What? No! It’s not—”

Rachel cut her off, holding up a hand in mock innocence. “Oh, come on. Clothes on the floor, shower running—either you’ve got some serious self-control, or Officer Bradford’s been working some magic.” She winked, her voice dripping with playful teasing.

Lucy’s face was a map of embarrassment, her cheeks burning brighter than a stop sign. “It’s not like that,” she protested, trying to compose herself. Rachel had a knack for reading situations, and Lucy knew she wouldn’t let this go easily.

Rachel set down her bags and took a seat on Lucy’s bed, crossing her legs. “Come on, spill it. Did Tim finally make a move?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

“It’s complicated,” Lucy murmured, sitting beside her.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Complicated? Girl, you’ve been dancing around each other for weeks. I’m not blind. He’s got it bad for you, and it’s pretty clear you’re not immune either.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, a reluctant grin tugging at her lips. “Rachel, it’s not just about that. We’re… I don’t know. We’re figuring things out, I guess.”

Her roommate leaned closer, her eyes alight with curiosity. “What’s to figure out? The boy’s obviously smitten, and you’ve had the hots for him since day one. I say go for it and enjoy the ride—pun intended.” She grinned devilishly, clearly enjoying every second of teasing her best friend.

Lucy flushed, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “Oh my god, Rachel, stop. It’s not that simple.”

Rachel crossed her arms, looking at her with exaggerated disbelief. “Not that simple? Girl, you’ve been practically glowing every time you talk about him. And you’ve been going on dates for weeks. Come on, just admit it—you’re in love!”

Lucy’s eyes shot wide open, and her face flushed a deep shade of red. “What? No! I—” She quickly glanced around the room, suddenly aware of the volume of the conversation. “Keep your voice down, Rachel! Love? I’m not… it’s only been like six or seven weeks! That’s way too soon to be talking about love!”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the denial. “Six or seven weeks? That’s more than enough time, especially when it’s obvious every time you mention him. You’re in way deeper than you think.”

Lucy groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to rush into anything. I mean, love’s a big word, and I’m still figuring things out.”

Rachel leaned back, grinning. “Love or not, you’ve got it bad. It’s okay to admit it. You just gotta say it.”

Lucy shook her head, frustration and embarrassment rising in her chest. “I don’t know, Rachel. I just—love takes months, not weeks. I can’t just say it when I’m still trying to figure out what all this even means.”

Rachel raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin still wide. “Fair enough, but I’m just saying… you’ve got it bad for him. If that’s not love, then what is?”

Before Lucy could respond, the sound of the shower turning off echoed through the room, and her heart skipped a beat. Rachel caught the shift in Lucy’s demeanor immediately, her teasing smile growing even wider.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Rachel said with a wink, her eyes darting toward the bathroom door.

Lucy shot her a desperate look, hoping to change the subject, but the damage had already been done.

"Rachel, please," she whispered, her voice a frantic plea.

The bathroom door swung open, and Tim stepped out, his hair slick with water and a towel slung low around his hips. He looked at Rachel, then at Lucy, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks reddening. "I didn't know you had company."

Lucy shot Rachel a glare that was half-mortified, half-desperate. "It's okay, Tim," she called out, her voice shaky. "This is Rachel, my roommate. Rachel, this is Tim."

Tim tightened the towel around his waist, his embarrassment palpable as he took in Rachel’s knowing smirk. “Hey,” he offered awkwardly, his eyes darting between the two women. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Interrupt?” Rachel finished for him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t worry, we were just having a little chat. You know, roommate things.”

Lucy groaned inwardly, wishing she could disappear into the floor. “Rachel…” she warned, but her voice lacked the usual bite, mostly because she was too mortified to speak properly.

Rachel held her hands up in mock innocence. “Okay, okay, I’ll go,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll give you two some privacy to… figure things out,” she added, winking at Lucy, who was now beet red.

“Thanks,” Lucy muttered through clenched teeth, already regretting everything.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. “Don’t worry, I won’t disturb you again. I’ll be out of your hair. But just so you know, Tim, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She flashed a smile that was equal parts innocent and cheeky before grabbing her purse from the bed.

Tim, still looking a little awkward, nodded quickly. “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

Rachel gave him one last wink before heading toward the door. “Enjoy your… afternoon,” she said, leaving with a mischievous grin.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Lucy let out a long sigh and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said, turning to Tim. “She’s… she’s relentless sometimes.”

Tim smiled, clearly more at ease now that Rachel had finally left. “It’s fine,” he said with a chuckle. “I can handle a little teasing.”

Lucy couldn’t help but smile back, relieved that Rachel’s departure had at least relieved some of the tension. “Well, I’m glad someone can.”

Tim chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah, she’s definitely got a way of making things interesting,” he said with a grin, his tone light. “But she seems like a good friend. Keeps you on your toes, huh?”

Lucy laughed, feeling the last of the awkwardness slip away. “That’s one way to put it. She’s a handful, but I couldn’t imagine living without her. Keeps things fun.”

Tim’s gaze softened as he watched her, his smile turning a little more serious. “Sounds like you two have a great dynamic.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing his next words. “Hey, speaking of fun… I was thinking, maybe we could actually do something today. You know, just the two of us.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Tim shrugged, his grin returning. “I don’t know, maybe lunch or something? I still owe you a third date, after all.”

Lucy laughed, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of spending the day with him. “I almost forgot about that. A third date sounds perfect. What kind of lunch?”

Tim chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Nothing too fancy, just a casual bite somewhere nice. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like exactly what I need,” Lucy replied, her smile matching his. “I’ll be ready in ten.”

Tim nodded, his voice playful as he started to turn toward the bathroom. “I need to get dressed, but I’ll be quick, I promise.”

A few minutes later, Tim emerged from the bathroom, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt, his hair still a little damp but looking effortlessly handsome. Lucy’s heart fluttered a little as she took him in, admiring the easygoing yet perfect vibe he exuded.

“Ready?” Tim asked with a grin, holding open the door for her.

“Ready,” Lucy replied, stepping into the hallway. Together, they made their way to his truck, the sun filtering through the trees outside. Tim opened the door for her, and as she climbed into the passenger seat, she couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something special.

The drive was smooth, and the conversation flowed easily. When they pulled up to the food trucks, Tim gave her a quick glance. “Most of the guys from the station eat here during their lunch breaks,” he said with a shrug. “Figured it’s the perfect spot for a low-key meal. You can’t go wrong with food truck tacos, right?”

Lucy smiled, feeling at ease in his company. “I’m all in. Let’s do it.”

They walked up to the food trucks, the scents of sizzling meats and fresh tortillas making their mouths water. After ordering, Tim handed her a paper tray of tacos, and they both made their way to a nearby picnic table.

As they sat down, Tim grinned. “This place is kind of a hidden gem, huh?”

Lucy took a bite of her taco, the flavors instantly hitting her taste buds in the best way. “You were right. This is amazing,” she said between bites.

Tim chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Told you. The guys at the station swear by it. It’s practically a tradition to stop here for lunch.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Sounds like you’ve been here a few times then.”

“More than a few,” he admitted with a smile, looking out over the food trucks. “It’s the only place where the food’s good and you don’t have to rush.”

“Must be nice,” she said, feeling the calmness of the moment sink in. “I think I could get used to this.”

Tim looked at her, his eyes lingering for a second longer than necessary. “What, the tacos or the company?”

Lucy’s smile grew as she swallowed another bite. “Both, actually. But especially the company.”

Tim’s eyes lit up at her words, his chest swelling with pride. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, his voice sincere.

They talked about the food trucks and their favorite dishes, sharing little details about their lives that had never come up before. Lucy listened intently as Tim spoke about his job and the camaraderie among the Officers at the station. It was clear he loved his work, and his passion was infectious.

As they finished their tacos, Tim leaned back against the picnic table, his eyes thoughtful. "You know, I've been thinking about what you said the other night, about not wanting to go to therapy."

"Oh?" Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow. She'd mentioned it in passing, but she wasn't expecting him to bring it up again.

“Yeah," Tim said, his gaze intense as he met her eyes. "You have what it takes, Lucy. I've seen you handle situations with confidence and care, and that's rare. You're smart, strong, and you've got a good head on your shoulders."

Her cheeks flushed with his praise, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

“Yeah,” Tim said without hesitation. “I do. You’ve got what it takes to be a phenomenal cop, and I’ve seen enough of you in action to know that. And if you made it through the Academy, which I know you can, you’d be unstoppable.”

Lucy felt a warm flush spread across her chest at his words. It wasn’t just his praise that caught her off guard; it was the quiet confidence in his voice, the belief he had in her. She shifted in her seat, unsure how to respond at first.

“Really?” she asked, her voice a bit softer than usual. “You really think I could do it?”

Tim gave a small, encouraging nod. “I know you could. You’re not just book-smart, Lucy. You’ve got a heart that knows how to take care of people, and a sharp mind that makes quick decisions. That’s exactly what it takes in this line of work. And you’ve got the guts to see it through.”

She paused, letting his words sink in. They felt like a quiet promise, and for the first time in a long while, Lucy allowed herself to think about it—really think about it. Could she do it? Could she leave everything behind, push past the expectations placed on her, and follow her own path?

“I don’t know,” she said after a beat, her eyes turning down toward her half-eaten lunch. “I mean, I always thought I had to do what everyone expected. You know, join the family business. My parents… they’ve always wanted me to be a therapist.” She hesitated, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. “But I don’t think I can. It’s just not me, you know?”

Tim’s gaze softened as he listened, his voice gentle. “I get it, Lucy. You don’t have to live their dream, you know? You’ve got your own path, and I think you’ve got the guts to take it.”

Lucy looked up at him, her heart stirring at his words. “It’s just… scary, you know? I’ve always felt like I’m walking a fine line, trying to make everyone happy but losing myself in the process.”

Tim leaned forward slightly, his eyes steady. “I remember you telling me that. And I get it. You’re not the kind of person to settle for something that doesn’t make you feel alive.”

She nodded slowly, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Maybe you’re right.” Tim smiled back, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “I know I am. And hey, if you want it bad enough, you’ll make it happen.”

Lucy took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to make her own choices. To stop worrying about what others expected and start focusing on what made her feel alive.

And maybe being a cop would do that

Chapter Text

The screen glowed in the dim room, casting stark shadows against the walls as descriptions of the police academy’s demands filled the space around her. Grueling physical training that left recruits gasping for air, sleepless nights spent poring over legal codes, and relentless mental tests designed to unearth every crack in their resolve. The Academy wasn’t just a training ground; it was a crucible.

Early morning runs before the sun broke the horizon. Hours spent on the shooting range, perfecting precision under pressure. Classroom sessions where failure wasn’t an option. Every detail she read painted a picture of transformation through pain and perseverance. “We don’t just build officers,” one testimonial stated. “We break down civilians.”

The words dug deep, making her pulse quicken. She had read stories of recruits quitting, pushed past their limits by the grueling process. Others described triumph—finding strength they never knew they had. Her mind swirled with images of obstacle courses, shouted commands, and nights spent questioning if she could handle one more day.

Her hand hovered over the trackpad, hesitating to scroll further. Could she endure this? Did she want to? The list of requirements stared back at her: grueling hours, intense physical training, and relentless studying. It wasn’t just about showing up—it was about surviving, thriving under pressure, and proving yourself day after day.

Her chest tightened as she thought about everything she already had on her plate. School was more than enough to keep her up late at night, her head buried in textbooks or her fingers flying across the keyboard. Balancing that with the Academy’s demands? It felt impossible, like stretching herself so thin she’d snap.

The more she thought about it, the more the doubt crept in. Could she really do this? Did she have the strength to add more to an already overwhelming schedule? Or was she setting herself up to fail before she even began?

A sound broke her train of thought, soft stirring from across the room. She glanced over at Rachel’s bed just as her roommate sat up, rubbing her eyes and fumbling for the lamp on her nightstand. The warm glow illuminated Rachel’s groggy face, her hair a mess from sleep.

Rachel squinted at Lucy, her voice groggy but laced with curiosity. “What are you doing?”

Lucy let out a small, awkward chuckle, her eyes darting from the screen back to Rachel. “I was just… reading through the LAPD Academy handbook,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual, as if it were no big deal.

Rachel froze for a moment, her drowsiness fading instantly. “Hold on. Did you just say the Academy handbook?” she asked, her voice sharp with disbelief.

“Yep, Tim seems to be convinced that I’d be a good cop.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, sitting up a little straighter, clearly intrigued. “Wait, Tim? He thinks you’d be a good cop?”

Lucy nodded, but the uncertainty was still there in her voice. “Yeah… he thinks I’ve got the instincts for it. And after that ride-along, I don’t know, maybe I’m starting to think he’s right. But it’s not that simple. I mean, being a cop is a whole different world, Rachel. The Academy, the training, the hours. It’s… it’s a lot.”

Rachel’s gaze softened a little. “I get it. It sounds like a huge jump, but… you’re not exactly someone who runs from challenges, are you?”

Lucy chuckled awkwardly, her fingers idly tapping on the edge of her phone. “No, I guess not. But it’s not just the challenge, it’s everything. I’ve spent my whole life on one path, and now I’m considering flipping it upside down. I don’t even know if I have what it takes to make it through the Academy, let alone actually do the job.”

Rachel tilted her head, studying her with an intensity that made Lucy feel like she was under a spotlight. “Okay, but listen to me. You’ve always been the person who goes for what you want, no matter how tough it is. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty and dive right into things. And if you’re saying that this feels right to you—if it excites you—then I have no doubt you could crush it. You know that, right?”

Lucy sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. There’s just a part of me that’s scared I’ll fail. That I won’t be able to handle the pressure, or the danger. What if I can’t cut it?”

Rachel snorted, shaking her head. “Are you seriously doubting yourself right now? You’re the one who doesn’t back down from anything. You’ve faced way harder shit than this, Lucy. And guess what? You always come out on top. So why would this be any different?”

Lucy hesitated for a moment, then leaned back against the wall, her eyes tracing the ceiling as if searching for answers. “It’s just that I’m not sure if I can really make a difference. I mean, there’s so much to learn, so much pressure. And then there’s Tim, telling me I’ve got potential… I don’t know. He’s so sure, and I’m still over here second-guessing everything.”

Rachel crossed her arms, her tone turning more serious. “Lucy, Tim’s not the only one who believes in you. I do, too. You’ve got something that most people don’t: a heart that wants to help. A brain that can read people and situations like nobody else. And that’s something that’s gonna make you an incredible cop. If you go for it, I know you’ll succeed. You’re not alone in this, alright?”

Lucy smiled softly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as Rachel’s words settled in. “Thanks, Rach. I really needed to hear that.”

Rachel grinned, her eyes lighting up. “You’re welcome, now go out there and kick some ass. But remember, no more doubting yourself, alright? You’ve got this.”

Lucy nodded, but the weight of her thoughts was evident in her furrowed brow. “It’s not that I’m doubting myself exactly,” she said slowly, “it’s just… I’m stuck. School is already a lot, and if I decide to go all in with the Academy, I don’t think I can do both. It’s one or the other.”

Rachel studied her for a moment, her expression softening. “Okay,” she said gently, “then which one do you want?”

Lucy blinked, the question hitting her harder than she expected. “I…” She hesitated, then let out a small laugh as the answer came to her. “I think I really want to do the Academy.” Her smile grew, bright and genuine. “I loved the ride-along. That feeling of helping people, being out there making a difference—it’s exactly what I want.”

Rachel broke into a grin, clapping her hands together. “There it is! That’s what I’m talking about. You know what you want, Luce. So go after it. Don’t overthink it—just go for it.”

Rachel broke into a grin, clapping her hands together. “There it is! That’s what I’m talking about. You know what you want, Luce. So go after it. Don’t overthink it—just go for it.”

Lucy smiled, though a hint of worry lingered in her eyes. “I hear you, but there’s a lot to figure out. I need to talk to the college administration about dropping my classes. I mean, I’m going to have to leave school if I do this. I can’t handle both.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “And then there’s my parents. God, they’re going to flip out when they find out I’m ditching psychology for the Academy.”

Rachel’s grin softened into something more understanding. “Yeah, they probably will. But, Lucy, this isn’t about them. This is about you. You’re not living their life—you’re living yours.”

“I know,” Lucy murmured, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “It’s just… they’ve paid for so much, and they’ve always expected me to follow their path. I don’t even know how to start that conversation without it turning into a fight.”

Rachel leaned forward, her expression fierce but encouraging. “Look, they might not get it right away, but that doesn’t mean they won’t eventually. You’ve got to stand your ground and show them how serious you are. And if they do flip out? Well, you’ve handled worse—you’re tougher than you think.”

Lucy let out a small laugh, but it was more from nervousness than humor. “I guess. But I don’t want to disappoint them. I don’t know if they’ll ever understand why I’m doing this.”

Rachel tilted her head, her tone softening. “Luce, disappointing them isn’t the same as failing. You’re allowed to make choices they don’t agree with. What matters is that you’re doing something that excites you, that makes you happy. And I know this makes you happy—you’ve got that glow, girl.”

Lucy chuckled, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “The glow?”

“Yeah,” Rachel said with a smirk. “The ‘I’m about to kick ass and change my life’ glow. It suits you.”

Lucy shook her head, smiling despite herself. “Thanks, Rach. I think… I think I’ll start by talking to the administration. Get everything lined up before I break the news to my parents. One step at a time, right?”

“Exactly,” Rachel said, her tone full of certainty. “And whatever happens, you’ve got me. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Exactly,” Rachel said, her tone full of certainty. “And whatever happens, you’ve got me. We’ll figure it out together.”

Lucy let out a breath, feeling the weight of her worries lift just a little. “Thanks, Rach. Seriously. You always know just what to say to make things feel a little less… overwhelming.”

Rachel smiled warmly, flopping back onto her bed with a soft groan. “I try. I mean, I’ve had a lot of practice listening to you freak out over every decision in your life.”

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh, her shoulders relaxing. “Hey, it’s not my fault I’m an overthinker. You know this.”

Rachel smirked, rolling onto her side to face her. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a thinker. But you’re also a doer, Luce. That’s why you’re gonna figure this whole thing out. You’ve got it in you.”

Lucy nodded thoughtfully, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. After a moment of silence, she hesitated, her fingers twisting a loose thread on her blanket. “You know, I was thinking… since Tim’s been through the Academy, maybe he could help me study for it or something. I mean, he’s already survived the whole thing, so he’d know exactly what to focus on.”

Rachel’s smirk turned into a grin, her teasing mode kicking in instantly. “Oh, Tim, huh? Is that the only reason you’re thinking about him? Just for his study tips?”

Lucy shot her a mock glare, but the blush creeping up her cheeks gave her away. “Shut up, Rachel. I’m serious. He’s already been through all of it, and he knows what it takes. It’d be stupid not to at least ask him for advice.”

Rachel sat up, resting her chin on her hand as she gave Lucy a knowing look. “Sure, sure. But let’s not pretend that’s the only reason you’re bringing him up. Come on, you’ve got that look on your face again. Spill.”

Lucy groaned, sinking lower into her blanket. “What look? I don’t have a look.”

“Oh, you totally do. It’s the I like him so much it’s ridiculous look. And it’s written all over your face right now,” Rachel said, her grin widening.

Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Okay, fine, maybe I do have a look. But it’s not my fault that Tim is just… so amazing.” She leaned back against her pillows, her thoughts drifting to him. “I mean, he’s incredible, Rach. Every time we’re together, I just feel… I don’t know, like everything’s right. He makes me feel so safe, like I can finally breathe and be myself, and he always knows the right thing to say when I’m freaking out. He’s not just a good guy; he’s a great guy.”

Rachel chuckled, clearly amused by how dreamy Lucy sounded. “Wow, okay, someone’s a little smitten,” she teased, nudging her with her elbow.

Lucy laughed, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the thought of Tim. “I can’t help it. He’s just… everything I’ve needed, you know?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “So, what’s the plan for Thanksgiving? You and your amazing guy doing anything special?”

Lucy paused, her mind swirling with the thought of Tim. “Honestly? I haven’t really thought about it. It just kind of snuck up on me.”

Rachel leaned back, clearly amused. “Sounds like you’ve been too busy thinking about him to make any real plans.”

Lucy laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe a little. But I’ve got a ton of stuff on my plate right now with the Academy and all that. I’m just trying to get through the week without losing my mind.”

Rachel nodded sympathetically. “I get it, stress overload. But I think you deserve a little break, you know? And I’m guessing Thanksgiving’s going to be… what, another dinner with your parents?”

Lucy grimaced. “Yeah, the usual. Family dinner that’s always a little too tense for comfort.”

Rachel smirked, her tone playful. “So, why don’t you mix it up a little? Why not bring Tim with you?”

Lucy’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide. “Bring him? To dinner with my parents? Are you insane?” She let out a nervous laugh. “It’s way too soon for that. They’d totally freak out. I can’t just spring him on them like that.”

Rachel shrugged, unphased. “Why not? It’s Thanksgiving, you know, a time for family, for being grateful. Plus, if you’re serious about him, it might be a good way for your parents to see what he’s really like.”

Lucy let out a frustrated sigh, her shoulders tensing. “You really want me to bring him to dinner after everything with my parents?” She shook her head, the memories flooding back. “Rachel, when they found out I had a boyfriend, they freaked out. Told me I was just wasting my time, like I was some teenager who couldn’t make my own decisions. It got so bad, I just walked out of dinner. Haven’t talked to them since.”

Rachel’s face softened in sympathy, but she still didn’t back down. “I get it, Luce. They can be real hard-asses about stuff, and I know you’ve been through a lot with them. But maybe that’s exactly why bringing Tim is a good idea. Show them what they’re missing by pushing you away. If Tim’s the guy you think he is, they might just have to accept that you’re serious about him.”

Lucy looked down at her hands, the weight of her parents’ rejection still fresh in her mind. “It’s just… I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of confrontation. They’ve made it clear they don’t approve of my choices, and if I bring him, they’re just going to think I’m trying to force them to accept something they don’t want.”

Rachel leaned back against the bed, crossing her arms. “Well, you’ve got to show them, eventually. Whether it’s now or later, if you’re serious about Tim, they’re going to have to get on board at some point. You’re not a little girl anymore, Luce. It’s your life, not theirs. If they can’t see that, that’s on them.”

Lucy chewed on her lip, still unsure. “I know, I know. It just feels like one more thing to juggle. I’ve got enough going on with the Academy and trying to figure out my own future, without throwing them into the mix.”

Rachel’s voice softened. “I get it, Luce. You don’t have to rush into anything. But just remember that you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here for you, okay?”

Lucy nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thanks, Rach. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Rachel grinned, stretching her arms above her head. “Anytime. But it’s 3 AM, and I’m pretty sure you’re not meant to be staying up this late. I don’t think any of us are, to be honest.”

Lucy laughed softly, the tension from earlier starting to fade. “Yeah, I guess I’ve had enough late-night therapy for one night.”

“Good,” Rachel said, reaching over to turn off her lamp. She lay back down, pulling the covers up. “Now get some sleep before your brain turns to mush. You’ve got a big day ahead of you, and I’m sure Tim’s going to be dying to hear all about this conversation tomorrow.”

Lucy chuckled, but as Rachel settled in, she picked up her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she started typing.

To: Timothy Bradford
From: Lucy Chen
How would you feel about going to my parents’ for Thanksgiving?

She hit send, her heart racing just a little.

Chapter Text

To: Timothy Bradford
From: Lucy Chen
How would you feel about going to my parents’ for Thanksgiving?

Tim stared at the message, his heart pounding like he’d just chased a suspect down an alley. Thanksgiving with her parents? They’d only been dating for a little while, but this felt like a leap into territory he wasn’t sure he was ready to navigate. Meeting her parents wasn’t just dinner—it was opening himself up to scrutiny, to questions, to expectations he wasn’t sure he could meet.

His thumb hovered over the screen as he tried to think of a response, but all he could do was stare. The words blurred as the weight of his secret pressed down on him, heavier than ever. Isabel.

He leaned back on the couch, scrubbing his hand over his face. How was he supposed to sit across the table from Lucy’s parents, make polite conversation, and pretend he wasn’t still legally tied to someone else? It wasn’t like he wanted to keep it from her. He’d tried to tell her once or twice, but the timing had always felt… wrong.

Now the timing wasn’t just wrong—it was impossible. What would she think when she found out? Would she feel betrayed? Lied to? And worse, what if her parents asked him about his past? About his life? He couldn’t keep dodging it, and Thanksgiving was a pressure cooker he wasn’t sure he could handle.

His phone buzzed again, and for a second, his chest tightened, thinking it was Lucy. But no, it was just a weather alert. He sighed, tossing the phone onto the coffee table.

He got up and paced the room, the knot in his stomach tightening with every step. He could almost hear her parents’ voices in his head. So, Tim, how long have you been single? Do you see a future with our daughter? He didn’t even know if he could honestly answer those questions.

Isabel’s name hovered like a ghost in the back of his mind. They weren’t together anymore, hadn’t been for a long time, but the paperwork said otherwise. He hadn’t even told Lucy why Isabel left—hadn’t told her about the distance, the fights, the silence that had grown between them until she disappeared completely. It wasn’t like he owed Isabel anything anymore, but the fact that he hadn’t cleaned up that part of his life made it feel like a tether he couldn’t cut loose.

Tim let out a frustrated groan and grabbed his keys. He couldn’t keep sitting here, stewing in his thoughts. He needed perspective, and he knew exactly where to get it.

Angela opened her front door with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as Tim stood there holding a six-pack of beer. “Well, this is either a bribe or a cry for help. Which is it?”

Tim didn’t even crack a smile. He held up the six-pack. “Can’t it be both?”

Angela snorted and stepped aside to let him in. “Come on, Bradford. Spill it. I know that face, and it’s got ‘Chen’ written all over it.”

Tim walked inside, setting the beer down on the counter before cracking one open. He took a long swig before answering. “She asked me to go to her parents’ for Thanksgiving.”

Angela tilted her head, a grin tugging at her lips. “And you’re freaking out. Why am I not surprised?”

He shot her a look. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Angela teased, grabbing a beer for herself. “You’re scared of meeting her parents? What, you think they’re gonna grill you like a perp in interrogation?”

Tim leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening as he took another sip of his beer. “It’s not that simple. I just feel like… we’re in a good place, you know? Our relationship’s had a good pace. Jumping to meeting her parents feels… fast. Too much, too soon.”

Angela arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Fast? Bradford, you spent the night at her place last week. You’ve taken her on ride-alongs. You two are practically inseparable. But meeting her parents? That’s where you draw the line?”

“That’s different,” Tim argued, though the heat rising in his neck betrayed his unease. “All of that… it’s just us. This feels like putting us under a microscope.”

Angela smirked, leaning against the counter opposite him. “You’re scared they won’t like you. Admit it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Tim muttered, though the defensive edge in his voice made Angela laugh.

“Tim Bradford, scared of impressing the Chen family. You’ve faced down armed suspects without breaking a sweat, but a home-cooked meal and some polite small talk? Terrifying.”

He glared at her, though there wasn’t much bite in it. “I’m being serious, Angela.”

“I know you are,” she said, her teasing tone softening slightly. “But you’re overthinking this. Lucy obviously wants you to meet them, which means she already thinks you’re good enough. Why do you keep looking for reasons to complicate things?”

Tim hesitated, rolling the bottle between his hands. “I just don’t want to screw this up. Things are good right now. What if meeting her parents adds pressure we’re not ready for?”

Angela shook her head, grinning. “You really don’t get it, do you? Meeting her parents isn’t about pressure; it’s about her wanting to share more of her life with you. It’s a compliment, Bradford, not a death sentence.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well… it still feels like a lot.”

Angela shrugged, taking a sip of her beer. “What’s the worst that could happen? They ask you if you’ve been married before?”

Tim froze, the bottle halfway to his lips. His grip tightened slightly, and Angela caught the subtle shift in his expression. Her grin faded, replaced with a knowing look as the silence stretched between them.

“You still haven’t told her?”

Tim set the bottle down, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “No.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. After all this time, still not telling her?” She shook her head, incredulous. “What the hell are you waiting for, Tim?”

Tim’s jaw clenched as he glanced away, his fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the counter. “It’s not that simple. It’s… complicated, okay? I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Angela’s expression softened, though the sarcasm didn’t quite leave her tone. “Complicated, huh? Yeah, I get it. But you’re making it harder than it needs to be. You can’t just keep dodging the truth forever. You’ve been hiding this from her since day one, and you think it’s gonna work forever?”

Tim shook his head, letting out a low sigh. “No, I don’t. I know it’s only a matter of time before it comes out, but that doesn’t make it any easier. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Lucy, before we sit down with your family for Thanksgiving, there’s this thing I should’ve told you about months ago’?”

Angela arched an eyebrow, her tone firm but not unkind. “Not at Thanksgiving, obviously. That’s not the time or place for a conversation like this. But you do need to tell her, Tim. You can’t keep putting it off forever. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be.”

Tim leaned against the counter, gripping the edge as he let out a frustrated breath. “I know. I just… every time I think about telling her, it feels like I’m dropping a grenade. Things are good right now, and I don’t want to blow it all up.”

Angela’s expression softened, though her voice stayed steady. “I get that. But think about this: what’s going to hurt more—her finding out from you now, or later when she feels like you’ve been hiding it? You care about her, right?”

Tim met her gaze, his jaw tightening. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust her enough to tell her the truth. Not tomorrow, not next week—when the time is right. But soon, Bradford. She deserves that much.”

Tim nodded slowly, her words settling in his chest like a weight he couldn’t ignore. “Yeah, I know you’re right.”

Angela smirked faintly. “Of course I’m right. I’m always right. And as for Thanksgiving…”

Tim gave her a wary look. “What about Thanksgiving?”

“You’re going,” Angela said without hesitation, taking another sip of her beer.

“You’re sure about that?”

“Positive. Look, Lucy invited you because she wants you there. If she thought it was too soon, she wouldn’t have asked. Trust her judgment on this. It’s a big deal to her, Bradford—don’t blow it by overthinking everything.”

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What if it’s a disaster?”

Angela grinned, her tone light but reassuring. “Then you text me, and I’ll talk you through it. Or bring you more beer. But seriously, you’re gonna be fine. Be yourself, maybe smile a little—it won’t kill you.”

Tim rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Angela walked him to the door, her expression softening again as she opened it. “You’ve got this, Bradford. Just don’t let your own doubts get in the way. And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ang.” He nodded, the gratitude in his voice sincere as he stepped out into the night.

Sitting in his truck, Tim stared at his phone one last time, Angela’s words still echoing in his mind. Taking a deep breath, he typed his response, letting instinct guide him this time instead of doubt.

To: Lucy Chen
From: Timothy Bradford
I’d love that let me know the time and place and I will pick you up

He hit send, setting the phone on the passenger seat and leaning back with a faint smile. It wasn’t going to be easy, but for Lucy, he was willing to try.

Chapter Text

Tim stood in front of the mirror, concentrating on the buttons of his dress shirt. He adjusted the collar, his reflection staring back at him with a quiet intensity. His thoughts were racing—meeting Lucy’s parents tonight was a big deal. He was used to handling his own, but hers? That was uncharted territory. His mind kept bouncing between the uncertainty of it all and the anticipation that came with being so close to her.

The click of heels on the floor broke his focus, and he turned just as Lucy stepped into view. The black dress she wore seemed to swallow up the space around her, clinging in all the right ways. The fabric hugged her figure, the soft satin glinting slightly under the lights. Her wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose curls, framing her face in a way that made his breath catch.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, trying not to let his jaw drop. He had seen her dressed up before, but tonight felt different—like she was glowing, somehow more untouchable and beautiful than usual.

“You look… wow,” he said, his voice almost catching as he met her eyes.

Lucy grinned, her lips curving into that teasing smile he had come to adore. “I could say the same about you, but I’ll let you finish getting ready,” she teased, her gaze flicking down at his tie. “Need help with that?”

Tim straightened, brushing a hand over the loose tie draped around his neck. He smirked, shaking his head. “I don’t need help with my tie. I know how to do it.”

Lucy stepped closer, the soft click of her heels against the floor making his pulse jump. Her grin widened as she stood just inches from him, tilting her head. “I know you do,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “But let me help anyway.”

Before he could protest, her fingers brushed his as she took hold of the tie. Her touch sent a spark down his spine, and he stayed still, watching her. She made quick work of straightening the fabric, her movements slow and deliberate.

“You’re really taking your time,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he caught the playful gleam in her eyes.

“Am I?” she asked innocently, looking up at him through her lashes. She smoothed the tie down his chest, her hands lingering just a second too long. “Maybe I just like doing this. You don’t wear ties often, and it suits you.”

He couldn’t stop the soft chuckle that escaped him, the tension in his shoulders easing under her gentle focus. “You’ve got opinions about my wardrobe now?”

Lucy shrugged, her fingers grazing his collar as she adjusted it. “Just saying. You look good. Really good.”

Tim huffed a soft laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders as he looked down at her. “Well, you’re not making it easier to focus.”

She tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is my helping a distraction?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, smirking.

Lucy chuckled, patting his chest lightly as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “There. Perfect. See? You didn’t even need to lift a finger.”

Tim looked down at the neatly tied knot and nodded, impressed. “Okay, I’ll admit it—you’re better at this than I am.”

She grinned triumphantly before her expression softened. “Are you nervous?”

“About?”

“About dinner?”

He hesitated, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “A little. I mean, meeting your parents… it’s...uh well you know it's a big deal.”

Her smile softened, and she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know it is. But I’ve got your back. Besides, you’re pretty good at handling tough situations. Just channel your cop mode.“

“You’re saying I should treat your parents like suspects?”

“Exactly!” Lucy exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement. She turned him to face her, her hands resting on his shoulders. “They can be tough. They’re like that with everyone. But you? You know how to read people. You deal with the worst of the worst every day, so surely you can handle a little interrogation over dinner, right?”

Tim rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Is that what you’re calling it? A little interrogation?”

“Well, you know what I mean. They’re just... intense. They expect a lot, especially from anyone I bring home. But they’re not monsters. Just... be prepared to answer a lot of questions. And maybe don’t let your guard down too much.” Lucy’s fingers tightened slightly on his shoulders, her smile fading to something more serious. “They can be a bit... judgy.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in her tone. He turned fully to face her, his expression softening. “Judgy, huh?” he asked, his voice teasing but with an edge of concern. “You sure you want me to meet these people?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, her grip on his shoulders loosening. “They’re not that bad. Besides, it’s important to me. You know that.”

Tim nodded, swallowing his nerves. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said, reaching for her hand.

They walked out of the house, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the warmth inside. His hand felt warm and steady in hers as they approached his truck, parked under the streetlight. The chrome gleamed, and he opened the door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat with ease.

As he came around and climbed in Tim took a deep breath and started the engine, feeling the rumble vibrate through his body. He glanced over at Lucy, her profile lit by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. She was nervously playing with the hem of her dress, a habit of hers that he had come to find endearing. The little movements—her fingers tugging at the fabric—seemed to mirror his own anxiety, though she was definitely doing a better job of hiding it than he was.

The truck pulled out of the driveway, and the streets outside were quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional rush of wind outside. Tim’s thoughts drifted back to Angela’s words from earlier. “You can text me anytime tonight if you need help with what to say.” The idea that he could lean on someone else for advice was oddly comforting, even though he had no idea what to expect tonight. It felt like he was walking into uncharted territory—meeting Lucy’s parents, knowing they probably weren’t going to roll out the welcome mat for him. The weight of it all was heavier than he had expected.

His gaze shifted back to Lucy, who was still focused on the fabric of her dress, her brow furrowed slightly. He tried to steady his thoughts, but the nervous tension in his chest made it hard to focus on anything for too long.

As the truck rumbled down the road, Tim’s thoughts began to wander once more. He couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d celebrated Thanksgiving. Isabel had been home back then. Everything had felt normal, familiar. It was a time when he’d felt grounded, comfortable, surrounded by the life he thought would never change.

Now, as he glanced over at Lucy, the world seemed different. She was here with him, not Isabel, not his wife, and that thought hit him harder than he expected. There was a warmth that settled over him just from being in her presence, a feeling of being alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just the comfort of her smile or the quiet way she held his hand—it was something deeper, a sense that everything was about to change, and he didn’t know if he was ready for it.

But, damn, he liked the idea of it.

He was jolted from his thoughts when Lucy gently squeezed his hand, her fingers brushing over his palm. He looked over at her, catching her eyes for a brief moment before she lowered her gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice low but steady. “You okay?”

Tim blinked, his hand tightening around hers instinctively. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

Her smile softened, and she shifted in her seat to face him a little more directly. “About what?”

“Everything, I guess. Just... what this means. Meeting your folks. It’s kind of a big step for us, isn’t it?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes on the road ahead. “Yeah, it is. But you can handle it. Just be yourself.”

Tim laughed, a hint of nervousness in his tone. “Easy for you to say. You know them.”

“Well, you know me, and I can be pretty intense,” Lucy countered, her smile never wavering. “If you can handle me, you can handle them.”

Tim’s chuckle was a mix of nerves and affection. “That’s debatable,” he said, his gaze flicking back to the road. They drove a few more minutes before Lucy spoke up again, her voice a little more serious. “Tim, really, it’s going to be fine. They’re going to love you. You’re... well, you’re amazing.”

He felt his cheeks warm under her praise, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. “Thanks,” he murmured, not quite believing her.

As they turned down the tree-lined street, Lucy’s house came into view. It was a beautiful, two-story building with lights shining warmly through the windows, casting a cozy glow onto the surrounding lawn. His heart skipped a beat—this was it. The moment of truth.

Tim slowed the truck, parking at the curb, the soft hum of the engine cutting through the silence. He glanced over at Lucy, her hand still in his, and saw the small, reassuring smile on her face. “You ready?” she asked, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of nerves.

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

They both climbed out of the truck, the cool evening air brushing against their faces. Lucy walked ahead, her steps confident, but Tim could feel the tension in his chest as they approached the front door. He tried to steady his breath, but everything felt like it was happening so fast.

Lucy reached for the doorbell and pressed it lightly. The sound echoed through the house, sharp and final, and before Tim could fully brace himself, the door swung open.

Her mother stood in the doorway, tall and poised, with an air of practiced elegance that only made the tension in the air more palpable. Her sharp eyes immediately flicked over Lucy, scanning her up and down like she was searching for something to criticize.

“Lucy,” her mother said, her tone neutral, bordering on cold. “You’re late.”

Lucy’s smile was tight, forced. “We’re not late, Mom. Dinner’s at seven, and it’s—” she glanced at her phone, “—6:58.”

Her mother didn’t acknowledge the correction, her gaze already shifting to Tim. Her expression didn’t soften, but she extended her hand, her movements precise. “You must be Timothy.”

Tim stepped forward, feeling the weight of her scrutiny as her eyes swept over him. He offered a polite smile, shaking her hand firmly. “Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Her grip was firm but cool, her smile faint and devoid of warmth. “Well, come in. Let’s not keep everyone waiting.” She stepped aside, motioning them into the house.

Lucy shot Tim a quick, apologetic look before stepping through the door, her shoulders visibly tensing as they entered. Tim followed, his eyes scanning the pristine, tastefully decorated interior. Everything about the house screamed perfection, but it was the kind of perfection that felt sterile, suffocating.

As they walked further inside, Lucy’s mother’s voice followed them, sharp and clipped. “I hope you’re hungry. I spent all afternoon preparing dinner, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

Lucy sighed softly, so faint Tim almost missed it. “Of course, Mom. We’re starving.”

Tim could sense the tension radiating off Lucy in waves, and he instinctively reached for her hand, giving it a subtle squeeze. She glanced up at him, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile, but the worry in her eyes didn’t fade.

They followed Lucy’s mother into the kitchen, the scent of roasting turkey and baking pies filling the air. Lucy’s father was at the counter, a beer in one hand and a carving knife in the other. He looked up as they entered, his eyes lighting up when he saw Lucy.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, her voice a mix of affection and tension.

Her father set the carving knife down with a sharp clink, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to face them. He raised an eyebrow as he took in Tim, his expression already unimpressed. “Well, look who’s here. And you are?” He squinted at Tim, his voice laced with a sharp edge, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

“This is Tim, my…” Lucy faltered, her eyes flicking nervously to Tim before settling back on her father. Tim could feel the weight of her hesitation, but he stepped forward, extending his hand with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Chen.”

Her father eyed his hand for a moment before grasping it firmly. The handshake was brief but firm—almost too firm. “So you’re the one who’s been keeping my little girl distracted lately,” he said, his smile thin and tight, barely a shadow of warmth in his eyes.

Tim nodded, forcing a smile. “Just trying to keep up with her, sir,” he said, hoping the lightness in his voice might soften the edge in the air.

He didn’t look up, his attention firmly on the turkey as he picked up the carving knife once more. “I’m sure you are,” he said, his voice low and even, the words carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of disapproval. He carved with painstaking precision, the blade slicing cleanly through the meat, his movements slow and deliberate—as though the act demanded his full focus.

Lucy sat stiffly beside Tim, her lips pressed into a thin line. Though she remained silent, the tension in her posture spoke volumes. Tim, keenly aware of the hostility simmering beneath her father’s calm exterior, resolved to keep his tone measured. This wasn’t the moment for confrontation, though the evening was rapidly unraveling into the uncomfortable experience Lucy had clearly feared.

The silence dragged on, broken only by the faint scrape of the knife against the cutting board. When her father finally finished, he set the blade aside and arranged the turkey slices on a platter with meticulous care. Without looking at anyone, he gave a curt nod toward the dining room. “Let’s eat.”

Lucy’s mother, already on her way out with a bowl of green beans, cast a glance over her shoulder. “Sit. Both of you,” she ordered briskly before disappearing into the next room.

Tim exchanged a wary glance with Lucy, who managed a tight, strained smile. He followed her to the dining table, where her parents were already taking their seats. As soon as everyone settled in, the atmosphere grew heavier, the silence practically vibrating with unspoken tension.

Lucy had barely placed her napkin on her lap when her mother’s sharp voice sliced through the quiet. “So, Lucy,” she said, her tone clipped and direct, “Since you haven’t bothered to visit since your little announcement, I think we’re long overdue for an explanation.”

“Announcement?” Tim repeated, confused. His gaze darted to Lucy, who flushed a deep crimson.

“She means when I told them I was dating someone,” Lucy muttered without looking up, her focus locked on her plate.

“Oh.”

“No,” he said bluntly. “You didn’t just tell us. You dropped that on us and left before we could ask a single question.” His gaze narrowed. “And now, here you are.”

“Dad, can we not do this?” Lucy said, her voice strained, each word laced with quiet frustration.

Her father leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving Tim. “Not do what, exactly? Ask reasonable questions? You brought him here, Lucy. Surely, you expected us to be curious.”

Tim could feel the weight of the room pressing down on him, but he held his posture steady, refusing to let the tension rattle him. He glanced at Lucy, her jaw set and her hands clenched tightly around her fork. Taking a small breath, he decided to step in before the evening spiraled further.

“It’s okay, Lucy,” he said softly, his voice calm. Then, turning his attention to her father, he offered a polite smile. “I understand this is a big step, sir. I’d be happy to answer any questions you have.”

Lucy shot him a quick look, her eyes a mix of gratitude and unease. Her father raised an eyebrow, as though surprised by Tim’s composure, before sitting back in his chair. “Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s start simple. What do you do for work, Tim?”

Tim adjusted his posture, keeping his voice steady. “I’m a police officer. I’ve been with the department for about eight years now.”

The words seemed to cast a chill over the table. Lucy’s father frowned slightly, and her mother set down her wineglass with a deliberate clink. They exchanged a glance, one filled with quiet agreement.

“A cop,” her father said, his tone dry. “Well, I suppose someone has to do it.”

Lucy’s mother, who had been watching Tim closely, leaned forward slightly. Her expression was polite, but there was an unmistakable edge in her voice. “You’ve been doing that for eight years, you said? That’s… a long time for a career like that.”

Tim nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It’s challenging, but it’s work I believe in.”

Her mother arched a brow. “Work you believe in,” she repeated, as though tasting the phrase. “And what, exactly, do you believe in? Writing tickets? Chasing people down for minor infractions?”

Tim hesitated, caught off guard by her bluntness. “I believe in protecting people,” he said carefully. “In serving my community and making it safer.”

Lucy’s father let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Safer. That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucy cut in, her voice tight with irritation.

Her father ignored her, keeping his gaze fixed on Tim. “I mean, you enforce the laws the city decides to put in place. A lot of those laws don’t do much except make life harder for people who are already struggling. You ever think about that?”

“Or,” her mother added smoothly, “about how often the people you’re ‘protecting’ feel harassed instead? Because from where I’m sitting, police work doesn’t seem like it’s about serving the community—it’s about control.”

Tim felt heat rising in his chest, but before he could respond, Lucy’s hand rested on his thigh under the table. The touch was firm but calming, grounding him. He glanced at her, catching the small shake of her head and the quiet plea in her eyes.

Taking a slow breath, Tim forced himself to keep his voice steady. “Well,” he said after a pause, “what do you both do for work?”

The shift in topic was deliberate, and it caught Lucy’s parents slightly off guard. Her father leaned back, his expression cooling a fraction. “We’re therapists,” he said, gesturing toward Lucy’s mother. “We run a practice together.”

“Marriage counseling,” her mother added. “Family therapy, individual sessions—we handle a bit of everything. It’s demanding, but it’s meaningful work. We help people find real solutions to their problems.”

Her father nodded, his tone turning thoughtful. “We’re not just dealing with symptoms—we’re getting to the root causes. That’s the difference. It’s about healing, not just patching things up for a quick fix.”

Tim nodded politely, though the implicit criticism wasn’t lost on him. “That sounds rewarding,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “Helping people in that way takes a lot of patience and skill.”

“It does,” her mother agreed, leaning forward slightly. “And it requires empathy. Real empathy. You have to understand people—not just enforce rules and move on.”

Lucy shifted beside him, her body tense, but she didn’t interrupt. Her father continued, his voice gaining a sharper edge. “It’s the kind of work that makes a real difference. We’re not just stepping in and leaving—we’re creating lasting change. That’s what I wanted for Lucy. For her to do something meaningful.”

“She will,” her mother added with a small smile, her tone softening as she looked at Lucy. “She’s planning to join us after she finishes her degree in psychology.”

He smiled, glancing at Lucy. “Well, actually, she—”

Lucy’s hand shot out like a vice, gripping his leg hard enough to make him flinch. The pressure of her nails digging into his thigh stopped his words dead. He turned to her, startled, and saw the silent plea in her eyes. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, her expression all but screaming, Don’t say it.

“Like I said, psychology has always been my passion,” she said quickly, her voice brittle with forced enthusiasm. “It’s why I picked the major in the first place. I mean, who better to guide me than you two?”

Her father tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Funny,” he said, his voice calm but edged with suspicion. “It didn’t sound like Tim was about to say that.”

Her mother arched a brow, setting her fork down with deliberate care. “Exactly,” she said, her tone sharp but measured. “Tim, what were you about to say?”

Tim froze, caught between the unyielding gaze of her parents and Lucy’s silent plea beside him. He glanced at her again, and she gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head, her grip still firm on his leg. “Uh… well…” he started, his voice faltering under the pressure.

“It’s really not important,” Lucy cut in again, her words sharp and a little too quick. “Can we not turn this into a thing? Dinner’s going to get cold.”

Her father didn’t move, his eyes locked on Tim like a predator sizing up its prey. “Lucy,” he said, his tone sharpening, authority dripping from every syllable. “If this isn’t a big deal, why are you so desperate to shut it down?”

Lucy’s jaw clenched, her face flushing with frustration. She looked down at the table, her hands curling into fists in her lap. “Because it’s Thanksgiving,” she bit out finally, her voice taut and bitter, “and I didn’t want to start a fight. But apparently, that’s inevitable with you two.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed, the softness gone. “Lucy, don’t make this about us,” she said coldly, her fork clattering against her plate as she set it down. “If there’s something going on, just say it. We’re not mind readers.”

“Right,” Lucy shot back, her voice rising as her brittle composure cracked. “You’re not mind readers, but you sure love jumping to conclusions, don’t you?”

“Lucy,” her father interrupted, his tone low and edged with warning. “That’s enough. We’re asking you a simple question. Either you tell us what’s going on, or we sit here until you do. Your choice.”

Tim shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Lucy, but she ignored him, her gaze fixed on her father. Her lip curled slightly, and for a moment, it looked like she might refuse. Then she let out a sharp, bitter laugh and threw her hands up.

“Fine. You want the truth?” she snapped, her voice trembling with anger. “Here it is: I’ve been thinking about quitting psychology. Hell, maybe even college altogether. There. Happy now?”
she crossed her arms over her chest, her chin jutting out defiantly. “I didn’t say anything because it’s Thanksgiving,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less sharp. “But of course, you couldn’t help yourselves. You just had to push.”

The silence was suffocating, heavy as stone and pressing down on Lucy’s chest until she could barely breathe. She stared at the table, the knot in her stomach tightening with every second that passed. She didn’t need to look up to know her parents were watching her—she could feel their eyes, sharp and probing, as though they could bore into her skull and extract the truth she was trying so hard to hold onto.

Her mother’s fork hovered above her plate for a moment before she set it down with a sharp clink, her movements slow and deliberate. The tension in the room was a living thing, thick and choking.

“You better be fucking joking,” her mother finally said, her voice cold and cutting.

Lucy swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I’m not joking,” she said quietly, but the weight behind her words made the room feel even heavier.

Her father leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, his gaze fixed on her like a spotlight. “You’re serious? You want to quit college?” he said, his voice low but brimming with restrained anger.

“Yes,” Lucy said, a little louder this time. Her hands were trembling, so she clasped them tightly in her lap, forcing herself to sit up straighter. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Thinking about what, exactly?” she said, her tone like ice. “Because I can’t wait to hear how this makes any sense.”

Lucy inhaled deeply, bracing herself. “I want to join the police academy,” she said finally, her voice steady but tight. The words came out like a challenge, and the moment they left her lips, the room seemed to freeze entirely.

“You’re not serious,” she said, her tone cold and sharp.

Her father leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he folded his arms. “The police academy?” he repeated, his voice simmering with disbelief. “You’re telling us you want to drop out of college—throw away all the time, effort, and money you’ve put into it—to become a cop?”

Lucy met their gazes head-on, though her heart was racing. “Yes,” she said firmly. “It’s what I want to do.”

Her mother’s lips parted in a bitter laugh, short and humorless. “What you want?” she said sharply. “Lucy, we didn’t raise you to make decisions like this. Do you even understand what you’re doing?”

“I do,” Lucy said, her voice rising slightly. “I want to help people—”

Her mother cut her off, her voice laced with disdain. “Help people?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “You would be helping people with your psychology degree, Lucy. You’d be helping them work through their problems, guiding them to solutions that actually change their lives. Instead, you want to run around with a badge and a gun and call that ‘helping people’?”

Her father leaned back, his expression darkening further. “Your mother’s right. You think you’re going to be some noble protector, but the reality is, you’re not helping anyone. You’re enforcing laws—laws that often hurt people more than they help. That’s the truth about being a cop, Lucy. It’s not what you think it is.”

“That’s not true,” Lucy snapped, her voice trembling with anger. “Not every cop is like that. There are good ones—ones who actually care about their communities and make a difference.”

“Like him?” her mother said sharply, cutting her gaze toward Tim for the first time.

Lucy froze, her face flushing with heat. “Leave him out of this,” she said through gritted teeth.

Her mother broke the silence, her voice dripping with scorn. “Oh, I’m sure this has everything to do with Tim,” she sneered, leaning forward. “Don’t you dare try to act like it doesn’t. You’ve been dating him for a few weeks, Lucy. A few weeks. And now, suddenly, you’re ready to throw away your entire future to join the police force? What’s the plan here? Follow him around like some desperate, lovesick little puppy, hoping he’ll validate your ridiculous choices?”

“Mom, stop it!” Lucy snapped, her voice shaking as she gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her eyes burned, but her mother was relentless.

“No, I won’t stop,” her mother shot back, her voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re throwing away a perfectly good life—one we’ve worked so hard to give you—for what? To become a cop? A glorified bully with a gun? You think that’s noble? You think that’s something to be proud of? It’s disgusting, Lucy. It’s a slap in the face to everything we’ve done for you.”

Lucy opened her mouth to argue, but her father cut her off, his voice cold and steady, like a blade sliding between her ribs. “You’ve had everything, Lucy,” he said, his words deliberate and dripping with disappointment. “A stable path. A future. The kind of opportunities most people only dream about. And this—this is what you do with it? You’d rather chase some reckless, immature fantasy because you don’t have the guts to stick with something real?”

“I have the guts,” Lucy said, her voice trembling but defiant. Tears stung at her eyes, threatening to spill, but she refused to let them fall.

Her father laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You?” he said, his voice laced with contempt. “You don’t know the first thing about real work, Lucy. You’ve never had to. Everything’s been handed to you on a silver platter. College? Paid for. A stable career? Practically gift-wrapped. And now, you’re ready to throw it all away like it’s nothing. Do you even understand how selfish that is?”

Lucy shook her head, her frustration spilling over as she raised her voice. “I’m not being selfish!” she cried, her voice breaking. Tears slid down her cheeks despite her best efforts to hold them back. “I’m trying to do something I care about, something that—”

“That what?” her father interrupted, his voice booming across the room. “That matters? Don’t give me that crap. This isn’t about helping anyone. This is about running away because you don’t want to face responsibility. Because it’s easier for you to quit than to stick with something and actually finish it.”

Her mother scoffed, her arms crossing as she glared at Lucy. “And you’ve always been like this. Always looking for the next thing to make you feel important. Journalism, psychology—what’s next, Lucy? Astronaut school? You never stick with anything, and now you want us to believe this is different? It’s pathetic.”

The tears came faster now, streaming down Lucy’s cheeks, but her mother didn’t stop. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You’ve been an embarrassment to this family for years, Lucy,” she hissed. “Running around in high school like a slut, doing whatever you wanted with no care for how it made us look. And now you want to top it all off by becoming a cop? Another gun-wielding brute who thinks a badge makes them untouchable?”

Lucy’s breath hitched, her chest tight as she wiped at her face angrily. “That’s not true,” she choked out, her voice weak and trembling. “That’s not who I am—”

“Oh, please,” her mother interrupted with a mocking laugh. “Spare us the tears, Lucy. You’ve always been selfish. Always putting yourself first, no matter how much we’ve done for you. You don’t have the discipline for this, and you know it. You’ll quit, like you always do, and then what? You’ll come crawling back, expecting us to pick up the pieces, like we always have.”

Lucy’s father leaned forward, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “No daughter of mine is going to be a cop,” he said, his tone final, his expression hard as stone. “You want to ruin your life? Fine. But don’t expect us to sit here and support you while you destroy everything we’ve worked for. You’re pathetic, Lucy. An absolute waste of everything we’ve given you.”

Her mother nodded, her lips curling in disgust. “A waste,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “You’re nothing but a waste of potential, Lucy. Nothing but disappointment after disappointment.”

Lucy’s face burned as the words hit her like a physical blow. She felt her stomach twist in knots, her throat closing up. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but instead, her eyes stung with the threat of tears she couldn’t afford to shed in front of them. She swallowed hard, pushing down the pain as best as she could. But the suffocating weight of their judgment was too much.

She rose from her seat abruptly, her hands shaking. “I—I need to go to the restroom,” she muttered, barely above a whisper. Her voice was tight, betraying the panic she felt bubbling up inside her.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and rushed out of the room, her footsteps quick and unsteady. She could feel the tears already welling in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall until she was out of sight.

As the bathroom door clicked shut behind her, Lucy leaned against the sink, squeezing her eyes shut to fight the tears that burned at the corners of her vision. The air in the room felt thick, and for a moment, she just stood there, breathing through the crushing weight of their words.

Meanwhile, back in the dining room, Tim sat, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles had gone white. He watched Lucy disappear down the hall, his heart breaking for her. But the anger that had been simmering inside him finally boiled over.

“Do you hear yourselves?” he shouted, his voice trembling with rage. “Do you have any idea how fucking disgusting you sound? She’s your daughter! Your goddamn daughter! And you’re tearing her apart like she’s nothing!”

Her mother’s eyes went wide, her lips curling into a sneer as she scoffed. “Excuse me?” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re going to lecture me?”

Tim’s chest heaved with frustration. “You fucking heard me,” he spat. “You’re being a bunch of assholes, tearing down your own daughter like she’s worthless.” His voice broke with anger, his hands shaking as he gripped the edge of the table.

Lucy’s father straightened, his face a mask of stone. “Watch your tone,” he said coldly. “You’re in my house—”

“I don’t give a shit whose house this is!” Tim shot back, his voice sharp and fierce. “You don’t talk to her like that! I don’t care if you’re her parents, her fucking therapists, or the Queen of England—you don’t get to treat her like she’s garbage because she doesn’t want to live the life you planned for her.”

Her mother’s lip curled, her tone sharp and icy. “You don’t know the first thing about this family,” she hissed. “And you certainly don’t know Lucy well enough to tell us how to handle her.”

Tim scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. “Oh, I know enough. I know you’re supposed to be therapists—people who actually help others, right? But instead, you sit here tearing down your own daughter like she’s some fucking failure because her dreams don’t match your perfect little blueprint.”

Her father’s expression darkened, but Tim didn’t give him the chance to respond. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. “You think you’re so high and mighty because you paid for her college? Because you set her up for some cushy career you picked out for her? That doesn’t make you good parents. That makes you controlling assholes. Newsflash: she’s not some project you get to design. She’s a person, and she deserves to make her own choices without you tearing her to shreds for it.”

“You don’t get it,” her mother snapped, her voice rising. “You think this is about control? This is about her throwing away everything we’ve worked for! Everything she’s worked for! She’s making a mistake, and you’re enabling her!”

Tim let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You think you know what’s best for her? You don’t even fucking see her. All you care about is how her choices make you look. God forbid she makes a decision that isn’t about pleasing you two.”

Her mother’s face twisted in fury, but her father stood abruptly, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. “That’s enough. You’ve said your piece. Now sit down, or—”

“Or what?” Tim snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ll kick me out? Go ahead. But you don’t get to kick out the truth. You don’t get to pretend like you’re the victims here while she sits there, trying to defend herself against her own fucking parents.”

Lucy, having heard the raised voices, stepped back into the room, her face flushed, eyes red. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice shaky, but still trying to keep herself together.

Her father snapped, his voice thunderous. “What’s going on? Your boyfriend is a fucking psycho! He has no idea how to respect anyone—especially not your own family.”

Lucy froze in the doorway, her tear-streaked face pale. “Wait, what’s happening?” she asked shakily, her voice barely audible.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his expression hard as stone. “What’s happening,” he said coldly, “is we’re leaving.”

“Excuse me?” her mother barked, her voice sharp with disbelief.

“You heard me,” Tim said, his tone unrelenting as he moved toward Lucy. He reached for her arm, his grip firm but careful. “Come on. We’re done here.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “Tim—”

“No, Lucy,” he interrupted, his voice softer but still resolute. “You don’t need this. We’re leaving.”

Her father’s face turned crimson as he pointed an accusing finger at Tim. “You think you can just walk out of here after the way you’ve disrespected us? She’s not going anywhere.”

Tim turned his glare on him, his voice like a blade. “She’s going wherever the hell she wants to go. And you don’t get a say in it anymore.”

Her mother’s chair screeched as she stood, her arms crossed tightly. “Lucy, are you seriously going to let him talk to us like this? After everything we’ve done for you?”

Lucy glanced between her parents and Tim, her breathing unsteady. But before she could speak, Tim gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “You don’t owe them an explanation,” he said firmly.

Her father took a step forward, his face twisted with fury. “Don’t you dare walk out that door, Lucy.”

Tim didn’t even flinch. “Try and stop her,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Before anyone could say another word, Tim guided Lucy out of the house, his hand firm and protective on her back. The cold night air hit them like a slap, but it wasn’t nearly as cold as the tension that had settled between them. Lucy didn’t speak as they walked, her body trembling with the remnants of her emotions, her face wet with tears. She couldn’t quite believe what had just happened—how her parents had torn into her like that, and how Tim had stepped in to stop it.

They reached the car, and Tim opened the door for her, his movements stiff and deliberate. Lucy slid into the seat without a word, her hands twisting in her lap as he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. The sound of the engine starting broke the silence, but only for a moment. The quiet that followed was suffocating.

Tim’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he pulled onto the road. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked straight ahead. Lucy stared out the window, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across her tear-streaked face. Her throat burned with the effort to hold back more tears, but she couldn’t stop the trembling in her voice when she finally spoke.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

Tim glanced at her, his brows furrowed. “What was I supposed to do, Lucy? Sit there and let them rip you apart like that?”

Her head turned sharply toward him, her eyes glistening. “Yes, Tim! That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. Because now I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout. You don’t have to go back to them. You don’t have to face them again—I do.”

He exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. “You think I could just sit there and watch them treat you like that? Like you’re some kind of… failure? They were out of line, Lucy. Someone had to say something.”

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, her voice trembling. “No, you didn’t have to say something. You don’t understand—this isn’t your fight. They’re my parents. My fucking problem. And now you’ve made it worse.”

Tim’s grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw working as he searched for the right words. “I’m your boyfriend,” he said finally, his tone low but firm. “And I’d be damned if I sat there and let them treat you like that. I care about you, Lucy. I’m not going to just stand by when you’re hurting.”

Her breath hitched, a fresh tear rolling down her cheek. “You think that helps? You think barging in like that solves anything? You don’t even know them, Tim. You don’t know how they’ll react. And now… now it’s going to be a million times worse because you couldn’t just stay out of it.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” His voice softened, but there was an edge of desperation in it. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just… I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t let them keep tearing you down like that.”

Lucy exhaled shakily, her hands trembling as she wiped her face. “I know you were trying to help, Tim. I do. But it’s not that simple. You don’t have to deal with them. You don’t have to go back there and face the fallout—I do. And what you just did… it’s going to make everything worse.”

His eyes darted to her, pained but resolute. “Maybe it will. But I wasn’t going to just sit there and let them treat you like that. You deserve better than that, Lucy.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, the weight of her emotions spilling over. “I know you care about me. I know you were trying to protect me, and I… I love you for that, Tim, but you don’t have to keep saving me. I’m not some broken thing that needs fixing.”

The words hung in the air like a grenade. Tim stiffened, his grip tightening on the wheel. His jaw clenched slightly, and his eyes stayed locked on the road ahead, his expression unreadable. The seconds ticked by, each one stretching painfully long.

Lucy sniffled, glancing at him for a reaction, but he didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, his free hand gripped the gear shift, his knuckles white against the leather. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, but his silence spoke louder than words.

The car was filled with an unbearable tension, thick and suffocating. Lucy’s stomach churned as she realized he wasn’t going to say it back. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap, and she tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry again.

Tim finally broke the silence, his voice low and awkward, almost like he was forcing himself to speak. “Can I… get you something to eat before I take you home?” His hand briefly rubbed the back of his neck as if the discomfort was physical.

Lucy blinked, surprised by the abrupt change in subject. Her lips parted to say something, but no words came. Instead, she nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Sure.”

Chapter Text

Pain. It was the only word Lucy could use to describe what she was feeling. It wasn’t the sharp, acute kind of pain you feel from a wound or a bruise, but a deep, gnawing ache that seemed to seep into every part of her body, settling in her bones, her chest, her soul. It was the kind of pain that made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself, about the people you loved, and about the life you were trying to build.

As Lucy pushed open the door to her dorm room, the familiar scent of her space—like stale coffee and worn books—was a cold comfort. It was the kind of comfort that felt almost hollow now. She walked in slowly, her movements sluggish, as if gravity itself had decided to anchor her to the floor. Her face was swollen, the remnants of tears still visible on her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy, red from crying, her mascara streaked down her face like war paint from a battle she had already lost.

She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to even think about what had happened that night, or about the crushing weight of her parents’ disapproval, or about Tim—the way he’d shut down when she’d said the words she thought she’d needed to say. She just wanted to lay down, to close her eyes and escape the wreckage of her own emotions for a while.

But then Rachel was there, perched casually on her bed, flipping through her phone. The second Rachel noticed Lucy in the doorway, her eyes lit up with curiosity, the teasing glint of a flirty question already forming on her lips.

“So,” Rachel said, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “How was it? The big Thanksgiving night with Tim? You two finally—”

But then, Rachel froze. Her expression shifted instantly from playful to concerned as her eyes traveled over Lucy’s face. “Oh my God, Lucy… what happened?”

Lucy didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t. The words got caught in her throat, like they always did when she was trying to speak about something she was still trying to make sense of.

Instead, she walked straight into her closet, her feet heavy on the floor. She yanked an oversized T-shirt from a hanger, the fabric too soft, too comforting in its simplicity. She pulled off her dress, the smooth material sliding down her body like it had never belonged to her at all. She tossed it carelessly aside, replaced by the loose, worn T-shirt that felt like a shield—something to hide behind.

Without another word, she climbed into bed, pulling the covers tightly around herself like they could keep the world outside for a little longer.

Rachel followed her quietly, her footsteps hesitant now, sensing the shift in Lucy’s mood. She sat at the edge of the bed, her voice gentle when she spoke again. “Lucy… talk to me. What happened?”

Lucy closed her eyes, squeezing the pillow in her arms as though it could absorb all the pain she didn’t know how to let out. The weight of it pressed on her chest, suffocating, a constant reminder that everything felt wrong. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, frustration, and self-doubt. She just wanted to make sense of it, but it all felt like a jumbled mess—like a storm she couldn’t control.

“I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong,” Lucy whispered, her voice barely more than a tremor. The words felt heavy, like they’d been building inside her for days, and now they spilled out without her permission. She blinked rapidly, trying to force back the tears that threatened to spill over, but they came anyway, silently slipping down her cheeks.

Rachel shifted beside her, the bed creaking as she sat up straighter. “What do you mean? What’s going on?” Her voice was gentle but edged with concern, trying to reach her through the haze of Lucy’s pain.

Lucy didn’t immediately respond, her thoughts racing as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind inside her. “Everything, Rachel,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “No matter what I do, it’s never enough. With my parents, with Tim, with everything. I try, I really do. But nothing ever feels like the right thing, and I just… I keep failing. I don’t know how to fix it. How to fix me.”

Rachel’s gaze softened as she watched her best friend, her heart aching for Lucy. She could feel the weight of her words, the depth of the pain that was gnawing at her from the inside. The vulnerability in Lucy’s voice wasn’t something she showed often, and it made Rachel’s chest tighten with empathy.

“Lu, you’re not failing,” Rachel said gently, reaching out to place a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You’re just… you’re just dealing with a lot right now. Your parents, Tim, everything. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, but that doesn’t mean you’re not enough. You are. You are enough.”

Lucy sniffed, wiping at her eyes, her fingers trembling. “But I don’t feel like I am, Rach,” she whispered, her voice small, fragile. “No matter what I do, it’s like I’m constantly trying to prove myself, to make everyone happy, and it’s never good enough. I want so badly to make things work, but I just feel like I’m failing at it all. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Rachel looked at her, eyes full of concern and love. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Lucy. You’re just…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. “You’re in a situation that’s hard for anyone. You’re juggling your dreams, your family’s expectations, your relationship with Tim—it’s a lot for one person to handle. But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. You’re not alone in this.”

Lucy sighed, her chest tightening with the weight of unspoken words. “But it’s not just that,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I keep thinking about Tim. About everything between us. And I don’t know if he’s even being honest with me. I told him I loved him, Rachel… and he didn’t say it back. He just went quiet. And it hurt. It hurt so much. He didn’t even look at me the same way after. Like I was asking for too much or something.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she swallowed hard, trying to hold herself together.

Rachel watched her closely, her face filled with concern. “What do you mean, he didn’t look at you the same way?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy said, her words spilling out in a rush. “It was like I said something wrong. Like he was afraid of what I said. And then after that… he just shut down, Rachel. He gets so distant sometimes, like I can’t get through to him. I don’t know if he’s pushing me away on purpose or if it’s something else. I feel like there’s something he’s hiding, something he’s not telling me.”

Rachel sat back, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think he’s hiding something big? Something you can’t handle?”

Lucy shook her head, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the pillow. “I don’t know. I just… something doesn’t feel right. He’s so closed off, Rachel. He gets so distant, and it makes me wonder if he’s afraid to let me in. Like he doesn’t trust me enough or he’s keeping something from me.”

Rachel took a deep breath, her voice calm but insistent. “Lucy, you’ve got to talk to him about this. You can’t just keep letting it fester. He’s not a mind reader, and neither are you. If something’s bothering you, you have to say it. You can’t keep living in this silence, hoping things will just magically get better.”

Lucy sat in silence, the weight of Rachel’s words hanging heavy in the air. She didn’t respond immediately, her thoughts still tangled, racing in circles. Her fingers traced the edge of the pillow in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor as if she could somehow find the answers in the fabric of the bedspread.

Rachel’s words were true, but the thought of confronting Tim—of unraveling the fragile thread of their relationship—made Lucy’s chest tighten with dread. What if it pushed him further away? What if the truth was something she couldn’t handle? What if it shattered everything she was desperately trying to hold together?

After a long pause, Lucy let out a shaky breath, barely audible. “I know,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost a breath. “I just… I don’t know how.”

Rachel leaned in, giving her a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to know how right now. You just need to take the first step. Whatever happens, you’re not alone in it. We’ll figure it out.”

Lucy nodded slowly, though the unease in her chest remained. The path ahead felt murky, and the fear of the unknown still gripped her tightly. But Rachel was right. She couldn’t keep avoiding the truth. The silence, the uncertainty—it was suffocating her.

“Thanks, Rach,” Lucy said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t have the strength to say more, the words stuck in her throat.

Rachel gave her a reassuring squeeze before settling back against her pillows, her tone softer now. “Anytime, Lu. You’re going to be okay.”

Lucy didn’t respond, her mind already elsewhere, lost in the whirlwind of emotions and fears that had yet to find a resolution. But for the first time in a long while, the thought of facing the truth—however painful it might be—felt like the only way forward. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make things right.

Chapter Text

He felt like the world’s biggest asshole. Not just the garden-variety kind—the kind who made a mess of everything he touched, a walking disaster that somehow kept dragging others into the wreckage.

He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his head. The two of them sitting in his truck, parked on the side of a quiet street, her soft sniffles the only sound breaking the silence. He hadn’t known what to say then, and he still didn’t now. She’d been crying—really crying—trying to hold it together and failing. Her voice had wavered, raw and vulnerable, as she told him the three words he should’ve been thrilled to hear.

But instead of saying them back, instead of giving her the reassurance she deserved, he froze. His chest had tightened, every part of him screaming to stop, to think, to calculate the consequences of every possible response. And in the end, he said nothing.

Nothing that mattered, anyway.

Because how could he say “I love you” when he hadn’t even told her the truth? The truth that he was still married, still tied to someone else in a way that felt more like a chain than a connection. Isabel. Just the thought of her name sent a wave of guilt crashing over him.

He hadn’t wanted to get into this mess. He really hadn’t. But the lies had started small, harmless almost. At first, he’d told himself he’d explain everything to Lucy—he just needed the right moment, the right way to tell her without ruining whatever it was they had. Except the right moment never came, and the longer he waited, the harder it got.

Every time he tried, he could feel the words clawing their way up his throat, only to be swallowed back down by fear. Fear of her leaving, of the disgust he’d see in her eyes, of losing the one good thing he’d found in the middle of all his mistakes. So, he kept pushing it off, kept telling himself there was still time, that he could fix it somehow.

But he didn’t fix it. He let it fester, a shadow growing darker and darker, until now it felt like a chasm between them. And the worst part was, he knew he was dragging her into it. She didn’t know about Isabel, about the marriage that was already dead in every way but legally. Lucy thought she was building something real with him, and every moment he let her believe that, he dug himself deeper into the trap.

Tim was already a mess of a person before Lucy came into his life. He’d known that from the start. There was nothing neat or easy about him. His childhood was a battlefield he never fully left behind. The abuse from his father had shaped him into someone who could take a hit and never flinch—but not without cost. The military had only deepened the cracks, teaching him how to bury his emotions so deep they might as well not exist. And then the police force had hardened him further, forcing him to confront things no one should have to see and calling it strength.

By the time Isabel came along, he’d already been the man he hated to be: closed off, emotionally detached, and too focused on fixing everyone else to ever fix himself. It was no wonder their marriage had crumbled under the weight of it all. He didn’t even blame her for walking away—hell, he would’ve done the same if he’d had the chance.

And now there was Lucy. She was nothing like the world he’d come from, nothing like the ghosts that lingered in his past. She was warm, unguarded in ways that terrified him, because he knew he’d never be able to match it. She deserved someone better, someone whole. Not someone broken into pieces so jagged that getting close to him would only cut her.

That’s why he hadn’t told her. Not just about Isabel, but about all of it. The family he never talked about, the things he’d done in the name of duty, the man he saw in the mirror every day who barely felt human anymore. How could he tell her all that and not watch her leave?

She was already hurt. He could feel it in the silence that stretched between them, in the way her last message had been so carefully detached. Lucy was smart—too smart not to know something was wrong. And the worst part was that she didn’t even know the half of it.

Tim leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his phone balanced in his hands. He stared down at the screen like it might magically tell him what to do, but there were no answers, just a string of unread texts and missed chances. He hated himself for every one of them.

If he didn’t say something soon, he was going to lose her. That much was clear. She’d been patient with him, more than he deserved, but even Lucy had her limits. And the longer he let this spiral, the harder it would be to get back to where they were.

But how could he face her when he didn’t even know where to start? I’m married felt like an impossible confession, a weight too heavy to drop on her all at once. And if he said it, then what? She’d ask why he hadn’t told her, and he’d have to tell her everything—about Isabel, about why it hadn’t worked, about why he was too screwed up to fix it.

Even thinking about it made his chest tighten, his mind racing through every worst-case scenario. He could already see the look on her face, the disappointment, the hurt. He didn’t know if he could survive that.

But he couldn’t stay silent either. He’d already done enough damage by freezing up when she’d told him she loved him. If he didn’t at least try to make this right, he’d lose her for good.

Tim opened her contact, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He hesitated, the words swirling in his head, a jumble of guilt and uncertainty. What could he even say that wouldn’t make things worse?

Finally, he forced himself to type. Something simple, something that didn’t give away too much but still left the door open.

To: Lucy Chen
From: Tim Bradford

hey Lucy, I know you’re upset with me, but I hope I can take you to dinner tonight to maybe talk things over

He stared at the screen for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the send button. It felt like the bare minimum, like he was still dancing around the truth. But it was all he could manage right now.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, then tossed his phone onto the couch and leaned back with a heavy sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

The seconds dragged, each one stretching longer than it should, his mind racing through every possible way she might respond—or not respond at all. He was so lost in the noise of his own thoughts that the soft chime of his phone startled him.

Tim snatched it up, his thumb swiping across the screen with more urgency than he wanted to admit.

To: Tim Bradford
From: Lucy Chen

okay.

Just one word. Nothing else. No punctuation, no tone, just a single, neutral response. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep his chest from collapsing in on itself. She wasn’t shutting him out entirely.

He typed back quickly before he could overthink it.

To: Lucy Chen
From: Tim Bradford

I’ll pick you up at six. I’m off today, so whenever works for you.

The message sent, Tim exhaled slowly, setting his phone down on the coffee table this time instead of keeping it in his hand. It wasn’t a resolution—not even close—but at least it was a step.

At exactly six o’clock, Tim found himself standing outside Lucy’s door. He’d taken extra care getting ready—not that it mattered, really. This wasn’t a date, not the kind where he could charm his way out of trouble with a crooked smile and a little banter. Still, his uniform was perfectly pressed, his boots polished to a mirror shine, and he’d even checked his reflection twice in the rearview mirror before heading up to her floor. He needed to feel put-together, even if everything inside him was unraveling.

He raised his hand to knock, hesitated, and then forced himself to rap twice on the door. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway, louder than it should’ve been, and for a moment, he considered bolting.

This was a mistake. He wasn’t ready.

But then the door opened.

Lucy stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a soft gray sweater, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looked like herself—perfectly herself—and yet there was a guardedness in her eyes that wasn’t usually there. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Hi,” she said, her voice steady but distant, as if she’d locked her emotions behind a steel door.

“Hey,” he replied, clearing his throat. “You ready?”

She nodded, grabbing her purse from a small table near the door. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

She stepped past him, her shoulder brushing his lightly as she moved into the hallway. The familiar scent of her—something soft and warm—lingered in the air, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

The elevator ride down was unbearable. The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the machinery. He wanted to say something, anything, but every time he opened his mouth, the words caught in his throat.

Lucy didn’t look at him once. She stared straight ahead, her arms crossed over her chest, her posture stiff.

When they reached the lobby, Tim stepped forward to hold the door open for her. Lucy murmured a quiet “thanks” without meeting his gaze, stepping through and walking toward his truck.

He followed a step behind, the awkwardness between them palpable. The usual ease they shared, the playful teasing, the unspoken connection—it was all gone, replaced by a gulf he didn’t know how to cross.

Tim unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her, but she hesitated for a moment before climbing in. Her movements were deliberate, almost cautious, as if she were trying not to take up too much space.

By the time he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the silence had grown unbearable again. Tim glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her profile illuminated by the faint glow of the dashboard lights. She looked calm, composed—but he knew better.

“You, uh… you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

Lucy turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “I’m fine.”

Fine. That word told him nothing and everything at the same time. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, resisting the urge to press her for more. He didn’t have the right—not after everything.

As they pulled onto the street, Tim tried to think of something neutral to say, anything to fill the void. “I made a reservation at that Italian place you like,” he said finally, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Okay,” she replied, her tone flat.

He glanced at her again, hoping for some kind of reaction—some spark of the Lucy he knew. But she kept her gaze forward, her arms still crossed, her body language a fortress he couldn’t breach.

The rest of the drive passed in strained silence, the only sounds the faint hum of the engine and the occasional click of a turn signal. Tim’s mind raced with a million things he wanted to say, but none of them felt right.

When they arrived at the restaurant, he parked and quickly stepped out, moving around to open her door. She gave him a polite nod as she climbed out, her thank-you barely above a whisper.

Inside, the hostess greeted them warmly, leading them to a small booth near the back. Tim waited for Lucy to slide in first, but she hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. Finally, she slid into the booth, sitting as close to the edge as possible. Tim followed, sitting across from her, the table between them feeling like a barrier instead of a shared space.

The waitress arrived almost immediately, handing them menus and rattling off the specials. Lucy nodded politely, her eyes flickering over the menu but never truly focusing. Tim ordered a water when prompted, and Lucy quietly did the same.

When the waitress walked away, the silence returned, thick and heavy. Tim studied her for a moment, trying to gauge her mood, but Lucy’s face remained carefully blank, her posture still tense.

Tim cleared his throat, the sound rough and uncertain as it broke through the oppressive silence. “Lucy…”

Across the table, she finally lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression carefully guarded. Her dark eyes held a quiet storm, emotions swirling beneath the surface, restrained but impossible to miss. “What?” she asked flatly, the single word sharp enough to cut.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he began, the words feeling heavy and inadequate, like they couldn’t even scratch the surface of everything he wanted to say. “For everything.”

Lucy’s lips pressed into a tight line, her focus dropping to the menu she wasn’t really reading. Her fingers traced along its edge, her movements slow and deliberate, like she was anchoring herself. Then, with a bitter edge to her voice, she spoke: “Oh yeah? What exactly are you sorry for, Tim?”

Her question hit like a punch to the chest, sharper than he’d expected. He blinked, momentarily thrown, his throat tightening. He opened his mouth, but no words came immediately. The weight of everything he hadn’t told her pressed down on him, heavier than ever. Finally, he forced himself to speak, his voice quieter now. “For freezing up. For not saying what you needed to hear.”

Lucy stilled, her fingers pausing their restless movements. She leaned back against the booth, her eyes narrowing, her jaw tightening just slightly. “You didn’t need to say it back, Tim,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less sharp. “I wasn’t asking for that. I just… I thought we were honest with each other. That’s all I wanted. Honesty.”

“I know,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. He looked down at his hands, the way they rested on the table, his fingers curled against the polished wood. “You’re right. And I haven’t been… honest. Not like I should be.”

Lucy’s silence stretched, thick and suffocating. When she finally moved, it was to cross her arms over her chest, leaning back against the booth with an air of exhaustion and frustration. Her gaze pinned him in place, unwavering and expectant. Her voice, when it came, was calm but edged with steel. “Then maybe now’s a good time to start.”

Tim felt his throat tighten, his body rigid like it was bracing for an impact. The lump in his chest rose higher, threatening to choke him, but he forced himself to look at her. “I’m trying, Lucy,” he said, his voice low and uneven, just a breath away from cracking. “I’m really trying, but… this isn’t easy for me.”

She didn’t move, didn’t even blink, her arms still folded tightly. “What isn’t easy, Tim? Talking? Feeling? Because it’s sure as hell not easy for me either.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “I know it’s not. And I wish I could just… I don’t know, snap my fingers and fix this, fix me—but I can’t.” He took a shaky breath, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. “You deserve someone who can tell you everything, who can… express what they feel without freezing up or making you question everything.”

“Tim…” Lucy started, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

“No, let me finish,” he said, his voice cracking now, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady himself. “I’ve always been like this, okay? I don’t… I don’t know how to talk about things, especially… love.” He let out a hollow laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. “It’s not something I grew up around. My dad—he wasn’t…” Tim trailed off, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “He wasn’t a good man.”

Lucy’s expression softened, the steel in her gaze giving way to something gentler, but she stayed silent, letting him continue.

“He wasn’t just strict or angry sometimes—he was… cruel. Violent. And it was always aimed at me,” Tim said, his voice barely above a whisper now, his hands trembling as they rested on the table. “I took every hit, every punishment, because I had to. My mom, my sister—they were the only good things in that house, and if I didn’t step in, he would’ve turned it on them. So I made sure he didn’t.”

His voice broke on the last word, and he had to pause, his shoulders rising and falling as he sucked in a shaky breath. Lucy’s posture softened, her arms slowly uncrossing as she leaned forward slightly.

“I spent my whole childhood learning how to keep my head down, how to take the pain and hide it because showing it only made things worse. And by the time I got out of that house, I didn’t know how to be anything else. I didn’t know how to feel things without being afraid of what would come next.” He finally looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening. “That’s why I froze, Lucy. Not because I didn’t feel anything—because I felt everything all at once, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Lucy’s eyes filled with sympathy, her heart aching at the rawness of his words. She reached for his hand, her voice barely a whisper. “Oh, Tim… I’m so sorry.”

He frowned, confused by her apology. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who acted like a huge dick,” he muttered, his tone filled with self-loathing.

Lucy shook her head, squeezing his hand. “Because I just assumed you didn’t care. I thought… I thought you didn’t feel anything, and that hurt. I should’ve known better.” Her voice cracked slightly, her chest tightening. “I never should’ve doubted you.”

Tim’s face softened as he looked at her, his expression full of regret and vulnerability. “I don’t know why I couldn’t just… show it. I should’ve told you, Lucy. I should’ve said something.”

Lucy gave him a small, understanding smile, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to explain everything right now. I’m just glad you’re here, and I’m glad you trust me enough to talk to me. I know it’s not easy.”

Tim’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, his grip tightening around her hand. “But you deserve to know everything, Lucy. There’s so much I should’ve told you a long time ago… I just—” His voice faltered, and he looked away for a moment, as though searching for the words that had always been just out of reach.

Lucy squeezed his hand, her voice steady and gentle. “But it can wait, Tim. Right now, we’re here, together. You don’t have to carry it all tonight. We’ll get there, but not all at once.”

“I just… I need you to know,” he insisted, his voice a little broken, like the weight of his emotions was starting to spill over again. “I can’t keep things from you. It’s not fair to you.”

Lucy met his gaze, her expression soft but firm. “I know you’re struggling with this, but right now, you don’t have to explain everything. It’s okay to take a break from all of it. Let’s just enjoy dinner. Let’s be here, now, without the weight of everything else.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest again, but Lucy placed a gentle finger on his lips, her eyes filled with compassion. “No more tonight,” she said quietly. “You’ve said more than enough. I’m proud of you for sharing what you have. But I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to rush through all of this.”

He stared at her, a quiet storm of emotions still swirling inside him, but her words slowly started to sink in. Maybe it was okay to just be, for a moment, without fixing everything. Slowly, he nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief, even if just a little.

“Okay,” Tim whispered softly, his voice steady but warm. “One step at a time.”

Lucy smiled, her thumb continuing its gentle motion along the back of his hand. “Exactly. One step at a time.”

Tim met her eyes, his gaze sincere. He let out a quiet breath, shifting slightly in his seat. “Thank you, honestly. For coming out tonight. I didn’t expect to unload all that, but I’m glad I did. It feels… better. To talk about it. To have you listen.” He gave her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. “It means a lot.”

Lucy smiled softly at him, her thumb still tracing light circles across the back of his hand. “Of course, babe. You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m always here for you,” she said, her voice soft, yet warm. “I like being here with you. You don’t have to carry all that on your own.”

She paused, a playful glint in her eye as she tilted her head. “Though, if I’m being honest,” she continued with a mischievous smile, “I did miss your stupid face.” Her voice was teasing, light, but there was no mistaking the affection in her words.

Tim laughed, a soft, warm sound. His grin widened as he leaned back slightly. “Stupid face, huh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Lucy’s smile deepened, and she leaned in just a little, her voice dropping into a sweeter tone. “I mean it,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving his. “You’re cute, Tim. Like, in a really charming, get-under-my-skin kind of way.”

Tim’s breath caught just a little, a warm blush coloring his cheeks. He wasn’t expecting that kind of compliment, but it felt good to hear. “I’m cute, huh?” he chuckled, his voice almost shy as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” His smile softened, his eyes softening too.

Lucy giggled, her foot shifting beneath the table, slipping her heel off. Without really thinking about it, she let her foot trail gently up his leg, her toes brushing against the fabric of his pants. It wasn’t anything overt, just a casual, flirty gesture, but it made her heart flutter. She couldn’t help it—whenever she was with him, everything seemed to feel more electric, more real.

“I’m serious, though,” she said, her voice quieter now, yet still playful. “I think you’re kind of perfect, in your own way. You know, everything about you… the way you care about things, the way you listen… the way you make me feel like I’m not just some random person.”

Her foot inched a little higher, barely noticeable, but she could feel his body shift slightly, his leg subtly responding to her touch. She smiled to herself, feeling both shy and emboldened by the closeness they shared. It wasn’t about anything overt—it was just the way their connection felt.

Tim laughed softly, but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. “You’re making me sound like a hero or something,” he said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m just a guy who’s been lucky enough to meet someone who actually makes me feel like I matter.”

Her foot continued its journey up his leg, her eyes never leaving his. “Well, you do matter, Tim,” she said, her voice low and earnest. “More than you know.”

Tim’s heart fluttered slightly at her words, but he couldn’t help teasing her right back. “I don’t know,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes. “I think you might be just trying to butter me up, huh?”

Lucy laughed softly, the sound light and easy. “Maybe just a little,” she admitted, her foot slipping a little further up his leg. She pulled it back almost immediately, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I’m serious, you do matter. I mean it.”

Tim felt his breath hitch as her foot reached the top of his thigh, the warmth of her touch seeping through his pants. He cleared his throat, trying to focus on anything else, but his thoughts were quickly spiraling out of control. The conversation flowed easily between them, but his body was responding in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but every move just made the situation more pronounced.

Lucy noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor and couldn't help but smile to herself. She loved the playful energy between them, but now, there was a new layer of tension-one she could feel in the way he was reacting to her touch. Her foot lingered for just a moment longer before she shifted it slightly, grazing his thigh once more, just enough to send a jolt of warmth through him.

Tim stiffened, his breath catching for a moment. Lucy's gaze never left his face, a teasing grin curling on her lips as she observed him trying to maintain his composure. "What's wrong, Tim?" she said with a playful, almost mischievous tone. "You seem a little nervous."

Tim shot her a quick glance, an embarrassed chuckle escaping his lips.
"Nervous?" he repeated, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. "I'm not nervous. Just, uh, comfortable, you know?"

"Oh, I don't know, you don't look too comfortable. You're shifting around a lot," she teased. "It's just me, though, right? My foot's not doing anything crazy... is it?"

"Crazy? No, you're just... tickling me." He coughed, trying to ease the sudden dryness in his throat. "It's nothing."

But Lucy wasn't about to let him off the hook. She leaned in closer, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Oh, really?" she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So if I did this," she began, moving her foot even higher up his leg, "you wouldn't be bothered?"

Tim's face turned a deep shade of red, his eyes darting around the restaurant, making sure no one was watching them. "L-Lucy," he stammered, trying to sound stern, but his voice was laced with a hint of desire he couldn’t hide. "You shouldn’t do that here."

Her foot remained in place, the warmth of her skin burning through the fabric of his pants. "I thought you said it wasn’t bothering you," she said, her tone innocent yet dripping with mischief.

Tim's eyes widened, his hand reflexively moving to grip her ankle, gently holding it still. "Well, I... I mean..." He swallowed, his voice thick with the effort to remain steady. "It's not that it's bothering me, exactly. It's just..."

“Its just what? Come on officer Bradford your a big boy say it?”

Her foot remained still, the pressure of her toes a silent question, her gaze never leaving his. Tim felt his cheeks burn even hotter. “It’s just... it’s distracting. And we’re in a public place. And...” He trailed off, unable to come up with any more reasons that didn’t sound like a lie. Because the truth was, her touch did more than just distract him—it made his heart race, his blood heat, and his mind spin with thoughts of her.

“You’re right, we should probably stop,” Lucy said, her voice playfully disappointed, but her foot remained in place. “Or maybe we should just head back to your place and continue this conversation there.” She winked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Tim’s heart skipped a beat, the heat from her touch spreading through his body. He knew she wasn’t just talking about their conversation—it was a clear invitation. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

He paid for dinner quickly, his movements a little shaky as they left the restaurant. The cool evening air was a welcome relief as they stepped outside. Lucy’s hand found his, her fingers curling into his palm in a familiar, comforting way. He led her to his truck, his eyes never leaving hers. The walk to the truck was tense, charged with unspoken words and the promise of what was to come.

Chapter Text

The front door swung open with a soft thud as Tim and Lucy stumbled inside, their laughter mingling with the sound of keys hitting the nearby table. They barely made it two steps past the threshold before their lips collided again, urgent and unyielding. The kiss was unhurried yet electric, a blend of pent-up tension and newfound ease as they finally gave in to the pull between them.

Tim's tall frame towered over Lucy, but she met him with equal intensity, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as if anchoring herself to the moment.
His arms instinctively found her waist, steadying her when her heels wobbled against the hardwood floor. Her balance faltered, but his grip tightened, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

"Careful," Tim murmured against her lips, his voice rough and warm, tinged with amusement. The corner of his mouth curved into a smile as he brushed his nose lightly against hers.

"I'm not sure I can catch you if you fall."
Lucy pulled back just enough to lock eyes with him, her cheeks flushed and her breath uneven. A playful smirk tugged at her lips, her confidence shining through the gentle haze of the moment. "Oh, I think you can," she teased, her voice light but challenging.

With a deliberate push, she nudged him back, catching him slightly off-guard as they stumbled together toward the couch. Tim's knees buckled against the edge of the cushion, and he let out a low laugh as they tumbled down, Lucy landing squarely on top of him. Their bodies tangled in an uncoordinated sprawl, but the clumsy momentum only fueled their laughter.

“ That was smooth,” Tim teased, his voice low and warm as he looked up at her, his hands instinctively steadying her waist. “Is this your idea of graceful?”

Lucy propped herself up slightly, her hands braced against his chest, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Graceful is overrated,” she countered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Besides, I think I nailed the dismount.”

Tim chuckled, his deep laughter rumbling through his chest beneath her palms. “Yeah, sure. Olympic gold for sure,” he joked, his lips twitching into a lopsided smile.

Lucy tilted her head, her grin softening into something sweeter as her fingers idly traced the edge of his collar. “You’re not complaining, though.”

“Not a chance,” Tim murmured, his hands sliding a little higher on her waist, holding her with a gentleness that made her heart flutter. His thumbs brushed slow, idle circles against her sides, his touch both grounding and electric.

“Good,” she whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Because I like it here.”

Tim smiled against her lips, his voice low but teasing. “Here? As in my lap? Or my couch?”

Lucy pretended to think about it, tilting her head as her grin widened. “Both, really. Great seating arrangement, excellent company…” She trailed off, her nose brushing lightly against his before she kissed him again, this one slower and full of warmth.

Tim hummed softly, his hands tightening on her hips as he kissed her back. “If I’d known this was part of the plan, I’d have asked you over sooner,” he murmured, his tone light but sincere.

“Well,” Lucy teased, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “It’s not too late to make up for lost time.”

He chuckled, his hands sliding down to rest at the small of her back. “You’ve always got a plan, don’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk playful. “Of course I do. I’m thorough. You should know that by now, Officer Bradford.”

Tim grinned, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch cushions. “Fair point.”

Lucy rested her hands on his chest, tilting her head as though considering something. "Speaking of being thorough," she began, her voice slow and teasing, "you know I'm thinking about applying for the Academy soon, right?"

Tim's expression softened slightly. "Of course I know. l've been keeping track.
Why?"

Lucy’s smirk widened, her fingers idly tracing the edge of his shirt. “Well…” She dragged the word out, her tone playful, her grin hinting at mischief. “I was just thinking… maybe we could do a little practice. You know, so I’m extra prepared.”

Tim's eyebrow arched as he shifted slightly beneath her. "Practice? What kind of practice are we talking about here?"

Lucy leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping just slightly. “Scenarios. Like roleplay.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he pieced it together. “Ahh,” he said, drawing the sound out as his hands slid back to her waist. “So, you want me to use my TO voice on you, huh, baby?”

Lucy laughed, her cheeks flushing as she playfully smacked his chest. "No!
Not like that," she said, though her grin betrayed her amusement.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to that familiar authoritative tone. "You've gotta be ready for anything, boot. Rule number one: always listen to your training officer."

"That's not what I had in mind."

Tim grinned wider, clearly enjoying her reaction. "You sure? Because I could give you a whole lecture about chain of command if you want."

“ I think im good ”Lucy said, holding up her hands in surrender, though her cheeks were still flushed. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she whispered, "I was thinking something more fun. Like... I'm the cop, and you're the suspect."

Tim froze for a split second, his hands stilling on her waist. He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes narrowing with a mix of surprise and intrigue. "The suspect?" he repeated, his voice slower now, a little lower.

Lucy's grin turned wicked as she nodded, her hands sliding up to cup his face. "Mm-hmm. And I've got you right where I want you," she teased, her voice laced with playful flirtation. "Think you can handle that, tough guy?"

Tim blinked, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."

"And you love it," she shot back, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to smirk at him.

Tim studied her for a moment, his grin softening as he rested his hands lightly on her thighs. "Alright, Officer Chen," he murmured, his voice warm but with a hint of challenge. "Show me what you've got."

Lucy grinned triumphantly, her heart racing as the room seemed to buzz with anticipation. "Oh, you're in for it now, Bradford."

Tim chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the challenge. He sat up, carefully shifting her to sit beside him, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Alright, Officer Chen," he began, his voice dropping into a playful growl. "What seems to be the problem here?"

Lucy took a deep breath, her heart racing as she slid off the couch and onto her feet. She straightened her shoulders, adopting a firm posture she'd seen in countless TV shows. "You've been identified at the scene of a crime, Mr. Bradford," she said, her voice firm and authoritative. "I need you to come with me."

Tim's eyes lit up with excitement, playing along as he leaned back against the cushions, crossing his arms over his chest. "A crime? Whatever could you be talking about, Officer?"

"Don't play dumb," Lucy said, her tone stern despite the amusement glinting in her eyes. "You know exactly what I'm referring to. Now, stand up and put your hands where I can see them."

Tim complied, pushing himself up from the couch with a dramatic groan, his hands rising in mock surrender. "Alright, alright," he said, winking at her. "But I swear, it was all just a misunderstanding."

"Save it for the interrogation room," Lucy quipped, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she reached for her imaginary handcuffs.

Tim chuckled, his playfulness not waning as he held out his wrists. "You got it, boss," he said, his grin widening as she pretended to snap the cuffs into place.

"Let's go," Lucy said, her voice firm and commanding. "You have the right to remain silent."

Tim couldn't resist a chuckle, playing along. "But anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law," he finished for her.

"Exactly," Lucy said with a smirk, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She took a step back, gesturing toward the hallway. "Now, let's go."

Tim allowed himself to be led, a hint of curiosity in his gaze as they approached the bedroom. As Lucy opened the door, the soft light from the hallway spilled into the dimly lit space, casting shadows on the wall. "Now, if you would, Mr. Bradford," she said, her voice still in that authoritative tone, "please have a seat on the bed."

Tim raised an eyebrow but did as he was told, sitting down with a bounce. "Is this where the good cop, bad cop routine starts?"

Lucy's smirk grew. "Not quite." She stepped forward, placing a hand on his chin and gently tilting it upward. "As long as you're a good boy, I won't have to be the bad cop."

Tim's eyes searched hers, the playful banter turning into a sizzling tension that filled the space between them. "And what happens if I'm a bad boy?"

Lucy's smirk grew as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Well, then we'd have to discuss your punishment," she said, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "But I'm sure we can come up with something... suitable."

Tim's eyes darkened, the teasing glint in them replaced by something more heated. "Punishment, huh?" he murmured, leaning into her touch. "What did you have in mind, Officer?"

Lucy stepped closer, her hand dropping from his chin to rest on his shoulder, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. "Well," she said, her voice dropping to match his, "let's just say you wouldn't be getting off easy."

Tim's breath hitched as she leaned in, her face inches from his. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"A little bit of both," Lucy murmured, her eyes locked onto his. "But we don't have to worry about that if you're a good boy now, do we?"

"What if I'm not feeling very good right now?"

Tim's question hung in the air, a hint of challenge in his voice that sent a shiver down Lucy's spine. She stepped closer, her hand moving from his shoulder to the back of his neck, her thumb brushing against his skin. "Well, Mr. Bradford," she began, her voice low and seductive. "Then it's my duty to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions."

With a gentle but firm grip, Lucy guided him to his feet, her eyes never leaving his. Tim's pulse quickened as he stood, his gaze locked with hers. She stepped back, giving him enough space to stand but not enough to escape her. "Alright," she said, her voice still firm. "Now, I need you to remove your jacket, slowly."

Tim raised an eyebrow but did as he was told, sliding the fabric off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. His shirt clung to his body, outlining the muscles he'd earned from years of patrol work. Lucy's gaze traveled down his chest, her expression unreadable as she nodded for him to continue. "Now, the shirt," she instructed, her voice steady and calm.

He complied, his fingers working the buttons with a deliberate slowness that sent a thrill through her. The shirt opened to reveal his toned abs and the dusting of hair that trailed downward. Lucy felt a heat build within her as she took in the sight, her professional persona slipping just a touch. She cleared her throat, her voice a little huskier than before. "Good," she murmured. "Now the pants."

Tim's smile grew more wolfish as he toyed with the waistband of his jeans. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Officer?"

"Very sure," Lucy replied, her eyes flicking up to meet his, the challenge in her gaze unmistakable. She watched as he unbuckled his belt and began to unbutton his pants, the sound echoing through the quiet room.

Tim slid his zipper down, his eyes never leaving hers. He stepped out of his shoes, then shimmied the denim over his hips, letting them pool at his ankles. He stepped out of them, leaving him in just his boxers. He raised an eyebrow, a smoldering look in his eyes. "Is this what you had in mind, Officer?"

The sight of him sent a thrill through Lucy's body, and she had to force herself to stay in character. "Not quite," she said, her voice a little thicker than she intended. She took a step closer, her hand sliding down his bare chest, the heat of his skin setting her nerves alight. "But we're getting there."

With a cheeky smile, she reached down and gave his bulge a playful squeeze through the fabric of his boxers. "Looks like I've found the contraband," she quipped, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Tim's laugh was low and deep, his body reacting to her touch. "Careful, Officer," he warned, though the amusement in his voice was clear. "You don't have a search warrant for that."

Lucy grinned, her eyes flashing with challenge. "I've got probable cause," she retorted, giving his bulge a gentle squeeze again. "And it's definitely incriminating."

Tim's laugh was cut short as she leaned in, her mouth finding his in a kiss that was anything but professional. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her against him as she explored him through the fabric of his boxers. His moan was low and needy, his body responding to her touch with an urgency that made her own pulse race.

"On the bed," Lucy murmured against his mouth, her voice firm despite the tremble in her hands. Tim didn't hesitate, sitting back down and watching her with a mix of amusement and heat.

As Lucy stepped back, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She'd never been one to play the dominant role, but something about the way Tim looked at her, the way his body responded to her touch, made her want to explore this side of herself. She placed her hands on his knees, gently pushing them apart. "Spread 'em," she said, her voice a little shakier than she would have liked.

Tim chuckled, the sound low and intimate, as he complied. Lucy dropped to her knees, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She could feel the warmth of his gaze on her, and she knew he was watching her every move. She took a moment to compose herself, her palms resting on his thighs, her fingers curling into the fabric of his boxers. "Are you okay?" Tim asked, his voice filled with concern, mistaking her nerves for hesitation.

"I'm fine," Lucy murmured, her voice steady once more. "Just admiring the view."

Tim's chuckle was cut off by her gentle tug on his boxers. He lifted his hips, allowing her to pull them down. His arousal sprang free, and Lucy's eyes widened slightly before she schooled her features into a stern expression. "Looks like we have ourselves a serious situation here," she said, her voice a blend of teasing and seriousness.

Tim's eyes never left hers, his own excitement clear. "Indeed, Officer," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "What's the protocol for this sort of... discovery?"

Lucy's smirk grew wider. "Well, Mr. Bradford," she said, her hands sliding up to his waist, "it's standard procedure to... confiscate the evidence." She gripped him firmly, feeling his pulse quicken beneath her touch.

Tim's eyes closed for a brief moment, his breath coming in shallow gasps as Lucy's fingers danced along his length. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice strained. "I guess I'm in your hands, then."

"That's right," Lucy said, her grip tightening slightly as she began to stroke him. She could feel his cock throb against her palm, his arousal palpable in the air between them. "And as the arresting officer, it's my duty to ensure that all evidence is handled with the utmost care."

Tim's eyes opened, locking onto hers, the teasing glint in them replaced by a look of pure desire. "I have a feeling this is going to be my favorite part of the process," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Let's see if you can handle it," Lucy challenged, leaning in to kiss him again. Her hand never stopped moving, her strokes growing bolder as Tim's hips began to rock against her. The taste of him, the scent of his skin, the heat of his body - it all served to heighten her arousal.

Tim's hands found their way into her hair, his grip tightening as the kiss deepened. His breath grew ragged, his hips bucking upward as she increased her pace. "Oh, God," he groaned against her mouth, his body trembling.

Lucy pulled away with a smirk, her hand still stroking him firmly. "You're being such a good boy, Tim," she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let's see if you can be even better."

Tim's eyes darkened, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he watched her move. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of his erection, her eyes never leaving his. "Oh, fuck," he breathed out, his hands tightening on the bedspread.

Lucy's smirk grew wider as she began to take him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, and he had to force himself not to thrust upward as she took him deeper. "Mm," she murmured, her voice muffled by his flesh, "you taste so good."

Her hands caressed his thighs, her nails lightly scraping his skin as she took him in deeper, her eyes closing in pleasure as she felt him swell against her tongue. She took her time, savoring the feeling of his hardness, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked gently, her hand following the rhythm of her mouth.

Tim's hips rolled in response, his body moving almost of its own accord as he watched her, his breath coming in ragged pants. "Fuck, Lucy," he groaned, his voice tight with restraint. "You're... you're so good at that."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a hint of pride in the smoky gaze that locked onto his. She took him deeper, her hand pumping in time with her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip of his cock in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head. He could feel his orgasm building, a tight knot of pleasure that grew more intense with every stroke of her soft, warm lips.

"Oh, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "Just like that."

Lucy's eyes remained on Tim's, a soft smile playing on her lips as she took him in deeper, her movements deliberate and loving. Her tongue danced along the underside of his cock, tracing every vein and ridge with care. She felt the tension in his thighs, the way his abs tightened with every stroke. She knew he was close, could feel it in the way he pulsed against her tongue, and she took her time, savoring the power she had over him in that moment.

With one final, hard suck, Tim's body tensed, and he came with a shout that filled the quiet room. Lucy felt the warmth of him in her mouth, her throat constricting slightly as she took his entire length, his release pulsing in time with the beat of her heart. She swallowed, the muscles in her neck working as she took every drop, never breaking eye contact.

Tim's body went slack, his eyes half-closed with pleasure. Lucy pulled away, licking her lips and smiling up at him. "Evidence secured," she murmured, her voice a little raspy from the effort. She wiped a bit of saliva from the corner of her mouth, her cheeks flushed with exertion and arousal.

Tim chuckled, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Fuck, Lucy," he said, his voice still thick with desire. "You're something else."

"Oh, I'm just getting started," Lucy said with a smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she stood up, her legs wobbling slightly in the process. She took a moment to regain her balance before kicking off her shoes, her jeans sliding down her legs with ease. She stepped out of them, leaving her in just her sweater and underwear. The lacy fabric clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

Tim's eyes followed her every move, his chest heaving slightly with anticipation. "Is that so, Officer?" he managed to get out, his voice strained.

"Mm-hmm," Lucy murmured, climbing onto his lap again, her legs straddling his hips. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, "I've got a whole night of procedures to run through."

Tim's hands found her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he pulled her back for a deep, searching kiss. His thumbs stroked her cheeks, his mouth moving against hers in a way that sent shivers down her spine. She could feel his cock, still semi-hard, pressing against her core, and she began to rock her hips against him, her panties growing slick with need.

With a low moan, Tim's hands slid down to her ass, cupping her firmly as she ground down on him. The friction was exquisite, and Lucy could feel her clit swelling with every movement. She broke the kiss, her breath coming in short gasps as she leaned her forehead against his. "Fuck, Tim," she murmured, her voice tight with desire.

He chuckled, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm just following your lead, Officer," he murmured, his thumbs tracing the edge of her panties. The fabric was soaked with her arousal, and the heat of her pussy was like a siren's call to his cock. He pushed the material aside, his fingers sliding along her folds to find her clit, already swollen and eager for attention.

With a soft whine, Lucy arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against his hand. He took the hint, his thumb circling her clit as he kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. She rocked her hips in time with his touch, the pressure building between her legs.

Suddenly, Lucy shoved him backward with more strength than he expected, a playful glint in her eyes shifting into something bolder. Tim let out a surprised laugh as his back hit the bed, his hands instinctively grabbing her waist to steady her as she followed him down.

They landed in a tangled heap, her knees on either side of his hips, her hands braced on his chest. Her hair spilled around her face, brushing against his as her laughter bubbled out, soft and infectious.

"You've been holding out on me," he teased, his deep voice carrying a mix of amusement and challenge. His hands stayed on her waist, his thumbs brushing along the curve just above her hips.

Lucy grinned, leaning forward slightly, her breath ghosting over his lips."Maybe you're just easier to take down than you think."

His eyebrows shot up, his smirk widening. "Oh, is that right?"

Before she could answer, he twisted sharply, his strength and speed catching her off guard. With a soft gasp, she found herself flipped onto her back, her head sinking into the mattress.

Tim hovered above her now, propped on his forearms, his broad shoulders caging her in.

Her laughter filled the air as she looked up at him, her hands sliding up his arms, fingertips tracing over the firm muscle. "Alright, show-off. You've made your point."

His grin turned boyish, his gaze warm but mischievous. "Guess I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Lucy tilted her head, her smile teasing."For now. Don't get too comfortable, Bradford."

He dipped his head, brushing his nose lightly against hers, his voice low and full of humor. "Comfortable's not really my style."

Her laughter was soft, almost breathless, as her fingers trailed lazily along the back of his neck. “Good,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and tenderness. “I like you just the way you are—unpredictable, stubborn, and a little too sure of yourself.”

He grinned, his lips hovering just above hers. “Too sure of myself, huh? Says the woman who just tried—and failed—to pin me.”

Lucy arched a brow, her smile playful. “Failed? I’d say I was doing just fine until you cheated.”

“Cheated?” Tim laughed, the sound low and warm as he shook his head. “Using my natural skills is not cheating, Chen. It’s just being better prepared. You need to be able to do that as a cop.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes, her lips twitching with barely-contained amusement. “Better prepared? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Absolutely,” Tim replied, his tone as smug as the grin spreading across his face. “Rule number one: always be ready for the unexpected.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. Lucy’s laughter dissolved into a whimper, her body melting into his as he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth. His hands slid up her torso, his thumbs brushing against her nipples through the sweater, eliciting a gasp from her.

Tim’s fingers deftly found the edge of Lucy’s panties, gripping the fabric and pulling it aside. She felt the heat of his erection against her, and she arched her hips up to meet him, silently begging for more. He didn’t disappoint, positioning himself at her entrance and slowly pushing in, inch by delicious inch.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a soft moan as he filled her completely, their bodies fitting together like they were made for this exact moment. She could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock as he began to move inside her, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that made her toes curl.

Their kisses grew more desperate, more heated, as their bodies danced together in a symphony of passion and need. Lucy's nails dug into Tim's shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist as she urged him closer, her hips rising to meet his every thrust.

Tim groaned against her mouth, the sound vibrating through her as he began to move faster, his hips snapping against hers with an urgency that sent sparks through her body. She could feel the tension coiling within her, tightening like a spring ready to unravel at any moment.

"Oh, fuck," Lucy moaned, her voice a breathy whisper. "Just like that."

Tim's eyes darkened, his own passion mirroring hers as he pistoned in and out, his cock hitting all the right spots with a precision that left her trembling beneath him. Her walls tightened around him, her body eagerly welcoming him deeper with every stroke.

He broke the kiss to suck in a ragged breath, his forehead resting against hers. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with need. "So tight, so... fucking perfect."

Lucy's cheeks flushed at his words, her eyes locking onto his as she felt her climax approaching. "Tim," she gasped, her voice breaking on his name. "Don't stop."

Tim's eyes darkened, his own passion evident in the tight lines around his eyes and the set of his jaw. "Never," he promised, his hips moving faster, his cock driving deep into her with each powerful stroke.

Lucy's nails dug into his back, her body arching off the bed as she met him thrust for thrust. Her moans grew louder, her breaths coming in sharp pants that matched the rhythm of their lovemaking. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the air, the only sound in the quiet room.

Tim could feel the tension coiling tighter in her body, her muscles clenching around him as she grew closer to the edge. He leaned down to nip at her neck, his teeth scraping lightly along her skin as his free hand found her clit, his thumb circling the sensitive nub.

Her body jerked in response, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she came, her orgasm ripping through her like wildfire. He watched her face contort with pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream. The sight of her, so lost in the moment, sent a wave of heat through him, tightening his chest and making his pulse thunder in his ears. It was almost too much to bear, watching her like this-so vulnerable, so free, so breathtakingly real.

Her body trembled as she came down, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Sweat glistened on her skin, her damp hair clinging to her face and neck. For a moment, she stayed utterly still, her fingers lightly gripping his shoulders as if anchoring herself.

When her eyes fluttered open, she blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. A dazed, satisfied smile slowly curved her lips as she noticed the way he was watching her. "You're staring," she murmured, her voice soft and husky, still laced with lingering exhaustion.

Tim's lips quirked into a crooked smile, his hand reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from her face. His thumb lingered at her cheek, tracing the warm, flushed skin as his voice dropped to a low rumble. "Can you blame me?"

Lucy let out a soft, breathless laugh, her fingers idly toying with the fabric of his shirt. "I look like I just ran a marathon," she replied, her grin widening. "Pretty sure 'sweaty mess' isn't a great look."

"Wrong," Tim said immediately, his grin softening into something warmer. "It's the best look l've ever seen." His thumb continued to stroke her cheek, his gaze steady and unwavering. "You're beautiful, Lucy always.“

”Do you mean that, or are you just saying that because your trying to get round two?“Lucy quipped, her voice still shaky from her recent orgasm, a playful glint in her eyes as she studied Tim’s face.

Tim’s smile grew into a full-fledged grin as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I mean it," he murmured, his voice earnest. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't already thinking about round two."

Lucy's eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. "Well, in that case," she said, her voice still breathy with passion, "maybe we should continue the investigation."

Tim’s grin deepened, his eyes still locked on hers, but then he suddenly pulled back, his expression shifting to mock seriousness. “As tempting as that sounds,” he said with a chuckle, “I think I need a quick bathroom break first.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “A bathroom break?” she teased, her voice still laced with lingering breathlessness. “You’re killing the mood.”

Tim leaned down to press a quick kiss to her forehead, his smile playful but genuine. “Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s out of breath,” he said, his voice low with a hint of humor. “But I’ll be back in a second. I promise, round two will be worth the wait.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, her grin never faltering. “You better hurry, Bradford, or I might start the investigation without you.”

Tim gave her one last look, his grin widening as he got up. “You wouldn’t dare,” he teased, before heading toward the bathroom.

Lucy shifted, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her hand. Her lips curled into a playful grin as she met his eyes, her heart still pounding from the rush of everything that had just happened. “Oh, I’d dare,” she shot back, her voice laced with a teasing edge.

Tim’s smile widened as he backed toward the bathroom. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it,” he said, his tone light but confident, before he stepped through the door, leaving it just slightly ajar.

Lucy stayed still for a moment, her heart still thudding in her chest, the warmth of the moment lingering between them. She let out a quiet, almost breathless sigh and plopped back down onto the bed, her back pressing against the soft sheets. The room was still, save for the sound of Tim moving about in the bathroom.

Her eyes wandered around the room, really looking at it for the first time. She had been here before, of course—more than once—but never with this sense of curiosity. Her gaze lingered on the small details, like the neatness of the room, the soft, muted colors of the walls, the cozy, lived-in feel of the space. Everything seemed perfectly in its place, yet there was an easy, relaxed vibe to it. His space.

She found herself looking toward the bedside table, something about it pulling her attention. Lucy wasn’t the type to snoop—not really—but the quiet temptation in the air seemed to coax her forward. The door to the bathroom was still cracked, and she could hear Tim moving around in there, probably washing up or brushing his teeth, so she figured she had just a moment to indulge her curiosity.

Her fingers curled over the edge of the small drawer, the cool wood beneath her fingertips grounding her as she hesitated for just a moment. The room was still, the only sound the quiet hum of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the space. Slowly, she opened the drawer, the movement delicate, almost reverent. Inside, among a few scattered items—a pen, some loose change—was a picture frame, its glass gleaming under the lamp’s light.

Lucy’s fingers trembled as she pulled the photo from the drawer, her heart racing in her chest. She hadn’t expected this—a simple frame, something so small, would suddenly make her feel like she’d stepped into a world she wasn’t sure she belonged in. She could feel the weight of the moment, like she was trespassing in something far too personal, yet the photo pulled her in.

It was Tim—standing with a woman Lucy didn’t recognize. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, in a way that seemed so natural, so easy, it almost made Lucy ache. Tim’s smile was wide and effortless, the kind she’d never seen before. His eyes—soft, warm, full of affection—made her heart skip, and for a split second, her breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen him like this, so carefree, so open. There was a confidence in his posture, in his gaze, that was new to her. Like he knew exactly where he was, exactly who he was with—and she wasn’t part of that picture.

And the woman—God, the woman was stunning. Her blonde hair cascaded in soft waves, catching the light like strands of gold, framing her face in a way that made it impossible to look away. She had that effortless beauty, the kind that seemed untouched by the world, untouched by time. Her skin was flawless, glowing with a delicate sheen, making her look almost otherworldly—like she belonged in some fairy tale. She radiated warmth, her smile so genuine it was as if she were glowing from within, and it was that glow that made it impossible for Lucy to tear her eyes away.

The woman’s dress—Jesus, her dress—was the epitome of grace. It hugged her figure in all the right ways, the fabric flowing and shimmering as it moved. Lucy couldn’t tear her gaze away from the intricate lace and delicate beading that adorned the bodice, sparkling softly under the light. It was a long, flowing gown—so elegant, so luxurious, it made the woman appear almost too perfect. But then, it all clicked. Lucy’s heart dropped in her chest as she realized, with a sickening rush, it was a wedding dress.

Her breathing quickened, and her fingers trembled as they tightened around the frame. Her mind raced, grasping for any explanation that made sense. This can’t be real. There’s no way.

Tim doesn’t wear a ring. He’s never mentioned her. He’s never even hinted at this. Her stomach churned, a cold sweat breaking out along her skin as the possibilities began to flood her thoughts. It has to be a mistake. Maybe it’s an old picture, or maybe—

But the look on his face in the photo stopped her cold. That smile—so open, so genuine—was unlike anything she’d ever seen from him. It wasn’t just happiness; it was love. Deep, unmistakable love.

Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears as her mind kept spiraling. Am I dreaming? Maybe this is just a weird, vivid dream. But if it’s a dream… why am I holding this picture?

Her gaze flicked back to the drawer, now partially open, and the bedside table where she’d found the frame. Everything about the moment felt too sharp, too real. The cool glass beneath her fingertips, the muted glow of the lamp reflecting off the frame—it all anchored her to the truth.

It’s real. This is real.

Her stomach twisted violently at the thought. What does this mean? Who is she? Is he still—

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open cut through her chaotic thoughts like a knife.

“You ready for roun—” Tim’s voice faltered mid-sentence.

Lucy’s head snapped up to meet his gaze, her eyes wide with terror. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and she could feel the blood draining from her face as she stared at him, clutching the photo like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

Tim froze in the doorway, his casual smile fading the instant he saw the look on her face—and the picture in her hands.

"I..." His voice was low and cautious, his body still as if he were trying not to spook her. "I can explain."

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is..." Her voice cracked, trembling with disbelief and desperation.

Tim's silence was deafening, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Lucy's chest tightened, her breathing erratic as her eyes flicked between him and the photo in her shaking hands.

"Tim," she whispered, her voice quivering as the weight of the truth bore down on her, "please tell me this isn't what it looks like."

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice barely audible, laden with guilt.

Her stomach twisted violently, and her hands trembled harder. She shot up from the bed, clutching the frame like it was burning her, shaking it in the air as tears welled in her eyes. "You're sorry?" she repeated, her voice rising, a mixture of anger and despair. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. So it's true?
You're married?"

"Lucy, I was going to tell you-" he started, stepping toward her, his hands raised defensively.

"When?" she screamed, cutting him off. "When, Tim? After you fucked me again? After you made me feel like I was something special? Or were you just going to keep stringing me along until l found out like this?" Her voice cracked as she hurled the accusations at him, the frame trembling in her hands.

His face twisted with anguish. "I was going to tell you tonight-at dinner," he said quickly, his tone desperate. "I've been trying to-"

"Dinner?" she repeated with a bitter, incredulous laugh, her tears spilling over now. "You mean tonight? When you apologized for not saying 'I love you'? When you talked about how hard your childhood was and made me feel so fucking sorry for you? When you had me thinking I was helping you by telling you it was okay not to rush?" Her voice rose to a near-shriek, the betrayal cutting deeper with every word. "You were going to tell me then? After all of that?"

"I didn't know how," he admitted, his voice breaking. "Lucy, I didn't want to ruin things. I didn't want to lose you."

Her laugh was sharp and hollow, filled with disbelief. "Lose me?" she repeated, her voice shaking. "You were already losing me the second you decided to hide this. What the fuck was your plan, Tim? Did you think I wouldn't care? That I'd just roll with it because you didn't want to deal with the consequences?"

"No," he said firmly, stepping closer, his hands outstretched as if he could reach her through the storm of her anger. "I swear to God, Lucy, I didn't mean for it to happen like this. I tried to bring it up—“

"Don't," she snapped, cutting him off with a glare that could pierce steel. "Don't you dare put this on me. Don't you dare act like this is my fault because I told you not to rush sharing your trauma. That's not the same as hiding the fact that you're married!"

"I wasn't trying to hide it," he said, his voice pleading now. "I just didn't know how to—“

"Stop lying!" she screamed, her voice raw and hoarse. She threw the frame down on the bed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You were lying to me every second you spent with me. Every kiss, every touch-was any of it real? Or was I just a fucking object to you? Just some nerdy college girl you could use to get your kicks because you thought I wouldn't catch on?"

"No!" he said sharply, his eyes wide and desperate. "Lucy, it wasn't like that. I—“

"Then what was it like?" she demanded, stepping closer to him, her face twisted with anguish. "Because it sure as hell feels like I was just something convenient to you. Was it fun for you, Tim? Did you get a kick out of making me fall in love with you while you had a wife at home?"

"Lucy, please," he started, his voice breaking as he tried to step toward her.

"No, don't even try!" she yelled, stepping back as if his nearness might physically burn her. "You're literally standing there naked, Tim! How am I supposed to take anything you say seriously when the only thing you've been thinking with this whole time is your fucking dick?"

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it?" she spat, her eyes narrowing.
"Because if it wasn't, you would've told me the truth before we even went on a date! You would've stopped me the second I asked you out and said, 'Sorry, I'm married! But no, you kept your mouth shut because it was easier, because you wanted to see how far you could take this."

Tim’s heart slammed against his ribs, his chest tight with a mix of shame and fury. He clenched his fists, trying to stop them from trembling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucy,” he said, voice low and unsteady.

Lucy’s eyes widened, the anger in them flaring brighter. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about, Tim. You used me, manipulated me into thinking that we were something real, something worth fighting for. But this? This is all I am to you, isn’t it? Just a conquest. A trophy to make yourself feel better.”

Her words cut him deeper than any physical pain ever could. He flinched, the harsh truth of her accusation sinking in. He knew it wasn’t fair, that his silence had fed into this—had made her believe he cared when, in reality, he had been drowning in his own insecurities and guilt. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore.

“Stop,” he muttered, voice cracking under the weight of his realization. “Stop saying that. I didn’t want this to happen. I wanted you, Lucy. More than anything, I wanted you.”

Her eyes searched his face for a moment, searching for a trace of the man she had once believed in. But it was too late. The crack in her voice as she spoke next made him feel like the floor had disappeared beneath him.

“You wanted me? You think this is love, Tim?” she spat, stepping forward until they were mere inches apart, her rage palpable. “You think this is what love looks like? Lying, hiding behind a mask, using people when it suits you? Because if that’s love, then I don’t want it. I won’t be a part of this lie anymore.”

Tim’s breath came in ragged gasps, the reality of her words anchoring him in the worst way possible. There was no excuse, no reason that could make up for what he’d done. The truth of who he was now, standing in front of her, stripped of every defense, hit him harder than anything he’d ever known.

“Lucy,” he whispered, and her name on his lips felt like a prayer, a final plea.

But she shook her head, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “No, Tim. This is over. You’re not the person I thought you were, and I’m not going to let you fool me anymore.”

The words hit him like a blow, leaving him breathless. He stood there, a man splintered by his own mistakes, unable to move or speak as the reality of her decision settled around him like an ice storm.

Lucy bent down to retrieve her jeans from the floor, pulling them on with a trembling hand. The fabric felt rough against her skin, a reminder of the comfort and safety she thought she had. She forced herself to put on her shoes, each movement deliberate as if she needed to keep her body from collapsing under the weight of the moment.

Tim watched her, his chest tightening with every second that passed. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. He could only stand there, a broken silhouette in the dim light, paralyzed by the aftermath of his choices.

She looked up one last time, the silence between them louder than any fight they’d ever had. “Don’t ever contact me, Tim,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering.

He felt as though he’d been gutted, the pain radiating through him until it felt like he might collapse. But she didn’t wait for him to respond. She turned and stepped out of the room, the sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway until it was just him, alone with the jagged pieces of his regrets.

Chapter Text

The streetlights blurred into streaks of orange and yellow as Lucy walked home, her steps slower than usual, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her every movement. The night air was cool, but it didn’t ease the heat that had built up inside her—an unsettling mix of anger, confusion, and a deep, aching sorrow that seemed to pulse through her veins. She couldn’t escape it, not yet.

It was like a storm had settled in her chest, and with every breath she took, it raged louder, darker. She had never felt this betrayed before, not even when life had knocked her down in the past. This betrayal was personal—so much more than a fleeting heartbreak. It had sunk its claws deep into her heart, tearing at the trust she had so willingly given. Tim had been the calm in her storm, the safe harbor. Now, she was left standing in the wreckage of something she had believed in, something that had felt like home.

She didn’t know how to reconcile the two versions of him—the man she had come to love and the one she had found out the truth about. Her thoughts were swirling, tumbling in her mind like waves crashing against jagged rocks. The city, bustling and alive around her, felt distant, like she was watching it all unfold through a fogged window. Nothing seemed real, nothing seemed steady.

She’d found herself replaying every moment she’d spent with him—every laugh, every soft touch, every whispered word. How could it all have been a lie? How could she have been so blind to the things he kept hidden? The betrayal stung, not just because of what he had done, but because of how long she had let herself believe in something that was never meant to last.

Her thoughts shifted, and suddenly she was at her door, standing in front of the familiar threshold of her dorm room. The door felt heavier than it ever had before, the weight of her emotions pressing against her like a physical force. She had to force herself to lift her hand and push it open. As she stepped inside, the warmth of the room hit her, but it was different—stifling, almost. The comforting walls now felt like a cage, trapping her in the world she had just been forced to leave behind.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the teasing voice she knew all too well broke through the silence. “Well, well, well,” Rachel drawled, sitting up in her bed with a playful smirk on her face. “Look who finally decided to grace me with her presence. Care to tell me where you’ve been all night, young lady?”

Lucy didn’t respond immediately, her eyes staying focused on her shoes as she kicked them off and tossed her bag onto the desk with a little more force than necessary. The tension in her body was palpable, like she was trying to keep it together but barely holding on.

“Out,” she muttered flatly, not looking at Rachel.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Out, huh? You sure about that?” She motioned to Lucy’s disheveled appearance—the wild hair, the smudged eyeliner, and the faint wobble in her step. “You look like you’ve been up to something… a lot more than just out.”

Lucy turned toward her, a sharp edge to her voice. “So what if I was?”

Rachel raised her hands in mock defense, her smirk never faltering. “Geez, what’s with the third-degree, girl? I’m just making an observation.” She leaned back, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s not exactly subtle, you know? You look like you got laid twenty times over.”

Lucy’s face flushed, and her jaw clenched as she felt herself start to bristle under Rachel’s teasing. “It’s none of your business,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady.

Rachel didn’t back off. “I mean, it’s a little hard to miss, Luce. The messy hair, the eyeliner running down your face like you just got… worked over. Did you forget how to walk or something?”

Lucy’s patience was slipping fast. “I said, it’s none of your business,” she repeated through gritted teeth.

Rachel smirked again, poking at the raw nerves. “You sure about that? ‘Cause it’s pretty damn obvious. You’re walking like you’ve been, well… distracted, if you catch my drift.”

That was it. Lucy spun on her heel, fists clenched, her voice rising as she snapped, “Shut up! I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Can you just leave me the fuck alone?”

Rachel blinked, stunned into silence. Lucy’s words hung in the air, thick with anger, and for the first time, Rachel saw just how fragile her friend was. The teasing faded from her face, and she stood there, caught off guard by the intensity of the outburst.

Lucy’s chest heaved as she turned away, her face flushed with a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something she couldn’t keep hidden any longer. She swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy choked out, her voice trembling as she turned back toward Rachel. “I didn’t mean to yell. I just… I just can’t… I don’t know what to do right now.”

Rachel took a tentative step forward, her playful expression replaced by one of concern. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, her tone a complete contrast to the teasing banter they’d shared earlier. “You don’t have to apologize. What’s going on?”

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, her hands shaking as she wiped at the tears, but they kept coming. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t… I didn’t know how to tell you.” Her voice cracked as she finally met Rachel’s gaze. “He’s married, Rachel. Tim… he’s married.”

Rachel’s expression froze, her face drained of color as Lucy’s words hung heavy in the air. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak, the shock and disbelief settling deep in her chest. She took a slow, steadying breath, trying to process the reality of what Lucy had just revealed. “What?” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible. “Are you serious?”

Lucy nodded, the tears spilling faster now, blurring her vision as she wiped her eyes furiously, desperate to get a hold of herself. “I found a photo,” she choked out, barely able to breathe through the tightness in her throat. “It was in his drawer, Rachel. Of him with his wife. I had no idea. I thought we were real, that he cared about me, but it’s all just… a lie.”

Rachel’s heart sank as the weight of Lucy’s words hit her. She took a step forward, her instinct to comfort her friend overriding everything else. She pulled Lucy into her arms, holding her tightly as the younger woman collapsed against her. “Oh my God, Lucy… I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now.”

Lucy sobbed into her shoulder, her body trembling with the release of so much emotion. “I gave him everything, Rachel. I trusted him with my heart, with my time, and now I feel like a fool. How did I not see it? How did I not see all the signs?” Her voice was raw, thick with self-loathing. “I thought I was special to him. I thought he was different… but I was just… just another girl.”

Rachel rubbed her back soothingly, trying to steady herself before speaking again. “Lucy, listen to me. You’re not a fool. You loved him, and you gave him everything because you’re a good person. You trusted him because you believed in what you had together. That’s not something to regret. It’s not something to feel ashamed of.”

“But how can you say that?” Lucy pulled away slightly, looking at her friend with wide, tear-filled eyes. “He lied to me. He hid his life from me. He didn’t tell me the truth about his marriage. Everything we had… was built on lies. How can you tell me I wasn’t stupid for believing in him?”

Rachel took a deep breath, her voice firm but gentle as she took Lucy’s hands in hers. “Because trusting someone and loving them with your whole heart is never stupid. It takes courage. You believed in him, and you gave him your trust. That’s not a mistake. The only mistake was his—he lied to you, and that’s something he has to carry, not you.”

Lucy closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she wiped at her face once more, trying to stem the tide of tears that just wouldn’t stop. “But I feel so empty now, Rachel. I thought he was the one. I thought I was enough for him. How could he… how could he do this to me?”

“Because he’s not worthy of you, Lucy.” Rachel’s voice was fierce now, the protective anger bubbling up as she held her friend’s gaze. “You gave him everything, and he didn’t value it. He wasn’t capable of loving you the way you deserve to be loved. And that’s on him. Not on you.”

Lucy’s chest tightened as she tried to force the tears down, but they kept coming, harder this time, mixing with the anger she felt toward Tim. “I just… I thought I was enough for him. I thought if I was there for him, if I was patient, maybe I could make him see me. Make him choose me. But I was wrong.” She let out a broken laugh, almost hysterical, shaking her head. “I thought I could be the one to make him see the truth. But I wasn’t enough for him to leave his wife. I wasn’t enough to be the one he wanted.”

Rachel’s eyes softened, but there was still a spark of fire in her gaze. She reached out and placed her hands on Lucy’s shoulders, steadying her as she spoke with all the conviction she could muster. “You are enough, Lucy. You are so much more than enough. You are worthy of love. You deserve someone who will see you, who will put you first and be open and honest with you. Not someone who will deceive you and leave you in the dark. And I know you’re hurting now, but trust me when I say this: you are going to come out of this stronger than you ever thought possible.”

Lucy shook her head again, the weight of it all too much to bear. “I don’t know how to come back from this, Rachel. How do I… how do I pick up the pieces when it feels like everything I thought I knew about him was a lie?”

“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” Rachel said, her tone softening. “But you will. You’re going to pick yourself up. And when you do, you’re going to show everyone—including yourself—that you are stronger than this. This is just one chapter, and I know it’s a hard one. But you’re going to write the next one, Lucy. And it’s going to be so much better. You’re going to go to the academy, you’re going to become one hell of a cop, and you’re going to prove to yourself that you don’t need anyone to complete you. You’re already whole.”

Lucy’s breath caught in her throat as the words slowly began to sink in. Her mind was still reeling, the pain fresh and raw, but something in Rachel’s voice, in the strength of her words, started to spark something inside her. It wasn’t a cure for the hurt, not yet, but it was a seed of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, she could move on from this. She could prove to herself that she was stronger than the man who had betrayed her. And she would.

She wiped her face one last time, her breath still shaky but her gaze clearer now. “I’m going to the academy, Rachel. I’m going to prove to everyone, including myself, that I’m not defined by him. That I don’t need him. I’m going to be better than this.”

Rachel smiled softly, her pride in her friend evident. “That’s what I want to hear. You’re going to be amazing, Lucy. And you’re going to show him—and the world—that you are unstoppable.”

Lucy nodded, her resolve slowly hardening, as if the weight of the words were finally beginning to break through the fog of despair. There was still pain, still sorrow, but now, there was something else, too: a determination to move forward, no matter how difficult the road ahead. “I’m going to be okay,” she whispered, the first real spark of belief in her voice.

Lucy took a deep breath, the weight of the moment settling in her chest, and for the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope—small, fragile, but enough to push her forward. With a final, steadying exhale, she whispered, “I have to be.”

Chapter Text

8 months later

Pride is something that grows within you, slowly and steadily, like roots reaching deeper into the earth with every challenge you face. Eight months had passed since Lucy’s world had shattered, and now, as she stood on the edge of something new, she could feel it—a quiet strength she hadn’t known she possessed, rising up from all the lessons learned, the pain endured, and the decisions she’d made to move forward.

The Academy had been grueling. It wasn’t just the physical demands, though those alone had been enough to push her to her limits. It was the mental gauntlet—endless days where failure seemed inevitable, where the instructors’ barked commands tore at her resolve and exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. They told her she wasn’t enough. They told her she wouldn’t make it. But every time the voices of doubt rose up, she silenced them with her actions. She pushed harder, ran faster, climbed higher. Every bruise, every aching muscle, every sleepless night became a badge of honor. She didn’t need applause or validation from others; the only person she had to prove anything to was herself.

She didn’t face it alone, though. The Academy wasn’t just a crucible—it was where bonds were forged. Jackson had been there from day one, his sharp wit and easy humor a lifeline in the chaos. He was the kind of friend who could pull her out of her head when the pressure got too heavy, who turned even the harshest drills into something bearable. They leaned on each other, swapping stories and frustrations, celebrating small victories in whispered moments during breaks. Jackson was more than a friend—he was her brother in the trenches, her constant when everything else felt like too much.

And then there was John. He wasn’t just another recruit; he was different, grounded in a way that drew her in before she even realized it. Their connection hadn’t been immediate or fiery. It had grown quietly, steadily, like the trust she was learning to rebuild within herself. John was older, his presence calm and deliberate, his words measured but full of understanding. At first, he had been a partner in the chaos, someone who saw her potential even when she doubted it herself. But as the weeks turned to months, their bond shifted, deepened into something she hadn’t been looking for but couldn’t ignore.

John wasn’t just her boyfriend. He was her partner in every sense of the word—a man who didn’t shy away from her past, who didn’t ask for more than she could give. He understood her drive, respected her need to stand on her own, but he was always there, steady and unshakable. He didn’t try to fix her; he simply stood beside her, and that was enough.

Steam curled around Lucy in the small bathroom as she towel-dried her hair, still damp from the shower. Her movements were slow, deliberate-half nerves, half distraction. The night felt heavier than she expected, the anticipation of tomorrow lingering in the back of her mind like a low hum. She caught her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks still flushed from the heat of the water, and gave herself a small, determined nod.

She grabbed a fresh shirt and a pair of shorts from the pile she'd set on the counter, slipping into them with ease.
The soft fabric felt comforting, familiar, grounding. Pulling her hair into a loose bun, she padded out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the room.

John was already in bed, propped up against the headboard with one arm tucked behind his head. He looked up from his book as she entered, his expression softening immediately. His hair was a little messy, and his features relaxed in a way that made her chest ache with affection.

"Hey,"

"Hey," she replied, the corner of her mouth curving up.

She crossed the room, her bare feet quiet against the floor. The bed dipped as she climbed in, crawling on her hands and knees toward him.

John set his book down on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving her as she moved toward him. His expression was calm, steady, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—admiration, maybe, or pride.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice soft, with a teasing edge.

Lucy settled beside him, leaning her back against the headboard, her legs crossed under her. “Getting there,” she replied, her lips quirking into a small smile.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Big day tomorrow,” he said, his tone warm but measured.

Lucy exhaled, a grin tugging at her lips. “Big day for you maybe,” she teased, tilting her head slightly. “I’m just here to make you look good.”

John smirked, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be? You’re already planning to steal my thunder?”

“Steal?” she echoed, feigning innocence as she tucked her legs beneath her. “Please. You should be grateful I’m letting you share the spotlight.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Cocky tonight, aren’t we?”

“Confident,” she corrected with a wag of her finger. “I worked my ass off for this, John. I earned the right to be a little cocky.”

John couldn’t help but smile at the warmth in her voice, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “I can’t argue with that,” he admitted, his tone gentle. “You’ve worked so hard for this, Lucy. You should be proud.”

She looked down for a moment, her cheeks tinged with color. “I am,” she said softly, her voice laced with emotion. “But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

John let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Lucy, you’ve got this backwards. You believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’m 45 years old, about to start my rookie year, surrounded by people who could run circles around me—and somehow, you convinced me this wasn’t the craziest decision of my life.”

She looked up at him, her lips curving into a small smile. “Well, it is the craziest decision of your life,” she teased lightly, “but it’s also the best one. And for the record, you’re not that old.”

His laugh deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not that old?” he repeated, his tone mock-offended. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

Lucy grinned, shifting closer to him on the bed, her bare feet brushing against his. “You’ve still got some good years left in you, John. I mean, I wouldn’t have stuck around otherwise.”

John raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Oh, really? So you’re only with me for my youthful charm and dashing good looks?”

Lucy chuckled, leaning in just enough to brush her lips against his, soft and teasing. “It’s all that and your, uh, ‘experience’ that makes you so irresistible.”

John chuckled softly, his hand sliding to rest on her hip, the warmth of his touch making Lucy’s pulse quicken. “Experience, huh? That’s one way to spin it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving him a playful grin. “It’s not spin. It’s the truth. You’ve got that whole ‘calm under pressure, always has the answers’ thing going on. You’re like the human version of a cheat code.”

His eyebrows lifted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Cheat code? That’s a new one. I’m flattered… I think.”

She leaned a little closer, her fingers trailing absentmindedly along the line of his forearm. “You should be. It’s a compliment. There’s just something about you that makes me feel… safe. Like you’d never let anything rattle you. It’s kind of sexy.”

John’s smirk deepened as he closed the small space between them. “So, steady and safe is sexy? Good to know. Anything else I should be taking notes on?”

Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. “Impossible? You were just calling me sexy. Make up your mind, Lucy.”

“I stand by it,” she shot back, her voice soft but teasing. “I just happen to think your ego doesn’t need any help.”

John laughed, the sound low and warm, before his lips captured hers in a kiss that was equal parts playful and lingering. It was the kind of kiss that made her toes curl, her heart fluttering as his hand slid up to cradle the back of her neck. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, savoring every moment.

When they finally broke apart, Lucy was breathless, her cheeks flushed. “See? That right there. Totally a cheat code.”

John rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing against her jaw. “If I’m the cheat code, what does that make you?”

Lucy blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. “Uh… I don’t know. The player?”

John grinned, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Nah. You’re the game, Lucy. The best kind—the one I can’t stop playing.”

Her cheeks burned as she laughed, lightly swatting his shoulder. “That was so corny, John.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap. “But you’re still smiling.”

She shook her head, unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he countered without hesitation, the sincerity in his tone making her heart skip a beat.

They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads pressed together, the teasing fading into a comfortable silence. Finally, John shifted, tucking her beneath the covers and pulling her close against him.

“You know,” Lucy murmured, resting her head against his chest, “for all your talk about being steady and reliable, you’re actually kind of a softie.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Her quiet laughter was the last sound in the room before they both drifted off, tangled together and perfectly content.

The early morning sunlight slanted through the window, casting warm, golden hues across the room. Lucy’s eyes fluttered open, the reality of the day ahead flooding her with a jolt of excitement. Today was a big day—her first day in uniform, her first step into a career that felt as exhilarating as it was daunting. She carefully shifted, careful not to wake John, who was still sound asleep, a soft smile curving his lips.

A soft giggle escaped her as she watched him, the way his chest rose and fell so peacefully, like he was dreaming of something good. She slid out of bed, the cool floor beneath her feet grounding her as she pulled on a soft, oversized sweater and a pair of well-loved jeans. The sweater was warm, familiar, and she adjusted the hem before grabbing her hairbrush and running it through her tousled hair.

The kitchen was a few steps away, and she moved with a sense of purpose, the faint creak of the wooden floorboards beneath her feet the only sound in the quiet house. The coffee machine was already set, a late-night ritual she’d grown to love. She pressed the button, and a steady drip followed, filling the air with its rich, comforting scent.

“Morning,” a deep voice murmured from the doorway. John was there, leaning casually against the frame, eyes heavy with sleep but alight with something softer as he met her gaze. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile that made her heart twist in the best way.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she teased, taking a sip of her coffee as she leaned against the counter.

John ran a hand through his tousled hair and smirked. “Sleep wasn’t the same without you in bed. It’s like I woke up in a different world.”

Lucy chuckled, the sound warm and carefree. “Well, I couldn’t let you get too comfortable. You need to save that energy for today. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

His eyes sparkled with humor. “Oh, I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep my energy up with you around. You better control yourself out there. No one can know we’re together, remember?”

She arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she stepped closer. “Oh, trust me. I’m going to be on my best behavior. But you, Officer… you’re the one who’s going to have to keep your cool.”

John stepped forward, leaning down just enough so their faces were inches apart. “Challenge accepted,” he said, his voice dropping into a whisper.

Lucy laughed, the sound rich and light. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The warmth of his skin, the way his eyes softened at the gesture—it made her heart swell with something she couldn’t quite name. “See you at roll call,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes.

He smiled, brushing a stray hair from her face. “See you at roll call, Officer Chen,” he replied, the lightness in his tone laced with warmth.

Lucy felt a giddy rush of excitement as she stepped outside, the morning air crisp and cool against her skin. The sky was a brilliant blue, promising a perfect start to her first day on the street. She checked her watch as she slid into her car. 8:00 AM. Plenty of time. She was on track to get to the station early, just as she’d planned.

The engine roared to life, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. The excitement in her chest was almost overwhelming now, her thoughts buzzing with what lay ahead. Her uniform was neatly folded in her bag on the passenger seat, waiting to be donned in the locker room. She imagined herself walking into roll call, standing tall as “Officer Chen” for the first time.

But just as she merged onto the road, the car gave a sudden, violent shudder. A sinking feeling gripped her stomach as she glanced at the dashboard. Warning lights. Lots of them.

“No, no, no. Not today!” she muttered, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

The car sputtered, jerking forward once, twice, and then—dead silence. The engine gave out entirely, and Lucy barely managed to pull onto the shoulder before the car came to a complete stop. She slammed her hands against the wheel, frustration bubbling up in her chest.

“Of course this would happen today,” she grumbled, staring at the dashboard. The clock flashed 8:15, and her stomach sank. She was already running late for her first day out on the streets, and now this.

She threw the car into park and climbed out, slamming the door behind her. The last thing she wanted was to deal with a breakdown now. The station was close—only a couple of blocks away—but she was already on the clock. She popped the hood, hoping for some sign of life, but there was nothing. The engine was dead.

Lucy’s shoulders slumped. There wasn’t time to wait for roadside assistance, no time to call for a tow. Rolling her eyes at the absurdity of it all, she gave a resigned sigh, stepping to the back of the car. She braced her hands against the bumper and began to push.

The car barely budged at first, the weight of it resisting her every effort. She gritted her teeth, pressing her sneakers against the pavement, digging in with all her strength. Her arms burned, her legs ached, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

With every step, she made a little more progress, inching closer to the station. Come on, come on, she thought, the adrenaline fueling her determination. The station wasn’t far; she could see the towering building in the distance.

As she pushed, she heard a voice behind her.

“Hey, Mama!”

Lucy stopped for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. She didn’t have time for this. She turned, wiping sweat from her brow, expecting the usual half-hearted attempt at a pickup line. Instead, she found a guy in a hoodie walking toward her with a grin on his face. He was too close for comfort, his eyes scanning her from head to toe.

“That’s a nice ride,” he said, his voice oozing casualness, but there was something off about his tone.

“Yeah, it is,” she said, already irritated, turning back to the car and continuing her push. She wasn’t in the mood for games today.

The guy didn’t move, though, still standing there watching her struggle.

“I think I’m gonna have to take it off your hands,” he said, stepping closer.

Lucy paused, eyes narrowing at the uninvited attention. The way he said it—like it was a matter of fact—made her gut tighten. She turned back toward him, already scanning for an exit strategy.

“You’re gonna steal my car?” she asked, voice dripping with disbelief. “The one that just broke down two blocks ago?”

The man’s grin widened, and with a swift motion, he lifted his shirt, revealing a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes locking on the weapon. The guy wasn’t joking. He casually pulled the gun out, his eyes still fixed on hers.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and threatening, “Maybe take you for a spin too.”

Lucy’s stomach dropped. She could feel the cool metal of the gun’s barrel in the air, his presence closing in on her. Panic prickled at the back of her mind, but she kept her voice steady.

“Take a ride?” she repeated, her gaze never leaving the weapon. “You think I’m just gonna get in a car with you after you pull a gun on me?”

The man stepped closer, closing the space between them. She backed up, instinctively putting more distance between them, but he matched her step for step.

“What’s the problem?” he asked with a smirk. “You look good, I look good. We both need a ride.”

Lucy kept her eyes trained on the gun. He was getting too close. Her mind raced through the options—she couldn’t let him think she was afraid. She had to stay in control.

“Get away from me,” she said sharply, her voice unwavering.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he reached out, his hand pulling at her sleeve as he stepped even closer. “Oh, come on,” he said, “You’re already in a bad situation, aren’t you?”

Lucy’s adrenaline surged. He was close now—too close—and she didn’t have time to waste. With a swift motion, she grabbed his wrist, twisting it as hard as she could. The guy gasped in surprise, the gun slipping from his grip and clattering to the ground.

Before he could react, Lucy shoved him back, hard, sending him stumbling into the hood of her car. She didn’t hesitate, slamming him against the metal with a brutal force. His breath hitched, but she was already one step ahead, keeping her body pressed against his to prevent any escape.

With one hand firmly on his back, she reached into the driver’s side door of her car, fingers quickly brushing over the interior as she felt around. Her heart raced, but her movements were methodical. She knew exactly where she’d placed the zip ties earlier. She grabbed one with her free hand and tightened her grip on his back, keeping him pinned to the hood as she pulled the tie tight around his wrists.

“Not today, buddy,” Lucy muttered, her voice low and unwavering.

The man groaned beneath her, trying to wriggle free, but his movements were sluggish now. She tightened the zip tie until it snapped into place, securing his hands behind his back.

Lucy stepped back for a moment, watching the man squirm on the ground, frustration and disbelief written all over his face. She didn’t have time to enjoy his defeat. She needed to get this over with.

The car sputtered back to life with a few more tries, and Lucy let out a sharp breath of relief. The engine hummed steadily now, as if mocking the events that had just unfolded. She shifted the car into drive, her hands steady on the wheel despite the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

By the time she reached the station, her mind was focused, her resolve stronger than ever. Pulling up to the front desk, she threw the car in park and climbed out, keeping the man close. He still glared at her, but his earlier bravado had faded into something much more defeated.

Lucy dragged him by the zip ties to the front entrance, shoving him through the door, her boots clicking sharply against the floor. She held her head high, every inch the officer she was.

“Officer Chen, reporting for duty,” she said, her voice steady and confident.

The man, still struggling to free himself, barely registered her words as he was pushed into a waiting officer’s hands. Lucy watched as they took him, making sure to keep a firm grip on the situation. She didn’t flinch, not even when John appeared from behind the front desk.

“Nice to see you’re getting an early start today, Officer Chen,” John said, his tone amused as he leaned against the counter, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Lucy didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, she watched as the officers quickly secured the suspect, feeling the weight of her actions settle in. She had just faced down a threat and kept it under control—but she couldn’t let herself lose focus.

“Yeah, just handling business,” Lucy replied, her eyes meeting John’s, a teasing glint in them as she held his gaze a moment longer than necessary.

John raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I’d say you handled it pretty well,” he replied, his voice low and just the slightest bit flirtatious.

Lucy smirked, clearly amused. “You think so? You should see me on a slow day.” She gave him a quick wink before turning to head toward the locker room, her footsteps light as she moved away.

John watched her go, a hint of admiration in his eyes, but he kept his thoughts to himself as he returned his focus to the ongoing work at the station.

Lucy quickly slipped into the locker room, the adrenaline from the earlier encounter still buzzing in her veins. She changed into her uniform, adjusting the belt and making sure everything was in place. A deep breath steadied her as she finished up, ready to face the rest of the day.

Once Lucy was dressed, she headed straight for the roll call room, her focus shifting entirely to the work ahead. As she entered, she spotted Jackson and John already standing together, chatting quietly. They gave her a brief nod as she joined them in line, taking her place among the others. The energy in the room was palpable—officers exchanging quick words, adjusting gear, preparing for the day.

The door swung open, and a tall, broad man walked in, his presence commanding immediate attention. Sergeant Wade Grey.

“All right, all right. Settle down. Settle down,” he said, his voice booming across the room. The officers fell silent as he stood before them, his arms crossed, scanning the group. “So, okay, we got some new blood this morning. And some pushing the expiration date.” A ripple of laughter spread through the room.

He turned toward the rookies. “Get up,” he ordered, and Lucy, Jackson, and John stood at attention. “After six months together in the Academy, you’ve earned the right to be here. But you’ll have to prove yourself to stay.”

His gaze sharpened as he continued, “The way we do things matters. Protocol and tradition are the metal from which every cop in this city is forged. Understand?”

Lucy, Jackson, and John all nodded firmly, responding in unison, “Yes, sir.”

Sergeant Grey’s grin widened at their synchronicity. He stepped back, pacing the front of the room as he surveyed the group of rookies. “Good,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “Now, let’s get to it. I don’t care how many records you broke in the Academy or how many arrests you’ve made before your first shift. In here, we do things my way. Follow the rules, and you’ll survive. Break ‘em, and you’ll be out. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy, Jackson, and John replied in unison, their voices steady and firm.

“Good,” Sergeant Grey said again, nodding in approval before his grin returned. “Now it’s time to play the Training Officer match game. Our contestants are: Lucy Chen, a hotshot who made her first arrest before clocking in for work. Legacy Jackson West, who broke all his dad’s records at the Academy. And John Nolan, who was born before disco died.”

Laughter erupted in the room, and Lucy shot a sympathetic glance at John, her lips curving into a small, understanding smile. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it fall away.

Then, Sergeant Grey’s voice rang out.

“And the winners are… Officer Lopez, you get our legacy. Officer Bishop gets the 40-year-old rookie, and finally, Officer Bradford, you get our hot shot.”

Lucy’s heart dropped into her stomach.

No. Please, no.

She turned, half-expecting it to be a mistake, but her gaze landed on him—Timothy. Fucking Bradford.

Her breath hitched. There he was, standing a few rows back with his arms crossed, the same familiar stance she had come to know so well. Her ex-boyfriend. The man who had broken her heart months ago.

How could I be so stupid?

Her stomach churned. She had worked so hard to move on, tried to forget what he had done, but seeing him here, seeing his face again—it all came rushing back. The betrayal. The shock of discovering he was married when she had been falling for him.

This is my training officer?

A cold wave of disbelief washed over her. She couldn’t believe it—couldn’t believe she’d never connected the dots before. But now it was impossible to ignore. She had to train with him. Him.

Chapter Text

When you love someone, truly love them, their face becomes a map you never forget. You memorize every detail—the curve of their jawline, the way their lips move when they speak, the flecks of gold in their eyes that catch the light just so. Their face is no longer just a face; it’s a story you’ve read a thousand times and still crave to read again. It’s the way their nose crinkles when they laugh, the barely-there scar above their eyebrow they never talk about, the way their cheeks flush at the first hint of emotion. You memorize it not because you want to, but because you can’t help it. It becomes a part of you, a photograph etched into the fabric of your mind, too vivid to ever fade.

And when you see them again, after time and distance have tried to blur the lines, you realize those details are still there. They’re waiting for you, haunting you like a song that plays on repeat in the back of your head.

So when her name was called and she turned around to face him, it hit Tim all at once, like the ground had been ripped out from under him. His heart plummeted, the weight of it dragging through his chest as if gravity itself was conspiring against him. There she was—Lucy. Her face was exactly as he remembered and yet somehow more.

The sharp edge of her chin, the soft slope of her lips, the way her dark eyes locked on his with a mix of surprise and something he couldn’t yet name. Time hadn’t softened her; it had made her more vivid. Like the memory of her had been merely a black-and-white sketch, and now here she was, painted in full, overwhelming color. He didn’t just see her—he felt her, as if the space between them vibrated with a pull neither of them could deny.

Tim swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, but the damage was done. In that split second, every wall he’d built, every excuse he’d told himself, came crashing down. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready for her.

The room around him began to blur as his heart hammered in his chest. How long had it been since he’d seen her? A couple months ?Months of trying to move on, to push her from his mind, to live without the weight of the love they had shared. He’d buried that part of himself, locking it away deep inside, telling himself that she was better off without him. She deserved better. She deserved someone who could give her everything, someone who wasn’t still trapped in the wreckage of his past.

And yet here she was, standing in front of him like nothing had changed, like time hadn’t torn them apart. Her eyes were still that same stormy shade of brown, pulling him under with their depth. But they weren’t warm anymore, not like they used to be. They were guarded, distant. Just like he deserved. He hadn’t even had a chance to explain to her—to apologize—for what happened, and now it was too late.

Why now? he thought, the question spinning in his head like a broken record. Why is she here? Why in the hell did they put her on my team?

His mind raced, every thought a frantic blur, every word slipping through his fingers before he could grasp it. He tried to focus, to pull himself together, but his body betrayed him. His hands were shaking, his chest tight, and his breath felt shallow as if the air itself was thickening around him. She’s not just a rookie. She’s Lucy. My Lucy. The one I broke. The one I ruined.

He wanted to look away, to turn around and pretend this was all a bad dream, but he couldn’t. His gaze was glued to her, and every inch of him screamed to move, to do something, to say something, but the words lodged in his throat. What was he supposed to say to her? How was he supposed to train her—train her—for an entire year after what they’d shared? After what he’d done to her?

The tension in the room thickened with each passing second. It felt like hours had gone by, but it was only a few minutes. His thoughts were a whirlwind of guilt and fear, each one more suffocating than the last. His pulse thudded in his ears, drowning out everything else, until finally, the voice of Sergeant Grey cut through the fog.

“Alright, that’s all,” Grey said, his tone abrupt, dismissing the room.

Tim’s body moved on its own, like a reflex he couldn’t control. Without thinking, without even a second to process it, he stood up and moved toward the front of the room. He couldn’t stay in that space—not with her so near, not with the weight of everything unresolved hanging in the air. The past, the unspoken words, the things he should have said, and the things he never would—it was all too much.

“Sergeant,” Tim spoke, his voice low and steady, “may I speak with you? Privately.”

Grey’s gaze lifted from the front of the room, a flicker of concern passing over his features before he nodded in acknowledgment. “Come with me.”

The two men exited the roll-call room in silence, the sound of their boots against the floor filling the air. Tim’s mind was a whirl of confusion and emotions, but he kept his focus forward, taking measured steps, his thoughts racing. He didn’t know how he would explain it, but he knew he couldn’t walk back into that room with her without addressing this first.

As they reached Grey’s office, Tim held the door open for the sergeant, who closed it behind them with deliberate care. The faint click of the door locking behind them seemed to echo in Tim’s mind.

Grey turned to face him, crossing his arms and maintaining a professional stance. “What’s this about, Tim? You need to get started with your rookie, so let’s make this quick.”

Tim inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself, before speaking, his voice resolute but tinged with a quiet urgency. “That’s exactly what this is about. I can’t train her.”

Grey’s expression shifted, confusion evident as he uncrossed his arms, his gaze sharpening. “You’re telling me you can’t train your rookie? Tim, you’re one of the best we’ve got, and your training is essential. What’s going on here?”

Tim hesitated, swallowing the lump in his throat. This was it. He had no choice but to lay it all out. “It’s not about her ability or her qualifications,” he began, his voice firm but laced with an undertone of discomfort. “It’s about the personal history between us. I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

Grey raised an eyebrow, his tone now more curious than concerned. “Appropriate? What do you mean, exactly?”

Tim turned slightly away, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. His hands balled into fists at his sides, the weight of the situation bearing down on him more than he expected. He knew this conversation had to happen, but he didn’t know how to make it sound professional or clear enough for Grey to understand. When he finally looked back at his sergeant, his expression was a mixture of frustration and resignation.

“Sir, I am just going to be upfront with you,” Tim began, his voice strained. “We were romantically involved before she joined the Academy. About a month and a half. It ended badly, and I don’t think I can separate that personal history from my role as her trainer. It would compromise the work, and frankly, it wouldn’t be fair to her. It wouldn’t be fair to me, either.”

Grey’s brow furrowed, the sharpness in his gaze intensifying. “Romantically? I see. And… you’re still married to Isabel, right?”

Tim hesitated for a moment, the weight of Grey’s words pressing harder than he expected. He could feel the tension in his chest, a mixture of guilt and frustration. It wasn’t easy admitting this, but he had to be transparent, especially if he was going to ask for a change.

“Yeah,” Tim said, his voice rough. “I’m still married to Isabel. But… she hasn’t come home in a while. We’re… not exactly in a good place.” He shifted his weight, avoiding Grey’s direct gaze for a moment. “I understand that getting romantically involved with another woman while I’m still married is not exactly… ideal. I’m not proud of it, but it happened. And I can’t change that.”

Grey’s gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained professional. “I get it, Tim. This isn’t an easy situation for anyone. But you’ve always been straight with me, and I respect that. It’s good you’re acknowledging the potential issues here.”

Tim nodded, the weight of his confession still heavy in the air. “I didn’t want to make things harder than they already are. I just… I can’t put Officer Chen in a situation where personal feelings might compromise my judgment, and I won’t risk that.”

Grey stood for a moment, considering everything. Then he crossed his arms, a sign he was processing the situation deeply. “Alright. You’ve come to the right conclusion, Tim. It’s not easy to step back when it matters, but it’s the right call. I’m glad you didn’t try to push through.”

Tim let out a slow breath, the tension easing just a little. “I appreciate it, sir. I didn’t know how to approach this, but I knew it wasn’t something I could just ignore.”

Grey nodded again, his expression firming. “I’ll arrange the switch. Talia can take over with Officer Chen, and I’ll have you continue working with the dinosaur.“

Tim gave a quick nod, a mixture of gratitude and relief in his expression. “Thanks, sir,” he said, a slight chuckle escaping him despite the seriousness of the situation. “I appreciate it.”

Grey’s lips twitched in a rare smirk, though his eyes remained steady. “Don’t get too comfortable with your rookie, Bradford. You’ve got a lot of work to do with Nolan.”

Tim stood up straighter, nodding. “Understood, sir.”

He turned to leave the office, walking down the hall with purpose. He found Talia and Nolan gathering their war bags, preparing for the shift.

“Beat it, Bishop,” Tim said, voice light but with the firmness of command. “Grey’s arranging a swap. You’re taking over with Chen.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, closing her bag with a swift motion. “Already tired of your rookie? Hasn’t even been an hour,” she teased.

“She’s… a lot to handle.”

Talia chuckled and handed him her bag. “Alright, whatever you say,” she muttered, shaking her head before she turned and walked off, leaving him with the weight of her bag and Nolan’s to carry.

Tim tossed her bag to Nolan without another word, and he caught it with a grunt, clearly surprised by the sudden shift in authority. Tim’s eyes were already focused ahead, his expression hardening. “Let’s go, boot,” he ordered, making it clear that this wasn’t a request.

They made their way to the shop—cruiser parked just outside. Tim climbed into the driver’s seat with the same practiced efficiency he had developed over the years. Nolan followed suit, sitting quietly in the passenger seat, his eyes scanning everything around them but saying nothing. The weight of the silence hung heavy between them, thick and palpable. Tim was never the talkative type, and Nolan seemed to have no idea how to break the ice.

Minutes passed, the low hum of the engine the only sound in the car. Tim’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes focused on the road, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts raced back to the conversation with Grey, the weight of his request still lingering. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this rookie—Nolan—wasn’t going to be able to handle the real weight of this job. But it was his job to make sure Nolan got through it.

The silence hung heavy in the car, the hum of the engine the only sound as they drove. Finally, Tim broke it, his voice low and commanding. “Why did you become a cop?”

Nolan hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking to Tim before responding, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Is that supposed to be a trick question, sir?”

Tim’s eyes didn’t leave the road, his jaw tightening. “Do you want me to train you, or not? I’m asking because I need to know why you’re sitting in this car with me.”

Nolan took a breath, the sarcasm slipping from his voice as he spoke. “I’m here to make a difference. I—”

Suddenly, Tim slammed his foot on the brakes, the tires screeching as the car lurched forward. Nolan’s body jerked in his seat, his chest hitting the belt.

Tim’s voice was cold and firm, cutting through the air. “I’ve been shot.”

Nolan opened his mouth to respond, but Tim didn’t let him get a word out. “I’m bleeding to death and you have to call for help. Where are we?”

Nolan’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, but the streets felt unfamiliar. The pressure was mounting, and panic was setting in—he couldn’t figure out where they were. Tim’s words hit like a punch.

Tim glanced at him, his eyes hard, his jaw tight. “Now I’m dead. I’m dead because you don’t know where we are.”

Nolan’s breath caught in his throat. “What? I—I don’t…”

Tim’s voice was a whip crack. “Get out.”

Nolan hesitated, confusion flashing across his face. “But, sir—”

“Get out!” Tim snapped again. “You’re walking. You’re walking until you can tell me exactly where we are. No signs, no excuses.”

Nolan didn’t have time to process. He opened the door and stepped out, feeling the weight of the situation hit him fully. His legs felt shaky, but he forced himself to walk alongside the car, scanning every building, every street corner, trying to make sense of where they were.

Tim, without a word, slowly pulled away, matching Nolan’s pace with the car. The low hum of the engine was the only sound between them as Nolan walked, his steps quickening, his thoughts racing. He had to focus. He had to get this right.

“Move it, boot,” Tim said, his voice cold but steady. “Walk. Don’t stop until you know where we are.”

Nolan kept walking, his mind racing as the minutes ticked by, the cityscape stretching out before him. His eyes darted over every building, every street sign, every landmark he could spot, trying to commit everything to memory. The sound of Tim’s engine was constant, like a ticking clock, urging him to get it right.

His legs were sore from walking, the weight of the moment sinking in. His pulse pounded in his ears. He had to focus. He couldn’t fail again. Tim’s words rang in his head: “I’m bleeding to death and you have to call for help. Where are we?”

Nolan’s gaze locked on a street corner, then to a gas station in the distance. The pieces began to fall into place. He knew this area. He had been here a few times. He could feel the knot in his stomach start to loosen, but he wasn’t sure enough yet.

Tim’s car crept along beside him, moving slowly as Nolan continued to walk. He didn’t dare look back at him. He couldn’t afford to stop now. After what felt like an eternity, the realization hit him. He took a deep breath, then turned his head slightly toward the car, his voice steady but still uncertain. “I’m… on 9th Avenue, near Elm. That’s where we are.”

Tim’s voice came through the silence like a weight dropping. “Finally. Get in.”

Nolan walked briskly back to the car, pushing the door open and sliding into the passenger seat. He was out of breath, adrenaline still coursing through him.

Tim didn’t waste any time. The second Nolan was in the seat, the air in the car seemed to turn colder. Tim didn’t say anything at first, his jaw clenched, the tension palpable. He started driving again, but it wasn’t the quiet drive they’d had before. Tim was simmering.

The second Nolan dropped into the seat, Tim exploded, his voice a harsh bark that filled the car. “What the hell was that, boot? You don’t know where you are, and you think that’s acceptable? You think you’ve got time to screw around on the streets?” His eyes flicked to Nolan for a brief, scorching moment before locking back on the road.

“You want to tell me again why you’re here? Huh? To make a difference? Because that sure as hell didn’t look like someone making a difference back there. That looked like someone who doesn’t belong in this job. Someone who’s going to get themselves—or worse, their partner—killed!” Tim slammed his hand against the steering wheel for emphasis, the sharp sound punctuating his words.

Nolan shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to his lap. “Sir—”

“No, don’t ‘sir’ me,” Tim cut him off, his voice razor-sharp. “You don’t get to talk until I’m done. You’re not in the Academy anymore. Out here, the Academy means nothing. I don’t care if you graduated at the top of your class. You’re just a rookie. A boot. And if you don’t start acting like someone who’s willing to learn and figure out where the hell they are, I will personally make sure you don’t last a week out here.”

Tim’s glare was unwavering as he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Do you know what happens if you don’t know your location in this job? People die. You get ambushed. Backup can’t find you. And that means you’re alone. I end up alone. And I’ll tell you this, boot—I don’t work with people who make me feel like I’m alone. So, tell me, why the hell couldn’t you figure out where you were?”

Nolan swallowed hard, his voice shaky. “I—I was trying, sir—”

“Trying isn’t good enough!” Tim snapped, cutting him off again. “This isn’t a test you can retake. Out here, one mistake, and it’s over. Do you get that? One wrong turn, one bad call, one moment where you freeze because you don’t know what street you’re on—and it’s over.”

Nolan’s face was pale, his hands gripping his knees tightly as Tim’s words hammered into him.

“And don’t think I’m cutting you slack because you’re older,” Tim added, his tone sharp with disdain. “You think being 45 gets you a free pass? If anything, it makes it worse. You’re old enough to know better. Old enough to take this seriously from day one. You’ve got to work twice as hard to prove you belong here because right now, you don’t.”

Tim pulled the car into a parking lot, slamming it into park. He turned to face Nolan, his tone deadly calm now, which somehow made it worse. “This is going to be a punishment.”

Nolan blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Punishment?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, a small, humorless smirk on his face. “And no, I’m not telling you what it is.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “I’m more of a ‘show you’ kind of guy.”

Tim got out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and started walking purposefully toward a man loitering near the edge of the parking lot. Nolan scrambled to follow, barely catching up when Tim called out, his voice sharp and commanding. “Yo, Ghosthead!”

The man froze for a moment, his head snapping in their direction before he started to turn, ready to bolt.

“No, no—hold up a minute!” Tim barked, his tone stopping the man in his tracks. He turned back toward them reluctantly, his hands raised in mock surrender, annoyance etched across his face.

“Yo, this is harassment,” the man complained as Tim and Nolan closed the distance.

“What? No,” Tim shot back, his tone dry and sarcastic. “It’s just good customer service. Kind of like a frequent flyer program for dirtbag drug dealers.”

Without missing a beat, he turned to Nolan. “Search him, Boot.”

“Uh—turn around, grab the wall,” Nolan stammered, trying to sound authoritative.

The guy laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “Make me, Boot.”

Before Nolan could react, the man lunged, grabbing for Nolan’s belt, his fingers clawing toward the holstered gun.

“Keep your hands up, Boot!” Tim shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. “Don’t let him get on top of you!”

Nolan grunted as they grappled, his training kicking in. He managed to block the man’s arm, twisting it behind his back as they both went to the ground with a thud. The fight was rough, messy, and unpredictable, but Nolan held on, his determination overriding his fear.

The man thrashed beneath him, trying to buck Nolan off, but Nolan adjusted his weight, pressing the man’s face into the pavement. He reached for his cuffs, his hands shaking only slightly as he clicked them securely onto the man’s wrists.

Breathing hard, Nolan leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’re under arrest,” he panted, his tone firmer now as he glanced over at Tim, who was watching with a neutral expression.

“That was my punishment?” Nolan asked incredulously, the adrenaline still coursing through him.

Tim shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yep. Plus, I got to see if you could handle yourself, so it’s really a two-fer.”

Nolan shook his head, still catching his breath as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “You could’ve just asked.”

Tim chuckled dryly. “And miss the opportunity to watch you flail around? Nah, this was way more fun.”

As they pulled the suspect to his feet, the man groaned. “Great. More comedians with badges,” he muttered.

Tim ignored him, giving a curt nod to Nolan. “Let’s get him to the shop.”

They started walking the man toward the cruiser, Tim keeping a close eye on him as Nolan gripped the cuffs firmly. Tim’s gaze flicked briefly to Nolan, observing his rookie’s stance and composure. Not bad, he thought. Still rough, but at least he didn’t let the guy overpower him.

“When you’re telling this story in lockup,” Tim said casually to the suspect, “you might want to leave out the part where you got your ass kicked by a senior citizen.”

The man glared but didn’t respond, his head hanging low as they approached the car.

Before they could reach it, a voice rang out, frantic and piercing.

“Hey! Hey! Hey, let him go! Come on!”

Tim turned at the sound of the voice, his body already tense. A woman was running toward them, her arms waving frantically. She looked like she’d been through hell—her blonde hair was matted and tangled, streaked with dirt, and her clothes hung off her in filthy, wrinkled layers. Her face was pale, smudged with grime, and her eyes were wide with panic. She moved like someone desperate, like someone who had nothing left to lose.

The longer Tim stared at her, the more a cold, sinking feeling settled in his chest.

Something about her was painfully familiar—the curve of her jaw, the way her eyes darted between him and the man in cuffs, the voice that broke as she pleaded.

Tim stopped in his tracks, the world around him seeming to fall silent. His heart plummeted into his stomach as recognition struck him like a fist.

It was Isabel.

His wife.

“You all right here?” Nolan asked, his voice tentative.

Tim didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on her, the chaos around them fading into the background.

“Isabel,” Tim said, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable to himself.

She ignored him, her wild eyes fixed on the man they were arresting. “Leave him alone!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

Tim took a step closer, his entire demeanor shifting. The cold, commanding edge melted into something softer, something broken. “Isab—Isabel—it’s me, baby. It’s Tim.”

She froze, her body rigid as her head turned slowly toward him. Her eyes met his, wide and terrified, before she flinched like she’d been struck.

Tim reached out, his hand trembling. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been trying to find you. Just—just to make sure you were okay. Are you okay?”

Tim’s hand hovered in the air, his heart pounding as she pulled away from him. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice soft and pleading. “I’ve been trying to find you. Just—just to make sure you were okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine! Get off me!” Isabel snapped, her eyes wide with panic.

Tim’s voice wavered as he stepped forward, desperate. “I just want to help. I just want to help.”

She stopped, glaring at him, her breath ragged. “You want to help me?” she asked, the bitterness dripping from her words.

Tim nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “Yeah.”

Isabel’s eyes flickered, a hard edge creeping into her expression. “Give me all your cash.”

Tim froze, his heart racing. “What?”

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice grew colder. “Give me your money. Now.”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat as he took a step back, his entire body tense. “Isabel… I don’t—”

“Give it to me!” she yelled, her hands shaking as she reached toward him.

Tim’s mind reeled. The woman standing in front of him wasn’t the wife he had married—the one he had spent years with. This woman was someone else, someone lost in a world he didn’t know how to reach. He looked down at the cash in his pocket, and then back at her, the desperation in her eyes cutting through him like a knife.

“Isabel, please…” he whispered, his voice raw. “Please don’t do this.”

“Just give me the money!”

Tim’s hand shook as he pulled the cash from his pocket, his fingers numb. He held it out, his heart sinking as Isabel snatched it from his grasp, barely sparing him a glance. Without another word, she turned and bolted, disappearing into the distance.

Nolan hesitated, watching Tim’s eyes follow her retreating figure. “Hey. What—what do you want me to do with this guy?” he asked, nodding toward the man they had just arrested.

Tim’s shoulders slumped as he let out a slow breath, his voice strained with frustration and pain. “Just let him go.”

Nolan blinked, clearly taken aback. “But, sir—”

“Just let him go, goddamn it!” Tim snapped, his tone sharp and final. He turned away, unable to watch the man any longer, his fists clenched at his sides. The weight of everything that had just happened pressed heavily on him, and his thoughts were clouded with a mix of guilt and helplessness.

Nolan stood still for a moment, processing the order, before he reluctantly nodded and stepped back. The man stood there, confused, as Nolan unclipped the cuffs and waved him off.

Tim’s eyes remained on the ground, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing over him. Isabel had left him—again. And the worst part? She didn’t even care enough to look back.

“Let’s go,” Tim muttered to Nolan, his voice quieter now, the anger and frustration replaced by a deep, aching exhaustion. He didn’t wait for Nolan to respond, knowing the rookie would follow him without a word. All that mattered now was getting out of there.

Once they were back in the shop, Tim slammed the car door shut with a heavy sigh. His hands gripped the wheel for a moment before he let go, his fingers numb. He stared ahead, his mind still reeling from the encounter. The weight of Isabel’s betrayal pressed on him, but he couldn’t afford to let it consume him right now.

Nolan hesitated for a second before speaking up, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. “What just happened?”

Tim’s gaze hardened as he turned to face the rookie, his jaw clenched. “That was my wife,” he said, his voice tight with barely contained emotion. “I haven’t seen her in almost a year.”

Nolan nodded slowly, processing the gravity of the situation. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said quietly, his tone sincere.

Tim met his eyes, his expression hardening. “You’re damn right you won’t,” he snapped, the bitterness creeping into his voice. He didn’t need anyone knowing about this—not yet, at least. Not while he was still trying to make sense of everything.

As they drove in silence, the weight of the encounter with Isabel settled heavily in Tim’s chest. He couldn’t shake the image of her—disheveled, desperate, a stranger in his eyes. He wanted to help her, but everything about her felt like it had slipped away, far beyond his reach. His hands tightened around the wheel, but his mind was elsewhere, caught in the mess of emotions and unanswered questions.

But little did he know, that would be the least worst thing to happen to him today.

Chapter Text

She had always been the kind of person who ran toward someone else’s pain, not away from it. The kind who saw hurt in another person’s eyes and felt compelled to ease it. Lucy had spent her entire life stepping into the roles others needed her to fill—an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a steady presence when the world felt too heavy.

It wasn’t something she thought about; it was instinct. She didn’t help people because she wanted something in return, or because it made her feel good. She helped because it was simply who she was.

Even as a child, she had been the one to comfort a crying classmate or defend someone being picked on. As she got older, that instinct only grew sharper, more focused. Studying psychology had given her the tools to understand people better, but her heart had always known how to listen. How to be what someone needed in their darkest moment.

So, when the call came over the radio—an officer down—she thought she knew exactly how she would feel.

Fear. Worry. Anything.

And at first, she did. The weight of those words hit her hard, and for a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach twisted, her pulse quickened, and her mind raced with possibilities. Who was it? Was it Nolan? Her fingers tightened around the mic as she waited, her breath shallow and uneven.

Then she heard his voice—steady, shaken, but alive. Relief washed over her like a wave, filling her lungs and bringing the world back into focus.

But the moment they said Tim’s name, something shifted.

Her chest tightened again, but not with the same sharp panic. This was different. Hollow. Empty. She wanted to feel worry, the kind she always felt when someone she knew was hurt, but it wasn’t there. She searched herself for it, reaching for that innate compassion that had always come so easily, but it was like grasping at air.

She wanted to feel something—she really did. But there was nothing.

It wasn’t just the shock or the exhaustion of the day that left her so numb. It was Tim. It was everything he had done to her, everything he had taken from her. He’d lied to her, made her fall for him, only to pull the rug out from under her when she learned the truth. She could still remember the ache in her chest when she found out he’d been married the entire time, how her trust had shattered like glass.

And now, the thought of him lying in a hospital bed should have stirred something in her—grief, concern, anything. But all she could feel was that same hollow emptiness, a void that wouldn’t go away no matter how much she wanted it to.

Hours later, as she stood in the locker room, the weight of the day still pressed heavily on her. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above her, casting a cold, sterile glow on the rows of metal lockers. She peeled off her uniform piece by piece, folding each item neatly and placing it on the bench beside her.

She reached into her bag, pulling out her civilian clothes with slow, deliberate movements. Each action felt mechanical, as if her body was moving on autopilot while her mind remained stuck in a loop, replaying the events of the day.

Her hands lingered for a moment on the fabric of her folded shirt, and she let out a quiet breath. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t shake the hollow feeling inside her, why the numbness refused to let go. Maybe it wasn’t something she could fix—not tonight, at least.

“Not bad for a first day.”

The voice startled her, and Lucy turned to see Angela leaning casually against the lockers, arms crossed, her smirk as sharp as ever.

Lucy blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh, uh… thanks?”

Angela raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening. “That a question or a statement?”

“No, it’s a…” Lucy trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck. She could feel her face heating up, which only made Angela’s amusement grow. “Thanks. Definitely a statement.”

Angela chuckled, taking a step closer and leaning lightly against the locker beside Lucy’s. “Relax, rookie. I’m just messing with you. You did good out there today—better than most people would on their first day, and trust me, I’ve seen a lot of them.”

Lucy managed a small, tight smile, her chest tightening as the awkwardness began to creep in. It had been months—closer to a year—since she’d seen Angela, and even now, being around her brought back memories she wasn’t in the mood to deal with. Memories of Tim. Of all the lies.

“So,” Angela continued after a pause, tilting her head slightly. “What’s the plan for the rest of the night? We’re finally off shift. You doing anything fun?”

Lucy hesitated, pulling her shirt over her head before answering. “Not really. Probably just going home and crashing. Long day.”

Angela leaned against the lockers, her arms crossed as she studied Lucy. “Yeah, no kidding. I’m thinking about swinging by the hospital, though. Check on Tim. See how he’s doing.”

Lucy froze for a moment, then turned to grab her bag from the bench. “Oh,” she said after a beat, her voice flat. “That’s… nice of you.”

Angela tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. “You’re not going?”

Lucy barked out a short, humorless laugh as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “No...uh..I..I want nothing to do with that asshole if I'm being honest.”

Angela’s smirk disappeared instantly, replaced by a sharp, no-nonsense expression. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the lockers, her tone steady but firm. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.”

Lucy spun around, her eyes blazing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Angela didn’t flinch, meeting Lucy’s glare head-on. “It means I understand why you feel the way you do. And you’re not wrong. What Tim did? It was shitty. Plain and simple.”

Lucy’s lips pressed into a hard line, but the flicker of surprise in her eyes betrayed her. She hadn’t expected Angela to agree so quickly—or at all. “If you get it, why are you standing here acting like he deserves sympathy? Why the hell are you still defending him?”

Angela pushed off the lockers, stepping closer with a calm confidence that made Lucy bristle. “I’m not defending him,” she said flatly, her voice unwavering. “I told him, over and over, that he needed to tell you the truth. I told him keeping something like that from you was cruel, and that he was going to lose you because of it. And guess what? He did.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as anger surged in her chest. “Then why do you care so much if I’m pissed at him? Let him deal with the fallout! He deserves it!”

Angela exhaled slowly, her gaze softening just a touch. “You’re right—he does. But there’s more to it than you know. And whether you want to hear this or not, Tim wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Lucy scoffed, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “Well, congratulations to him, because he sure as hell succeeded anyway.”

Angela tilted her head, her voice taking on a firmer edge. “I’m not saying it makes anything he did okay. It doesn’t. But you need to know it wasn’t as simple as him just being an asshole for fun. He screwed up because he didn’t know how to deal with his own mess, and he dragged you into it. That’s on him. But Lucy…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “His life’s not exactly sunshine and rainbows, either.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, right. Poor Tim. Let me get my tiny violin.”

Angela stepped closer, her voice dropping but staying steady. “Don’t do that. You’re angry—I get it. You should be. But if you think I’m standing here trying to guilt you into feeling sorry for him, you’re dead wrong.” She met Lucy’s glare with unwavering seriousness. “I’m telling you this because I care about you. You deserve to know that what he did came from a place of pain, not malice.”

Lucy laughed bitterly, throwing up her hands. “Pain? What pain? He lied to me throughout our entire relationship, Angela. He made me think I was building something real with him, only to find out it was all bullshit. What kind of pain justifies that?”

Angela sighed, her tone steady. “None of it justifies what he did, Lucy. But there’s more to the story than you realize. He was dealing with issues in his marriage—things I can’t explain because it’s not my place. All I’m saying is, before you completely shut him out, you might want to hear the full truth. Not for him, but for yourself.”

Lucy shook her head, crossing her arms tightly. “Well, I don’t see that happening anytime soon. He made it clear where he stands this morning. The second I was assigned to ride with him, he asked for a reassignment. Couldn’t even bring himself to speak to me directly.” Her voice hardened. “If he doesn’t have the guts to face me, why should I bother hearing him out?”

Angela frowned, her expression softening but firm. “I get it, Lucy. You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But Tim… he’s not running from you because he doesn’t care. He’s running because he cares too much and doesn’t know how to handle it. That doesn’t excuse him, but it’s something to think about.”

Lucy’s jaw tightened as she adjusted the strap of her bag. “Maybe. But I’m not waiting around for him to figure out how to handle it. If he wants to explain himself, that’s on him. I’m done making the first move.”

Angela nodded slowly, stepping back to give her space. “Fair enough. Just… don’t close the door completely. Sometimes, the truth changes things.”

Lucy didn’t reply, her silence speaking volumes as she turned and left the locker room, her resolve as unshakable as ever.

Chapter Text

Tim stared out the hospital window, the sterile white walls fading into the background as his thoughts churned. The dull throb in his side was nothing compared to the weight pressing on his chest. He hadn’t planned on seeing Lucy today—not after the whirlwind of the last few months. It wasn’t just her, though she’d been part of it. It was everything. Seeing Isabel again after a year had thrown him off balance, and he hadn’t been the same since. The guilt, the confusion—it all tangled together in a mess he couldn’t untangle.

The door creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned, expecting a nurse, but Angela’s familiar frame filled the doorway instead. Her sharp gaze softened slightly as she took him in.

“You look like hell,” she said, her voice carrying the usual teasing edge, though it didn’t quite land.

“Yeah? Well, I just got shot,” he replied, forcing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s your excuse?”

Angela arched a brow, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “I came to check on you, but now I’m debating if you’re worth the effort.”

“Good to know where I stand,” he muttered, his gaze drifting back to the window. “Really motivating.”

Angela rolled her eyes, stepping further into the room and pulling up a chair. “Oh, quit pouting. You’re already getting enough sympathy from the nurses.”

Tim huffed a laugh, though it was hollow. “Sympathy isn’t exactly my thing.”

“Clearly,” Angela replied, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms. “Good thing I’m not here to give you any. I’d say you’ve got the whole brooding, wounded hero act down to a science.”

“Years of practice,” he shot back dryly, still looking out the window.

Angela smirked, though her eyes softened slightly as she studied him. “So, is this where I’m supposed to ask how you’re holding up, and you pretend you’re fine?”

Tim shrugged, wincing slightly at the motion. “I’ve been shot before. It’s not exactly new territory.”

“Yeah, but last time you weren’t so old,” Angela teased, her smirk widening.

“Funny,” Tim muttered, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smile.

They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the machines filling the space. Angela tapped her fingers idly on the armrest of the chair, her gaze flicking between Tim and the door as if debating whether to say something. Finally, she broke the quiet.

“I talked to Lucy today.”

Tim stiffened almost imperceptibly, his gaze still locked on the window. “You did?”

Angela shifted in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Yeah, I talked to her in the locker room after her shift.” She adjusted her position, leaning back casually but keeping her tone light. “She didn’t say much—wasn’t exactly in a chatty mood—but she’s doing fine. Focused, you know? Talia’s impressed with her.”

Tim’s eyes flicked toward her briefly before going back to the window. “Doesn’t surprise me,” he muttered.

Angela smirked faintly. “It shouldn’t. The kid’s got instincts.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Her car broke down before shift even started, and somehow she managed to make an arrest right there on the side of the road. First damn day, not even clocked in yet, and she’s already tackling suspects.”

Tim’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Lucy’s always been like that—quick to act, always ready to jump in. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Better than most rookies, honestly.”

Angela tilted her head, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “You sound proud.”

Tim didn’t look at her, his gaze still fixed on the window. “It’s not about pride,” he said evenly. “I just… knew she’d be good at this. She’s sharp. Decisive. She doesn’t overthink things when it matters.”

Angela raised a brow, watching him closely. “And yet, you had her reassigned. Funny how that works.”

Tim finally turned to face her, his jaw tightening. “Well yeah, what was I supposed to do?” he said, his tone sharp but not quite defensive. “We used to date. It would’ve been a mess if I stayed on as her training officer.”

Angela let out a short laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “A mess for who? You or her?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw clenching. “For both of us.”

Angela leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied him. “Right. For both of you.” Her tone was dripping with skepticism. “Because protecting her from the mess is definitely what this is about. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that you can’t deal with seeing her every day.”

Tim’s glare sharpened. “I reassigned her because it would’ve been inappropriate,” he snapped. “People talk, Angela. You know how this job is. You think I was going to put her through that kind of scrutiny? She’s got enough to prove without everyone whispering about how she’s sleeping with her TO.”

Angela arched a brow, unimpressed. “So you reassigned her to save her from rumors? That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

Tim’s jaw tightened further. “It’s not a story. It’s the truth. She doesn’t need that kind of attention. She’s already under enough pressure as it is.”

Angela smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Right. And this had absolutely nothing to do with you avoiding your own shit.”

Tim scowled, his fists curling into the blanket as his glare burned into the floor. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Angela arched a brow, her tone sharp but calm. “It means you didn’t reassign Lucy because of protocol or rumors. You did it because you couldn’t handle seeing her every day, knowing what you didn’t tell her. What you didn’t do.”

“That’s not why I did it,” Tim snapped, his voice harder than he intended.

“Isn’t it?” Angela shot back, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “You pushed her away because you were scared, Tim. Scared of dealing with your own shit. Scared of what it would mean to actually be honest with her. You think Lucy didn’t notice? She’s hurt, Tim. Not just because of what you did, but because you made her feel like she wasn’t strong enough to handle the truth.”

Tim’s jaw clenched tighter, his body stiff as a board. “I was protecting her,” he ground out. “She didn’t need to be dragged into my mess.”

Angela snorted, the disbelief clear on her face. “And how’s that working out for you? She still got hurt, Tim. You still hurt her. All you did was leave her out in the cold to figure it out herself.”

Tim exhaled sharply, his chest tightening as the guilt began to claw at him again. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he muttered.

Angela leaned back, crossing her arms as she studied him. “Yeah, well, intentions don’t mean much when the damage is already done.”
He didn’t respond, his jaw tight as silence filled the room.

Angela’s tone softened just slightly. “She’s willing to listen to you, Tim. That’s more than most people would give after what you did.”

Tim’s head jerked toward her, his eyes narrowing. “She said that?”

“She did,” Angela confirmed. “But don’t get it twisted. She’s still pissed at you, and she has every right to be. She’s not just going to show up and ask for answers. If you want to fix this, you’re going to have to be the one to step up and talk to her.”

Tim scoffed bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “And what the hell am I supposed to say, Angela?”

“I don’t know,” Angela replied bluntly, shrugging. “Start with the truth.”

Tim let out a humorless laugh, the sound low and bitter. “The truth? The truth is that I don’t even know where to start.” His voice grew louder, more frustrated. “What am I supposed to fucking tell her? That I was scared to tell her about Isabel? That I didn’t know how to explain that my wife ran off and became a goddamn drug addict?”

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. Angela froze, her eyes widening. “What?”
Tim dragged a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping as his voice cracked slightly. “Yeah. Isabel. She’s using.”

Angela sat up straighter, her expression shifting from shock to concern. “Tim… what the hell? Since when?”

Tim released a shaky breath, his chest tightening as he stared at the floor. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t know… I thought she left because of something else. I spent months coming up with reasons—cheating, midlife crisis, hell, maybe she just didn’t love me anymore. But drugs? That never even crossed my mind.”

Angela leaned forward, her tone softer now. “What happened, Tim?”

Tim swallowed hard, his voice rough. “I saw her today.”

“Where? Is she okay?”

“On a call,” Tim said, his voice low. “The dinosaur and I were handling some guy, and she came out of nowhere begging us to let him go. At first, I didn’t even recognize her. She looked…gosh Ang she looked crazy. Like she hadn’t slept in days, she was thin, dirty—she didn’t even look like herself.”

Angela’s face fell, the gravity of Tim’s words settling in. “Shit,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “That’s… that’s rough, Tim.”

Tim nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I didn’t know what to do. I tried talking to her, but she wasn’t… herself. She begged me to help her, but I couldn’t. She was out of it. I had to get away from the scene before I made it worse.”

Angela’s eyes softened as she watched him. “You did the right thing, Tim. She’s not your responsibility anymore, no matter how much it hurts.”

Tim ran a hand over his face again, his eyes distant. “I don’t know what’s worse—seeing her like that or realizing I had no clue what was going on. I should’ve been there for her, Angela. I should’ve noticed.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Angela said, her voice firm but comforting. “You weren’t in a position to help her. You didn’t even know she was struggling. That’s not your fault.”

Tim’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, the silence between them heavy. Angela could see the weight on him, the guilt that had been gnawing at him since he’d seen Isabel again. But she also knew that wallowing in it wouldn’t help him.

“You’re not going to fix anything by drowning in guilt,” she continued, her tone softer now but no less insistent. “You need to deal with this, Tim. You’ve been carrying it for too long.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’m trying.”

Angela sighed, leaning forward slightly. “I know you are, but sometimes ‘trying’ isn’t enough. You’ve got a week off for medical leave, right?”

Tim nodded, finally meeting her eyes for the first time in a while. “Yeah. Just a week. That’s all they gave me.”

Angela’s brow furrowed, her lips pressing together thoughtfully. “Maybe you should take two,” she suggested gently. “Take some time to process everything. You’ve been through a lot—physically and emotionally—and rushing back into the grind isn’t going to help. You need space to deal with it all. Not just the job stuff, Tim. Everything.”

Tim stared at her, his jaw clenched in a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Two weeks? I can’t just sit around doing nothing for that long. I’ll go crazy.”

“You’re not doing nothing,” Angela said, her voice firm. “You’re taking the time to heal. You’ve been bottling things up for far too long, Tim. You’re not just going to work through everything in a week. You’ve got to take time to breathe, to think. Trust me, you’re going to make things worse if you don’t.”

Tim rubbed his face, his fingers digging into the stubble along his jaw. “I just don’t want to make this worse. For Lucy, for anyone. I don’t want to keep screwing things up.”

Angela’s gaze softened. “The best thing you can do right now is give yourself the time you need. It’s bad enough that you’ve got to fix things with Lucy—you don’t want to rush back into the field and risk pushing people away because you didn’t take care of yourself first.”

He stared at the floor, his mind racing. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally, though his tone was less than convincing. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Angela nodded, her eyes still full of concern. “Just don’t let it build up to the point where you snap, Tim. You’ve got to deal with this. For your sake—and for Lucy’s.”

She stood up, pausing for a moment before giving him one last look. “I’m here, you know. If you need to talk.”

Tim nodded but didn’t say anything as she left, the door clicking shut behind her. He sat there, staring at the space where she’d been, weighing her words. Part of him wanted to dive right back into his work—to escape, to distract himself. But another part of him knew she was right.

Chapter Text

One week.

She had made it through her first week as a rookie, and she couldn’t have been prouder.

The past seven days had been a whirlwind—adrenaline, exhaustion, nerves, and moments of pure exhilaration. Every morning, she had woken up before her alarm, her body buzzing with nervous energy, anticipation coiling in her chest. The uniform still felt a little unfamiliar, stiff against her skin, but every time she clipped on her duty belt and stepped into the station, she felt it—a sense of belonging.

She had earned this.

The academy had been one thing, but being out on the streets, actually doing the job, was something else entirely. She had handled domestic disputes, traffic stops, even a few arrests. The radio chatter had started to feel less like noise and more like a rhythm she could move to. There had been moments of doubt, of course—times when she questioned if she had handled something the right way, moments when the weight of responsibility hit her a little harder than expected—but she was still standing.

And tonight, she was celebrating.

Lucy, Jackson, and John had made it through their first week, and that deserved a drink. Or five.

The bar was packed, full of off-duty cops looking to shake off the week. The music hummed low beneath the chatter, the air thick with laughter, cheap beer, and the occasional slam of a glass on wood. It was the kind of place where rookies and veterans mixed, where stories were told, and where, for a few hours, they could pretend they weren’t still figuring out how to do the damn job.

Lucy took a sip of her beer, glancing at Jackson, who was dramatically gesturing as he recounted one of his calls.

“And I swear to God, the guy was naked. Fully. Not even socks,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “Just standing there in the middle of the street, screaming about how society was crumbling.”

John smirked. “What’d you do?”

“I did what any respectable rookie would do—I turned around, covered my eyes, and let my training officer handle it,” Jackson said, taking a dramatic sip of his drink. “Offered moral support from a safe, non-naked distance.”

Lucy snorted. “So, you did nothing?”

“Excuse you, I radioed it in,” Jackson shot back, pointing at her. “Like a professional.”

John shook his head, laughing. “Bet that was real helpful.”

“You know what? I don’t need this negativity.” Jackson waved them off before turning to Lucy. “Anyway, enough about my week of trauma. How about you?”

Lucy smirked, shaking her head as she set her drink down. “Honestly? It’s been kind of great,” she admitted, leaning back in her seat. “Talia’s solid. She’s sharp, no-nonsense, but not in a ‘make your life miserable’ kind of way.”

As she spoke, she felt the slightest pressure against her thigh. Under the table, John’s hand slid over her leg, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate circles through the fabric of her jeans. The touch was subtle, careful—Jackson wouldn’t notice—but Lucy felt it immediately.

She swallowed down a smile, glancing at John out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t even looking at her, his expression neutral as he took a sip of his drink like he hadn’t just sent a shiver up her spine.

Oh, he was smug.

Lucy forced herself to focus, casually shifting her leg just enough to press into his touch, a quiet acknowledgment, before turning back to Jackson. “It’s definitely been a week, though. I think I’ve already seen more weird shit in the past seven days than I did my entire life before this.”

Jackson grinned, setting down his beer. “Welcome to the club. So, John, what’s it like working with the infamous Tim Bradford? You know, besides the whole him getting shot thing?”

Lucy’s smile faltered for a split second, her body stiffening like someone had flicked a switch. Her fingers tightened around her glass, but she kept her gaze locked on the table, pretending to be absorbed in the condensation trailing down the side.

John didn’t notice—or if he did, he didn’t let on. “It was… interesting,” he said, his tone measured. “Bradford’s intense. By the book, no shortcuts, expects you to know the manual backward and forward on day one. But, I mean, the guy’s solid. Knows his stuff.”

“‘Solid,’” Jackson repeated, snorting. “That’s the most underwhelming description of Tim Bradford I’ve ever heard. Come on, give us the dirt. I mean, the guy’s kind of a legend, right? Hardass, by-the-book, impossible to impress. What’s it really like?”

John leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You just described him perfectly. What else do you want me to say?”

Jackson grinned, leaning closer as if coaxing a secret out of him. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe how terrifying it is when he gives you that death stare. Or if he actually sleeps, eats, or exists outside of work. And while you’re at it, tell me if his jawline is as sharp as it looks in the station lights.”

Lucy’s glass froze halfway to her lips, her entire body tensing at Jackson’s joke. She set the drink down carefully, keeping her eyes on the table. “Jackson, seriously,” she said, her voice tight, “can you not?”

“What?” Jackson threw his hands up in mock innocence. “The man’s objectively attractive. Like, gritty cop calendar model attractive. Don’t act like I’m the only one who’s noticed.”

John chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t think he’s exactly the calendar type, but sure. He’s got presence. Not exactly the guy you want to disappoint.”

“Oh, so he’s terrifying and sexy. Got it,” Jackson quipped. “A real double threat.”

Lucy’s head snapped toward Jackson, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “Ew. Gag. Can you just—no.”

Jackson, completely unbothered by Lucy’s sharp tone, just grinned wider, clearly reveling in her discomfort. “What? I’m just saying, if we’re ranking TOs based on looks, Bradford’s at the top. Not my fault the man’s basically a cop version of a GQ model.”

Lucy groaned, sinking further into her seat and dragging a hand down her face. “Please stop talking.”

John chuckled beside her, shaking his head. “You really know how to make people regret being your friend, don’t you?”

“Hey, I’m just being honest,” Jackson said with an exaggerated shrug. “And, for the record, I’m an amazing friend. You’re all lucky to have me.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest,” Jackson said with an exaggerated shrug. “And, for the record, I’m an amazing friend. You’re all lucky to have me.”

“Debatable,” Lucy muttered, taking a sip of her beer.

John smirked, leaning forward. “Debatable? Try highly unlikely.”

Jackson clutched his chest in mock offense. “Wow, the betrayal. You two are relentless tonight. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my unique brand of charm.”

Lucy snorted. “Oh, we appreciate it. It’s just that the charm is… buried. Deep.”

Before Jackson could fire back, John’s attention shifted, his gaze locking onto something—or someone—across the bar. His brows drew together slightly. “Hold up. Is that Bradford?”

Both Lucy and Jackson turned in unison, following John’s line of sight.

At the far end of the bar, Tim sat alone, hunched over a drink. He looked… different. Not the unshakable, sharp-edged training officer Lucy had come to know. His shoulders sagged, his normally stern expression lined with exhaustion, and there was a hollowness to the way he stared at his glass, as if he wasn’t entirely present.

“Damn,” Jackson said, his tone softer than usual. “He looks like he’s been through it.”

Lucy frowned, her stomach knotting as she watched Tim. “Yeah,” she murmured, a wave of concern washing over her.

And then, just like that, the rest of the bar faded.

She couldn’t hear Jackson anymore. Couldn’t hear John. Their voices dulled into background noise, like a distant radio station she couldn’t quite tune into.

All she could do was stare.

Tim sat at the far end of the bar, shoulders hunched, his fingers curled loosely around a glass of whiskey. His knuckles weren’t white like he was gripping it too tight, but loose—detached. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking to anyone, wasn’t even looking up. Just sitting there, staring down at the amber liquid like he wasn’t really seeing it.

Lucy swallowed.

She had seen Tim exhausted before, seen him beaten up, bruised, bloodied from the job. She had seen him take a hit and get back up without so much as a complaint. She had even seen him when he thought no one was looking—when his tough, unshakable exterior cracked just enough to reveal the man underneath.

But this?

She had never seen him like this.

It was like something had caved in. Like whatever fight he had left was barely holding him upright.

And she hated that it made her feel anything at all.

She shouldn’t care.

She hadn’t cared when she found out he got shot. Had barely reacted when she heard the news, had brushed past it like it meant nothing. She had sat in the locker room, letting the words settle over her, waiting for the panic to come, for the tightness in her chest to squeeze—but it never did.

That had been the proof, right? Proof that she had moved on. That Tim Bradford didn’t have a hold on her anymore.

And then he reassigned her.

She should have seen it coming, should have known he would do something like that. But it still caught her off guard, still hit her in a way she hadn’t expected. One minute, she had been sitting in roll call, waiting to hear his voice, and the next—just like that—she wasn’t his problem anymore. She wasn’t his rookie, wasn’t his anything. He had made that decision without a second thought, had handed her off like she was just another case to close.

She should hate him for that.

So why did she feel like her ribs were caving in just looking at him?

Why did she feel like she couldn’t breathe?

It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t his anymore. She wasn’t the one who had to worry about him, wasn’t the one who had to care.

And yet.

Her fingers curled against the table, her nails pressing into the wood as she exhaled slowly, willing herself to look away.

She shouldn’t feel sympathy for him.

He didn’t deserve it.

But that didn’t stop her from standing up.

The movement was abrupt, her chair scraping against the floor, cutting through the background noise like a blade. John and Jackson both turned toward her instantly.

“Lucy?” John’s voice was wary, but she didn’t look at him.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” she muttered.

She didn’t wait for a response.

Didn’t give Jackson time to tease her, didn’t give John time to question it.

She just walked.

Straight to the bar.

Straight to him.

The air felt heavier as she moved, like every step was pulling her deeper into something she had promised herself she wouldn’t go back to.

But she didn’t stop.

She slid onto the stool beside him, the wood cool against her bare thighs. Her arms rested against the bar as she caught the bartender’s attention.

“Tequila Sunrise,” she said, her voice steady.

She didn’t look at Tim.

But she felt him notice.

It was in the way his body shifted, like he was debating whether to look at her or pretend she wasn’t there. For a second, she thought he was going to say something. But he didn’t.

Lucy wasn’t sure why she had expected anything different.

The bartender set her drink down, and she took a sip—too big, too fast. The tequila hit harder than she anticipated, burning on the way down. She coughed once, setting the glass back down with a small thud.

Beside her, Tim exhaled sharply, the sound threading somewhere between disbelief and faint amusement. “Still can’t hold your liquor, huh?” His voice carried that familiar edge of sarcasm, though softer, less sharp than she remembered.

Lucy shifted her weight, tilting her head just enough to catch his eye as she replied dryly, “Still drinking whiskey like you’re a 60-year-old at a dive bar?”

His lips twitched at that, a quiet laugh escaping despite himself. He shook his head slowly, like he wasn’t quite sure how they’d fallen back into this rhythm. “Guess some things don’t change,” he murmured.

Silence followed, thick but not entirely oppressive, hovering just between awkward and bearable. Eight months. Eight long months of silence, avoidance, and pretending. It hung there between them like a weight neither could ignore. The once-familiar space they used to fill with endless conversations now felt cavernous—too much distance, too much left unsaid.

Lucy tapped the rim of her glass with her fingernail, watching the liquid swirl lazily inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the subtle clench of Tim’s jaw. “So,” she asked, keeping her tone light but her curiosity genuine, “how much have you had?”

Tim’s jaw worked for a moment, his hesitation almost tangible. He looked like he was debating whether to brush her off or give her an honest answer. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t remember… I don’t usually drink this much.”

Her eyebrow arched, and she tilted her glass toward him. “That’s not alarming at all,” she teased, her words laced with a mock seriousness that made his lips twitch again.

“Don’t start, Chen,” he said, his tone exasperated but softened by the faintest hint of a smile.

“Who’s starting?” she shot back, taking another slow sip from her glass. “I’m just saying, for a guy who’s usually so annoyingly in control, this is… refreshing. New territory, even.”

Tim huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not making a habit of this.”

“Shame,” Lucy quipped, her grin teasing. “I was starting to think you might be fun after all.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. “You’re hilarious, Chen.”

“I try,” she said with a playful shrug, before letting her gaze drift to the drink in his hand. “So, what’s the deal? Why the whiskey-and-soul-searching vibe tonight?”

Tim sighed heavily, his eyes wandering around the dimly lit bar before locking back onto hers. “I don’t know,” he muttered, a faint edge of frustration in his voice. “Just… needed to get out for a bit. Clear my head.”

Lucy’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “That’s vague. I didn’t think you were the mysterious type.”

“I’m not,” he shot back quickly, but there was a flicker of amusement behind his words. “But tonight’s an exception.”

She raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at her lips as she gestured toward the drink in his hand. “An exception that comes with a side of whiskey?”

“Something like that.” Tim’s voice was low, distracted. He glanced down at his drink for a moment, the amber liquid swirling inside the glass. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

Lucy shrugged nonchalantly, letting her arms fall loosely at her sides. “Me and the guys came out to celebrate surviving the first week of rookie year. You know, a little tradition to kick things off.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, his lips pulling into a half-smirk. “Surviving, huh? Sounds like a big accomplishment for one whole week.” His voice carried a dry amusement, but there was an edge to it, something that made the air between them feel heavier than the casual exchange suggested.

Lucy tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in playful defiance. “Hey, don’t knock it. You remember your rookie year, don’t you? It’s not easy, especially when everything’s a first.”

Tim gave her a faint nod, the humor slipping from his face for a moment as his mind seemed to wander, remembering his own early days on the job. His posture straightened, the playful edge in his voice disappearing. He took another sip from his drink before returning his attention to her, his tone now blunt, almost sharp. “Yeah, I remember. Rougher than most people think.”

A brief silence settled in. Lucy watched him carefully, sensing the shift in his mood. She didn’t press, letting her fingers absently trace the rim of her glass, her mind elsewhere. Finally, Tim broke the quiet.

“How’s Nolan doing?” His voice was steady, but there was a subtle tension in the question, like he was trying to gauge how the rookie was holding up.

Lucy gave a small shrug, her voice a little softer than before. “He’s kind of been in the dumps, to be honest. He hasn’t really been able to do much. Just been bouncing around, not really getting to sink his teeth into anything real yet.”

She glanced up, catching his eye for a second. “But he’s excited for you to come back. Says he’s ready to finally get into the thick of it.”

Tim let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair with a slight tilt of his head, the shift in his demeanor nothing less than the practiced ease of someone who had seen it all. “Well, he’s gonna regret it when I get back. I’m not gonna go easy on him. He’ll miss these slower days.”

Lucy’s laugh rang out, light but genuine. “You’re terrible.”

Tim’s lips curled into a tight smirk. “I’m just doing my job. Gotta make sure he’s ready for what’s coming.” His voice was firm, each word deliberate, carrying the weight of someone who expected excellence.

The conversation lingered in the air, a little quieter now, both of them absorbed in their own thoughts. Tim leaned forward, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the table before pushing his chair back with a soft scrape. As he stood up, his balance swayed slightly, and he instinctively reached for the counter to steady himself.

Lucy caught the movement, her brow furrowing slightly. “You okay?”

Tim straightened up, brushing off the moment with a slight grin. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His tone was dismissive, but his slightly unsteady stance betrayed him. He straightened his jacket, then glanced at her, trying to play it off. “I’m good. Just ready to head out.”

Lucy’s gaze sharpened, her voice firm as she leaned in. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Tim waved it off, chuckling lightly as he fished out his money clip and slid it across the counter. “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.” His tone was confident, but there was a slight slur in his words that he was trying to mask. He gave her a quick, half-smile. “No big deal.”

Lucy didn’t let it go. She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as she took in the whole situation. “You’ve had a few too many, Tim. You’re having trouble even standing straight. You’re well aware of the dangers of driving under the influence, right? Not to mention the consequences if something goes wrong.”

Tim scoffed, a mix of irritation and pride creeping into his voice. “I’ve driven in worse conditions before.”

Lucy didn’t back down. She crossed her arms, her stance still firm. “The fact that you can even say that is worrying. You’ve been trained to recognize the risks. And getting behind the wheel right now? It’s not worth it, no matter how tough you think you are.”

There was a long pause. Tim’s eyes darted around the room, avoiding her gaze for a moment. He exhaled deeply, clearly frustrated but also resigned.

After a beat, he sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “Alright, alright.” His tone was begrudging, but he took out his keys and held them out toward her. “Take them.”

Lucy didn’t hesitate. She took the keys from his hand, her fingers brushing against his as she did. Her expression softened, just a fraction, a fleeting moment of concern hidden beneath the surface. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady but carrying a weight that wasn’t there before. She knew this wasn’t just about the keys; it was about something deeper. Something unspoken between them.

Tim’s hand hung in the air for a moment, his eyes searching hers briefly before he turned away, trying to mask the unease creeping up on him. He nodded, a slight curve to his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, no problem.”

Lucy turned to pay for her drink, the soft clink of the money against the counter breaking the silence. As she pocketed her change, Tim stood behind her, his gaze shifting from the floor to the door, clearly not in any rush to leave just yet.

Once they were outside, the cool night air greeted them like an old friend, and the faint hum of city lights in the distance was the only sound that filled the space between them. Lucy walked around to the passenger side, opened the door for him, and held it for a moment before looking up at him.

Tim hesitated. He was quiet, staring at the ground for a second, before he slowly climbed into the truck. His movements were sluggish, not quite right, but he was trying to play it off as normal.

The ride began in silence, the familiar hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires rolling over cracked asphalt filling the space between them. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t easy, either. The air seemed to thicken with unsaid things.

Finally, after a few blocks, Tim cleared his throat. His voice was rough, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to phrase what was on his mind. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know.”

Lucy’s gaze stayed focused on the road, the rhythm of her driving smooth but purposeful. She didn’t look at him immediately, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips, softening the line of her jaw. “Tim, I wasn’t gonna let you drive home drunk,” she said, her voice level but carrying a certain firmness that made it clear she meant what she said.

Tim turned his head slightly, still staring at the road ahead. “I know. I could’ve called an Uber.” He paused, trying to sound more casual than he felt, but there was an edge to his words. “Could’ve been fine.”

Lucy chuckled softly, but it was more out of disbelief than amusement. “There’s no reason to call an Uber when I’m perfectly capable of getting you home,” she replied. She turned her head just enough to catch his eyes for a fleeting second, a reassurance in her gaze that he couldn’t quite ignore.

Tim let out a small huff, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Yeah, I know. It’s just—” He trailed off, the words hanging in the air between them. He didn’t know how to explain it. Didn’t know how to say that it wasn’t just about the ride, that it was about something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to talk about. Not now, not with her.

“You know,” he began again, his voice hesitant, unsure. “It’s just… weird.”

Lucy shot him a quick glance, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she kept her focus on the road. “ Why does it have to be weird?”

Tim shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping nervously on the door handle as he looked out the window. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… it feels weird, you know? You’re… you’re my ex, and we didn’t exactly end well, and now here I am, asking you for a ride like… like we’re fine.”

Lucy sighed, keeping her focus on the road. Her voice was steady, but she softened her tone a little. “It doesn’t have to be weird, Tim. I’m not here to make this about us or our past. I’m here to make sure you get home safely. That’s it.” She glanced at him for a moment, a quiet understanding in her eyes. “People have all sorts of relationships, and sometimes we end up in situations where we have to do things for each other even if it’s awkward. This is one of those times.”

Tim’s gaze drifted to the floor of the car, his hand fumbling with the seatbelt as if it were an unfamiliar object. “Yeah, but…” His voice wavered, and he let out a little chuckle, as if trying to play off the seriousness of the situation. “I don’t know how to explain it, Luce. I feel like I should tell you… everything. I mean, you deserve to know, right? About why… about why I did what I did. I just… I don’t know why it all turned out like that.”

Lucy kept her gaze on the road, but her lips curved into a faint, patient smile, seeing through the vulnerability in his words. “Tim, please, we don’t need to talk about this now.” She glanced at him quickly. “You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to say something you might regret later.”

Tim’s eyes widened slightly, like he was just beginning to process what she said. “But I… I need to tell you,” he stammered, leaning forward slightly in his seat as though it would help him communicate better. “I need you to know. I really messed up, Lucy, and… and I care, I do. I just… I don’t know how to say it right.”

Lucy’s expression softened further, her hands relaxed on the wheel as she took a deep breath. “I know you care, Tim,” she said, her voice almost gentle. “But right now, this isn’t the time. You’re not in the right place to be having this conversation. You need to rest, okay?”

He pouted, his lips curling down slightly as he leaned back, a small, childlike sigh escaping him. “I don’t want to rest,” he muttered, sounding almost whiny. “I want you to know… to really know why I messed up.” His words were slow, a bit jumbled, but it was clear he was just trying to express what was on his mind.

Lucy glanced at him briefly, her smile more tender now as she gave a soft laugh. “I know, Tim. I know.” She turned her attention back to the road, her voice calm but firm. “But we’ll talk about it when you’re sober. Not now.”

Tim’s head rolled back against the headrest, his eyes drooping as he let out a long sigh. He was quiet for a while, the weight of the conversation seemingly settling into a thick silence between them. Lucy didn’t mind it, though. The rhythm of the drive was comforting, and she didn’t mind the quiet as much as she thought she would.

The house came into view after a few more minutes, a familiar sight that should’ve made her feel a sense of finality. Instead, it just felt like the end of an unfinished conversation. She parked in the driveway, the engine quieting as she cut it off.

“Here we are,” Lucy said softly, turning her body toward Tim as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Let’s get you inside.”

Tim blinked, a slight frown tugging at his features. “Are we… there?” he mumbled, still disoriented.

“Yeah, Tim. You’re home,” Lucy confirmed, opening the door and stepping out. She moved to his side of the car, pausing for a moment before offering her hand. “Need some help?”

Tim took her hand, his grip loose but there, and managed to pull himself upright. His body swayed slightly, and Lucy felt a bit of his weight lean on her as she guided him toward the front door. She steadied him with a firm but gentle grip, making sure he didn’t trip over his own feet.

“Careful, Tim,” she murmured, adjusting her stance so she could support more of his weight. “Just take it slow.”

“Slow, right,” Tim mumbled, his steps unsteady as he leaned on her more heavily. He tried to stand tall but wavered, then gave a small laugh. “You always were the strong one.”

Lucy didn’t respond right away, focusing on the task at hand. She was careful to avoid making it sound like anything more than what it was: helping someone get home when they needed it. Nothing more, nothing less. Her hands guided Tim carefully, ensuring he didn’t lose his balance as they moved together. The quiet of the moment felt strange, but she kept her attention on the simple task, blocking out any stray thoughts.

When they reached the front door, she pushed it open with one hand, holding Tim steady with the other. He stumbled slightly but caught himself, and she gave him a quiet, reassuring glance.

“You’re doing fine,” she said, though the words were more for her own comfort than his. “Let’s just get you inside.”

Inside, the familiar surroundings of his home felt oddly comforting. She helped him walk deeper into the living room, guiding him to the couch. He collapsed onto it with a deep sigh, and Lucy stood for a moment, unsure if she should leave him to rest or if she should stay.

“Stay here. I’ll grab a blanket,” she said, moving toward the hallway without waiting for a response.

Tim’s voice drifted from the couch, softer now. “Lucy… you’re too good to me.”

She paused in the doorway and glanced back at him, but didn’t comment. Instead, she just nodded, grabbing the blanket from the hallway. She returned quickly, covering him up carefully, her movements methodical and efficient.

She paused in the doorway and glanced back at him, but didn’t comment. Instead, she just nodded, grabbing the blanket from the hallway. She returned quickly, covering him up carefully, her movements methodical and efficient.

Tim shifted on the couch, his eyes slightly glazed but his voice still clear enough. “Hey, Lucy… stay.” He motioned weakly toward the hallway. “You didn’t come in your own car, right? I’ll drive you tomorrow, but… you should stay.”

Lucy stood still for a moment, caught off guard by his request. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome, especially with how things had ended between them.

“Tim…” she started, her voice gentle but firm.

Before she could finish, he cut her off, his words coming out a bit slurred but determined. “No, Lucy. My bed’s big enough. You have it.” He let out a breath, his eyes closing halfway. “I don’t care, just stay.”

Lucy exhaled softly, her mind racing with thoughts of what this might mean. She didn’t want to make things more complicated than they already were, but…

She shook her head, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Fine. But only until you’re sober. Then we’ll figure it out,” she said, almost to herself as she sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers brushing his blanket lightly.

Tim hummed in agreement, already half asleep, and Lucy stood again, feeling a bit out of place but knowing she had no other choice.

Chapter Text

A dull, relentless pounding echoed through Tim’s skull, each throb like a drumbeat reverberating through his head. He let out a low groan, squeezing his eyes shut against the faint morning light filtering into the room. His body felt heavy, every muscle stiff, like he’d been flattened by a steamroller. His mouth was dry, the stale burn of whiskey still clinging to the back of his throat.

He stayed still for a moment, trying to collect his bearings. The couch beneath him was unforgiving, the armrest pressing awkwardly into his ribs. His shirt was twisted, uncomfortable, and his jeans felt too tight, like he’d just passed out without a second thought. Which, knowing himself, he probably had.

The memories of the night before were hazy at best. The bar. The drinks. The heat of liquor in his chest. A familiar voice.

His truck.

Lucy.

His brows pulled together.

That couldn’t be right.

He groaned again, forcing himself upright despite the way his head protested. The room spun slightly, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the nausea creeping up. With a slow exhale, he reached for his phone, digging it out of his back pocket. The screen lit up, his vision blurring slightly before he focused on the numbers staring back at him.

7:12 AM.

Tim let his head fall back against the couch, shutting his eyes for a brief second. He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to deal with the consequences of last night—whatever they were. And he definitely didn’t want to think too hard about why Lucy’s name was the first thing that surfaced in his mind.

But then, as if summoned by his thoughts, the soft creak of a door opening made his stomach twist.

His eyes snapped open.

From down the hall, the bedroom door eased open, and then—Lucy stepped out.

For a second, he just stared, his sluggish brain struggling to catch up. She was already dressed, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, but her posture was relaxed, like this wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for her.

His heart picked up speed, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if it was from the hangover or the sight of her in his house, stepping out of his bedroom.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice soft but even. “How are you feeling?”

Tim blinked at her, still processing, before his mouth worked faster than his brain.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, rough from sleep and the dehydration clawing at his throat. His confusion was written all over his face, his eyebrows pinched together.

Lucy sighed, crossing her arms loosely. “I drove you home last night. Remember? You could barely walk straight.”

His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to argue, but no words came out. Instead, a few flashes of memory flickered back—the truck, her voice telling him to sit still, her hands steadying him as they made it inside.

Shit.

Tim ran a hand down his face, trying to mask his embarrassment. The heat creeping up his neck betrayed him, though, and Lucy noticed. She leaned against the doorway, her expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“You don’t have to look so horrified,” she said lightly. “It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with someone who had one too many.”

“Yeah, but…” Tim trailed off, his brain struggling to keep up. His voice dropped, almost a grumble. “Didn’t think it’d be you babysitting me.”

Lucy’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Trust me, I didn’t exactly plan on it either. But you weren’t giving me much choice. You were insisting you were fine to drive, and I wasn’t about to let you prove yourself wrong.”

Tim winced at her words, his head dropping into his hands. “Great,” he muttered. “I’m that guy now.”

“Relax,” she said, her tone softening. “You weren’t belligerent or anything. Just… stubborn. Which, to be fair, doesn’t seem too out of character.”

Tim let out a dry, humorless laugh, peeking at her through his fingers. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I’m a grown man who got so drunk he needed to be babysat. Trust me, the shame is settling in just fine.”

Lucy shook her head, pushing off the doorway and stepping closer. “You don’t need to be ashamed,” she said simply. “You had a rough night. It happens.”

Tim scoffed, running a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers caught on a tangle. He felt like hell. Looked like it, too, if Lucy’s barely concealed amusement was anything to go by.

“You say that like I make a habit of it,” he muttered, leaning back against the couch.

Lucy arched a brow. “Do you?”

“No,” he said quickly, too quickly. Her knowing look made his headache worse.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Uh-huh. Because last night definitely didn’t seem like a one-time thing.”

Tim let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Look, it’s not like I do this all the time. It was just… a long day. A long week.”

Lucy studied him for a moment, her gaze sharper now, more assessing. Whatever she saw in his face made her expression soften. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I figured.”

That unsettled him more than anything. He wasn’t used to people picking up on things he wasn’t ready to admit—especially not her.

He cleared his throat, forcing some levity back into his tone. “So… how bad was I, really?”

Lucy smirked. “Oh, you want details?”

Tim groaned. “Forget I asked.”

Lucy laughed, shaking her head. “Oh no, you don’t get to back out now.”

Tim sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, fine. Just rip the Band-Aid off.”

Lucy leaned against the couch, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “Well, for starters, you were absolutely convinced you were okay to drive. We had a full-on fight over the keys. You tried to convince me you ‘knew your limits’ and that ‘your truck basically drives itself.’”

Tim groaned again, dropping his head back against the couch. “God.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” she continued, smirking. “You finally handed over the keys, but when we got to your truck, you could barely walk straight. I had to hold your arm just to make sure you didn’t faceplant in the parking lot.”

Tim winced. “Great.”

“And then,” Lucy went on, clearly on a roll, “you were acting like a total toddler the whole ride over. Whining about everything—the streetlights, the radio, your jacket being ‘too heavy.’”

Tim squinted at her. “I did not say that.”

“Oh, you did. Verbatim.” She grinned. “And the best part? You would not stop trying to talk about things we didn’t need to be talking about while you were drunk.”

Tim frowned, some of his embarrassment giving way to curiosity. “Like what?”

Lucy hesitated, shifting slightly. “Doesn’t matter.”

His brow furrowed. “Come on, Lucy. You can’t just drop that and not tell me.”

She sighed, her expression guarded now. “You kept trying to talk about us.”

Tim blinked. “Us?”

“Yeah.” Lucy gave him a small, unreadable smile. “Our relationship. How things ended. What should’ve happened instead.”

Tim’s stomach twisted. His headache was suddenly the least of his problems. He watched her carefully, trying to get a read on what she was thinking, but her expression was frustratingly neutral.

“What did you say?” His voice was quieter now, more careful.

Lucy just shrugged. “You were drunk, Tim. I wasn’t gonna have that conversation with you when you weren’t in the right mindset.”

Tim scoffed, shaking his head. “So, what? You just let me talk?”

Lucy arched a brow. “No, I shut you up and dragged you inside before you could say something even more stupid.”

Tim let out a dry, humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well, that was probably the right call.”

Lucy smirked. “Oh, definitely.”

Silence settled between them like an unwelcome guest, stretching longer than it should have. Tim shifted, rubbing his palm over his knee, then scratched the back of his head, then exhaled loudly like that might fill the space between them. It didn’t.

Lucy just stood there, arms crossed, watching him with that maddeningly calm expression. Like she was waiting. Like she had all the time in the world for him to figure out how to speak.

His mouth felt dry. Not just from the hangover.

Finally, he sighed. “I think I owe you an apology.”

Lucy’s brows lifted slightly. “For what?”

Tim exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. “Take your pick.”

Lucy let out a short laugh—soft, but at least it was real. “Fair enough.”

Tim nodded like that settled something, even though it didn’t settle anything at all. He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers caught on another tangle. Jesus. He probably looked as bad as he felt.

“Seriously, though,” he muttered. “I appreciate what you did. I know I wasn’t exactly easy to deal with.”

Lucy shrugged. “You weren’t the worst drunk I’ve ever handled.”

Tim huffed. “High praise.”

She gave him a small smile, but then her expression shifted, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. He recognized that look. It was the look of someone about to shut something down before it even started.

“Look, Tim,” she said, shifting her weight. “I don’t want to make this a thing. You got drunk. I was there. I got you home safely. That’s all this was.”

Tim’s jaw tightened. He studied her, searching for something—some crack in her composure, some sign that she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe.

“Really?” he asked, his voice quieter now, testing.

Lucy’s posture didn’t change, but her fingers twitched where they were crossed over her arm. “Yes, really.”

Tim exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. His fingers dragged down to his jaw, then rested against his lips as he thought. He could leave it alone. He should leave it alone.

Instead, his mouth moved before his brain could stop it.

“Except it kind of is, isn’t it?”

Lucy’s expression didn’t shift, but her throat moved as she swallowed. “Tim—”

“No, just—” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples like that might keep him from saying something stupid. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. “I know I was drunk, okay? But if I was talking about us, it wasn’t random. You know that.”

Lucy inhaled sharply, but she didn’t respond right away.

Her silence made something twist in his stomach.

“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said.

Tim let out an incredulous scoff. “How can you say that?”

“Because,” she said, folding her arms tighter, “I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

“ Then when?” he asked “ When will you let me explain.”

“Never,” she said, the word sharp and final, her chest tight with all the things she couldn’t keep inside anymore. “You don’t get to explain anything to me, Tim. Nothing.” She clenched her fists at her sides, her breath coming fast and shallow. “You think after everything, I’m just supposed to sit here and listen to you explain it away like it’s some misunderstanding? Like I should give you the benefit of the doubt?”

Her face twisted with disgust, the hurt more apparent in her eyes than it had ever been before. She paced back and forth in front of him, her movements quick, frantic, as if she couldn’t stop the energy from bursting out of her, as if she was fighting the weight of it all, every moment he’d taken from her, every lie that had been fed to her.

“You think I haven’t been through enough?” Her voice grew louder, more urgent, as if each word was a scream she had kept locked up inside for too long. “You think I don’t know what I’m talking about? You were married, Tim. You were married. And all that time, while we were together, you never thought to tell me? You never thought I deserved to know the truth?”

She stopped pacing and stood still in front of him, her hands trembling as they curled into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms. “No. You didn’t tell me. Not until it was too late, until I had already opened up to you, until I trusted you with everything I had left inside me. Everything. And then… then I had to find out the truth on my own.”

Her voice broke for the first time, the emotion making it hard to breathe as the anger spilled over, the tears threatening to fall but never quite making it past the tightness in her throat. “I found the picture. In your fucking nightstand. A picture of you and her, smiling, happy, like nothing was wrong. You know how that felt, Tim? To be lying there next to you, thinking I was the only one, that you were mine, and then finding that? I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do. I didn’t know how to breathe, how to process that. You lied to me, Tim. You used me, and you never told me.”

Her voice cracked again, the words a painful reminder of everything that had been lost. “I was so fucking lost before you came along. Do you know that? I was in the worst state of my life. I hated everything about myself. I hated where I was. I hated who I was. I fought every damn day to even get out of bed, to keep going. I fought with myself every morning, trying to find a reason to continue, trying to hold on to something that made sense. And then you—” She stopped, her chest heaving, struggling to keep her composure. “And then you made me feel like I wasn’t invisible. Like I wasn’t some forgotten piece of shit just drifting along. You made me feel like maybe I wasn’t worthless. You made me feel special, Tim.”

Tim’s stomach twisted, the weight of her words crushing the air from his lungs. He wanted to say something, anything, but every thought felt useless in the face of her pain—pain he had caused.

Lucy let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to keep going. “And then, in one second, none of it mattered.” Her voice broke, and she shook her head, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Because it wasn’t real. I wasn’t special. I was just—” she exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead like she could will away the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. “I was just a college girl too stupid to see what was right in front of her.”

“You were never stupid.”

Lucy let out a sharp, hollow laugh, the sound so bitter it practically curdled the air between them. “Oh, no? Then what was I, Tim? Enlighten me, because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell looks like I was a fucking idiot. And not just any idiot—a special kind. The kind that actually believed you.” Her voice wavered, but the rage swallowed the crack whole. “The kind that thought you were someone worth trusting. The kind that bought every excuse, every late night, every bullshit explanation, and never once questioned if she was being played like a fucking fool.”

Tim’s jaw clenched, his whole body going rigid, but she didn’t care.

“You let me believe I was different,” she went on, stepping closer, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “That I wasn’t just some random girl you picked up. That I mattered. But I wasn’t your first choice, was I?” She scoffed, eyes burning into his. “No, I was just the one who didn’t know any better. The one who actually believed your shit. And don’t you fucking dare stand there and tell me I wasn’t a backup plan, because what else was I, Tim? Huh? What the fuck else do you call someone you lie to for months?”

His face twisted, like the words physically hurt him. “I never—”

“You never meant to hurt me?” she spat before he could finish. “You never meant to lie? You never meant for any of this to happen?” She shook her head, laughing humorlessly. “Jesus Christ, do you even hear yourself? You sound like every other asshole who gets caught.”

Tim flinched, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to feel it—to feel even a fraction of what she was feeling.

“I trusted you,” she hissed, stepping closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I let you into my life, let you make me think I actually mattered to you, and the whole time, you had a fucking wife, Tim.” The word felt filthy in her mouth. “A wife. Do you even understand what that did to me? Do you even fucking care?”

His jaw tightened. “Of course, I care.”

“Bullshit.” She let the word slice through the air between them, her chest rising and falling with the force of her breath. “If you cared, you wouldn’t have let me find out like that. If you cared, you wouldn’t have let me sit there like a fucking idiot, defending you, believing in you.” She swallowed hard, her throat burning. “But you did. You let me walk around thinking we had something real while you were hiding a whole goddamn life from me.”

Tim exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “I didn’t hide it—”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “You didn’t tell me. That’s the same goddamn thing. What, you thought it just wouldn’t come up? That maybe I’d never notice? That it wouldn’t fucking matter?” She shook her head, her breath coming in sharp bursts, her chest tight with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “What would’ve happened if I wanted to move in with you? Huh? Would you have just expected me to be okay with a fucking three-way? ’Cause that’s what it feels like, Tim. It feels like you wanted me to just accept that shit as part of the deal.”

She let the words hang in the air between them, a bitter, cutting truth that she couldn’t hold back anymore. The silence stretched for a moment, thick and suffocating, before she shook her head again, exhaling harshly.

“Fuck this,” she muttered, dropping her gaze from him. “I don’t even know why I’m still standing here, trying to get you to say something that actually matters. This—” She gestured between them, frustration building with each word. “This is never going to be fixed. You can’t fix this.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned, moving toward the door, grabbing her bag from the chair. Her movements were quick, sharp—there was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

“We don’t have to be friends. We don’t even have to fucking like each other,” she said, her voice steady but edged with finality. “We just need to be able to get along at work. That’s it.”

Tim took a step forward, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t look at him anymore—couldn’t let herself feel anything else.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, her voice sharp. “I’ll take the bus to work. And take some aspirin—you look like hell.”

Her words landed hard, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to comfort him or hear any more of his excuses. She was done.

She reached for the door, the finality in her movements clear. This conversation—maybe even them—was over.

But then, as if something inside him couldn’t let it go, Tim’s voice broke through the silence.

“Do you know why I drove you home the night we met?”

Lucy’s hand froze on the doorknob, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. Instead, she kept her voice steady, though it trembled with anger and hurt. “Yeah,” she said, her tone icy. “You said you wanted to make sure I got home safe.”

A long beat of silence passed between them—a silence so heavy it seemed to compress the very air they breathed.

“No,” Tim said softly, his voice barely audible, yet laden with an intensity that made her pulse race. “That’s not the entire truth.”

Lucy’s fingers curled tighter around the strap of her bag, her body tensing as she fought the urge to walk away even faster. “Then what is it?” she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper yet edged with steely resolve. “Tell me, then. What’s the truth you’ve been hiding?”

Tim swallowed hard, gathering himself as if the very act of speaking might shatter him. “The moment I met you,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I knew you were different.” He paused, his eyes searching hers as if for forgiveness that he knew he didn’t deserve. “You smiled at me in a way that… I don’t know, Lucy. It was like for the first time in a long time, something in me woke up. I’d spent so much time pretending I was okay, so much time trying to convince myself that nothing mattered—but the second I saw you, I felt something real.”

Lucy’s face remained impassive, but Tim could see a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe pain—in the depths of her eyes.

“I drove you home that night,” he continued, his voice trembling with vulnerability, “because I was stalling. I wasn’t just trying to be the good guy, making sure you got home safe. I was trying to keep myself from doing something terrible.” His gaze dropped for a moment, then he forced himself to look up again. “Because that night, after work, I had planned to go home and end it all. I was so done with pretending that I was okay, so tired of the empty routine of a life that felt meaningless. I had every intention of taking my gun, of ending this misery.”

He paused, his voice catching as he recalled the memory. “But then I saw you, Lucy. At that party, when you—when you laughed and smiled, even when you were oblivious to everything else. I remember how you tore my uniform in that absurd moment—I still cringe thinking about it—but it was strangely sweet in its own awkward way. I mistook your wild, carefree spirit for something genuine, something that could break through all the darkness I’d been drowning in. And for a moment, I realized I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t let that be the end.”

Tim’s words hung in the air, raw and unguarded, as he looked at her with eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Lucy, I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he continued, voice thick with emotion. “God knows I don’t deserve that. But I need you to know—I love you. I fucking love you, and I’m going to keep loving you until the day I die. Even if you never feel the same way, even if I never get another chance… I cant let you walk away without hearing that.”

Lucy’s chest tightened, her heart pounding in her ears. Her breath hitched, her throat closing up as her mind scrambled for a way to process everything he was saying. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her, suffocating her. Tears welled up in her eyes, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking, small and fragile. “No, you don’t get to say that. Not after everything. Not after all the lies.”

Tim reached out instinctively, his hand shaking, but he stopped himself before he could touch her. She was so far away, in a way he didn’t know how to bridge.

“I know,” he said softly, the pain in his voice so raw it felt like it could shatter him. “I know it’s too late for me to say it. I know it doesn’t change anything. But I need you to hear it. I love you. And I’m not going to stop loving you, no matter what happens between us.”

Lucy let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, barely more than a shake of her shoulders. “You’re just saying that because you feel like you owe me something.”

Tim shook his head vehemently. “No.”

“Then why?” she asked, her voice trembling, yet sharp with the frustration of it all. She stepped back slightly, her chest tightening with emotion she couldn’t control.

He paused for a moment, the weight of her question hanging in the air between them. “Because I do. I’m not asking you to believe me, but it’s true. I never meant to lie to you, Lucy. I never meant to hurt you. I just—” His voice faltered, and he took a steadying breath. “I just didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to explain the mess I was in.”

Lucy’s eyes flickered toward him, her face still unreadable, but her gaze raw with something that could almost be mistaken for empathy.

Tim continued, his voice quieter now, more fragile. “You see, my wife—she just stopped coming home. One day, she was there, and the next, she wasn’t. No argument. No fight. She just… left. And I was left trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. I spent months blaming myself. Maybe I didn’t care enough. Maybe I wasn’t enough. I kept telling myself that I had to have messed something up, but the truth is, I never got an answer. She just disappeared, and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t understand it.”

He paused, the emotion choking him, but he pushed through. “I thought maybe if I kept pretending, if I kept up the lie that everything was fine, I could make it through. But I couldn’t. And when I met you, Lucy, I—I felt something real. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I thought maybe you could be my escape from everything. Maybe you could give me something to hold onto. But I was so fucking broken. So lost. And I couldn’t show you that. I couldn’t show you the mess I was.”

Lucy let out a long, frustrated sigh, rubbing her forehead. “I get it. You’re going through all this stuff, and you wanted to protect me from it, but that’s not how it works. If you would’ve just told me the truth—if you would’ve been honest with me, I could’ve helped. Yeah, you were married, and yeah, that was fucked up, but if I had the full picture, I could’ve understood. I could’ve been there for you, Tim. You didn’t have to handle all this shit by yourself.”

He shook his head, looking down at the floor, his jaw tightening.

“No, you don’t get it. I didn’t want to burden you with all of that. I couldn’t just unload everything onto you.”

Lucy’s voice got sharper. “Are you serious? You seriously think that after everything you’ve told me—about how you were planning to kill yourself before we met—that I wouldn’t have wanted to help you? That I wouldn’t have wanted to be there for you?” She stepped forward, her frustration rising. “You think I’d see you as a burden just because you need someone to talk to? Tim, you need to learn how to let people in. It’s not burdening people when you’re struggling. That’s what gets you into a spot like this. Keeping everything inside, thinking you have to deal with it all alone—that’s how you end up here. And I—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I’m not mad that you were struggling. I’m mad you didn’t trust me enough to let me in.”

Tim remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the ground.

She sighed, frustrated, but there was a softness to her words now. “I could’ve helped you, Tim. But you didn’t give me the chance.” She paused, her voice quieter. “And now look at us. We’re both standing here, dealing with the mess you didn’t want to talk about, and I’m… I’m stuck. Because you didn’t let me help.”

Before Tim could respond, Lucy’s phone buzzed in her pocket, cutting the moment short. She glanced at the screen—John’s name.

To: Lucy Chen
From: John Nolan
Hey, are we still on for dinner tonight? ;)

She looked up at Tim, her expression unreadable. “We…we should probably get to work.”

Tim looked at her, a hesitant frown tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, okay.” The awkwardness hung between them, heavy and thick, but he quickly stood and left the room, his movements brisk as he went to get dressed.

When he came back, dressed in a simple jacket and jeans, he looked at her again, more cautiously this time. “I can drive you,” he offered, trying to keep the mood light, though his voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Lucy nodded, gathering her things. The ride to her office was quiet, the space between them filled with unspoken words. Tim gripped the steering wheel too tightly, his face tense as he focused on the road.

After a while, Tim broke the silence, his voice a little too eager. “After your shift, could I take you to dinner? I mean, we could talk more about everything. You know, just a casual dinner between coworkers.”

Lucy blinked, surprised. “Excuse me?”

Tim quickly backpedaled, his hands waving in the air as if to dispel any misunderstanding. “No, not in a weird way or anything,” he clarified, clearly flustered. “Just… a casual dinner. So we can talk, work through all of this without the tension.”

Lucy’s mind spun for a moment. This wasn’t just some casual dinner. Not after everything. She couldn’t let him think it was. “I can’t tonight,” she said, her voice firm as she turned to look at him. “The guys and I are going to get together to study our rook books.”

Tim hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, well, if you change your mind…”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, her voice soft, but distant.

As they continued the drive, Lucy pulled her phone out of her bag, her fingers tapping quickly across the screen. She texted John back, her stomach tightening with the weight of the conversation she’d just had.

To: John Nolan
From: Lucy Chen
Ofc💕

Lucy glanced over at Tim, her eyes flicking to him before quickly looking away. Her heart raced, her mind still reeling from the weight of the conversation they just had. She couldn’t let him know the truth—not now. Not with everything so complicated between them. If Tim found out about John, everything would come crashing down. It would make what they had—or what they could have—feel even messier, if that was even possible.

Chapter Text

Her heart was still pounding.

No matter how many deep breaths she took, no matter how much she tried to push it all down, Lucy could feel the conversation replaying in her mind over and over again.

Tim’s words.

His voice, breaking in ways she had never heard before.

The look in his eyes when he told her he had been ready to end it all.

She had wanted to be angry. Needed to be angry. But the moment he said those words—I was going to go home and end it—something inside her had shifted. The ground beneath her feet had tilted, and suddenly, she wasn’t standing across from the man who had broken her heart. She was standing in front of someone who had been breaking long before she had ever met him.

For the rest of the day, she couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t focus on work, couldn’t concentrate on anything but him and the weight of everything he had told her.

After all this time, she finally knew the truth.

It didn’t erase the past. It didn’t undo the hurt. But at least now, she understood.

She understood why he had lied.

She understood what he had been going through.

She understood how much of himself he had been trying to keep buried—how much of his pain he had fought to carry alone.

She tried to push it away. Tried to bury it. But Tim Bradford had a way of settling into the deepest parts of her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t let go of him.

And now, here she was, standing in the locker room, pulling her uniform over her head, changing out of it as she got ready for dinner with John—her boyfriend. The man who had been nothing but patient and steady, the man she had told herself was right for her, the man she was supposed to be thinking about right now.

But as she pulled on a simple black dress—the one she kept in her locker for days like this—reached for her necklace, and fixed her hair in the mirror, all she could think about was Tim. The way he had looked at her. The way his voice had cracked when he told her he loved her. It wasn’t something she could just shake off—it lingered, heavy and unrelenting, pressing into her chest no matter how much she tried to refocus. She let out a slow, measured breath, rolling her shoulders as if the motion could physically rid her of the weight she was carrying. Tonight is about John, she told herself. Not Tim. Not the past. She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder, pushing through the locker room door before her thoughts could drag her under again.

The second she stepped out, she nearly walked straight into John. He was waiting just outside, leaning casually against the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets, that signature easygoing expression on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm, smooth.

Lucy blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard before she forced herself to push aside everything still circling in her mind. “Hey.”

They started walking together, falling into step as they made their way through the station. They kept their conversation light, casual—like coworkers, like friends. Nothing too close, nothing too obvious. Nobody at work knew about them, and that was how they had agreed to keep it.

But the moment they stepped into the parking garage and climbed into John’s truck, the air between them shifted.

“Buckle up,” John teased, giving her a sidelong glance as he started the engine. “Don’t need you flying through my windshield before dinner.”

Lucy smirked, rolling her eyes as she clicked her seatbelt into place. “Thanks for the concern.”

“Always,” he said easily, backing out of the parking space. His hand rested on the wheel, relaxed, his demeanor effortlessly smooth in that way that came with experience, with confidence.

As they pulled onto the road, he glanced at her again. “So, where’d you disappear to last night?”

Lucy hesitated for half a second before answering, keeping her voice casual. “I ended up going to talk to Tim.”

John’s brows lifted slightly, clearly surprised. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” She shifted in her seat, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “He was really drunk, and he was trying to drive himself home, so I drove him instead.” A pause. “I just stayed on his couch.”

John hummed, his grip on the wheel tightening just slightly before he glanced at her with an easy smile. “You taking in wayward strays now?”

Lucy huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. “Something like that.”

“Well, remind me to get blackout drunk sometime,” he mused. “Apparently, that’s all it takes to get a private chauffeur service.”

She shot him a look. “Yeah, sorry babe that’s not happening.”

John chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “Not even a little?”

“Not even a little.”

“Damn,” he murmured, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “Guess I’ll just have to impress you the old-fashioned way.”

Lucy arched a brow, playing along now. “And what way is that?”

John flashed her a grin, smooth and teasing. “Dinner. Conversation. Charm. It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”

Lucy tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips, but it was impossible. “You think it’s working?”

He let out a thoughtful hum. “Well, you’re in my truck, aren’t you?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest was undeniable. “Just drive, John.”

He smirked, turning his attention back to the road. “Yes, ma’am.”

The hum of the engine filled the comfortable silence between them as John maneuvered through the dimly lit parking garage and out onto the street. The city lights flickered past in a blur, casting soft, golden reflections against the windshield.

Lucy exhaled slowly, settling into her seat, letting the familiar rhythm of their routine take over. This—him—was easy. Steady. John wasn’t the kind of man who demanded things from her, who pressed when she wasn’t ready, who pushed for more than she could give. He understood patience. Understood how to move at her pace.

And yet, no matter how much she wanted to be fully present, she couldn’t quiet the thoughts clawing at the edges of her mind.

Tim.

His voice.

His confession.

She shifted slightly, forcing herself to focus on the now, on this. On John.

“So,” she said, turning toward him. “Where are we going?”

John glanced over at her with an easy smirk. “That depends. How fancy do you feel like getting tonight?”

Lucy arched a brow. “Are you asking because you have a place in mind or because you’re stalling?”

“Maybe a little of both,” he admitted, tapping his fingers idly against the wheel. “But mostly because I like hearing your opinion.”

She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Well, I appreciate the effort, but if you’re putting the decision in my hands, at least give me some options.”

John hummed, eyes flickering toward the road as he thought. “Alright… there’s that new steakhouse over on Fifth, the Italian place near the waterfront, or—” He shot her a teasing glance. “We could go real high-class and hit the drive-thru.”

Lucy snorted. “Tempting. Nothing says ‘romance’ like a side of fries.”

“Exactly,” John said smoothly. “A classic. Can’t go wrong.”

She shook her head, amused. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Good call.” His smirk deepened slightly as he shifted gears. “Besides, I don’t think I could’ve watched you eat a burger in that dress and still kept my hands to myself.”

Lucy scoffed, shooting him a look. “Oh, so that’s your weakness? Me eating a burger?”

John smirked, fingers tapping idly against the wheel. “No, but watching you try to eat one in that dress? That might’ve done me in.”

Her stomach flipped—not just from the words, but from the way he said them, smooth and easy, like he wasn’t even trying.

She rolled her eyes, keeping her voice light. “So dramatic.”

John glanced at her, that smirk still playing at the corner of his lips. “Not dramatic. Just honest.”

Lucy exhaled, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. Normally, their flirting was effortless, the kind of playful back-and-forth that never took much thought. But tonight, something about it felt… different. Not wrong, not unwelcome, just slightly offbeat. Like she had to think about her responses a little more, like she was aware of every shift in the air between them.

Still, she forced herself to push through it. “So, I have to pick dinner now, too?”

John hummed. “Seems fair, considering you’re the one with refined taste.”

Lucy snorted. “Oh, right, because wanting more than steak and fries makes me some kind of food snob.”

“Didn’t say snob.” He shot her a knowing glance. “Just high standards.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Normally, she would’ve kept the teasing going, but for some reason, it felt like too much effort tonight.

“Maybe we try something different,” she said instead.

John lifted a brow. “Yeah? Like what?”

She hesitated for half a second before shrugging. “Greek?”

His smirk widened slightly. “You don’t have to phrase it like a question. If you want Geek, we’ll get Greek.”

Lucy hesitated for half a second, then shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, we don’t have to. I know you’re not the biggest fan—”

John cut her off with a scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. Don’t do that.”

She blinked. “Do what?”

John’s voice was smooth, teasing, as he flicked his gaze toward her. “Act like we have to compromise when we both know you’re going to get what you want,” he mused. “And that’s fine by me. You know I like seeing you happy.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “That’s dangerous talk. Keep that up, and I’ll start getting used to it.”

He chuckled, the deep, easy sound filling the car. “I don’t see the problem.”

She glanced at him, arching a brow. “You do realize people are going to start thinking I’m using you, right?”

John’s fingers tapped against the wheel as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. “Let them.”

Lucy huffed, shaking her head. “Oh, so you’re just fine with people assuming I’m some twenty-something-year-old clinging to you for the perks?”

John’s smirk was effortless. “Well, to be fair, I do have excellent perks.”

Lucy shot him a look, unimpressed. “Is that right?”

He nodded, completely unbothered. “Of course. Stability, life experience, great taste in restaurants—”

“Ah, yes, because that’s definitely what makes a woman swoon.”

John gave a half-shrug. “What can I say? I know my strengths.”

Lucy shook her head, amused despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

He glanced at her again, this time softer. “You know, I don’t mind taking care of you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made her stomach flip.

She swallowed, keeping her tone light. “That sounds dangerously close to a sugar daddy situation.”

John barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You had to go there.”

Lucy grinned, crossing her arms. “I mean, the age gap is already suspicious. Next thing you know, I’ll be calling you Daddy.”

John visibly tensed, turning his head just enough to shoot her an incredulous look before refocusing on the road. “Absolutely not.”

Lucy cackled, victorious. “What? You don’t like that?”

“No,” he said flatly, shaking his head. “Not even a little bit.”

“Oh, come on, Daddy,” she teased, drawing the word out just to watch him suffer.

John groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Lucy grinned, entirely too pleased with herself. “You seemed fine with me getting whatever I want a minute ago. What happened?”

John shot her a side-eye, his lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. “That has limits. And you just found one.”

She hummed, tilting her head. “Good to know. So I can take advantage of your generosity… just as long as I don’t call you—”

“Lucy.” His voice was a warning, but there was no real bite to it.

She smirked. “Relax, I would never actually call you that.” She lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely. “I’m just messing with you.”

John exhaled, shaking his head. “Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

Lucy grinned. “I mean, unless you suddenly want me to—”

“Lucy.” His hand briefly left the wheel, pointing at her in warning. “Drop it.”

She laughed, settling back into her seat, clearly satisfied with herself. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.”

“For now,” John muttered, smirking as he switched lanes.

The rest of the drive was comfortable, filled with their usual easy banter and quiet stretches of silence that weren’t uncomfortable, just familiar. Every so often, John would glance at her, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips, like he was still amused by their conversation but choosing not to engage any further—for his own sanity.

When they pulled up to the Greek restaurant, Lucy glanced out the window, taking in the cozy, welcoming place. It wasn’t some high-end, candlelit spot, but it wasn’t a hole-in-the-wall either—just a solid, well-loved restaurant with warm lighting, wooden tables, and the scent of grilled meat and fresh herbs drifting through the night air. The front had large windows, and through them, she could see families and couples settled into booths, laughing over plates piled high with souvlaki and pita.

John put the truck in park, his hand resting on the gear shift as he glanced at her. “This good?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, this is perfect.”

She stepped out, smoothing her dress as the comforting smell of roasted lamb, garlic, and lemon filled the air. It had been a while since she’d had Greek food—not for any particular reason, just one of those things she never thought to pick for herself. But tonight, it felt right.

John walked beside her as they headed inside, holding the door open for her. The restaurant was busy but not chaotic, the kind of place that had been around for years and never needed to change. The walls were decorated with old photos of Greece, the menu written in neat, colorful chalk above the counter, listing everything from grilled meats to fresh seafood and platters made to share.

A hostess greeted them with a warm smile. “Two?”

John nodded. “Yeah, somewhere comfortable.”

Lucy arched a brow at him, amused. “Comfortable?”

John smirked. “Yeah. Somewhere I can sit across from you and not have to raise my voice over some guy yelling into his phone.”

She snorted, shaking her head as the hostess led them toward a table near the windows. It was a nice spot—not too tucked away, but not right in the middle of everything either. The kind of table where you could actually enjoy a conversation.

John pulled out her chair, and Lucy sat, resting her hands on the smooth wooden table as he took his seat across from her.

The restaurant was warm, inviting—the kind of place that felt familiar even if you’d never been there before. The scent of garlic, roasted lamb, and fresh herbs filled the air, the low hum of conversation blending with the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. It wasn’t some candlelit, high-end spot, but it was still nice, the kind of place that made you want to stay a little longer, to linger over good food and easy conversation.

John leaned back in his chair, flipping open the menu with a smirk. “Alright, tell me—are you actually going to commit to a meal tonight, or are you just going to wait until my food shows up and decide you want half of mine?”

Lucy scoffed, pretending to be offended. “I do not steal your food.”

John gave her a slow, knowing look. “Mmm. You do, though.”

She lifted her chin. “Sharing is a sign of trust, John. You should feel honored.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, so that’s what we’re calling it now?”

Lucy grinned, flipping open her own menu. “Obviously.”

John hummed, tapping a finger against his menu. “Well, I trust you’re about to order your own meal, then.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t think I’m capable?”

“I think you can order for yourself. I just don’t think you will.”

Lucy smirked. “You know, for someone who acts all steady and predictable, you sure have a lot of assumptions about me.”

John leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “I don’t assume, Lucy. I observe.”

Something about the way he said it sent a quiet, warm flicker through her.

She tapped a nail against the table, pretending to be unaffected. “Okay, Sherlock. What else have you observed about me?”

John smirked, slow and deliberate, like he’d been waiting for the challenge. “I know you pretend you don’t like attention, but the second someone stops giving it to you, you get a little pouty.”

Lucy scoffed, though she couldn’t deny the way her lips twitched. “I do not pout.”

John tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering over her like he was committing her reaction to memory. “Not obviously, no. But you shift in your seat. Cross your arms. And you get quiet—just long enough for whoever you’re with to notice.”

Lucy arched a brow. “Sounds like you spend a lot of time watching me.”

John didn’t even try to deny it. “I do.”

The air between them shifted, just slightly.

Lucy hummed, tapping her fingers against the table. “Alright. What else?”

John smirked, eyes gleaming. “I know that when you’re thinking about something—really thinking about it—you bite your lip. And I know that when you do it, half the time it’s because you’re concentrating.” He leaned in, his voice lower now, smoother. “And the other half? You’re doing it on purpose.”

Lucy exhaled slowly, keeping her expression neutral despite the warmth curling in her stomach.

“I know you pretend to hate being teased,” John continued, his gaze locked onto hers, “but really? You love it.”

Lucy tilted her head, lips curving. “And what makes you think that?”

John didn’t answer right away.

Instead, beneath the table, she felt the slow, deliberate brush of his foot against her ankle.

Lucy’s breath caught, but she didn’t move, didn’t react. Not yet.

John, to his credit, kept his expression easy, unreadable. But beneath the table, his foot slid higher, just barely ghosting over the curve of her calf.

Lucy’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table.

The touch was subtle, teasing, deliberate. A slow, warm pressure trailing just enough to make her stomach flip.

And then—suddenly—she wasn’t at this table with John anymore.

She was somewhere else. Another table. Another night. Another man.

Tim.

The memory came in a flash—uninvited, unrelenting.

The last date she had gone on with him.

The way they had sat across from each other in the dim glow of a different restaurant, laughter and wine warming the space between them. The way her foot had trailed up his leg under the table, teasing, testing. How he had leaned in, eyes dark, voice low and full of promise when he murmured, You keep that up, and we’re leaving early.

And God, the way they had left early.

She remembered how they barely made it through the door before he had her pinned against it, his hands sure, his mouth desperate. How he had lifted her with ease, carrying her to his bed like she was weightless. How every touch, every movement had felt like too much and not enough all at once.

The way he had worshiped her that night.

The way he had pulled her apart and put her back together in the same breath.

The memory burned hot and unshakable, and before she even realized it, she was biting her lip, her fingers tightening subtly against her lap.

John exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

Lucy blinked, snapping back to the present. “What?”

John smirked, tilting his head. “You’re doing it right now.”

She frowned, still a little dazed. “Doing what?”

“The lip biting thing.” His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something else behind it—something intrigued, something curious.

Lucy straightened slightly, her expression guarded. “I don’t have a lip biting thing.”

John arched a brow. “You absolutely do.”

She scoffed, but she could feel heat creeping up her neck. “You’re imagining things.”

John smirked, his foot nudging lightly against hers beneath the table again, like he was testing her reaction. “Nope. I observe, remember?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to shift in her seat. “I think you just like to hear yourself talk.”

John smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want to know what’s got you biting your lip like that.”

Lucy’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “Nothing.”

John didn’t buy it for a second. “Lucy.”

She hesitated. A second too long.

Because it wasn’t nothing.

Her mind was still stuck in the past, in that memory of Tim—of his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against hers, the way he had looked at her that night, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

She inhaled slowly, willing the thoughts away, but they clung to her like static, impossible to shake.

Her fingers curled slightly in her lap, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Has Bradford talked to you about his wife yet?”

John blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift. His smirk faded, his expression turning more thoughtful as he studied her. “What?”

Lucy swallowed, her pulse hammering. “I just—” She exhaled, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Has he ever mentioned her to you?”

John’s brow furrowed slightly. He was quiet for a beat, like he was trying to figure out where this was coming from. “Why are you asking?”

Lucy shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though her heart was practically in her throat. “I was just wondering.”

John gave her a look, unconvinced. “Yeah, see, I don’t think you just wonder about Tim’s personal life for no reason.”

Lucy lifted a shoulder, forcing a smirk. “Maybe I’m expanding my interests.”

John snorted. “Right. And I’m secretly a billionaire.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied her. “Come on, Luce. What’s this really about?”

Lucy hesitated, then sighed. “Last night, he said some things, and I just… I don’t know. I guess I’m trying to make sense of it.”

John exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Look, he hasn’t exactly sat me down and spilled his guts, but… some stuff happened.”

Lucy perked up immediately. “What stuff?”

John hesitated, his fingers tapping against the table. “I really shouldn’t say.”

Lucy tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Wait a second. Are you scared of Tim?”

John rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, I think that’s exactly what you said.” She grinned, leaning in. “Tim gives you the look, tells you to keep quiet, and suddenly, you’re all Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir?”

John pointed at her. “First of all, I don’t sound like that.”

Lucy rested her chin in her hand. “You kinda do.”

John sighed, shaking his head. “This is why I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh, this is why?” she teased. “Not because Tim’s gonna pop out of the shadows if you break his trust?”

John smirked despite himself. “You’re impossible.”

Lucy shrugged. “So I’ve been told.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone softening just enough. “Come on, John I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

John hesitated, then finally sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Alright. But you didn’t hear this from me.”

Lucy nodded, waiting.

John glanced around the restaurant before lowering his voice. “It happened right before he got shot. We were arresting this guy—nothing major, just a standard warrant. We had him cuffed, everything was fine, and then out of nowhere, this woman shows up.”

Lucy frowned. “Like… just some random woman?”

John shook his head. “At first, I thought she was with the guy we were arresting. But then I got a good look at her, and she was gone. Blonde hair a mess, eyes hollow, hands shaking so bad it looked like she could barely stand still. She was completely strung out—like she hadn’t been sober in a long time.”

Lucy felt her stomach twist.

John exhaled. “Tim turned around, saw her, and—God, Lucy, I don’t even know how to explain it. He just softened in this way I’ve never seen before. Like everything else disappeared, and all he saw was her.”

Lucy swallowed hard.

“He stepped toward her and said, It’s me, baby. It’s me.” John’s voice dropped slightly, imitating the quiet desperation in Tim’s. “And she just… blinked at him. Like she had no idea who the hell he was.”

Lucy’s breath caught in her throat.

“She didn’t react, didn’t say his name, nothing,” John continued. “Just looked right past him and went, Give me some money.”

Lucy’s chest tightened.

“And he did.” John let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. “Didn’t even hesitate. Just pulled out his wallet, handed her a wad of cash, and that was it. She took it and ran off like she hadn’t even registered who she was talking to.”

“And he did.” John let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. “Didn’t even hesitate. Just pulled out his wallet, handed her a wad of cash, and that was it. She took it and ran off like she hadn’t even registered who she was talking to.”

Lucy felt her pulse hammering in her ears, but she said nothing, just staring at John as he continued.

“When we got back in the shop, he didn’t say anything at first. Just sat there, staring straight ahead like he wasn’t even in the car.” John shook his head, like he could still see it clearly. “I didn’t want to push him, but after a while, I finally asked, Who was she?”

Lucy’s breath caught in her throat.

John exhaled. “All he said was, My wife.” His jaw tightened. “Said he hadn’t seen her in over a year.”

Lucy swallowed, her chest tightening painfully.

John drummed his fingers against the table. “Then he just looked at me and went, You can’t tell anyone.” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “And that was it. No explanation, no details—just that.”

“ Shit.” she said softly” That’s awful. I can’t imagine going through that, and getting shot all the same day.”

John nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. It was a hell of a thing to watch.” He paused, studying her. “You okay?”

Lucy barely heard him. Her mind was spinning, replaying everything she knew—everything she thought she knew—about Tim. She had spent months trying to understand why he had lied, why he had kept his wife a secret. Last night, he had told her he had been drowning. That he had felt completely alone.

But he hadn’t told her this.

That he had seen her.

That he had stood in front of his wife, the woman he had once built a life with, and she hadn’t even known who he was. That she had only looked at him long enough to ask for money.

And then he had gone right back to work like nothing had happened.

And then he had been shot.

Lucy swallowed, forcing herself to blink, to breathe, to not let this show on her face.

“Lucy?”

She looked up. John was still watching her, brow furrowed, concern flickering in his eyes.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. No, I just—” She let out a slow breath. “That’s awful.”

John didn’t answer right away. He just kept watching her, like he could see the way her mind was running in circles.

She forced herself to shake it off, sitting up a little straighter. “I just—I can’t imagine going through all of that in one day.”

John nodded. “Yeah.” He paused, then added, “He held it together, though. You know how he is.”

Lucy gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

The conversation tapered off after that, leaving behind a quiet that wasn’t quite comfortable but wasn’t exactly tense either. Their food arrived, and they ate, making small talk here and there, but Lucy’s mind kept drifting.

She pushed through it, though, letting John’s steady presence ground her. He was easy to be around, effortless in a way that didn’t demand too much from her. And tonight, she appreciated that more than she could put into words.

When they finished, John waved away her attempt to pay, tossing his card onto the bill before she could argue. She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight it.

Outside, the air was crisp, the sounds of the city a quiet hum around them. John’s arm slipped around her shoulders again as they walked, and this time, she leaned into it, just a little.

He glanced down at her, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re staring,” she pointed out, tilting her head up at him.

John didn’t look even a little apologetic. “How can I not?”

Lucy scoffed, shaking her head, but before she could say anything, he continued, voice softer now.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He squeezed her shoulder lightly, like he was making sure she was listening. “And smart. And kind. And somehow, somehow, I got lucky enough to be standing here with you.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest, unexpected but not unwelcome. She let out a soft, breathy laugh, her lips curling into something close to a giggle. “John…”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m serious.”

Lucy shook her head, but her smile didn’t waver. “Well, you’re pretty handsome yourself.”

John hummed, like he agreed completely. “I know.”

She smacked his chest lightly, and he laughed, tightening his arm around her as they reached the back of his truck.

Before she could say anything else, he turned toward her, his hands finding her waist as he backed her up against the tailgate.

Lucy inhaled sharply, but there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just the heat of his palms, the warmth in his eyes, the way he dipped his head like he’d been thinking about kissing her all night.

And then he did.

The kiss was slow at first, soft, his hands settling more firmly at her waist. But then she leaned into it, tilting her head slightly, her fingers curling into his jacket, and that was all the invitation he needed.

John deepened the kiss, pressing her just a little more against the truck, one hand sliding up to cup the side of her neck. Lucy exhaled against his lips, losing herself in the quiet, lingering warmth of it.

Then—

“Nolan?”

John pulled back instantly, body tensing as they both turned toward the voice.

Lucy peered around him, her stomach dropping.

Standing a few feet away, staring at them with a mix of shock and something unreadable, was Angela Lopez.

And she wasn’t alone.

Beside her stood a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with neatly styled blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed well, looking every bit like someone who knew how to command a room.

But Lucy barely registered him.

Because Angela was standing there.

Angela, one of the department’s training officers. Angela, who was best friends with Tim. Angela, who had no idea that she and John were together.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before—

“shit.”

Chapter Text

He had done it.

He had actually done it.

For months, he had convinced himself he could keep running from it, that if he ignored it long enough, it would go away. That the weight of it all—the lies, the guilt, the regret—would somehow dissolve if he just kept moving forward.

But yesterday morning, it had all come crashing down.

Tim Bradford had never been good at dealing with emotions. He could handle pressure, manage a crisis, lead a team—but when it came to his own feelings? He buried them. Locked them up so tightly that even he forgot they were there sometimes.

Until Lucy.

She had always had a way of seeing through him, of pressing against the cracks he didn’t even realize existed. And now, she knew everything.

He had told her about the nights he had spent alone, trapped inside his own head. About how losing Isabel had left him with nothing but silence and self-destruction. How he had spent months lying to himself, pretending it didn’t hurt when it did.

How he had been ready to end it all before Lucy ever knew the truth.

And now, for the first time in months, he could actually breathe.

It didn’t mean everything was okay. It didn’t mean she had forgiven him. But at least he wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.

At least he had been honest.

Tim let out a slow breath as he moved through his kitchen, the early morning quiet settling around him. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, the simple routine grounding him. He took a sip, letting the warmth spread through his chest—

BANG BANG BANG.

Tim closed his eyes, already knowing exactly who it was before he even reached for the door.

With a sigh, he pulled it open, just in time for Angela Lopez to shove past him like she owned the place.

“Good morning to you too, Angela,” he muttered, shutting the door behind her. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she shot back, already heading straight for the kitchen.

Tim followed, barely making it two steps before she snatched his coffee mug right out of his hands.

Angela took a sip, smacked her lips, and nodded. “Not bad.”

Tim gave her an unimpressed look. “You stole my coffee just to judge it?”

She grinned. “Oh no, I stole your coffee and I’m about to insult you.”

Tim sighed. “Fantastic.”

Angela leaned against the counter, eyes gleaming with something entirely too smug. “Guess who I saw last night while on my date ?”

Tim arched a brow. “Who were you on a date with?”

“That’s not important,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “What is important is who I saw.”

Tim exhaled sharply, already over this conversation. “Alright. Who?”

Angela’s smirk widened. “Nolan. And Lucy.”

His fingers curled slightly against the counter. “Okay?”

Angela took another slow sip of his coffee before dropping the bomb.

“Kissing.”

Tim went still.

His grip on the counter tightened, but his expression didn’t change. Years of discipline, of control, kept his face impassive, kept the reaction buried deep where it belonged.

But what the fuck?

He blinked once. Twice. Then shook his head, like he had misheard her. “I’m sorry—what?”

Angela’s smirk widened. “You heard me.”

He exhaled sharply, setting his coffee down before he actually crushed the mug in his hand. “No. No way.”

“Oh, yes way.” She leaned against the counter, enjoying this way too much. “Saw it with my own eyes.”

Tim ran a hand over his face. His mind was already spinning, trying to process what she had just said. “Nolan and Lucy?”

“Yup.”

“As in John Nolan and Lucy Chen?”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “No, Tim, as in two completely different people with the exact same names—yes, John Nolan and Lucy Chen.”

Tim shook his head, scoffing. “No. No way. You must’ve—”

“I must’ve what?” Angela interrupted, crossing her arms. “Imagined it? Dreamed it up just to mess with you?” She took another leisurely sip of his coffee. “Hate to break it to you, but it happened. Full view, right in the parking lot.”

Tim exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. His mind was spinning, trying to piece together something that felt completely wrong.

Lucy. With Nolan.

Out of everyone—out of every possible person she could’ve chosen—him?

Tim could’ve handled someone else. A stranger. Some guy she met outside of work, someone who didn’t know her the way he did. But Nolan? His rookie? A man who was significantly older than her, barely out of his marriage, still figuring out how to be a cop without tripping over his own damn feet?

And Lucy—his Lucy—was choosing that?

His jaw locked, fingers curling into a fist at his side. He could see it too clearly—Nolan’s easy, eager smile, Lucy’s laugh, the way she probably looked up at him like he was worth something.

It turned his stomach.

Across the kitchen, Angela let out a low, delighted whistle. “Oh my God,” she said, drawing out the words, her grin widening like she had just hit the jackpot. “You’re jealous.”

Tim let out a sharp, humorless scoff. “Give me a break, Lopez.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” She pointed at him, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re fuming right now. You can’t stand it, can you?”

Tim clenched his jaw. “I just think it’s stupid.”

Angela’s smirk didn’t waver. “Oh, of course you do. Because it’s Nolan.”

“Because they’re both still on probation,” he snapped, pushing off the counter, pacing now, trying to keep his frustration in check. “If Grey finds out, they’re screwed.”

Angela snorted, unimpressed. “Oh, please. Don’t act like this is about department policy.”

Tim shot her a sharp look. “It is about department policy.”

Angela folded her arms, giving him a look so deadpan it could cut glass. “Right. And you’re pacing around your kitchen like a caged animal because you’re deeply concerned about protocol.”

Tim clenched his jaw, looking away, but Angela wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

She stepped in front of him, tilting her head. “You think I don’t know you? You’ve got that vein popping out of your forehead, your hands are in fists, and you look like you just found out the Rams traded their entire lineup for a bunch of rookies.”

Tim exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his fingers to relax. “You’re reading too much into this.”

Angela scoffed. “Oh, really? So if I had walked in here and told you Lucy was kissing anybody else, you’d be just as pissed?”

Tim said nothing.

Angela’s smirk deepened. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

He let out a rough breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated that she was right.

He hated even more that Lucy was with Nolan.

Because it wasn’t just about her being with someone—it was about who that someone was.

Nolan was… easy. Simple. The kind of guy who never complicated things, who smiled too much and always said the right thing. He didn’t push boundaries, didn’t challenge authority. He was safe. Predictable.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

Because Lucy deserved someone solid. Someone dependable. Someone who wouldn’t hurt her.

And Tim had already proven he wasn’t any of those things.

Angela watched him for a moment longer, then shook her head, taking another sip of his stolen coffee. “So what’s the plan?”

Tim frowned. “What plan?”

Angela arched a brow. “Oh, come on. You’re not just gonna sit back and do nothing.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do, Lopez? Storm the station, drag Lucy away from Nolan, and demand she pick me instead?”

Angela grinned. “Well, that would be fun to watch, but I don’t think it’s the best plan you can come up with.”

Tim exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “There is no plan, Angela. There can’t be.”

Angela tilted her head, studying him. “So you’re just gonna sit back and let it happen?”

“What choice do I have?” His voice was sharp, edged with frustration. “Even if I wanted to do something—if I wanted to fight for her—it wouldn’t matter. I can’t.”

Angela frowned. “Tim—”

“No,” he cut her off, shaking his head. “Think about it. Lucy and Nolan? Yeah, it’s a bad situation, but it’s not a career-ending one. He’s not her training officer. He’s not her superior. Worst-case scenario, Grey lectures them, tells them to knock it off.But me?” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “If it were me and Lucy, that’s not just a bad idea—it’s the end of our careers.”

Angela didn’t argue. She didn’t need to. She knew he was right.

“You really think IA wouldn’t sink their teeth into that?” Tim pressed, jaw tight. “You think they wouldn’t make an example out of us? I’d be done. Lucy wouldn’t just get written up—she’d be kicked from the program. No second chances. No appeals. She’d never get to be a cop.”

Angela exhaled, crossing her arms. “And that’s the only reason?”

Tim frowned. “What?”

Angela arched a brow. “You’re saying policy is the only thing stopping you from going after her?”

Tim said nothing.

Angela let out a quiet scoff. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Tim clenched his jaw, looking away.

Angela took a step closer, her voice quieter now. “You’re not just afraid of getting her fired, Tim. You’re afraid of screwing it up. Of hurting her.”

Tim let out a slow breath, his grip loosening on the counter. He wasn’t tense, wasn’t defensive—just tired. “I already hurt her, Angela.”

“I know Tim,” she said simply. “And she knows too.”

Tim’s jaw flexed, his eyes flickering away. “We talked yesterday.”

Angela’s brows lifted slightly, surprised. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “She knows everything now. Why I lied, what I was going through… what I felt.” His voice dipped on the last part, like it was still something fragile.

Angela studied him for a moment. “And?”

Tim exhaled, shaking his head. “And nothing. She heard me out. She deserved to know, so I told her.”

Angela tilted her head. “And now you’re just leaving it at that?”

Tim huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. “What else am I supposed to do?”

Angela gave him a look. “Come on, Tim. You don’t seriously think that’s enough, do you?”

He ran a hand over his face. “It’s not about what’s enough. It’s about what’s right.”

Angela sighed, leaning against the counter. “You love her.”

Tim didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue. “Yeah.”

Angela’s voice softened. “And she still cares about you.”

Tim closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head. “Even if she does… I don’t know if that changes anything.”

Angela frowned. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to push her into something she’s not ready for.” His fingers tapped idly against the counter, like his body was working through something his mind hadn’t caught up to yet. “I told her the truth, Angela. That’s all I can do. The rest… it’s up to her.”

Angela was quiet for a moment. Then, after a beat, she sighed. “I get it. I do.”

Tim arched a brow. “That almost sounds like agreement.”

Angela smirked slightly, shaking her head. “I’m just saying… if you’re willing to wait for her—then don’t check out now. Because no matter what happens with Nolan, I don’t think she’s done with you yet.”

Tim swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Angela grabbed her purse, heading for the door, then paused just before stepping out. She looked over her shoulder, her voice softer now. “Just don’t let your fear make the decision for you.”

And then she was gone, leaving Tim standing in his kitchen, coffee forgotten, mind racing, heart stuck somewhere between hope and hesitation.

Chapter Text

The locker room was a blur of movement—officers changing, voices blending into a low hum, the metallic clang of lockers opening and shutting echoing off the walls. Lucy moved on autopilot, her fingers fumbling as she adjusted her belt, the familiar weight of her duty gear suddenly feeling foreign against her body. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else.

She’d barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, Angela’s face was there—calm, unreadable, knowing. It had been worse than getting caught. Angela hadn’t been shocked, hadn’t even reacted the way Lucy expected. She had just looked at her, as if she already knew every excuse Lucy might try to give. As if there was no point in pretending.

Now, standing in the middle of the crowded locker room, Lucy couldn’t shake the gnawing anxiety creeping up her spine. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her belt for the second time, her body betraying just how rattled she really was.

And then, she felt it—that familiar weight of someone watching her.

Angela stepped up beside her, leaning casually against the locker. Too casual. Like she was waiting.

“You look like hell,” Angela murmured, just low enough for Lucy to hear.

Lucy exhaled sharply, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral. “Thanks.”

Angela ignored the deflection. “So, are we gonna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, ma’am,” Lucy muttered, shoving her gear into place.

Angela huffed a quiet laugh, tilting her head. “Oh, come on. I caught you, Lucy. You really think I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t see you and the dinosaur sucking face?”

Lucy’s hands faltered briefly before she forced herself to keep moving, focusing on her gear like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “It’s none of your business.”

Angela sighed, leaning against the lockers. “Look, I’m not here to lecture you. But dating another cop—especially during your rookie year? That’s a risky move.”

A locker door slammed shut nearby, and Lucy felt the weight of another gaze on her. She turned just in time to see Talia looking between them, brows drawn together in confusion. “Wait… what?”

Angela smirked, clearly enjoying this more than she should. “Lucy and the dinosaur are hooking up.”

Talia’s eyes snapped to Lucy, a mixture of shock and scrutiny flashing across her face. “You’re joking.”

Lucy exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders back like she could physically shake off the tension. “It’s not a big deal.”

Talia let out a sharp laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Not a big deal? Are you serious?”

Lucy clenched her jaw, shoving her locker shut a little harder than necessary. “Yeah, I am.”

Talia crossed her arms, the weight of her stare pressing down on Lucy like a lead vest. “You do realize how bad this looks, right? You’re still a rookie, Lucy. You think people won’t talk? That it won’t affect how they see you?”

Angela, to her credit, didn’t look as harsh as Talia, but her voice was just as firm. “It’s not about gossip. It’s about the reality of this job. Relationships between cops get messy fast. And when one of them has more power than the other?” She lifted a brow. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

Lucy’s pulse spiked. “That’s not what this is.”

Talia scoffed. “That’s what everyone says at first. But when things go south? When it starts bleeding into your work?” She shook her head. “You can’t afford that kind of distraction.”

Lucy’s temper flared. “I’m not distracted.”

Angela gave her a pointed look. “You’re shaking.”

Lucy froze.

She curled her fingers into fists at her sides, willing the tremor away, but it was too late. They had already seen it. Already decided what it meant.

Talia sighed, shaking her head. “Look, I don’t care who you date, but don’t be stupid. If you think this won’t affect your career, you’re lying to yourself.”

Lucy scoffed, her frustration bubbling over. “So what? I should avoid any kind of personal happiness just because other people might talk? Because they might make assumptions about my ability to do my job? That’s their problem, not mine.”

Talia’s expression hardened. “No, it becomes your problem when people start questioning your judgment. When you make one mistake and suddenly, it’s ‘Oh, she’s too busy thinking about him.’” She exhaled sharply. “It’s not fair, but it’s reality.”

Lucy gritted her teeth. “I know exactly who I am and what I’m capable of. If people want to make up their own stories, that’s on them.”

Angela’s voice was softer, but no less serious. “And what about him? You think it won’t affect his career, too?”

Lucy’s patience snapped. “He’s an adult. He can handle himself.”

Talia’s gaze sharpened. “Can you?”

That was it.

Lucy’s fists clenched, her entire body coiled tight with frustration. “I don’t need you—or anyone else—telling me what I can or can’t handle! I get it! You both think I’m making some huge mistake, that I’m reckless, that I don’t know what I’m doing. But guess what? I do! And I don’t owe either of you an explanation for my personal life!”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Angela just watched her, unreadable. Talia, however, looked unimpressed.

Lucy let out a sharp breath, yanking her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you out there.” Her voice was clipped, final. Then, without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind her.

Regret curdled in her stomach almost immediately.

She had just yelled at her training officer.

Fantastic.

And the day only got worse from there.

Talia pushed her harder than usual, questioning every decision, scrutinizing every move. Even when Lucy followed protocol perfectly, it felt like she was being tested. And worst of all, every time there was a lull, Talia kept almost bringing it up again—like she was waiting for Lucy to admit she’d screwed up.

By the time their shift finally ended, Lucy was drained.

She trudged to the parking garage, barely holding herself together, her exhaustion pressing down on her like a weight. She just wanted to go home, collapse onto her bed, and forget this entire day ever happened.

But then—

“Lucy.”

She froze.

Her stomach twisted at the sound of the voice, exhaustion giving way to something far heavier.

Because she knew exactly who it was.

And she really, really didn’t want to turn around.

But Tim was standing there, and ignoring him wasn’t going to make him disappear.

She exhaled sharply, steeling herself before finally turning to face him. His expression was unreadable, hands resting on his duty belt like this was just another conversation—like she hadn’t just spent the entire day getting ripped apart from every angle.

“What do you want, Tim?” Her voice came out flatter than she intended, but she didn’t bother correcting it.

His brows lifted slightly. “Rough day?”

Lucy huffed out a humorless laugh, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. “What gave it away?”

Tim nodded toward the car beside him. “You walked right past your car.”

Lucy glanced at the car, then back at him, exhaling sharply. “Right.” She took a step closer, pressing the heel of her palm against her temple like that might somehow relieve the pounding in her skull. “Guess I’ve got more on my mind than where I parked.”

Tim didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a long beat—just watched her with that unreadable expression that used to drive her insane when they were together. It still did, if she was being honest.

She sighed, dropping her hand. “Angela told you, didn’t she?”

His jaw twitched, and he let out a quiet breath. “She—” He hesitated, like he was debating his answer, but the pause said enough.

Lucy scoffed, shaking her head. “Of course she did.” Frustration flared in her chest, hot and relentless. “Because God forbid I make a decision without the entire damn precinct weighing in.” She ran a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the strands before she dropped her arm, exhaling sharply. “And let me guess—you couldn’t wait to come find me and tell me exactly how dumb I’m being, right? Because clearly, I’m incapable of making my own decisions.”

“That’s not—”

“Oh, spare me,” she cut in, her voice sharp, exhausted. “You know what, Tim? I’ve had it. I spent my entire goddamn shift getting side-eyed by Angela, whispered about by half the department, and interrogated like I committed some kind of crime. And now, here you are, standing next to my car like you have some moral obligation to talk sense into me.” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “So go on—say whatever it is you came here to say, get it out of your system, and then leave me the hell alone.”

Tim’s expression didn’t change. He just stood there, silent, and somehow, that was worse.

Her frustration burned hotter. “Seriously? You’re just gonna stand there and act like you’re above this? Like you don’t have an opinion?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight. “Of course I have an opinion,” he said, finally. “But that doesn’t mean I have the right to push it on you.”

Lucy let out another humorless laugh. “Since when has that ever stopped you before?”

Tim’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t quite place. “That’s not fair.”

Lucy arched a brow, arms crossing tighter over her chest. “Isn’t it? You always have an opinion, Tim. Always. And it’s never stopped you from telling me exactly what you think before. So why should I believe that’s changed now?”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to tell her she was wrong—but he didn’t. Instead, he let out a slow, measured breath. “Because this isn’t about me.”

Lucy blinked. The quiet weight of his words caught her off guard, throwing her off balance in a way she hated. “Then why are you even here?”

Tim exhaled, shifting slightly where he stood. His fingers flexed at his sides before curling into loose fists. “Because despite everything—despite how complicated this is, how much I might wish things were different—it’s not my place to stand in your way.” His voice was even, but there was something raw underneath it, something barely held together. “I might not think it’s the right decision. But I respect that it’s yours to make.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Right. You respect it. That’s why you’re standing here looking like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

Tim didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. He just held her gaze, steady and unyielding. “I ride with the guy every day. He’s infuriating. He never shuts up, he’s got an answer for everything, and half the time, I’m convinced he’s either going to get himself killed or drive me insane in the process.”

Lucy’s lips twitched, despite herself. “Wow. Glowing review, Tim.”

A ghost of a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone just as quickly. His voice softened. “But he’s a good man.” He swallowed hard, and for the first time, she saw something unguarded in his expression. “And if he’s what makes you happy, then… that’s what matters.”

Something in her chest tightened, sharp and unexpected.

She searched his face, waiting for the catch, for the moment he’d take it back. But it wasn’t there.

“You really mean that?” she asked, and she hated how small her voice sounded.

Tim nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah.” He exhaled slowly, like the words were costing him something. “I do.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Heavy.

Lucy opened her mouth, searching for something to say, but nothing came.

Tim hesitated for half a second, like he wanted to say something else—but then he just shook his head, offering the faintest trace of a smile. It wasn’t forced. Wasn’t bitter. Just quiet. Sad.

“Take care of yourself, Luce.“

Then he turned and walked away.

Lucy stood there, watching him go, her pulse thudding in her ears, her throat tight.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as something unbearably heavy settled in her chest.

Because despite everything—despite how much she wanted to pretend otherwise—

She still loved him.

Chapter Text

If he’s what makes you happy, then that’s what matters

The words had settled in Lucy’s mind hours ago, threading their way into every thought, every quiet moment, refusing to let go. She had nodded when she heard them, forced a small smile, acted as if they didn’t stick to her ribs like something heavy, something unshakable.

But now, lying awake in the dark, she couldn’t escape them.

She lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, arms folded tightly over her stomach as if that could hold everything inside. The room was still, the air thick with quiet. She could hear the hum of the air conditioning, the occasional creak of the walls settling. The faintest rustling of tree branches outside the window.

And beside her, the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.

John.

Lucy turned her head slightly, her gaze landing on him in the dim light. He was sleeping on his side, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted, his body still except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. One arm stretched across the pillow, fingers loose, open. Close, but not quite touching her.

That was how it always was.

John never overwhelmed her. Never took up too much space. His love was measured, given freely but never consuming. She had spent so long convincing herself that was a good thing. That was love, wasn’t it? Stability. Comfort. A choice made over and over again, without hesitation, without doubt.

It was everything she had told herself she wanted.

So why did she feel like something inside of her was missing?

Her breath was slow, controlled, but the ache in her chest only deepened.

She could hear another voice now, too. One from a different time, a different place. A voice she had tried so hard to forget.

Tim.

His voice surfaced like an echo, rougher, heavier, filling the spaces between her thoughts.

If he’s what makes you happy, then that’s what matters.

But he hadn’t sounded sure. Not really. He had said the words, but there had been something underneath them. A hesitation. A weight. Like he was trying to convince himself.

Or worse—trying to convince her.

Lucy swallowed hard, her fingers twisting in the blanket.

Did John make her happy?

She wanted to say yes.

She should say yes.

He was good to her. He was steady. He never made her question herself, never made her wonder where she stood. He was the kind of man who showed up, who meant what he said, who followed through.

The kind of man she could build a life with.

The kind of man she should have chosen without hesitation.

So why did it feel like she was lying to herself?

Lucy exhaled, shifting onto her side, pulling the blanket tighter around her like a shield.

Was she happy with John?

Or was she just… safe?

The thought pressed against her chest, solid and unmoving. Safe was supposed to be a good thing. It was supposed to be what she needed, what she had longed for after everything—after the chaos, after the heartbreak, after the kind of love that had left her raw and exposed.

And with John, she had it.

He was steady. Predictable in a way that should have brought her peace. There were no sharp edges with him, no sudden turns she didn’t see coming. She always knew what to expect.

She knew the way he would wake before her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before slipping out of bed. The scent of fresh coffee would already be filling the apartment by the time she opened her eyes because he always made sure her cup was ready before she even stepped into the kitchen. She knew the way he would wrap an arm around her waist when they sat together on the couch, his touch casual but certain, like second nature. She knew that when she had a bad day, he would listen, offering solutions instead of just sitting in the discomfort with her. Because that was who he was—always wanting to fix things, to make things easier, to make her life better.

And in bed, he was just as considerate. Just as steady. He knew her body, knew the way to touch her, knew exactly how to bring her pleasure. He never rushed, never took without giving first, never left her wanting. His hands were firm but never rough, his lips gentle but never desperate. It was good—better than good, really. It was slow, deliberate, filled with whispered I love yous and careful movements, like he was trying to prove his love with every touch.

It was perfect.

So why did she feel empty?

Why, even as she lay next to him in the warmth of his bed, did she feel like something inside of her was missing?

Lucy stared at the ceiling, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket, her breathing slow and measured. She should feel whole. She should feel grateful.

Instead, she felt like something inside of her was wilting.

Because love wasn’t supposed to feel like a script. It wasn’t supposed to be predictable, something she could trace out step by step with no deviation, no surprises.

Love was supposed to consume.

It was supposed to leave her breathless, trembling, aching for more. It was supposed to be undeniable.

And she had felt that before.

Lucy sat up slowly, careful not to wake John as she pushed the blankets away and let her feet touch the cold floor. She shivered but barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, trapped in a place she had spent so long trying to avoid.

Because safe had never made her knees weak.

Safe had never made her heart race just from the way someone looked at her.

Safe had never made her burn.

But he had.

Tim.

The name crashed into her like a wave, pulling her under, swallowing her whole.

Tim had never just touched her.

He had claimed her.

His hands had never been careful, never measured. They had gripped her hips, her thighs, her waist, pulling her against him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between them. He had kissed her like it was a necessity, like he needed her more than air.

He had never whispered soft I love yous while they made love—no, he had groaned them into her skin, desperate, breathless, his voice rough with want.

And God, she had wanted him too.

Every look. Every touch. Every heated moment where his body pressed against hers, where his hands explored her like he was memorizing every inch.

With Tim, love had never been gentle.

It had been wild. Uncontrollable.

It had been real.

Lucy’s breath was uneven, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress. The room was dark, but her thoughts were blinding.

Because John was safe. John was good.

But Tim had been everything else.

Behind her, John stirred, his body shifting slightly before his voice, thick with sleep, broke the silence.

“Babe?” His voice was soft, full of quiet concern. “What’s wrong?”

Lucy’s lips parted, but no words came.

What was she supposed to say? That she was lying awake in the middle of the night, haunted by a love that had burned brighter, hotter, wilder than the one she had now? That she was questioning everything—her choices, her happiness, the life she had so carefully built with him?

Her throat tightened.

She turned slightly, just enough to catch the way John was watching her in the dim light. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but there was something else there too—concern, quiet and steady, the same way he always was.

He always saw her. He always noticed.

She should love him for that.

And she did.

Didn’t she?

Lucy forced a small smile, the kind that felt more like muscle memory than truth. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

John studied her for a second longer, his gaze searching hers like he knew there was more beneath the surface. Like maybe—just maybe—he could feel the distance that had crept between them, the quiet unraveling of something neither of them wanted to name.

But in the end, he just nodded.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle, his hand brushing against hers for the briefest moment before he rolled onto his side, his breathing evening out again.

Lucy stayed where she was, frozen in place.

The room was silent once more, but her thoughts were anything but.

Because the truth sat there between them, heavy and unspoken.

Safe was supposed to be enough.

But as she sat in the dark, her heart aching with a longing she had tried so hard to forget, Lucy realized something terrifying.

It wasn’t.

She exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together, willing the feeling away. But it didn’t fade. It didn’t loosen its grip on her chest.

Her gaze drifted to the bedside table, to the faint glow of her phone screen as a notification faded into the darkness.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached for it, careful not to make too much noise as she unlocked it. The dim light cast shadows across the room, illuminating her fingers as they hovered over the keyboard.

She hesitated, her heart pounding. Then, finally, she typed

To: Angela Lopez
From: Lucy Chen
We need to talk.

Her thumb hovered over the send button for only a second before she pressed it.

The message disappeared into the quiet, and Lucy let the phone fall back onto the mattress beside her.

She stared at the ceiling, waiting.

For what, she wasn’t sure.

Chapter Text

The bar was alive with noise, the kind that enveloped you, made you forget about anything else. Conversations merged together, laughter spilling out from dimly lit corners, and the soft clink of glasses was a constant rhythm.

The air was thick with energy—something that felt almost like static, buzzing under the skin. For Lucy, it was a welcome distraction, even if it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm inside her. She sat at the bar, absently tracing her fingers along the condensation on her glass, but she hadn’t taken a single sip.

Her thoughts were tangled, running in circles, and no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t calm them.

She hadn’t eaten all day, hadn’t slept much in days, and yet she felt wide awake, her body jittery with nerves she couldn’t shake. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted the distraction of alcohol or just the act of holding onto something to steady her.

Every corner of the bar was filled with
people. The voices, the laughter, the music—it all blended into one low hum, and for a moment, she allowed herself to sink into it, hoping it might drown out the noise inside her head. She glanced down at her phone again, a reflex, but there was nothing there. No new messages. Nothing to ease the growing tension in her chest.

The door to the bar swung open with a gust of cold air, and then there was the sound of boots on the floor, sharp against the backdrop of chatter.

“This better be good,” Angela said, sliding onto the stool across from Lucy with a mix of sarcasm and curiosity in her tone. “You text me in the middle of the night with some vague ‘we need to talk’ message like we’re in a crime thriller. You almost had me thinking I needed a code word or something.”

Lucy managed a tight smile, glancing at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all melodramatic on you.”

Angela raised an eyebrow, her smirk not quite reaching her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. So what is it, then? You pulling a secret marriage thing on me? Because I’d prefer to know before we get too deep into whatever this is.”

Lucy let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No, no secret marriages here. Just… needed someone to talk to.”

Angela shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that still held a flicker of genuine curiosity. “Alright. Well, lay it on me. What’s so urgent?”

Lucy’s gaze shifted back to her glass, the coldness of it momentarily distracting her. She could feel the weight of Angela’s eyes on her, waiting. There was an edge to the silence that wasn’t quite comfortable.

“I’ve been thinking about John and me,” Lucy said, her voice coming out quieter than she intended. She swallowed, hating the way her words felt too big for her mouth. “Do you think we’re a good couple?”

Angela blinked, her expression shifting from mild amusement to confusion. “Wait, hold up. You want to talk about that?” Her tone was light, but there was something in her eyes that said she wasn’t sure what kind of conversation this would be. “I hardly even knew you two. How the hell am I supposed to give any kind of honest opinion?”

Lucy’s stomach tightened, and she nodded, her grip on the glass tightening instinctively. “I know. That’s... part of it. I just need someone who’s not invested, someone who can tell me what they see. If you didn’t know anything about us, what would you think? Do we even make sense?”

Angela studied her for a moment, her teasing demeanor slipping just a little. She tapped her fingers against the bar, considering. “I mean… yeah, I guess?”

Lucy swallowed, her chest tightening. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

Angela sighed, lifting her drink and taking a slow sip. “Look, Lucy, I barely even knew you two were together. You guys don’t exactly scream ‘inseparable couple.’ But if I saw you out somewhere? I’d think you were… fine.”

There it was again. Fine.

Lucy exhaled, staring down at her untouched drink. “I don’t want to be fine.”

Angela gave her a long look before setting her glass down. “Okay. So what’s really going on?”

Lucy hesitated. Her pulse hammered against her ribs. She hadn’t planned on saying it, hadn’t even admitted it to herself fully.

But the words came anyway.

“I think I want to break up with him.”

Angela blinked, straightening slightly. “Oh. Well… damn.”

Lucy let out a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah.”

Angela leaned in, lowering her voice. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

Lucy hesitated. “A while.”

Angela frowned. “And what changed?”

Lucy’s grip on her glass tightened. She could lie, say she didn’t know. But that would be pointless. Angela was too perceptive.

She inhaled sharply, then forced out the truth. “Tim.”

Angela’s reaction was subtle, but Lucy saw it. The way she stilled, the flicker of surprise that crossed her face before she schooled it into something unreadable.

Lucy let out a humorless laugh. “God, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

Angela raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of her drink. “Wanting to break up with your boyfriend because of your ex? Yeah, it does sound kinda bad.” She set her glass down, tilting her head. “But, hey, at least you’re self-aware.”

Lucy groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Not helping, Angela.”

Angela smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sorry, but you walked right into that one.” She exhaled, watching Lucy carefully. “So… what exactly does ‘Tim’ mean in this situation?”

Lucy hesitated, fingers gripping the edge of the bar. “I don’t know,” she admitted, even though that was a lie. She knew. She had known from the second she saw him again.

Angela arched a brow. “Try again.”

Lucy let out a slow breath. “Seeing him again… it just—it did something to me. It made me realize that I don’t feel for John the way I should.”

Angela hummed, swirling her drink. “And by ‘did something,’ you mean…?”

Lucy shot her a look. “Angela.”

Angela smirked but didn’t push, just took another slow sip of her drink. “Alright, alright. So, what? You saw Tim again, and suddenly John doesn’t feel right?”

Lucy exhaled, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I think John hasn’t felt right for a while. Tim just—” She hesitated, shaking her head. “He reminded me what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Angela’s teasing expression softened just slightly, but she stayed quiet, waiting.

Lucy stared down at the bar, her voice quieter when she finally spoke again. “He told me he was happy for me.”

Angela blinked. “Tim did?”

Lucy nodded, something bitter curling in her stomach. “Yeah. When we talked the other night, he said that I deserved to be happy. That if John makes me happy, then that’s what matters.” She scoffed, running a hand through her hair. “Like he was forcing himself to be okay with it.”

Angela tilted her head. “And that bothers you?”

Lucy let out a humorless laugh. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She let her hands fall onto the bar, frustration creeping into her voice. “I should still be mad at him. After everything, I should want to hold onto that anger. It would be easier if I could just hate him.”

Angela studied her for a beat before setting her drink down. “But you don’t.”

Lucy swallowed hard. “No. I don’t.”

Angela exhaled slowly, rolling her glass between her palms before looking back at Lucy. “Okay, so what now?”

Lucy shook her head, staring down at the bar like it might have answers for her. “I don’t know.”

Angela gave her a pointed look. “That’s not gonna cut it.”

Lucy groaned, rubbing her temples. “What do you want me to say, Angela? That I have a grand plan? That I suddenly know how to untangle this mess? Because I don’t.”

Angela didn’t look convinced. “You might not have a plan, but you’ve got feelings. And I don’t mean about John.”

Lucy’s fingers tightened around her glass. “You think I don’t know that?”

Angela leaned forward. “Then why are you just sitting here, acting like you don’t have a choice?”

Lucy let out a sharp breath, feeling frustration claw at her. “Because I don’t have a choice, Angela. Tim is my TO. I’m a rookie. There’s no version of this where it works.”

Angela scoffed. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Lucy’s head snapped up. “It’s not bullshit. It’s reality. If anyone found out—”

Angela cut her off. “If they found out. And even if they did, you think Tim’s gonna let your career suffer for it? You think anyone in that department would?”

Lucy fell silent because she didn’t have an answer for that.

Angela sat back, watching her closely. “Let’s say you do nothing. You stay with John because it’s the easy thing to do. Can you live with that? Can you spend the rest of your life with him or rather the rest of his but that besides the point.”

Lucy swallowed hard.

She knew the answer. She just didn’t want to say it.

Angela sighed. “And if you can’t, you have options.”

Lucy frowned. “Like what?”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “You could transfer.”

Lucy’s stomach twisted. “You’re not serious.”

Angela shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “Why not? Hollywood Division would take you in a heartbeat. You could finish your training there, and then the rules wouldn’t matter anymore.”

Lucy let out a disbelieving laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

Angela tilted her head. “Maybe it is.”

Lucy shook her head, her mind spinning.

Could she really do that? Could she really just leave Mid-Wilshire? Leave everything she had just started to build, everything that had become familiar?

But what scared her more was the alternative.

What if she stayed—and spent every day pretending she didn’t feel this way?

Angela nudged her drink toward her. “Just think about it.”

Lucy swallowed hard.

She already was.

Chapter Text

Angela’s voice wouldn’t leave her.

You could transfer.

The words replayed in Lucy’s head like a broken record, looping until she couldn’t hear anything else.

She’d tried to shove them away when she got home, curling under the covers beside John, but sleep never came. Every time she closed her eyes, the same thought surged up, sharp and impossible to ignore. You could transfer.

It should’ve sounded ridiculous. It should’ve been something she laughed off immediately. But instead, it gnawed at her. Because for the first time, the idea of being with Tim didn’t feel like a locked door. It felt like a door she could choose to open—if she was brave enough.

Her chest tightened. Brave. That was the word, wasn’t it? Because wanting Tim meant risking everything.

And God, she wanted him. Even now. Even after everything.

It didn’t matter how much she tried to bury it, how much she reminded herself of the way he’d ended things, how much she replayed that heartbreak until it left her hollow. He’d broken her, and still, he was the only one who made her feel alive.

It wasn’t fair.

She rolled onto her side, staring at the shape of John sleeping beside her. His steady breathing, the calm rhythm of someone who wasn’t haunted, filled the room. She envied him. Hated him, just a little, for how easy it seemed for him.

Her chest ached. Tim’s voice lingered in her mind, the way he’d said she deserved to be happy, the way he’d forced himself to sound okay with her being with someone else. That was the part that gutted her most. Not the words themselves, but the fact that he hadn’t fought. He hadn’t even tried.

If he wanted me, really wanted me, wouldn’t he have fought?

She pressed her palms over her face, frustrated with herself. She should hate him. It would be easier if she did. But even anger couldn’t erase the truth: she still loved him.

And maybe, if Angela was right, she didn’t have to keep pretending she didn’t.

The thought buzzed under her skin, refusing to let her rest. By four a.m., she couldn’t take it anymore. She slid out of bed quietly, tied her hair back into a ponytail, and grabbed a hoodie. Her body felt restless, like she was crawling out of her own skin.

The station gym. That was the only place she could think to go. Maybe if she burned enough energy, she could quiet the noise in her head.

The drive there was a blur, the city still asleep, the streets ghostly and dark. Her stomach was in knots the whole way, her mind spinning between too many what-ifs.

What if she transferred?
What if Tim didn’t want her anymore?
What if she stayed and spent every day suffocating under rules she couldn’t break?

The questions had no answers, and that was the worst part.

By the time she stepped into the station, the building was quiet, only the faint hum of the night shift winding down. She moved quickly down the hall, her sneakers echoing against the tile. The closer she got to the gym, the harder her heart pounded.

Her hand hovered on the door handle. She just needed space. Silence. Something to ground her.

Lucy pushed the door open—

And froze.

Tim was already there.

Gloves on. Shoulders tense. Driving his fists into the heavy bag with the kind of relentless precision that made her chest ache.

p>Lucy froze in the doorway, her breath snagging in her throat. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and for a second she thought about backing out, pretending she’d never come down here in the first place. But before her brain could convince her legs to move, the words slipped out.

“Didn’t think you were the type to get up before the sun.”

Tim stopped mid-strike, the bag swinging gently as he turned, surprise flashing across his face. He blinked once, quickly masking it under that steady, unreadable expression of his. “And I didn’t think rookies had the energy to work out before a shift.”

Her lips tugged into a small, nervous smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Again?” he asked, brow raised.

She shrugged, tugging at the edge of her sleeve to give her hands something to do. “Guess I thought punching something might help.”

Tim huffed a quiet laugh—unexpected, low, and almost fond. He leaned a shoulder into the bag, crossing his arms. “Not a bad plan. Beats staring at the ceiling.”

Lucy stepped further into the gym, her sneakers squeaking against the floor. “What about you? Insomnia too, or do you just like intimidating everyone else who walks in here?”

His mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen in days. “Little bit of both.”

The air between them softened, though it was still laced with that awkward edge neither of them seemed to know what to do with. Lucy hugged her arms across her chest, rocking on her heels. “Well, if you wanted the place to yourself, I can come back later—”

“No.” The word came out sharper than he intended, and he cleared his throat, looking away for a second before meeting her eyes again. “Stay. It’s fine.”

Lucy’s chest fluttered in a way she hated and loved all at once. She nodded, moving toward the bench to drop her bag. “Okay.”

For a moment, there was just the faint hum of the lights and the heavy bag swaying lazily behind him. She pulled her hair into a tighter ponytail, trying to act casual, but her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Tim finally broke the silence, his tone quieter now. “Bishop says you’ve been doing good work.”

Lucy blinked, caught off guard. “She said that?”

He nodded. “Sharp. Quick reads. You’re ahead of where most rookies are.”

Her lips tugged into a small smile despite herself. “Wow. So you two talk about me when I’m not around?”

That earned the faintest color in his cheeks, a blink he couldn’t quite disguise. “All good things. For the most part.”

Lucy tilted her head, pretending to be scandalized. “For the most part? That’s… not reassuring at all.”

His smirk was subtle but real. “Relax. Nobody’s perfect.”

Her laugh broke some of the tension, light and quick, and she shook her head. “You really need to work on your compliments.”

“Not my job to flatter you,” he shot back easily.

Her smile faltered into something softer, something closer to vulnerable. “Then what is your job?”

He held her gaze for a long beat before answering, his voice low but steady. “To make sure you’re ready for whatever comes at you.”

The shift in his tone made her pulse skip. She swallowed, trying to play it off. “So… what am I doing wrong then? Besides apparently everything.”

“Not everything,” he said quickly. Then, after a pause: “Bishop mentioned you’re still a little hesitant when it comes to detaining suspects.”

Lucy frowned. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he said gently, cutting her off before she could protest. “It’s not about knowing what to do. You know that. It’s about committing to it. No hesitation.” His eyes softened, but his voice stayed firm. “People see hesitation, they’ll use it. And you can’t let your height, or the fact that you’re a woman, give them that edge.”

Lucy shifted, crossing her arms tighter. “Easier said than done.”

“That’s why you train,” he countered. He flexed his gloved hands once, then tilted his head toward her. “You want to work on it?”

Her brows rose. “What, you mean—”

He nodded once, matter-of-fact. “Sparring.”

Her chest tightened, the word settling between them like a challenge. For a beat, she thought he was messing with her, but the way he stood there, gloves hanging loosely at his side, said otherwise.

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.” His tone was flat, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was fighting a smirk.

Lucy blinked at him, her stomach doing somersaults. “At six in the morning? You’ve lost it.”

“You’re already here,” he countered with a shrug. “So am I. Might as well make it count.”

She huffed out a laugh, part nerves, part adrenaline. “Fine. But if I walk out of here with a black eye, you’re buying me coffee for the rest of the year.”

“Deal. But you won’t.” He dropped his gloves to the mat and bent down to tighten the strap on one wrist. “You’d be surprised what you can take.”

“Was that supposed to be encouraging?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing up briefly. “Work with me here.”

Her pulse skittered as she tugged on a pair of gloves from the rack, flexing her fingers inside them. This was insane. She hadn’t come here expecting to… well, this. She came here to run, to burn off the sleepless night, not to get cornered into a sparring match with the one person she couldn’t stop thinking about.

They faced each other on the mat. Lucy bent her knees slightly, lifted her fists, and tried to look like she wasn’t completely out of her depth.

Tim gave her a once-over, his eyes sweeping down and back up. Not in a lingering way, more in the way of a coach taking stock. Still, her stomach knotted.

“Feet shoulder-width. Chin down. You’re too open.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, coach.”

“Don’t get smart,” he said, deadpan. “You’ll regret it.”

“You keep saying that, and yet here I am, still standing.”

“You won’t be for long.”

Before she could retort, he struck first—a quick jab toward her shoulder. She gasped and stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the hit, her hands flying up belatedly.

“Jesus!” she snapped. “A little warning?”

“This is the warning.” His tone was calm, infuriatingly so.

“You’re such an ass.”

“Better than getting your ass kicked out there,” he shot back, moving toward her again.

She darted sideways, blocking this time, her glove colliding with his forearm. The thud vibrated up her arm, but she managed not to flinch.

“Not bad,” he muttered.

Lucy grinned, emboldened. “See? I can handle you.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

He lunged again, faster. She blocked, then swung clumsily toward his ribs, landing a hit that made him grunt.

“Oh my god,” she said, eyes wide. “Did I just—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get excited.” He straightened, brushing it off, but there was the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth. “It was sloppy.”

“But it landed.”

He tilted his head. “Barely.”

She let out a breathless laugh, her pulse hammering. This was insane—sparring with him, trading blows, and enjoying every second of it.

“Keep moving,” he barked suddenly, circling her. “Don’t plant your feet unless you’re ready to hit.”

“I am moving!”

“Not enough. You’re thinking too much.”

“Sorry I don’t have your robot brain,” she muttered, dodging another jab.

His lips twitched. “You talk too much when you’re nervous.”

Her cheeks flamed. “I’m not nervous.”

“You are.”

“Shut up.”

He smirked, and in that split second of distraction, he feinted left then hooked her arm, spinning her off balance.

“Shit!” she yelped as she stumbled.

“Keep your weight low,” he instructed, his hand still gripping her arm just enough to steady her. “You stand too tall, you’re gonna get dropped every time.”

“You could’ve just told me instead of proving it.”

“Lesson sticks better this way.”

She glared at him, breathless but grinning despite herself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, effective.”

They reset, circling again. Her muscles were burning now, but she didn’t care. There was something addictive in the rhythm of it, the push and pull between them. She swung again, blocked his strike, then pressed forward with a burst of determination.

For a second, she actually had him backing up.

“Yes!” she shouted, exhilarated. “Who’s cocky now?”

But her triumph was short-lived. He shifted his weight, caught her wrist, and yanked just enough to throw her off. She stumbled forward, tripped over her own foot, and nearly face-planted.

Tim caught her elbow before she hit the mat, steadying her with infuriating ease.

“Goddammit,” she muttered, yanking her arm back.

“Don’t fight me,” he said calmly.

“That’s literally what we’re doing!”

“You know what I mean.”

Lucy let out a breathless laugh, frustration curling through her. “You’re impossible.”

He smirked, then jerked his chin toward her stance. “Again.”

They went at it harder this time. She landed another hit against his chest, felt the sharp exhale he let out, and her grin widened. He countered quick, sweeping her legs, and she hit the mat with a grunt.

“Shit!” she hissed, scrambling up.

“Stop dropping your guard.”

“I didn’t drop my guard!”

“You did,” he said flatly.

“You’re such a—” she swung, forcing him back, her words cutting off as she focused on landing the next blow. Sweat prickled at her temples, her breathing ragged, but she refused to give in.

“Better,” he said, blocking and pushing her away. “Don’t quit now.”

“I’m not quitting,” she snapped, shoving against him. “I’m gonna wipe that smug look off your face.”

“You can try.”

She surged forward, throwing everything into it. He let her push him back a step before he shifted—so damn fast—hooking her leg with his and twisting.

Lucy gasped as the world tilted, the mat slamming against her back.

And before she could scramble free, he was already on her, pinning her down with maddening precision. One knee pressed into the mat beside her hip, the weight of his hand trapping her wrist above her head, his other arm braced for balance. His thigh hooked over her leg, effectively pinning it.

Her chest heaved, her breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.

Tim hovered above her, his own breathing ragged. Sweat glistened at his temple, and his eyes—sharp and focused—locked onto hers. The gym’s fluorescent lights haloed his silhouette, casting shadows that made his expression unreadable. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The only sound was the frantic drumming of her pulse in her ears.

His grip on her wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, then loosened. “Yield?” The word came out rough, strained. Not a command, but a question that hung between them like a dare.

Lucy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. A grin tugged at her lips, the burn in her muscles threatening to slow her reflexes, but she pushed it down. “Not a chance,” she said.

Tim’s eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement. He shifted, just a hint, and that was all she needed. Coiling her legs beneath her, she let instinct take over. She pushed off the mat, twisting with precision, and in one smooth motion flipped him. The world tilted, the mat rushed toward her, and she landed lightly beside him before swinging herself up to straddle his waist.

Tim’s grunt of surprise was muffled beneath her laughter. Her knees pressed against his sides, pinning him down. She leaned forward, palms flat against his chest, triumphant. “Yield,” she tossed back, her tone a breathless mockery of his own.

He gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Cute.” His voice was gravelly, amused but low enough to make her pulse stutter. “But you’re getting cocky, Chen.”

“Or maybe I’m just better than you think,” she shot back, trying to sound steady even though adrenaline made her fingers tremble.

For half a second, his smirk deepened, like he almost enjoyed hearing her say that. Then, just as quickly, he twisted beneath her. His hips shifted hard, one leg hooking around hers, and in the blink of an eye she lost her balance.

“Shit—” The word escaped before she could stop it.

Tim surged upward, his momentum carrying her with him. Suddenly the mat was beneath her back again, the air knocked from her lungs as he pinned her with practiced precision. His forearm pressed lightly across her collarbone, his weight holding her in place without crushing her.

His eyes burned into hers, sharp, unyielding. “Control,” he said quietly, almost like he was teaching her in the middle of the chaos. “Lose it for even a second, and you’re done.”

Lucy wriggled, scowling even as her lips twitched with a smile she couldn’t hold back. “You’re heavier. That’s not skill, that’s physics.”

His mouth curved—subtle, almost smug. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Asshole,” she muttered, breathless.

“Language,” he countered automatically, but his voice was warm, teasing instead of stern.

She bucked suddenly, using every bit of leverage she had, and managed to throw him off-balance. His eyes widened, caught off guard, and she twisted beneath him. Her body moved on instinct, fueled by stubbornness, until finally she rolled him onto his back.

This time, she landed straddling his torso, hair falling loose from her ponytail, sweat streaking down her temple. Her palms pressed firmly against his chest, and her thighs gripped his sides to keep him pinned. The heat radiating from his body seeped into her skin, her pulse pounding in her throat.

Her grin widened, though her breath came in shallow bursts. “Guess I win.”

He lay there for a moment, eyes locked on hers, his chest rising and falling beneath her palms. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Not bad.” His voice was rough, strained. “For a rookie.”

Lucy scoffed. “You’re just mad I put you on your ass.”

He let out a quiet laugh, one that sent a shiver down her spine. “Enjoy it while it lasts. You’re not keeping me down.”

Her cheeks flushed, and before she could think of a comeback, the gym door creaked open.

“Morning.”

Sergeant Grey’s voice carried across the room, sharp and level.

Lucy scrambled to her feet instantly, stumbling slightly as she brushed her hair from her face. Tim sat up more slowly, swiping a hand over his brow before pushing himself upright. His expression settled back into its usual mask—cool, composed, unreadable.

Gray’s gaze swept over the mats, lingering just long enough to make Lucy’s pulse tick faster. His eyes narrowed slightly, not with judgment but with that sharp, assessing calm that always seemed to cut straight through a person.

“Didn’t expect to find you two in here this early,” he said, his voice steady, even. “But I’ll admit—it’s good to see. Looks like you’re working well together.”

Lucy stepped back, tugging at the edge of her ponytail, trying to will the color from her cheeks. Tim rolled his shoulders once, slipping into the kind of at-ease posture that still radiated discipline.

“Morning, sir,” Tim said first.

“Morning,” Lucy added quickly.

Gray nodded, his expression unreadable. “Actually, this saves me the trouble of tracking you down later. I was hoping to run something by you both.”

That pulled Lucy’s attention sharper. She darted a glance at Tim, but his jaw stayed set, his eyes locked on Gray, like he was already bracing for whatever came next.

“I’m planning a training officer swap today,” Gray said. His tone wasn’t commanding—more like he was laying a card on the table, waiting to see how it landed. “Bradford, I’d like you to ride with Chen.”

Lucy blinked, the words catching her off guard. “Me?”

Gray gave a short nod. “Yes. Chen, you’ve been progressing well. But there are areas where Bradford’s strengths could help you stretch further—confidence, control, decisiveness in the field. He’s got a way of pushing rookies that I think could serve you.”

Lucy’s chest tightened, part nerves, part something else. “Oh.”

Gray’s eyes shifted to Tim. “And Bradford—you’ve done this long enough to know how to push without breaking someone. I trust you to bring that here.”

Tim inclined his head slightly. “Understood.”

Gray studied them both for a moment, the pause deliberate. Then his voice softened, just slightly. “Now—I also know the two of you have history. I’m not blind to that. If you’re not comfortable with this arrangement, or if you don’t think you can keep it professional, I’ll assign you both elsewhere. No harm done.”

Lucy felt the weight of his words press into her chest, heavier than she expected.

“But,” Gray continued, “if you can set that aside for a day, I think Chen could really benefit from the experience. That’s my reasoning. The choice, however, is yours.”

For a beat, silence hung between them. Lucy’s pulse thundered in her ears. She looked at Tim, who finally shifted his gaze to meet hers, something flickering unspoken in the space between them.

She swallowed hard, then straightened. “I can keep it professional, sir.”

Tim’s jaw tightened, but his nod was steady. “So can I.”

Gray gave a small, approving nod. “Alright then. We’ll give it a try.” He glanced between them once more, sharp but not unkind. “Roll call’s in an hour. See you both there.”

He turned on his heel and strode out, leaving the gym in silence again. The door swung shut with a soft click, and suddenly it was just Lucy and Tim—sweat, adrenaline, and the echo of what they’d just agreed to.

Lucy shifted her weight, brushing her palms against her thighs as if that would chase away the awkward buzz in the air. “Well… that’s one way to start the morning,” she muttered, forcing a half-smile.

Tim exhaled, tugging off one glove, then the other. “Guess congratulations are in order.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

He smirked faintly, tossing the gloves onto the bench. “You just landed the privilege of having me as your training officer for the day.”

Lucy scoffed, rolling her eyes as she bent to untie her shoes. “Oh, yeah. Lucky me.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” he shot back, dry but with a spark in his eye.

“Trust me, I’m thrilled,” she said, straightening and shouldering her bag. “Can’t wait for the nonstop lectures.”

“Not lectures,” he corrected, picking up his water bottle and giving her a pointed look. “Life-saving advice. Big difference.”

She laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “We’ll see about that.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time—it carried a strange current, charged but almost… tentative. Neither said anything more as they slipped out of the gym, parting ways down the hallway to shower, change, and fall back into routine.

By the time Lucy slid into the briefing room, her hair damp from the shower and her uniform crisp, her nerves had settled into a restless hum. Officers filled the rows of chairs, conversations buzzing low until Gray entered with his clipboard.

“Alright, listen up,” he called, voice firm enough to cut through the chatter. The room quieted instantly. Gray’s gaze swept over them, steady and authoritative. “We’re doing a temporary TO swap today. Bradford, you’re with Chen.”

A flicker of attention darted her way—Lucy felt it, sharp as a pinprick. She straightened in her chair, schooling her features into calm professionalism. Beside her, Tim didn’t so much as twitch.

Gray continued, listing off the other pairings, his tone even and businesslike. “The goal here is simple. Fresh perspectives. Different approaches. Learn from each other.” He closed his clipboard with a snap. “Roll call dismissed.”

Chairs scraped, conversations resumed, but Lucy stayed still for a beat too long, her heart ticking faster than it should’ve.

Tim rose first, reaching for his gear without hesitation. Lucy followed, slinging her war bag over her shoulder, the weight grounding her in a way her thoughts couldn’t.

They moved in step toward the lot, the morning sun spilling across the rows of black-and-whites. Their assigned shop sat waiting, engine silent, metal gleaming faintly.

Tim opened the trunk, setting his bag inside with practiced ease. Lucy mirrored him, sliding her own gear into place.

When the trunk closed with a decisive thud, she glanced at him, the moment stretching—quiet, charged, on the edge of something unspoken.

And then, without a word, they moved to their doors, sliding into the shop, the day ahead wide open and waiting.

Lucy tugged at her seatbelt, fastening it with a click. For a moment, she stared out the windshield, the morning sun bleeding through the station lot and painting the edges of everything in gold. The silence hummed, steady and heavy, until finally, she broke it.

“So,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This is… something.”

Tim glanced at her from the corner of his eye, brow lifting just slightly. “You’re going to have to narrow that down, Chen.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I just mean—it’s been a while. You and me. Riding together. Doesn’t feel like the last time.”

That earned her a faint smirk, but his eyes stayed on the road as he pulled them out of the lot. “Last time you were a ride-along. Big difference.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, her grin widening despite herself. “Yeah, but I held my own.”

“You tackled a suspect,” he reminded her, his voice even, though his tone carried just enough weight to make her remember. “Without backup. Without training. You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“Or,” she countered, tilting her head toward him, “I could’ve been the one who saved the day.”

He shot her a look, that half-second flicker of irritation that was more concern than anything else. “We had a fight about that night. A big one.”

“I remember.” Her tone softened, but the memory didn’t sting the way it used to. Instead, it curled into something warmer, something she wasn’t sure she should acknowledge but couldn’t help. She hesitated, then let her mouth tug into a teasing grin. “But, for the record? I really enjoyed your apology.”

That got him. His hands tightened on the wheel, his jaw working like he was trying not to react, but she caught the way his ears reddened just slightly. He didn’t look at her, and she bit back a laugh, enjoying the tiny victory.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath.

“And you’re predictable,” she shot back lightly, settling into her seat. The banter wrapped around her like muscle memory, like a rhythm they’d always known but hadn’t let themselves fall into for a long time.

For a while, the car was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of radio chatter. But it wasn’t the suffocating kind of silence—it was comfortable, a reminder that they could do this, work together without everything breaking apart.

The morning bled into the day. Calls came and went—traffic stops, a noise complaint, paperwork at the precinct. Nothing heavy, nothing they couldn’t handle. Every time they climbed back into the shop, Lucy found herself stealing glances at him: the way his hands adjusted on the wheel, the calm in his voice when he called things in, the steadiness that grounded her even now.

It felt good. Surprisingly good.

By early afternoon, she realized she wasn’t overthinking every move, wasn’t drowning in doubts or memories. They were… partners. At least for today. And it worked.

Lucy leaned back in her seat as they cruised down a quieter stretch of road, the city stretching wide around them. She let the comfort of the moment settle in, her smile soft and unguarded. “See?” she said lightly. “Told you it doesn’t feel like last time.”

Tim almost smiled—almost. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Chen. Day’s not over yet.”

Her retort was ready on her tongue when his phone buzzed, sharp and jarring against the easy rhythm they’d built. He snatched it up before she could blink, his voice dropping into clipped professionalism.

“Bradford.”

Instantly, his whole demeanor shifted. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharpened, his body coiled like every muscle had been pulled taut.

Lucy turned toward him, her brows knitting. The words on the other end were muffled, lost to her, but whatever he was hearing—it was serious.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone low. A pause. Then, more sharply: “Where?”

Her pulse quickened. She leaned slightly closer, searching his face for clues, but he gave her nothing. His focus was entirely on the voice in his ear, the weight of it anchoring him somewhere she couldn’t reach.

Another pause. His grip on the phone tightened. “On our way.”

The call ended with a heavy finality. He set the phone down, his knuckles pale against the steering wheel.

Lucy swallowed, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. “Is everything okay?”

For a beat, he didn’t answer. The silence pressed in, thick, suffocating.

Finally, his voice came, distant, flat. “ We’re going to the hospital.”

Chapter Text

He should’ve been happy.

God, he should’ve been fucking ecstatic.

Riding with Lucy had been smooth—too smooth. Like muscle memory slipping back into place, like no time had passed at all. For a few hours, he’d almost believed it. Believed he could just work beside her, trade barbs and silences, let himself exist in that easy rhythm without feeling like he was teetering on a ledge.

And then the call.

The doctor’s voice still rang in his ears. Isabel. Overdose. Hospital.

His knuckles flexed against the wheel, jaw clamped so tight it ached. He could feel Lucy beside him—her voice threading in, tentative, questioning. He heard her, but it was like listening underwater. Muffled. Distant.

Because in his head, it was chaos.

Ever since she’d started her rookie year, ever since that night she’d driven him home from the bar—God, he’d only ever wanted more time with her. To win her back. To prove he wasn’t the same broken man who’d pushed her away. She’d been… light. A force. Someone who made him believe in second chances.

And now here she was. The woman he wanted, the woman he couldn’t stop wanting. Sitting inches from him, close enough to touch, close enough to break him open.

But Isabel—
Isabel was his wife. His once forever. His anchor through hell, even when that anchor had dragged him under. She was still his pride, his goddamn joy, no matter how much she’d hurt him. And the thought of losing her—really losing her—squeezed his chest until it felt like something might snap.

He should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve done more. He knew her demons, knew the way addiction clawed and consumed. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let her drown in it. But he hadn’t followed through, had he? He’d let her drift. And now—now it had come to this.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, his pulse hammering loud enough to drown everything else out. He caught flashes of Lucy in the corner of his vision, the way she angled toward him, concern etched across her face. He wanted to tell her something—anything. But the words lodged in his throat. He couldn’t split himself open here, not with her. Not now.

The hospital loomed before him quicker than he expected, sterile and unwelcoming under the afternoon sun. He swung the shop into the lot, braking harder than necessary. The tires squealed against asphalt, but he didn’t care.

His boots hit the pavement the second he killed the engine. Lucy scrambled to catch up, her voice brushing against his shoulders as he cut a path through the sliding glass doors. Too bright. Too clean. The air smelled of antiseptic and despair.

None of it mattered.

He strode straight to the front desk, leaning into the counter hard enough the laminate creaked. The nurse looked up, startled, but his voice was steady.

“I’m here to see Isabel Bradford.”

The words scraped out of him, uneven, too sharp.

The nurse glanced up from the chart, her expression unreadable. “And you are?”

Tim froze. His jaw clenched. He could feel Lucy standing somewhere behind him, her presence like a weight pressing between his shoulder blades. She didn’t know. Not really. And God, he hadn’t wanted her to find out this way.

Still, there was only one answer. His throat tightened as he forced the words out.

“I’m her husband.”

The nurse’s eyes flicked briefly toward Lucy, then back to him. But she didn’t question it, didn’t linger. She simply shifted the chart, voice calm, almost detached.

“Mrs. Bradford was admitted a few hours ago. She experienced what appeared to be an opioid overdose. We were able to stabilize her quickly—she’s alert now, talking, vitals are steady. Medically, she’s out of immediate danger. We strongly advised she remain overnight for monitoring, but she’s insistent on discharge.”

Tim’s heart hammered, each word both relief and knife. Stabilized. Alert. Out of danger. But leaving—of course she wanted to leave. Isabel never could sit still, never could surrender, not even when she needed to. She had always been restless, a storm that refused to be contained.

“She’s in Room 112,” the nurse added, pointing down the hall. “Third door on your right.”

Tim barely nodded. He didn’t look back at Lucy—couldn’t. His boots were too loud against the sterile tile as he crossed the short distance, every step pushing harder against the storm tearing him apart inside.

And then he saw her.

The door stood open, and there she was—Isabel. Pale under the fluorescent lights, her dark hair tangled, her hands shaky as she shoved clothes into a duffel bag. Her face looked worn, eyes ringed with exhaustion, but the stubborn set of her jaw was still there. Still Isabel. Still infuriatingly, devastatingly her.

The sight hollowed him out. He had braced for a body in a bed, monitors beeping, tubes trailing. Not this. Not her upright, moving, already fighting her way out the door.

He crossed the threshold before he even realized he’d moved.

“Isabel.”

Her name cracked out of him like glass under pressure. She froze, a T‑shirt halfway stuffed into a duffel bag. The room smelled like antiseptic and something sour beneath it — sweat, old drugs, maybe fear.

She turned her head. Her hair was longer, darker at the roots, hanging in greasy ropes. She looked older and younger at the same time — a stranger wearing his wife’s face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly. Then, harder: “I’m fine. They shouldn’t have called you.”

He stared at her

“Fine?” His voice broke. “You just overdosed. Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Home.” She yanked the zipper closed with a violent jerk. “They can’t hold me here. I’m not a prisoner.”

She tried to shoulder past him. He caught her arm. Her skin felt brittle under his hand, like she could disappear if he let go.

“Let go,” she hissed. Her eyes burned, wet but defiant. “God, Tim, let go.”

“No.” His voice came low, shaking. “I’m not letting you walk out and end up in a morgue. Not after looking for you for a year. Not after picturing your body on a slab every night.”

“I said I’m fine!” she shouted, yanking at his grip.

“You’re not fine!” His shout tore out of him like something feral. “You overdosed, Isabel. You’re trembling, you’re starving yourself, and you think you’re fine?”

Her chin trembled. “Stop talking to me like I’m broken,” she snapped. “I’m not your project. I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

His grip softened but didn’t let go. “You’re my wife.” His voice cracked on the word. “You’ve always been my responsibility. I vowed—”

“Don’t you dare,” she cut him off. Her voice rose to a jagged edge. “Don’t you dare stand there and throw vows at me like shackles. You don’t get to drag me back to some life I can’t live anymore. You don’t get to decide what saves me.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

She shoved him hard in the chest. “I don’t need saving!”

He stumbled but stayed where he was. “I can’t just watch you destroy yourself.”

“You already are,” she spat. “Every time you look at me, that’s all you see — something to fix, something to pull back from the edge. I’m not a problem to solve, Tim. I’m me. And I’m done.”

She tore her arm free and swung the duffel over her shoulder. “Move.”

He shook his head once, jaw tight. “Not like this.”

Her eyes flashed. “Move, or I swear I’ll make you.”

For a heartbeat they just stood there — two people who had once known each other’s every breath, now strangers squared off in a hospital room.

Then she shoved past him again, harder this time. He didn’t stop her. He couldn’t. She stormed out, hair flying, shoulders rigid, footsteps like gunshots down the hall.

He stayed behind, fists trembling at his sides, chest hollow. The duffel bag smell of antiseptic still hung in the room, and he realized his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t even make a fist anymore.

He tried to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come. His chest heaved like he’d run a mile and couldn’t catch up. The sterile white walls seemed to close in on him, buzzing with fluorescent light, and all he could see was her face — gaunt, defiant, already gone before she’d even left.

The tremor in his hands turned to a shudder that rolled up his arms and into his jaw. His teeth ground together. His vision tunneled. He saw red. Not just anger — not just frustration — but a deep, black‑edged panic that had nowhere else to go.

A raw, broken sound clawed out of his throat. His fist came up before he knew what he was doing.

CRACK.

The drywall splintered around his knuckles. A second blow landed harder. His whole arm jolted from the impact, but he didn’t stop. He drove his fist into the wall again, a guttural noise ripping from his chest. Pain shot up his arm, bright and hot. Blood smeared across the pale paint in a wide, messy streak.

He sagged forward, forehead pressed to the wall, breath coming in ragged bursts. The hole in the drywall stared back at him, jagged edges like teeth. His knuckles were a mess — split, swelling, flecked with white dust and red.

“What the hell am I doing,” he muttered, voice cracking.

The room tilted. He pulled his hand free from the wall slowly, wincing as flakes of plaster clung to his skin. Blood ran down his wrist, dripping onto the hospital tile. The sight of it — his own hand cut open — jarred him back into himself like cold water.

“Tim?”

The voice was small, careful. He turned his head sharply. Lucy stood just inside the doorway, her hands wrapped around a paper cup, eyes wide. She’d walked in without him noticing, and now she looked at him like she wasn’t sure if he was going to break apart or collapse.

He straightened instinctively, hiding his hand behind his back, but blood still slid down his knuckles and dripped onto the floor. His breath came harsh and uneven.

“Tim,” she said again, softer this time.

She set the paper cup down on the little metal table by the wall without looking away from him. The soft thud of it against steel felt too loud in the sterile room. Then she crossed the space between them quickly, her eyes flicking from his face to the jagged hole in the drywall and back again.

“Oh my God…” she breathed, her voice a mix of shock and concern. “What did you do?”

“I’m fine.” The words came out clipped, too fast. He shifted back a step, trying to keep his hand hidden, but she followed, refusing to give him the distance.

“Yeah,” she said, eyebrows lifting, “because bleeding all over the floor really screams fine.”

“I said I’m fine.” This time his voice cracked, softer, more tired than sharp.

Lucy stopped right in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough to see how tightly his jaw was set. Her eyes darted to the hole in the wall, then back to him. A nervous, shaky laugh escaped her.

“You know,” she said, tilting her head toward the cracked drywall, “there are easier ways to do a remodel. Usually involves a hammer.”

His eyes flicked to her, dark and hollow, not angry but wrecked. “I wasn’t… trying to be funny,” he rasped. “I just—” His voice snagged, rough. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her chest ached at the rawness bleeding through his words. “Then let me help,” she said gently. “Just… stop making it worse.”

He looked away, jaw tight, shoulders coiled like a spring. His silence was louder than anything he could have said.

“Let me see it,” she pressed.

“I’m fine.” The phrase had no bite left, only exhaustion.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “you keep saying that.”

Before he could pull back again, she reached for his injured hand, her fingers wrapping firmly around his wrist.

He winced when she pulled his hand into the light. Blood streaked down his knuckles, and white flecks of drywall clung stubbornly to the skin. The gash across his middle knuckle was wide enough to sting, still oozing steadily.

“Jesus, Tim…” Lucy whispered, her brows knitting together. “That’s not a scratch.”

“I’ve had worse,” he muttered, eyes fixed anywhere but her.

“Worse doesn’t mean you should ignore it,” she said, eyeing the blood running down his knuckles. “You probably need a couple stitches.”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “It’s nothing. I just—lost it for a second.”

“Yeah, well, now you’re bleeding for it,” she said, and before he could stop her, she leaned toward the doorway. “Hey! Can we get someone to take a look at this?”

“Lucy,” he warned, voice low.

She didn’t turn. “You’re not walking out of here with drywall in your hand.”

A doctor entered a few moments later—a middle-aged woman with a calm expression and the kind of steady energy that filled the space immediately. Her eyes flicked from Tim’s knuckles to the small hole in the wall, but she didn’t comment.

“What happened?” she asked, approaching.

Lucy hesitated, then said simply, “He hit the wall.”

The doctor hummed under her breath. “Looks like the wall won.” She gestured toward the nearby chair. “Sit down, please.”

Tim reluctantly obeyed. His shoulders stayed tight, his expression unreadable as she knelt beside him. The antiseptic smell hit immediately when she tore open a packet and started cleaning the wound.

He didn’t even flinch as she dabbed away the blood, though his jaw flexed with every swipe. A few drops ran off his knuckles and splattered on the tile—and one landed on Lucy’s boot. She didn’t move, just stared at the way it bloomed dark against the leather.

The doctor glanced up. “It’s not too deep. No tendon damage or anything like that,” she said, her tone professional but calm. “You’ll need a couple of stitches to close it, that’s all.”

Lucy exhaled quietly, relief flickering in her face. “That’s… good, right?”

“Good enough,” the doctor said, already prepping a syringe. “Try to keep still.”

Tim nodded silently, eyes focused on the wall across from him. The sting of the numbing agent barely registered—his mind was still on Isabel’s. Her voice, her anger, her hollow eyes. Every word she’d thrown at him was still echoing.

“Rough day?” the doctor asked lightly as she worked, maybe just trying to fill the silence.

“Something like that,”

When it was over, the doctor taped a small bandage over the neat line of stitches and began gathering her supplies. “You’re all set. It should heal fine. Keep it clean and covered for a few days, and don’t go punching any more walls.”

Tim gave a dry, humorless huff. “Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded once, professional but not unkind. “If it starts swelling or bleeding again, come back. Otherwise, you’re good to go.”

The door clicked shut behind the doctor, leaving only the low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint antiseptic smell hanging between them.

Lucy lingered near the counter for a moment, unsure whether to speak. The bandages around Tim’s hand were stark white against the bruised red of his knuckles. He flexed his fingers once, testing the tightness, his jaw set in that familiar, unreadable way.

“You’re supposed to keep that clean,” she said finally, her tone soft but careful — neutral.

“I will,” he murmured.

A long pause stretched between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, just heavy — the kind of silence that meant there were too many things neither of them knew how to say.

Lucy shifted her weight. “So…” she began quietly, “are you gonna tell me what happened?”

His eyes stayed on his hand. “There’s nothing to tell.”

She frowned. “You punched a wall hard enough to need stitches. There’s something to tell.”

He exhaled, slow and uneven, but didn’t look up. “Drop it, Lucy.”

Her brow creased, but she didn’t. “That woman,” she said after a beat, voice gentler now, “the one who walked out of the room before I came in — that was your wife, wasn’t it?”

That got his attention. His head came up, eyes dark and guarded. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“Tim—”

“Lucy, please,” he cut in, his voice low, tired. “I don’t want to have this fight again.”

She hesitated, then said quietly, “John told me what happened. The first day he rode with you. How you ran into her.”

His throat tightened. He didn’t speak.

“He said you didn’t even seem to know what was going on. That she looked… bad.”

Something flickered in his expression — pain, confusion, regret. Maybe all of it. “I didn’t know,” he said finally, his voice rough. “She just stopped coming home. No calls. No notes. Nothing. I thought…” He swallowed, his jaw flexing. “I thought she didn’t want me anymore. That she’d found someone else. And I let myself believe that, because the alternative — the idea that something was really wrong — it was easier to hate her than to think she was gone for good.”

Lucy’s chest ached at the quiet honesty in his tone.

“And now?” she asked softly.

He swallowed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Now she’s in the hospital,” he said quietly. “She overdosed.” He took a shaky breath, his voice flattening. “That’s why they called me.”

The words hung there — heavy, unpolished, final.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the lights seemed louder, like the room itself was holding its breath.

Then Lucy’s voice broke the stillness, low and tentative. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He blinked, like the question hit somewhere deep.

“Back then,” she added, her voice trembling just enough to give her away. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? That she was gone. That you didn’t know where she was. You just let me think—”

“That I was cheating,” he finished for her, voice quiet but raw.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “Because what was I supposed to say? That my wife disappeared and I didn’t even know why? That maybe I drove her to it? That maybe I wasn’t enough to make her stay?” His throat tightened, the words scraping on their way out. “I already felt like a failure, Lucy. Saying it out loud would’ve just made it real.”

Her eyes softened, and she took a small step closer, but she didn’t touch him. “You could’ve trusted me,” she said quietly. “You could’ve told me something. Anything.”

He shook his head, staring at the floor. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“It could’ve,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, sharper now — not angry, just final. “It wouldn’t have. Maybe it should’ve, but it wouldn’t have changed what happened. You still would’ve walked away.”

Lucy’s lips parted, but she couldn’t find the words.

He looked up then, eyes tired and heavy. “And it doesn’t matter now anyway,” he said, voice quieter but firm. “You have a boyfriend.”

The words landed between them like a crack in the air — small, but deep.

She froze — not in guilt, but in that painful kind of awareness that leaves no room to hide. “Right,” she said softly. “I do.”

Neither of them moved. The silence stretched again, thick and suffocating.

Tim drew a slow breath, pushing off the counter. “We should get back on the streets,” he said finally, tone even but distant.

Lucy nodded once, eyes flicking down. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re right.”

He pulled the door open, holding it long enough for her to step through. The hallway beyond was bright, sterile — too bright after everything that had just been said.

They walked out together, side by side, saying nothing. But the silence between them felt like it might never stop echoing.