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“Way to pull off the fourth-quarter win,” Tim says as he follows her through the front door of the station. It’s the first either of them has spoken since she found him leaning against the wall outside the locker room, waiting while she changed out.
It’s their routine whenever they work the same shift—he waits for her in the hallway, she greets him with a bright smile and they walk to the parking lot together.
But today feels anything but routine.
“Thanks,” she manages, her voice stiff. She doesn’t look at him as they walk towards her car, and when she feels his eyes on her, she picks up her pace.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she answers quickly. It’s been a hell of a day, and she really doesn’t want to get into it now. But her attempt to brush off his question clearly doesn’t work, because she feels him touch her arm—not grabbing, just reaching out physically when his verbal attempt was unsuccessful.
Normally, she welcomes his touch. It grounds her, even in her worst moments. But not tonight.
“Nothing,” she tries again, failing to hide the edge from her voice.
“This isn’t going to work if you’re going to lie to me.”
“Fine.” Lucy looks to the ground. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, then meets his eye and asks him the question that’s been plaguing her all day—and even longer if she’s being honest with herself. “Did you undermine me because you’re scared that I’m going to make detective?”
“What?” She can hear the surprise in Tim’s voice, like it’s the last thing he expected her to say. “No.”
“Tim—”
“No, ” he repeats, more firmly this time. “And I'm upset that you’d even think that.”
“Look, I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t deliberate. Maybe it was subconscious.”
“Okay, so now you’re accusing me of being unaware of my actions? That-that’s not better.” There’s an edge to his voice now, and Lucy knows she’s playing with fire.
But she can’t stop it. Everything that they’ve been bottling up is coming out at the worst possible moment. “You have to admit that what happened with Isabel was deeply traumatic for you.”
“I’ve never not admitted it. I admitted it the first day we met, okay? So the only thing I did today was have your back. But i-if you can’t see that, then…” his voice trails off, and now it’s his turn to avoid meeting her gaze. “You know what?” he continues, his voice softer now, and almost eerily calm. When he looks at her again, his face is different—he looks defeated. “I’m tired, you’ve got studying to do, so let’s just… take the night off, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He doesn’t give her a chance to respond, just turns and heads for his truck.
And that’s it.
To say Lucy’s stunned would be an understatement. With everything that has been bubbling under the surface lately, she’d keyed herself up for a fight—so the last thing she expected was for him to walk away.
She’s not sure how long she stands there, her mouth hanging open in surprise, trying to make sense of what just happened—it could be seconds, minutes or even hours. She’s only pulled from her trance when she catches the station door swinging open in her peripheral vision, the chattering voices of a group of uniformed officers breaking the deafening silence.
She tries to shake it off, but when she climbs into her car, she can’t quite bring herself to start the engine. Instead she leans back, her head hitting the headrest as the day’s events run through her mind like some kind of nightmarish highlight reel.
Everything had seemed so simple this morning—how had it all gone spectacularly awry?
And as she sits there, removed from the emotional whiplash of it all, she starts to see things in a different light.
The only thing I did today was have your back.
He was right.
It seems so clear now, but she knows that’s just the distance talking. He was being supportive—agreeing to ride with her, giving her space to talk out possible scenarios, assuring her that, despite her concerns, she’s ready for the exam.
He’d been in her corner all day, she just couldn’t hear it through all the noise.
“Fuck,” she curses under her breath, hitting the steering wheel with a closed fist.
She’s not sure what to do now. There’s a part of her that wants to go to him. She honestly can’t remember the last time they spent a night apart, and the very idea of going home alone makes her feel nauseous.
It’s killing her that he walked away like that, but she’s also weirdly proud of him for recognizing that he needed to take a beat. She’s not sure the Tim she first met would have had that kind of self-awareness.
And it’s that realization that has her pushing the thought of heading to his place from her mind, instead maneuvering her car in the direction of her apartment.
The drive from the station to her apartment is short, and it usually passes in a blur. But then again, Tim’s usually sitting next to her, filling the ride with gentle touches and comfortable conversation.
Tonight, she’s alone with her thoughts, and that feels like a dangerous place to be.
So Lucy lets herself get lost in the monotony of it all, trying not to think about the empty apartment that’s waiting for her, and instead using the busy Los Angeles streets outside her windshield as a reprieve from the mess inside her head.
And it almost works.
By the time she’s pulling into her designated parking space outside her building, she’s almost managed to convince herself that this is a good thing—that maybe a little space is what they both need right now.
She slings her bag over her shoulder and makes her way inside and up the elevator, feeling her unease building the entire way, despite her best efforts to push it down.
With a deep, steadying breath, she slips her key into the lock, turning it slowly. Tamara’s staying with a friend, so the apartment is empty, dark, and painfully quiet. The only sounds that break through are the gentle hum of the refrigerator, the slow drip of the leaky faucet in the bathroom, and the steady thumping of her heart beating.
She drops her bag on the floor, tossing her keys haphazardly at the bowl on the hall table. They settle against the glass with a loud jangling, and the sound echoes obnoxiously through the space. It offers a temporary reprieve, but then the silence is back again, oppressive and heavy.
Lucy drops onto the sofa, fidgeting with her phone. She stares at her lock screen—a selfie of them she’d convinced him to take during a hike with Kojo a few months earlier. Morning sun shines brightly behind them, their faces sweaty but happy as they grin for the camera.
She’s tempted to call him—she misses him. Which feels ridiculous to say since it’s barely been an hour since she last saw him, but she misses him nonetheless. It’s strange being here without him, it feels different without his bag, his boots, his presence. Somewhere along the way her sense of home shifted, and now it’s less about these four walls and more about a person.
Her finger is just hovering over his contact when there’s a knock at the door.
Lucy furrows her brows, tossing her phone on the coffee table before making her way to answer. She pushes up on her toes to peek through the peephole and inhales sharply when she sees who’s standing outside.
Tim.
She studies him for a second, taking in the way he’s standing there with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. He looks more nervous than she ever remembers seeing him before.
“Hi,” he says when she swings the door open.
“What… what are you doing here?” Lucy asks in lieu of any actual greeting.
“I can go,” he offers, taking a small step backwards.
“No!” she says quickly, sounding far more desperate than she’d like. “I just… I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Not after…”
“I know.” His shoulders are slumped and his gaze drops to the floor. He pauses, and Lucy watches the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I… I’m fine,” she answers, but the shakiness in her voice betrays her.
“No, you’re not.” His voice is soft and confident, but there’s nothing accusatory to his tone. “Lucy, you were spiraling pretty hard there today, and I… I could have done a better job recognizing that earlier. I should have been more supportive. I’m sorry.”
“Tim,” she says, reaching for him, her hand settling on his forearm.
It suddenly occurs to her that he’s still standing out in the hall—respecting her boundaries, just like she was trying to do earlier—so she tightens her hold, tugging him across the threshold behind her. She pushes the door shut and pulls him further inside.
When they’re settled on the couch, Tim at one end, Lucy at the other, her legs curled up under her body, she continues. “You were supportive. You were. I was just… so caught up in my head that I couldn’t see it.” She sighs, running her fingers through her hair. “Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything you could have said or done today that would have reassured me. So I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have put it all on you.”
“Do you… do you want to talk about what happened out there?” he asks carefully. “That was… I’ve never seen you like that before.”
She considers his words. He’s right. When she took her six-month exam, she was relaxed and confident. And she’s been in countless high pressure situations and never floundered like this.
But then again, no one was actively working against her then.
“I feel like I screwed everything up today,” she admits.
“You didn’t.”
“But the crime scene—”
“Wasn’t on you.” She jerks her head up, meeting his eye. “And I didn’t mean to make you feel like it was. Look, should you have noticed the sprinklers?” He shrugs. “Maybe? Would it have made a bit of difference in this case? No. That’s on the officers who secured the scene.”
“But—”
“Lucy,” he says, shifting in his seat and looking her right in the eye as he continues, “at the end of the day, you solved that case. And you did it without a key piece of physical evidence. And that is proof that when you pass this exam, you’re going to be the best damn detective at Mid-Wilshire.”
Her cheeks heat at his words, a little flare of pride making itself home in the center of her chest.
“If you tell Lopez I said that, I’ll deny it,” he adds with a grin, and Lucy rolls her eyes, the corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement.
Tim’s hand flexes in his lap and she senses his hesitation. But when he finally reaches for her, pulling her hands into his own, she goes willingly.
“I shouldn’t have walked away,” he says, his thumb tracing absently over her skin, and her eyes flutter shut briefly. “It wasn’t fair for me to force the conversation and then bail when it got hard.” There’s a faraway look in his eye, and he exhales, long and slow. “You’re right. I am scared.”
She nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“But Lucy,” he continues, squeezing her hand. “Just because I’m scared doesn’t mean I’m not in this with you.”
She’s quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. It’s the first time he’s truly been honest with her about how he feels, and it feels like a weight has been lifted. “I think I’m scared too,” she murmurs. “That you’ll wake up one day and realize this is all too much for you.”
“Never.”
She smiles at him, her eyes wet with emotion.
“Come here,” Tim says, dropping her hands and opening his arms wide. She settles against him, her head on his chest, the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing her like a balm.
“All the other stuff?” he hums, holding her close, his fingers tangling in her hair. “We don’t have to figure it out tonight. But we will figure it out.”