Thankfully, their near-death experience earns them a break from filming for the rest of the day — as long as they recount in harrowing detail everything that had happened on their couples cam, of course.
They go their separate ways — well, Lucy goes, and Tim stays. After the night on the floor and the beating his body had taken in the cavern, he is in an incredible amount of pain.
So after a combination of hot showers and a brief stint in the jacuzzi, he doesn't bother with lunch and instead simply collapses into bed, hoping that a few hours of solid rest will alleviate some of his misery.
When he finally wakes, it's almost dark, and, normally, he'd be aggravated at the idea of so completely disrupting his sleep schedule. But he's still so physically and mentally exhausted that he actually feels like he could go right back to bed and sleep through the night.
He reaches to flip on the bedside lamp, and shit.
Lucy is curled up on the floor in his makeshift bed, and it's clear his turning on the light has disturbed her because she's shifting sleepily and rubbing her eyes.
A wave of guilt washes over him; he had taken the bed without even considering that she would be exhausted and likely pretty sore herself.
His eyes fall on an assortment of things she's placed on the nightstand for him — a bag of takeout from one of the resort cafes, a heating pad, a variety of OTC painkillers, and a giant tube of IcyHot.
He's honestly not even surprised. Because it's just so her. He had disappointed her in the worst possible way, and, yet, somehow, here she is, going out of her way to take care of him. He remembers telling Angela how he could tell right from the start just how good she was — and he was absolutely right — but at the moment he's struggling to remember how he could have possibly thought that was anything other than a positive.
Lucy sits up. "Hi," she mumbles sleepily.
He smiles tiredly down at her, "Hey."
She climbs to her knees and reaches onto the nightstand to grab a disposable coffee cup with the tail of several teabags hanging over the edge. She holds it up to him, "I got you some tea." She frowns, "It's probably cold, but it has turmeric and cinnamon and valerian and chamomile and, oh, also white willow bark which is great for…"
He takes the cup from her as she continues to talk about the different ingredients and their anti-inflammatory and healing properties, gradually getting more animated with every word. To be honest, he's still barely awake and not entirely following most of what she's saying and he's not really thinking much of anything other than, god, she is really fucking adorable.
He realizes she has stopped talking and is looking up at him, her eyes bright with anticipation as she waits for him to take a sip.
And it's possibly the most disgusting thing he has ever tasted, but he just smiles at her and forces himself to down every last drop because though it hasn't even been two whole days since he fucked everything up, he has missed this version of her for every minute of it — sunshine and rainbows included.
He's not willing to be the reason this version of her disappears again. Even if it does mean drinking some questionable tea.
She gets to her feet, yawning and stretching along the way. "I'm going to go catch the end of the sunset," she tosses over her shoulder as she heads toward the deck.
"Lucy?" he calls after her.
She pauses to look back at him, "Hmm?"
"You know you're pretty amazing, right?"
She laughs, "Oh I definitely know that."
It's dark by the time he joins her out on the deck after he eats the food she had been thoughtful enough to bring back to the room for him. She's reclaimed what seems to be one of her favorite positions — reclined back on of the loungers.
"What is it that has you so mesmerized up there?" he finally asks.
She turns her head to glance at him, seemingly surprised by the question. He realizes it's probably because he hasn't bothered to ask her much of anything that wasn't written on a prompt sheet provided by production since their wedding night.
"Nothing specific really… I just like the feeling it gives me," she finally answers, her gaze turned back toward the sky.
He studies the profile of her face in the moonlight and is struck by the fact that she is maybe even more beautiful to him now than she had been that first night. In that way knowing what kind of person someone is changes the way you see them. It makes him wonder what she sees when she looks at him now.
"What feeling is that?" he asks, once it's clear she isn't going to continue.
There's a long silence as he waits for her to respond, and it occurs to him that maybe she doesn't want to answer him.
"Uh, sorry — you don't have to answer that if you don't want to. I'll just leave you to it."
He's halfway back into the bungalow when he finally hears her response, her eyes never once leaving the stars. "Hope."
He pauses. It's a simple answer. One that, if he's honest, he'd probably be tempted to toss in with the rainbows and sunshine, but there's something in the way she says it that indicates there is nothing simple about what that feeling means for her.
He gazes at her for a few more moments, before clearing his throat. "Good night, Lucy."
And this time she does turn to look at him, a soft smile on her lips as she meets his eyes. "Good night, Tim."
He is almost certain his heart skips a beat.
When they get back to LA the next day, they are dropped at the joint apartment they will be living in together for the rest of their experience.
The first major decision is an easy one for them — they opt to stay in separate rooms, and are both more than happy to bid adieux to nights on the floor. Production, of course, prods them to lean into the drama around their reasons, but Lucy hesitates. She's not sure what Tim has or hasn't shared, but if she were to bet on it, she'd put her money on not much.
And while her pettier, more vindictive inclinations wouldn't be opposed to making Tim look like the gigantic asshole he is on national TV, she's not overly keen on revealing to the whole world that he'd summarily rejected her the morning after she'd slept with him. And maybe, despite her better judgment, a small part of her is starting to feel the tiniest bit protective toward the man who had risked everything to save her life in that cave.
So she settles on something vaguer that still affords her a tiny, but satisfying bit of pettiness, wholeheartedly blaming Tim for their separation because he is having difficulty being open to the process. She's proud of her restraint, given a more apt description would be that he'd made up his mind about her and any possibility of a future for them together less than a week into their journey. She's surprised at how much the truth of that observation still stings, but she quickly turns her focus away from the dull ache that forms in her center at the thought.
The apartment is simple, but nice — located centrally enough that they both end up with a reasonable commute (reasonable for LA, anyway) — two bedrooms, two baths, and a kitchen that opens up to a large living and dining space. There's a large balcony off of the living area and a second smaller one off of the primary bedroom with a beautiful view of the city. It's an easy decision for Tim to let her have the better room when her eyes light up as soon as they step outside to take it all in.
The apartment is fully furnished, but they'll be swinging by each of their places so that they can gather what they'll need for the remainder of the experiment, and so that they can explore (and judge) each other's living situations on camera.
They stop by Lucy's place first, and, as soon as Tim steps into the apartment, he can immediately feel her energy all around him. The space is vibrant and colorful and welcoming. Everything he'd imagined her home would be.
Jackson greets Lucy with a massive hug, and it's impossible not to see how close the two of them are, how deeply they care about one another.
The warmth is gone, though, when Jackson's eyes land on Tim and he gives him a brisk nod before turning his focus back to Lucy as she details their adventures in Mexico.
"We had our own pool, Jackson; it was insane. I can't wait to show you the pictures!"
And though he knows he's more than earned the cold shoulder, it still bugs him a little. He's not one to care a whole lot about whether people like him; there's no shortage of people he's unapologetically rubbed the wrong way. But he'd be lying if he didn't admit it bugs him a little that Lucy's closest friend despises him.
He trails them into Lucy's bedroom, and, of course, she'd have a giant four-poster canopy bed fit for a princess. She glances back over her shoulder as if anticipating his reaction and narrows her eyes, "Shut up, Tim."
He chuckles and raises his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I didn't say a thing."
"Uh huh. Tell that to your face."
Even Jackson joins in on their laughter, muttering something that sounds like, "It is kind of ridiculous," under his breath.
But amidst the gentle teasing, Tim's mind is already contemplating how hot it would be to lay her back on that bed with the curtains drawn around them as he takes his sweet time exploring every inch of her naked body.
He shakes himself; that ship hasn't just sailed — he personally went through the trouble of converting it to a high-speed motorboat before shoving it out to sea.
Jackson and Lucy disappear into her closet, continuing to chatter away as Lucy begins to pack her things. One of the crew encourages Tim to explore because apparently watching him awkwardly hover in the middle of the room does not make for enthralling television. He sighs and begins to wander around — her room is well kept and orderly even though there's no shortage of stuff to liven things up and make the space uniquely Lucy's.
His lips curve upward as he studies various photos of her with friends and family; he recognizes Jackson, her Aunt Amy, and the teenager — Tamara — from their wedding, as well as a few of her colleagues in various photos. Lucy's smile is contagious even when captured in a picture.
His smile fades though when his eyes fall on a photo of her being presented with a plaque; a screen behind her reads Southern California Journalism Awards. He can guess what piece earned her that award.
He moves on quickly; his only goals at the moment are to make it through the next seven weeks with as little drama as possible and to make every effort to treat Lucy with the respect and care he should have treated her with from the start, regardless of his feelings about this process or the unsettling overlap in their past. Spiraling over what happened with Isabel is a surefire way to ensure he achieves neither.
He's so lost in thought that he's only half paying attention as a crew member nudges him toward her dresser and pulls open the top drawer before scuttling out of frame. His eyes widen when he realizes he's been set up to look like a run-of-the-mill pervert. It's her underwear drawer, and his hands are moving to slam it shut even as he idly observes that she does, in fact, own an assortment of sexy undergarments that don't solely exist to sass him, though they may exist to make his life very, very difficult in other ways.
Lucy pops up next to him (courtesy of a helpful PA, no doubt) and shit — he is pretty sure he turns fuschia as she closes her fingers around his wrist to stop him.
"Chill, Tim. It's just underwear." She gently hip-checks him to get him out of her way, before hissing under her breath, "Closest you'll ever be getting to my panties again, Bradford, so enjoy it."
He swallows back a groan, pressing his eyes closed as Lucy lifts a stack of pretty, lacy, colorful things from the drawer to pack into her suitcase.
On the ride over to Tim's, Lucy studies him closely because he's behaving in a way she hasn't seen once in the week that she's known him. He is almost gleeful with excitement.
"What time did you drop him off?" Tim asks into his phone. "Did he go out?"
"You brought back his cozy blanky, right? You know he won't sleep without it. And Wally Bear?" he continues to press. "He got his omelet this morning?"
Lucy can just barely make out the tinny sound of Angela's voice as she responds through the phone. "Of course, Tim. What else could I possibly have to do other than to make your dog a gourmet breakfast?"
"I'm not really sure whether that's a yes or a no, Angela."
Lucy bites her lip, barely holding in her laughter. Who knew grumpy, broody Tim Bradford had such a soft spot for his dog?
Kojo jumps up to greet Tim as soon as he opens the front door. Tim pauses for only a fraction of a second to disarm the alarm before dropping to his knees to lavish the dog with his love.
"Oh my gosh!" Lucy squeals with adoration as she drops to her knees beside him. "How could you not tell me he was this precious?"
Kojo is immediately over the reunion, turning his focus to Lucy's outstretched hand. He sniffs her and then immediately presents himself for all of the pets and kisses as his tail happily thumps against the floor.
"I can't believe I get to live with you for seven whole weeks. You are just the cutest. Yes, you are!" Lucy coos.
Tim shakes his head in disbelief as he climbs back to his feet, clearly forsaken by his unfaithful fur child. He's never seen Kojo take to anyone like this. Sadly, given the years Kojo had spent in the shelter, Tim is still working through some of the dog's behavioral challenges. One of those issues is how territorial Kojo tends to be around strangers. But, apparently, Lucy's magic touch extends to more than just goats.
Tim grins as he watches them begin to play tug of war with a stray rope toy. It's a relief, actually. One of his biggest concerns was that his match would have an issue with Kojo, and he'd have to rehome his beloved pet for the duration of filming. Given Kojo's track record with women he'd dated in the past, it was a very real concern. He hadn't been left with the highest of hopes after hearing about Lucy's unsuccessful fostering experience, but, as with many of his initial impressions of her, he'd clearly been wrong.
Tim finally coaxes Kojo away from his impromptu playdate by offering him a treat. Lucy laughs as she climbs back to her feet. Tim grimaces when he notices that her black leggings and gray sweatshirt are covered in fur.
"Sorry — he doesn't shed as much when I'm around to brush him."
Lucy glances down briefly and then distractedly [and futilely] brushes at the hair clinging to her thighs as she shakes her head. "Oh gosh — seriously I don't care. He's so sweet, Tim!" Her eyes are bright with her excitement and he feels a warmth bloom in his chest. He loves how much she loves Kojo already.
He gives Lucy a brief tour and can't help but feel a bit of pride when she gushes over his backyard. It's his favorite part of the house, too.
Tim pauses by the door once he's gathered and packed up everything he needs for himself and Kojo, leash in hand. "So you're sure you'll be fine if he comes back with us to the apartment?"
It's probably a dumb question given she's back on the floor and his overgrown puppy is slobbering all over her face, but Tim feels he should ask nonetheless. Kojo has his challenges, and he's aware it's not a small thing he's asking her to accommodate.
"Are you kidding? Of course! I could not be more fine with Kojo coming back to the apartment. I'm ecstatic!" She bites her lip and gets what's quickly becoming an all too familiar glint in her eye, "But if there's an option to leave you behind, I'm listening…"
Tim scowls briefly, but then just rolls his eyes and looks away as his lips begin to twitch. He probably had that coming.
They both go back to work that week, and Lucy is honestly grateful for the return to some level of normalcy. She's felt out of sorts since Mexico, especially after what happened in the underground river caves, and though being raised by two therapists means she is aware she is being avoidant, it doesn't mean she's ready to do anything about it. She's worked hard to heal from her past, and the idea that maybe she isn't as healed as she'd like to believe — it's not something she can process at the moment. She has enough on her plate.
Including, at the moment, some interviews at local shelters and encampments to support her investigation into the misuse and redirection of funds earmarked for programs to alleviate houselessness by the city and the county.
Her day turns out to be a nightmare of epic proportions. An unannounced visit by the Vice President creates gridlock across the entire city. She burns more than half her day sitting in traffic by the time she makes it to what should be the first of multiple locations, but ultimately turns out to be the only stop of the day.
As her [terrible] luck would have it, the LAPD shows up and begins ordering everyone to pack up just as she approaches a group of people camped out in an alley to try and get at least a few interviews done.
"All right, listen up. Until tomorrow at 3:00 p.m., the stretch of Vine between Melrose and Franklin will be off limits. Sanitation services will be arriving in 20 minutes. You'll have until then to pack up," one of the patrol officers bellows.
"You've got to be kidding me," Lucy curses under her breath as she watches the uniforms begin to rope off the block.
She quickly approaches two women in a final hail mary attempt to salvage anything of this day, but just as she's opening her mouth to ask if they'd be willing to answer a few questions they break into a shoving match.
She gets jostled forward as an officer runs up behind her to break up the scuffle and somehow ends up tangled between all of them as the uniform attempts to wrestle one of the women to the ground.
Great. Just great.
Lucy rolls her eyes as she watches the two women get arrested from her position on the ground; what a fantastic use of city resources. She climbs to her feet and bends to brush off her knees, hissing at the stinging sensation as she realizes she's bleeding and has managed to rip one of her favorite pairs of slacks.
It's then that she notices the glint of metal in the sunlight. Her heart drops. A dirty hypodermic needle is sticking out of her side. She tries to remain calm as every worst-case scenario begins to run through her mind. Her hands are shaking almost uncontrollably as she pulls the needle out, and her eyes begin to swim as soon as she sees the droplet of red at the tip.
Blood. Her blood.
She sucks in a deep breath. How the hell did she get herself into this mess?
She attempts to keep a steady grip on the needle as she digs through her purse with her other hand trying to find something to contain it.
She finally dumps her sunglasses out into her bag and places the needle into the protective case. It'll have to do.
It takes her over an hour to get to the nearest hospital. Over an hour of misery and thinking through the many, many ways this could end horribly for her. HIV. Hepatitis. Necrotizing fasciitis.
She's spiraling. She busies herself with making calls — first to her editor to report the incident, then to production to let them know she won't be making it to the happy hour location she had been slated to meet Jackson at after work to film a catch-up and debrief conversation on her "marriage" thus far, and then to Jackson himself.
He reassures her, "It's going to be okay, Lucy. I know it's easier said than done, but try not to worry until you get your results. Today's a shit show, but I'll make it over to Shaw Memorial to meet you as soon as I can after shift, and I'll wait with you, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks, Jackson."
If she thought the long trip to the hospital was painful, it's nothing compared to when she finally arrives, hopeful she'll finally be able to get tested but is instead left to wait for hours.
She curls up in the cold plastic waiting room chair, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before allowing her head to drop, trying to block out the fluorescent lights and ongoing sounds of emergency room chaos and just focus on her breath.
She's not sure how much time passes or even whether she dozes off when she hears his frantic voice.
"Lucy? Lucy! Are you okay?"
She feels the warmth of his hands sliding up her arms and she wearily lifts her head. He's kneeling on the ground in front of her chair, eyes full of worry.
"Tim? What are you doing here?" she asks, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. It's the first time she's seen him on duty in uniform and it's a lot to take in — even a little intimidating.
His forehead is creased with concern. "Production called me; they said you were here because of something that happened at work?"
Lucy shakes her head, "I'm okay. I just —" she pauses and presses her eyes closed, all of the fear and panic she'd felt earlier rushing back without warning. Her voice is unsteady when she finally finishes, "I got stuck with a dirty hypodermic needle, and I don't know if… "
Tim sucks in a breath. "Okay. Did you bring the needle with you?"
Lucy nods.
"Okay. Good. That's good. How long have you been waiting? What time did this happen?"
She shrugs, biting her lip as she feels it begin to tremble under the weight of her exhaustion and the wave of unexpected relief she's feeling at having him here with her. "I don't know. It took me a while to get here, and I think I've been waiting for a few hours."
His eyes darken and Lucy can tell immediately that he's angry. "Tim, they've just been really busy with all of the accidents — "
He's already shaking his head and getting to his feet. He gives her arm a final, reassuring squeeze. "I'll be right back."
He storms over to the intake desk and Lucy's eyes widen as it becomes clear the nurse is getting a very intense earful. Tim gestures back in her direction and then says something else that results in the nurse jumping to his feet.
Tim makes his way back to her and extends his hand, "Come on, they've got a room for you."
Lucy stares up at him warily, "Tim, I don't want you using your badge to get special treatment for me."
Tim snorts, impatiently waving his hand to indicate for her to hurry up and take it. She slips her hand into his and is again overwhelmed with comfort when his fingers wrap securely around hers as she gets to her feet.
"I'm not using my badge to get special treatment for you; I'm using it to get special treatment for me."
Lucy looks at him questioningly as they follow the nurse down the corridor.
"It's against hospital protocol to allow an armed officer to sit with civilians. I simply informed them that I wouldn't be going anywhere until they got my wife set up in a room to see a doctor."
Lucy glances at him; it's the first time he's referred to her as his wife out loud. And it's very, very strange.
Tim stays with Lucy in the exam room through the blood draws and the doctor's explanation of the next steps, and she's grateful. He teases her about looking like a child that's fallen off her bike when the nurse returns to take care of her scraped knee. She rolls her eyes but is grateful for the distraction.
After the nurse leaves and they are alone again, Tim gazes down at Lucy, who is still seated on the exam table, eyes softening. "You okay?"
She blinks rapidly, unprepared for the emotion his concern evokes. "I'm scared," she finally admits. "While I was waiting, I read that HIV is three times more prevalent in the homeless community than it is in the general population. Hepatitis is five times more prevalent —"
He places his hand on her thigh and gently squeezes. "Lucy, falling down the WebMD rabbit hole isn't going to change your results. Neither is focusing on fear. Why don't we avoid hanging out in the worst-case scenario panic room until we have to?" he encourages.
She sniffles and nods, as she swipes at the tears that are threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. "I know. You're right. That's what Jackson said, too."
She takes a deep breath before hopping down from the table and then slips a finger underneath the too-tight sleeve of his uniform and tugs at the fabric over his bicep, desperate for a change of subject. "So this is what you look like in uniform running around LA, saving damsels in distress?"
He smirks, "Come on… don't tell me you're some kind of badge bunny."
Her mouth drops open and she shoves at him playfully, "Tim, that term is hugely offensive."
He grabs hold of her hands to stop her assault, an arm sliding around her waist to hold her in place… or maybe to pull her closer. She isn't entirely sure. Lucy's laughter fades as his eyes meet hers and then briefly bounce down to her lips, her breath catching in her throat as the tension between them becomes suddenly palpable.
Tim clears his throat and abruptly breaks their gaze, loosening his hold to allow a bit more space between them, but not letting go entirely.
"I — I should probably get back. We're spread pretty thin with the VP in town. But I can try and find someone to cover for me if —"
Lucy shakes her head, "Of course. No — you should go. Do your job. I'll be fine."
And something about the way he's looking at her makes her feel like she hasn't entirely convinced him.
"I promise," she reiterates. "Jackson said he'd come by after his shift anyway."
He nods, surprising her when he lifts his hand to cradle her cheek, eyes again looking directly into hers as he soothingly brushes his thumb over her skin. "It's gonna be okay, Lucy. Whatever the result. We'll figure it out."
And she is caught off guard by the size of the lump forming in her throat, surprised at how reassuring it is to hear those words from this man that she didn't even know two weeks ago and has half convinced herself she despises. But for as much as he has had his cold, dickish moments, his unyielding steadiness is exactly what she needs right now. She blinks back tears and just nods, not trusting herself to speak.
Tim leans in to press his lips to her forehead and, despite the fact that it's completely chaste, it's so unexpected, so tender, that it sends a rush of light airy tingles and electricity through Lucy's stomach.
She walks with him just out into the hallway, their fingers intertwined. She wipes at her eyes with her free hand and sucks in a breath as he turns to face her. "Thank you… for coming… and for what you said," she finally manages.
He nods, and then his lips curve into a teasing smile. "Are you going to punch me if I give you a hug?"
Her eyes narrow, "Are you going to give me a reason to punch you?"
Tim laughs as he wraps his arms around her, squeezing her tightly against his chest. And Lucy is again floored at how he's managed to anticipate just exactly what she needs. She closes her eyes, relaxing into his hold as she breathes him in, and they stand like that at the end of the hallway for probably far too long until Tim's radio crackles to life. They break apart; the interruption causing them to remember themselves and where they are.
Tim gives her arm a final squeeze before turning to leave. He stops midway down the hallway and calls back to her, "Lucy?"
"Yeah?"
"I want you to be the one that calls me… if you want to, I mean. I — uh — I want you to feel like you can."
Thankfully, Jackson shows up not too long after Tim leaves and is by her side when the doctor delivers her results.
"So, your initial test came back negative for any viral infections, like HIV or hepatitis. But your blood work indicated the presence of a staph infection."
Lucy nods. "What does that mean?"
"We need to get you started on intravenous antibiotics immediately. Some strains of staph are drug-resistant, so we'll monitor the wound for any abscesses or cellulitis. Okay?"
Jackson stays by her side for the first round of her treatment, but once he's yawned three times in a row, Lucy nudges him with her hand. "Why don't you get out of here? I know you've had a really long day. I'll be fine."
He shakes his head tiredly, "I'm not going to leave you here alone."
Lucy shakes her head, "I won't be; Tim just texted to say he's going to bring by dinner."
Jackson nods, a frown marring his handsome features as he gets to his feet.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing — I just — I'm glad he's coming; it's just hard to figure out, you know? Sometimes he seems like he really does care about you, but…" He reaches over to squeeze her hand, "Just be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt again."
And this time it's Lucy's lips that are curving downward as the truth of his words weighs heavily on her heart.
When Tim shows up a bit later with a veggie burger and fries from her favorite takeout place, her jaw drops open. "How did you know?"
Tim smiles as he settles into the chair next to her bed. "Just abused police resources to find Jackson's number so I could ask him what your favorite meal was."
Lucy stares at him with disbelief, "You didn't have to do that, Tim. That place is all the way across town; I would have been fine with anything."
He shrugs, "I figured after the day you had, you earned it. How many more rounds of antibiotics do you have to go?"
"Just one more, and then one more hour of monitoring after that, and then I can finally go home." She stifles a yawn with her hand. "You don't have to wait, though, Tim. I know you had a crazy day, too. I have my car."
Tim shakes his head, "You're clearly exhausted; I'll drive you home. I'll have a pair of rookies drop your car by the apartment in the morning."
Lucy arches an eyebrow, "Did I tell you about the piece I'm working on right now? It's an investigation into the misuse of city resources."
Tim groans, "Early morning grunt work is character-building, Lucy." But then he just sighs, "Fine. I'll bring you back here to get your car tomorrow."
She laughs as Tim grumbles something about her being a "Pollyanna on his shoulder for the next 6 and a half weeks."
They dig into their food and watch a few episodes of House Hunters International at Lucy's request. Well, Tim watches while Lucy alternates between dozing off and asking confused questions when she wakes and they are in an entirely different country.
Lucy's eyes pop open just as Tim is settling a blanket over her. She sits up, eyes darting around as she tries to place her surroundings. "Tim?"
He takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to her and twists to face her. "Hey. We're back at the apartment. You fell asleep in the truck, so I brought you in," he says softly. As if it was the most obvious choice in the world.
"You could've woken me." For some reason, the statement sounds almost accusatory.
She is completely drained, and the day is catching up to her all at once. And she just doesn't have it in her to try and figure out what this man is playing at. She stares at him distrustfully. "What are you doing, Tim? Why are you being so nice? Why are you taking care of me?"
Tim tries teasing gently, "What? You're the only one allowed to be nice? The only one allowed to take care of anyone?"
And suddenly she is so angry at him. This man who had shown up for her and has been nothing but kind and caring to her all day. Because this is the same man who ripped her heart out of her chest without a second of hesitation and she just — she can't. Because the way he's been with her today — even more so than the man she'd had fun with and slept with in Mexico — this is a man she can absolutely see herself falling in love with. And she can't — won't go there again.
The words are out of her mouth before she even realizes she is saying them, her hurt and frustration and confusion getting the best of her. "I wish I had never met you."
Tim's face falls for a fraction of a second, but he is quick to put his mask back in place. He just looks at her for a moment and then swallows before nodding and getting to his feet, "I wish you had never met me, too, Lucy."
He gets up and leaves the room without another word.
