Part Nine: Friends, Family, and Feelings, Oh My!

Their guests are due to arrive for the unofficial housewarming around 6:30. Tim has just finished laying out the spread for their company when Lucy emerges from her room.

His gaze trails from her bare feet up along her shapely legs and then further up still. He swallows. This might be his new favorite outfit1 on her. She's topped a pair of cut-off denim shorts with a loose-fitting off-the-shoulder sweater that looks as comfortable as it does sexy. Her natural waves tumble over her shoulders, and he feels an urge to sweep her hair back off of her exposed shoulder — to let his fingers linger there instead… and then maybe his mouth. A knowing smile is just barely curving her lips — their glossy pink sheen the most obvious indication of her barely-there make-up.

He loves that she's chosen an outfit that is as relaxed and welcoming and appealing as her smile for tonight.

"You look amazing," he says as she crosses the room, though he's not entirely sure the words are necessary given the self-satisfied sparkle in her eyes. But the pleased expression that lights up her face in response to the compliment makes it more than worth it.

She smiles and gestures across the island, "This looks amazing. Thank you for taking care of all of this, Tim."

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she takes in the spread before adding, "Oh, and so do you," as an apparent afterthought.

He snorts with laughter at the unconvincing addition. She pads around the island until she's in front of him and hooks her pointer finger under the hem of his maroon Henley. She gives it a playful tug.

"Seriously," her voice takes on just a tinge of a whine as she tilts her head back to look at him. "I love this color on you," she defends.

"Uh huh," he says.

Her lips form a pout, clearly annoyed that he's dismissed her compliment as inauthentic. And god she is sexy when she's like this.

He takes a step closer, unintentionally backing her into the counter, and she laughs with surprise even as she allows her hand to travel up his abdomen and fist into a more solid hold on the front of his shirt. He rests his hand on the counter so that his arm is flush against her side. She glances coyly up at him through her lashes, and he could swear there's a hint of challenge underneath the flirtation. Does she actually want him to kiss her? It sure as hell feels like it.


The buzzer goes off and they break apart from each other, neither making eye contact as they both simultaneously begin to move toward the intercom. Lucy stops short and does an awkward little whirl as she turns back toward the kitchen, "I — erm — I'll just… be over here." She points awkwardly as her cheeks flush and, lord, why does she have to be such a weirdo sometimes? What was she even doing blatantly coming on to him like that?

But even as she's questioning herself, she can see Tim's hungry, appreciative gaze in her mind's eye. The way he looks at her — it does things to her. Short circuits her brain and makes her forget that she doesn't want to flirt with him. Does she?

Their guests straggle in over the next half hour. Tamara shows up first, and Lucy can barely contain her excitement as she envelopes the young girl in a huge hug, demanding details about her classes and her roommates and who she's dating and literally anything else that's happened in her life since she last saw her at the wedding.

Tim watches them curiously for a moment, seemingly trying to puzzle out their connection. But then the buzzer goes off again. Jackson and Angela come through the door talking and laughing like old friends.

Tim and Lucy look back and forth between them in confusion as Tim takes the bottle of wine Angela is extending to him. Jackson hands Lucy a gorgeous bouquet.

"Do you two know each other?" Tim asks.

"We met at the wedding and chatted a bit about work. I mentioned that serial burglary case I was working — the one with the crew of zombie ninjas. Well, can you believe the next week I got a call from Jackson saying he'd picked up a heavily intoxicated zombie ninja after he got reported for a dine and dash? I'd been working that case for months without a lead, and this guy managed to crack it right open for me."

Jackson shrugs but looks pretty pleased with the acknowledgment. "It was just good timing."

Angela claps Jackson heartily on the shoulder, "And humble, to boot! Anyway — he's great. Really good people, Lucy. A little weird about tasting the best crème brûlée in town, but other than that, I'm a big fan."

Jackson grins and elbows Angela, "That crème brûlée was evidence, okay. Look, I just like to follow the rules."

Lucy cracks up, "Now that's an understatement if I've ever heard one. This guy ended up getting an extra bag of chips from the hospital vending machine last week and spent 45 minutes trying to track someone down that could absolve him of his guilt."

Jackson groans, but his grumbling is interrupted by Wes' arrival. Angela's husband looks harried as he fixes her with a glare. "You couldn't have warned me the tank was on empty?" he accuses.

Angela grimaces, "Did I not mention that? I'm pretty sure I did. Oh yes, I remember now, it was during that one conversation. Remember? When you didn't give me the list of food allergies in Jack's class and I showed up with twenty-four anaphylaxis-inducing cupcakes?"

Angela and Wes continue to argue as they make their way further into the apartment. Jackson throws an arm around Tamara in greeting, and they fill their plates with snacks before settling in across the dueling duo. They swivel their heads like they're watching a tennis match as they gleefully observe their animated bickering, which has progressed into something about the locations of Jack's school, their respective jobs, and the dry cleaners.

The rest of their guests arrive in a steady stream — Lucy's Aunt Amy, Tim's friend Emmett, and Jackson's boyfriend Sterling. Genny is the last to arrive, apologizing profusely and sharing a graphic story about projectile vomit to explain why, sadly, her husband Mark wouldn't be in attendance tonight.

Between the party attendees and the film crew, their apartment is packed to the brim. They open up the balcony to circulate the air and extend the space.

To Lucy's surprise, Tim proves to be a pretty awesome bartender and mixologist, banging out a steady flow of frozen margaritas and cocktails for their guests. She had just planned to crack open a few bottles of wine, but Tim had brought back more than just some vegetarian snack options from the store, which turned out to be exponentially better. After everyone's had a chance to mingle and munch on some appetizers, the group settles down with drinks in hand for some friendly competition.

And thus begins a head-to-head partner's Pictionary tournament for the ages. Like Tim and Lucy, their friends and family don't lack in competitive spirit. Only Tamara seems a little unsure about the seriousness with which all of these grown-ass adults are taking the game, but once another round of margarita refills spawn some uninhibited shit-talking, she ends up as invested as the rest of the party.

"Are you kidding me? My pre-schooler could draw a better horse than that blindfolded in his sleep hanging upside down," Angela heckles.

"Good try, Tim," Genny mocks as he walks away from his lopsided blob of a drawing, "I can totally see how that was a dragon and not a very angry, very pregnant chipmunk."

"Shake it off," Lucy orders with a firm clap on the back. "We're still in this."

Angela throws her hands up in dismay when their time runs out, "What is wrong with you, Wes? It's obviously a chair. And the arrow is pointing to the edge of the seat. You're hopeless."

"What?! How is it that a chair? It looks like a graph. The arrow is clearly pointing to an upward trend."

"This isn't Wall Street, Wes. It's Pictionary!"

Wes shrugs, "Then why did you draw a graph?"

After a few false starts, Tim and Lucy find their groove.

Tim draws a simple turtle on the page.

"Turtle! Tortoise! Ugh never mind - it's a phrase. The Tortoise and the Hare? Slow and Steady Wins the Race?"

Tim gestures for her to continue, quickly adding a stick figure with crazy spirals coming off its head and a gigantic smile that is clearly intended to be Lucy. He adds a heart to the canvas.

Lucy leaps to her feet screaming, "Once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"YES!" Tim yells back.

They exchange an overenthusiastic high-five to celebrate their victory.

"Little intense for Pictionary, don't you think?" Angela glowers with an eye roll.

Tim scoffs, "Didn't you just threaten to divorce your husband over that chart or whatever it was?"

"It. Was. A. Chair." Angela seethes.

"How on earth…?" Sterling ventures, shaking his head as he stares at Tim's drawing in dismay.

Lucy picks a challenge card on her next turn, and frowns for a moment, seemingly stumped. She glances toward Tim and then draws a single star on the page, waiting uncertainly for him to guess.

"Star? Sky? Space? Wish? Shooting star?" Lucy's hopeful expression fades and she turns back to the board to try something else.

"Hope?" Tim finally offers.

Lucy claps her hands together joyfully. "Yes!"

She beams at him, and instead of giving him the high five he is waiting for, snakes her arms around his waist for an impromptu hug.

"You remembered," she says, gazing up at him with a soft smile as she pulls back.

He returns the smile, with a gentle squeeze around her waist, "Of course I did."

But it's not all sunshine and rainbows, as Tim would say.

"Activity," Tim explains before turning to the board and leisurely drawing out his Lucy stick figure with the crazy hair and giant smile.

"Me! Lucy… wife… spouse… roommate…?" she throws out, surprised by the fact that she's getting used to those labels in reference to herself, strange as they may be.

He draws the stick figure again, but this time, instead of being upright, it's at a forty-five-degree angle. Lucy frowns, "Falling?"

The third iteration of the figure is horizontal.

"Falling down? Dying? Dead? Faceplant? Losing balance? Uncoordinated? Being a klutz? "

Tim cracks up.

She's starting to get a little offended by the graceless depiction of herself on the board.

They are just about out of time when Tim finally turns his focus to drawing two lines connected by a grid that Lucy assumes is supposed to be a net before adding a circle floating above it.

"Oh my god. You are such an idiot, Tim. Volleyball," she grits out through her clenched teeth, glaring as his smug ass makes his way back to his seat.

And that, of course, leads to the whole room getting a play-by-play of how Tim discovered Lucy's hidden talent, or lack thereof.

"You're not mad, are you?" He asks innocently, grinning over at her as she sulks with irritation. He reaches over to squeeze and tickle her side until she is smiling and laughing again as she squirms and pushes him away.

But it doesn't take long for her to get an opportunity for payback. "Category is people," Lucy tells Tim on her final time up at the board.

She draws Tim's crude stick picture depiction of herself and then creates a stick figure of him on the other side of the page with a giant frown. She draws two tall skinny rectangles on either edge of the page, intending them to be the doors to their rooms.

She then sets to work drawing an admittedly crappy version of a dog with an oval for its body, 4 small circles for its feet, a squiggle for its tail, and a bigger circle with two triangles attached for its head.

"Cat!" Tim guesses.

Lucy rolls her eyes. Since when do they have a cat?

"Dog!" he corrects quickly.

She motions for him to keep going.

"Kojo?" he asks, brow crinkling in confusion.

She nods and holds up a hand to indicate he should wait, before turning to add a pair of hearts for eyes to herself and Kojo. She draws an arrow from the dog to her stick figure. She moves back to the Tim figure and runs the marker back over his frown before adding eyes and an oversized teardrop to his face. She finally circles her depiction of Kojo.

Tim does not look amused when he finally guesses unenthusiastically, "Traitor."

"Could've been jealousy," Lucy snarks as she caps the marker. She returns to her spot on the couch next to a deeply frowning Tim (life imitating art and all that), a few too many margaritas deep to recognize how they've shifted closer to each other after every turn. Her side presses into his as he grumbles something about "a complete and total lack of loyalty."

She calls Kojo over and leans down to lavish him with all of the pets. "Aw, that's okay, Kojo. We know you still love, Tim. You just love me more. Isn't that right? Who's a good boy?"

Angela guffaws with laughter. "Are you telling me that damn dog that you spoil the absolute shit out of likes Lucy more than you? That is fantastic. You can't make this stuff up."

She turns to Genny, Jackson, and Emmett to fill them in on all of the absurd requests he'd had while the Lopez-Evers clan was pet-sitting for Kojo. "... a salmon omelet. And I'm not talking about the canned stuff, I'm talking about wild-caught…"

Tim rolls his eyes, unable to resist reaching over to give his beloved dog some love, before settling back against the couch and sliding an arm around Lucy.

"You're not mad, are you?" she teases sweetly.

He chuckles and shakes his head, squeezing her more tightly into his side.

She leans into him, folding her legs up onto the couch next to her and thinking just how damn comfortable she is by his side. He's settled his hand onto her hip, and a shiver courses through her when his fingers navigate between the hem-line of her sweater and the waistband of her shorts to find bare skin, brushing back and forth in a way that has her automatically clenching her thighs closer together.

"Action," Tim says as he reviews his final prompt; he rolls his shoulders back as if he's preparing for some kind of physical final showdown. His lips twitch as he looks up at his partner. "Now remember, this is it, Lucy. We win or we die."

She nods her agreement, setting aside her margarita. She braces her hands on her knees and leans forward to convey her seriousness.

He draws something that looks like a house with a handle and then draws a big smile across the front of the house.

Lucy's brow crinkles. He wouldn't, would he?

She sighs. "Happy Meal?"

Tim grins from ear to ear, nodding and gesturing for her to continue guessing.

"McDonald's? Burger? Ronald McDonald?" she tries.

"Activity," Tim reminds.

"Hey — don't cheat! No reminders." Jackson interjects. "And stop it with all that gesturing and smiling." His eyes narrow as he splits two fingers to point at Tim and Lucy, "I'm watching you two."

He did. Lucy exhales a breath; cheeks flushing crimson. "Eating out?" she grits out through a forced smile.

"That's my girl!" Tim cheers, running his tongue quickly over his lips as their eyes meet.

"I am going to murder you in your sleep," she hisses when he returns to his spot next to her, foregoing the celebratory high five.

"Worth it," he laughs, giving her thigh a playful squeeze as she seethes. "Besides, did we win or did we win?"


When the game breaks up, people spread out across the living room, kitchen, and balcony catching up over a fresh round of drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Lucy gasps when she spots the beautiful bouquet Jackson had brought her still lying on the island; she'd completely forgotten to put the flowers into water.

She quickly opens each kitchen cabinet until she spots a vase. On the very top shelf, of course.

She disappears around the corner to retrieve the step ladder from the hall closet.

She jumps when Tim comes up behind her, so close she can feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" he asks, voice low.

And god, why is her heart beating so quickly? His hand grips her hip as he reaches around her to slide the ladder back into the closet, and Lucy finds herself automatically arching back against him in a way that makes absolutely no sense as a response to a man that is supposed to be nothing more than a roommate.

He pauses in reaction to her movement, before allowing his hand to slide around to her stomach, pulling her back even more tightly against his chest. His lips brush her ear as he leans down to continue, "Don't you think we've had more than enough step ladder excitement for one day? Besides, I'm pretty sure you're over the legal limit on margaritas for operating machinery."

She laughs, but it comes out a little squeakier than she intends. Her cheeks are burning. She lets out a shaky breath before finally responding, "Is that so?"

She inhales sharply as Tim dips his head further, the scratch of his stubble against her skin driving her absolutely wild.

"I was just going to get a vase down —"

He nuzzles his face into the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder. She reaches up behind her, scraping her nails over the peach fuzz on the back of his neck as she tugs him even closer. Something between a cross between a sigh and a moan escapes her, "Mmm… for the flowers…"

And good lord they must be losing their minds, because they are standing in a hallway just barely out of sight of their family and friends and, oh yeah, a camera crew, and all she can think about is the tension building between her legs.

She has never in her life felt this level of sexual tension with someone. Felt so drawn to someone that she is actively trying to distance herself from. She is this close to yanking him into the microscopic closet and begging him to have his way with her when they hear Genny call from the kitchen, "Tim? We need a vase for these beautiful flowers. Where'd you go?"

He chuckles softly. "All right, all right. You women and your vases. Why don't you let me take care of that for you?" he offers.

Lucy nods her agreement, swallowing before attempting to speak, "That was a little sexist, but yes. That would be great."

He chuckles and presses a soft kiss against her temple before releasing her and taking a step back. And it's only then that Lucy allows herself to exhale the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding into a gigantic sigh of relief.

This entire situation is utterly insane — it's not like Lucy doesn't know that she's playing with fire. In the real world, she would have written Tim off as a regrettable decision and moved on. She's never been a "but maybe he'll change" believer, and, even if she was, it wouldn't matter.

The physical attraction between them has been a constant — the one thing that has been completely consistent from the start. The fact that it's only continuing to intensify? That doesn't mean anything else has shifted.

But knowing that she should steer clear is apparently not always enough to overcome the magnetic pull that forced proximity and intimacy is continuing to foster between her and Tim.


Tim glances across the island to where Tamara is seated on a bar stool as he finishes another batch of margaritas. She's engrossed in something on the screen of her phone as she bites into a ranch-covered carrot stick with an audible crunch.

"So — erm, how do you know Lucy?" he tries.

She doesn't respond, and Tim feels suddenly awkward. He isn't entirely sure how to speak teenage girl.

She glances up and seems to gather from the puzzled expression on Tim's face that he had asked her a question. She removes a wireless ear pod from one ear.

"Sorry — did you say something?"

"Uh, yeah. I was just wondering how you knew Lucy."

A smile spreads over the girl's features and it's immediately evident how fond of Lucy she is. "I stole her car."

Tim narrows his eyes, "You do know I'm a cop, right?"

"I borrowed her car," Tamara revises.

Tim chuckles.

"In my defense, it wasn't even locked. I — uh, I just needed a place to crash for a bit. But just my luck, the car belonged to an ace reporter with better investigative skills than the LAPD and connections all over the city. It didn't take her long to track me down."

Tim decides to let the little dig at the LAPD slide; mostly because she's probably right about Lucy's skill. His brow crinkles; this girl can't be more than eighteen or nineteen. "How long ago was this?"

Tamara shrugs, "Maybe two and a half… three years ago. I didn't know it at the time, but I guess it was right after — well, you know."

He doesn't know, but Tamara has moved on. "I kept getting my laptop stolen at the shelter, and I needed it for school."

"You were still in school?"

Tamara frowns. "Why does everyone always ask that? Is it that unbelievable? Yes, and I was trying really hard to get good grades so I could get a scholarship and maybe go to college. Or at least get a decent job that paid enough to put a roof over my head."

Tim just nods, intrigued by the young woman's story.

"Anyway, one day, I happened by a beat-up orange car — honestly I thought it had been abandoned. It wasn't in great shape, and it was unlocked so…"

"I'm still surprised you got that hunk of junk to start," Jackson says as he joins them, reaching across Tamara for a bite-sized pie.

Tamara laughs, "Right? It was a bit of a challenge but once I realized it was just a grimy solenoid—"

"Hey!" Lucy protests as she inserts herself into the conversation, "Don't you dare speak ill of my baby. That car was my one constant for over a decade, which is more than I can say for most of the people in my life during that time. I'm still a little salty you conned me into signing over the title after I gave it to you to live in and then you sold it."

She does, in fact, look a little salty.

Tim stares at Tamara, "Wait — she just gave you her car, and then you sold it?" He starts to laugh.

Lucy frowns at him, while Tamara's expression turns sheepish. "I needed the money," she explains with a helpless shrug.

Lucy sighs and shakes her head, "Anyway, doesn't matter. Outcome was that it brought one of my favorite people into my life, and I wouldn't have it any other way." She wraps an arm around Tamara and gives her an affectionate squeeze before she and Jackson move to return to their conversation with Amy, Sterling, and Wes.

Tamara turns back to Tim and there's something a little harder in her gaze. "I don't know where I would be if Lucy hadn't — a few months after she and Jackson let me move in with them, one of my best friends from when I was living on the street was murdered."

Tim frowns, "I'm sorry."

She simply nods. "Anyway, the point is that I was lucky to have her looking out for me. And anyone would be lucky to have Lucy in their life."

Her eyes stay locked on his and Tim has to give her credit — she is one tough kid. He nods his understanding. "I couldn't agree more."


The rest of the night is mostly drinks, snacks, music, and good conversation. The film crew sticks around for long enough to catch a few key conversations between Tim, Lucy, and their guests. But it's after they finally pack up and leave that the real conversations begin to happen.

Jackson settles onto Lucy's bed next to her.

"I miss this so much," Lucy sighs as they both collapse back and stare up at the ceiling.

"Right? I mean, spending more time with Sterling has been great, but he doesn't have anywhere near the stamina for trash TV that we do. Can you believe he has a no bingeing rule? He won't watch more than one episode without taking a break to work out or do something active and productive around the house."

Lucy turns onto her side to face him, allowing her jaw to drop open. "That's insane. No human being can watch just one episode of Is It Cake. You know how much I adore Sterling, Jackson, but he may not be the right guy for you."

Jackson snickers as he also turns to face his former roommate, propping himself up on one elbow.

"All right. Enough small talk — tell me how you're really feeling about all of this."

Lucy sighs, "I don't know, really. Fine, I guess. I mean — there's not much to tell. At this point, I'm just trying to get through the rest of the eight weeks and get back to my real life, you know? Two down… six to go. Not that it's excruciating or anything — the filming is annoying, but we still get to do fun things and have good conversations. And Tim has actually been really wonderful since we've been back from Mexico. So it could be worse, you know?"

Jackson studies her carefully. "It seems like you two have gotten pretty close," he observes.

Lucy frowns, suddenly feeling a bit defensive, "I mean — it's kind of hard not to in this situation. We're spending so much time together and doing all these activities and exercises that just — that reminds me! Did I tell you about the wine and cheese pairing class we did the other night? It was amazing. There was this Manchego-tempranillo combo that was just—"

Jackson arches an eyebrow at the attempted diversion. "Lucy."

She flops onto her back and covers her face with her hands. She groans with frustration. "I don't know. Okay? It's really confusing. But nothing has changed. He was clear that he doesn't see a future with me. And even if, in some miraculous turn of events, he decided he could, I don't know that it would even matter. How could I be with someone who treated me like that? So what's the point of even talking about this?"

He doesn't push any further, and Lucy is grateful.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, "I didn't mean to get so upset. This is just — it's really hard. And I don't want to get hurt again."

Jackson nods, reaching over to give her hand a comforting squeeze. "I don't want that either, Lucy."

They sit quietly like that for a few moments, before Lucy returns to her side. "Enough about me. What else is going on with you? We haven't had a proper catch-up in forever. How are things with your new partner?"

Jackson looks momentarily troubled.

"What is it?" Lucy asks with concern.

He swallows, "I'm not positive, but… there have been a few incidents — profiling and questionable stops. I think he might be a racist."

Lucy jolts upright. "What?! Jackson. You have to report him."

Jackson sighs, shaking his head. "I told you. I'm not sure yet. And even if I was, it's not that simple. I'm not a Rookie anymore, but he's still far more senior than I am in the department. Accusations like this — they never end well, especially for accusers in my position."

Lucy shakes her head vigorously, the distress evident in her voice, "In your position? You mean black?"

"That, and the fact that I have significantly less time on the force."

"I don't like this, Jackson. He's your partner. You have to be able to trust him or —" She swallows, unable to finish the thought. "This could be really dangerous for you if you don't say something."

"It could be really dangerous for me if I do," he counters.

She sighs, "What can I do to help? I could work on an investigation — find another source. You wouldn't even have to be involved." Her mind is already lining up possibilities and next steps.

"No," Jackson says firmly.

Her face falls.

"Lucy, I know you're only trying to help, but a reporter getting involved in this would make things a million times worse. The LAPD is notorious for handling its dirty laundry in-house."

"Maybe that's part of the problem," she argues.

Jackson nods, "Look, let me think about it, okay? But for now, I need you to promise you'll stay out of it, okay?"

"Okay. For now. But Jackson, please be careful. And I know how you feel about running to your dad for help at work, but this is serious. Please at least think about it."


"I really like her," Genny says before they've even settled into their chairs on the balcony.

Tim nods. "I do, too," he says simply.

Genny smiles and shakes her head, "I can't believe this actually worked. Who knew the secret to getting you to stop brooding was forcing you onto a reality TV show?"

Tim rolls his eyes, but chuckles. His smile fades as he meets Genny's eyes. "I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself. She's amazing. But you know what happened in Mexico. I think it's pretty obvious that ship has sailed."

Genny's brow crinkles and she leans forward in her chair toward Tim, "It doesn't seem obvious to me."

He looks at her questioningly.

"The way you guys are together — it's… well let's just say that didn't look like a girl who wants to punch you in the face to me. Well, I mean, there were a few times she looked like she wanted to punch you in the face, but it's you, so that's to be expected."

Tim can't help but laugh. "Not wanting to punch me in the face and wanting to be my wife are two very different things, Genny." Her eyebrows lift in surprise, and Tim hurries to clarify. "Not that I'm saying I want her to be my wife; I'm just making a point."

Genny's eyes narrow. "So then you don't want her to be your wife?"

Tim doesn't respond, and Genny smiles. "That's not a no."

He groans, "Genny, I've known this girl for two weeks."

"Exactly, you've only known this girl for two weeks and you are like a completely different person, Tim. I haven't seen you like this with anyone in a really long time. You seem happy. Imagine what the two of you could be at the end of this if you'd just stop assuming you know how it's going to turn out and give it a real chance. Do you really want me to say, 'I told you so?' You were wrong when you assumed there's no way this could work for you, and you're wrong now for assuming there's no way the two of you can get past what happened in Mexico."

Tim simply nods. She's right, and he knows it. He had been an idiot to write Lucy off without getting to know her. She's surprised him at every turn in the best possible ways.

And though he's hardly ready to declare his undying love, the idea of being open enough to see where things could go no longer seems so overwhelming. It seems enticing.

"I'm not saying it's not going to be hard, Tim. It is. You are really going to have to fight if this is something you want. You know as well as anyone how hard it is to trust and open up after you've been hurt by someone. But from everything I saw tonight, it seems far from impossible."

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyes are sad when he looks back at Genny. "I don't know why I pushed her away so hard."

Genny's eyes filled with tears. "Because you have been really, really hurt, Tim. In far too many ways. By people who were supposed to take care of your heart. And this — what you're doing — being open to love — it's really freaking hard. Maybe the hardest thing. Even for the people that are carrying far less than you are."

She pauses, "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I pushed you and didn't give you the time you needed to heal."

Tim shakes his head. "You know how much I hate all this shit? The filming and the drama and the reality TV nonsense?"

Genny nods apologetically.

"Well, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'd do it all again if I had the chance. Hell, I wish I could go back and fix this, but…"

Genny closes her hand over his, "You don't have a time machine, Tim, but that doesn't mean you can't still fix it."


"It's obvious how much he cares about you."

It's quite the statement to open with. Lucy stares at Angela with her mouth partially agape, before her brain finally catches up and words start coming out. "Oh, I'm not — I mean — we're not —"

Angela laughs and holds up her hand, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so direct, but well — that's me. Look — I know he fucked up in Mexico. Like really fucked up," she hurries to clarify when Lucy begins to protest.

"And if I were you, I can honestly say there wouldn't be any coming back from that," she continues. "But I'm not you. And I for sure wouldn't last half a second in a relationship with Tim without becoming the prime suspect in a homicide. But what I'm saying is… you're different, Lucy. You're good for him, even if he's too stupid to fully recognize that just yet."

Lucy shakes her head, "Angela, I appreciate what you're trying to do but —"

"He's worth it, Lucy."

Lucy stops, surprised enough by her words to keep listening.

Angela takes a deep breath, staring out at the view.

"The way Tim loves — it's hard to describe, but it's like he loves with his entire being. It's one of the reasons he's so prickly about letting people get close to him — as soon as he starts to care, Lucy, he can't turn it off. He may as well be handing you his heart on a platter while praying that, this time, you're someone who cares enough to protect it.

"I don't want to share too much, because it's Tim's story to tell, but I also know what a gigantic idiot he can be when his guard is still up, so I feel like it's only fair that you understand what you're up against.

"Especially since — well, we, Genny and I, pushed him pretty hard to do this, and I'm realizing now that pushing him before he'd really worked through everything that happened with Isabel — no matter how long it's been — probably wasn't the right call, and I think it's created a lot of hurt and pain for you both, and I'm truly sorry for that."

"How long has it been?" Lucy asks.

Angela sighs. "That's honestly kind of difficult to answer. Did Tim tell you what kind of cop Isabel was?"

Lucy shakes her head.

"She was UC — undercover — in narcotics. And honestly, it wasn't like this one big thing happened. She was under for a long time, and that work — it can change you. And she and Tim were both under a lot of stress because of it. So I think things were slowly unraveling for a long time, but… I guess it really started to crumble around the time of that drug war here in LA a few years ago. Believe it or not — I actually wasn't around to see what happened between Tim and Isabel firsthand because I got kidnapped by a drug queenpin that wanted to steal my unborn child." Angela waves a hand, "But that's a story for another day."

"La Fiera?" Lucy asks, a heavy feeling forming in her stomach as she remembers Tim's words from their wedding night. That article had some pretty serious repercussions for people that I care about.

Angela smacks her forehead with her palm. "Oh my god — I'm such an idiot. Of course. You already know what I'm talking about. Tim told me you were the reporter that broke that story. I don't know what I was thinking. That was some truly badass, amazing work that you did."

The article and the investigation that led to it was and still is one of Lucy's proudest accomplishments. But she's not naive enough to be unaware that it came with a major cost.

She had still been relatively early in her career, and it had been one of the very first times she'd struggled with the ethics of her profession and what it really meant to act in service of the public and prioritize the greater good. She and her editor had agonized over the right way to make use of her intel and also minimize fallout. It was an almost impossible balance when she had gathered intelligence that could be used to take down major players across multiple cartels, but also had an extremely limited shelf life.

A drug war was coming either way; she knew that from all the unrest and infighting she had witnessed on the inside. Solanga was planning a move against La Fiera long before she'd hit publish on her article. She had a choice: she could let it happen on its own at what would undoubtedly be a significant cost to their community and without any progressive outcomes or justice. Or she could use her investigation as the catalyst by turning her intel over to the DA. She chose the latter — she broke the story as the busts were made and the cartels unraveled. Numerous high-profile criminals were brought to justice, crippling the distribution of drugs across the city.

She had painstakingly, almost obsessively, followed every bit of the aftermath of such a rapid and unexpected takedown — every person harmed, every life lost as collateral damage. And she could not have been more sorry for anyone who had been hurt in the crossfire. But, at the same time, she has never been sorry for doing her job and doing it well. She knows without a doubt that the greater good was ultimately served.

In fact, the resulting chaos had been direct evidence of the incompetence, ineffectiveness, and unpreparedness of the almost comically overfunded and resourced joint LAPD-DEA task force. It could not have been more clear that they had been woefully unprepared to actually have to do their jobs, and that is ultimately what was responsible for much of the fallout, especially the impact to those that were out there fighting a good fight within their own ranks. UCs like Isabel, she now knows.

Angela continues, "Anyway, it was around then — maybe two years ago — that things really begin to fall apart for them. It was pretty brutal — long and drug out and Tim held on to the bitter end, even when it was obvious there was nothing to salvage because he just couldn't let go. The divorce wasn't actually finalized until maybe seven months ago… so you can imagine what that period of time was like for him — it's not something I would wish on my worst enemy. "

Lucy can feel her eyes filling as she nods, thinking back on all the pain she'd seen on Tim's face the day he'd saved her life in the underground river.

"Look, Lucy — I'm sure you're more than ready to wash your hands of all of this. You've been through more than enough and no one would blame you for that, myself included. But — and maybe I'm wrong — it seems like you genuinely care for him, so I just feel like you should know — the way he talks about you, the way he is around you… I mean, I was with him when production called and told him you'd been hurt and were at the hospital last week. We were assigned to an extremely high-priority detail for the Vice President and he caught a lot of heat for it, but he dropped everything because he wanted to make sure you were okay.

"And I hope you know that I'm not trying to convince you or make excuses for him; it's on him to make things right with you after what he did. I just know how close to the vest he plays things and how hard he can be to read, so if it were me… I feel like I'd want to know? I hope I didn't overstep."

Lucy frowns as Angela's words tug at the tiny bit of hope she has desperately been trying to lock away into some dark corner. She shakes her head, "No. It's fine. It helps to — I don't know. Understand more about where he's coming from? And he's lucky to have a friend that cares about him as much as you obviously do. But… I just … I really don't know what to do with any of it until I hear it from him, you know?"

Angela nods, looking a little sad, "I know."

Her expression brightens, "Oh! I meant to tell you — you and Jackson should join us for our next dinner. I'm planning to host at our place. We all get together regularly — Genny and her family, Wes and Jack and Tim — usually bi-weekly, but we're trying to sort the next one around your filming schedule. We'd love to have you both."


Tim asks Jackson to join him at the bar while Lucy is talking with Angela out on the balcony. Jackson is understandably less than thrilled about the prospect of a one-on-one conversation, but he's cordial at the very least.

"It's great that you were able to help Angela with her case. I know she had been getting pretty desperate for a lead on that one," he tries.

Jackson nods and smiles, "She was really great — went out of her way to put in a good word for me with my Watch Commander after."

They stare at each other uncomfortably after their forced smiles fade. Under any other circumstance, Lucy having a best friend that's also a cop would have made it infinitely easier for Tim to connect with Jackson. But their shared occupation is clearly not enough to dig Tim out of the hole he's made for himself.

He sighs, deciding he might as well just get to the point. Jackson obviously wants this conversation to be over as much as he does.

Tim sucks in a breath. Damn. This is hard. He's not used to showing his cards in this way to very many people.

"Do you think she could ever get past what happened?" he finally manages via maybe one of the most earnest sentences he's ever uttered.

Jackson's eyes widen in surprise for a moment at the directness of his question, but just as quickly he is evaluating Tim with a shrewd, distrustful gaze. "Why are you asking?"

God. He is not going to make this easy on him.

He swallows back his discomfort. "I know I really hurt her. But I think — I think that maybe I was wrong about not being open and giving this thing a real shot. And I think I'd like to see where it could go, if Lucy would be open to it. But, if there's no way back, I don't want to make this process any more uncomfortable for her than it already is."

"Maybe wrong? You think you'd like to see where it could go?" Jackson asks, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"I was wrong," Tim admits.

Jackson sighs, "Look — this is between you and Lucy. But here's what I will say. She has a gigantic heart. She sees the best in people even when she shouldn't — even when they've wronged or hurt her."

His eyes meet Tim's and he doesn't have to fill in the blanks — if anyone was capable of forgiving and moving past what he'd done… it's Lucy.

Tim nods, thinking back on his earlier conversation with Tamara and how drastically their relationship had changed despite how they had met.

Jackson shifts uncomfortably, and Tim can see he's conflicted. Can see how protective he is of his best friend.

He stares at Tim warily. "Please don't take advantage of that. Lucy is — she doesn't need me out here saying any of this to you. She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But if you're not sure about what you want or how you feel, then… Look, I'm just going to leave it at this — she deserves far better than what you've given her and she certainly doesn't deserve to be jerked around anymore."

Tim nods his understanding. "I know I haven't given you much reason to believe this, but I do care about her, Jackson. And I really don't want to hurt her again."

Jackson stares at him for a few more moments, as if trying to determine if he's being truthful. He finally just says, "Okay," before turning to rejoin Sterling on the couch.

They aren't going to grab beers together after shift anytime soon, but Tim appreciates Jackson's candor and he's honestly glad that Lucy has someone like that in her corner. Someone who sees and values how amazing she is, but also recognizes the cruel world they live in for what it is, and what a dangerous combination those two things could end up being for her. It's impossible to do the job they do and not have that perspective.


"So how do you know Tim?" Lucy asks Emmett as she turns to face him on the couch.

Emmett gives her a warm smile revealing a mouth full of sparkling white teeth, and god, this guy is so hot she's almost afraid to make direct eye contact. She'd venture a guess that even his abs have abs. But his presence is also incredibly warm and welcoming — the complete opposite of how Tim's had been when they first met.

"Well, I work for the fire department, so we met through work. Eventually started to play a few pick-up games together."

"You're a firefighter?" Lucy asks, eyes lighting up with interest. Oh good lord, is it possible she's a fire bunny? Or is it just imagining this particular man saving kittens from trees that's doing it for her?

He smiles back, laughter twinkling in his eyes.

Lucy thinks about how much she had hoped to see eyes like his waiting for her at the end of the aisle — warm, kind, and full of good humor. How devastated she had been when the gaze that had been waiting for her was instead cold, critical, and unfeeling.

"I am. Tim said you're a reporter?"

"Journalist," Lucy corrects, feeling a mild urge to swap out her husband's toothpaste with shaving cream.

"That's really cool," Emmett nods enthusiastically. "But yeah, we didn't get close until he started dating my girlfriend's best friend. Made for some fun double-dates and game nights — that kind of thing."

Lucy is surprised at how much the sentence deflates her — she's not entirely sure if it's the idea of Emmett being unavailable or Tim dating someone else or maybe some strange combination of both. She needs another margarita.

"Sorry — ex-girlfriend, I mean. Still getting used to that. It's kind of recent," he corrects.

Hmmm.

"I'm so sorry," Lucy offers, and Emmett shakes his head sadly in agreement.

"We were together for a while. She's actually in the LAFD, too, which is how we met. She's a lifeguard. So is her friend, Ashley — the one that Tim dated." Emmett clarifies.

She feels like her eyebrows leap into her hair with her surprise, but she tries to force a sweet smile back onto her face, hoping the admittedly catty thoughts she's not particularly proud of aren't apparent through her expression. But, come on. A lifeguard? Really? And Tim had a problem with Lucy being a reporter? Journalist, she mentally corrects, vowing to spend some time looking up pranks on YouTube later.

"Oh. A lifeguard? How nice," she says sweetly.

"How are things going with you and Tim?" Emmett inquires. And she feels like there's maybe a flicker of interest when he asks, but he's far too nice a guy to actually hit on his friend's wife, reality TV sham or not.


Lucy flops exhaustedly onto the couch next to Tim once she's seen Jackson and Sterling to the door, marking the official end of their party.

She reaches over to retrieve her half-full margarita from the side table and then shifts so her back is leaning against the arm of the sofa. She swings her legs up onto Tim's lap and he laughs, his hand automatically sliding appreciatively up the smooth skin of her calf.

She sighs, leaning her head back against the corner of the couch and allowing her eyes to flutter momentarily shut as Tim begins to work his hands over one of her feet, "Mmm…"

Tim adds a bit more pressure, pushing on the soles of her foot with his thumbs.

She groans, "That feels so good. Your hands are so warm."

He smiles at her, shifting his focus to her other foot.

She straightens and lifts the margarita glass she's been protectively cradling against her stomach to her lips. "Mmm… this also feels so good."

He chuckles. "Guess I'm two for two then."

She nods her agreement. "Three for three if you don't make me do the dishes tonight."

She laughs as Tim cringes at the suggestion. "I know. I know. Tim Bradford would never," she finishes with an exaggerated gasp.

He narrows his eyes. "I was actually going to offer to handle the clean-up so you could go to bed, but keep that up, Lucy. See where it gets you." He reaches up to give her thigh a quick but firm squeeze just above her knee, and she squirms in response. Apparently, she's ticklish there. Good to know.

She arches an eyebrow as she takes another sip, the oversized glass looking almost comical in her small hands. She traces her finger around the salted rim before popping it into her mouth.

And yep, that would be his dick that just jumped.

"Where would it get me?" she asks in a tone so sexy, he is certain she can feel what she is doing to him.

As if to confirm his suspicions, she bends one of her knees up and drags her arched foot over his lap, teasingly pausing over his possibly more than half-hard dick. Holy fuck. What is she trying to do to him?

He swallows and clears his throat, but his voice is still uneven when he finally responds, once she's stopped torturing him with her toes. "Nowhere good," he manages to croak out.

Her lips form a disappointed pout, but then she simply shrugs and takes another sip. Tim briefly wonders just how many of those things she's had? But given where things stand between them (where do they stand?), he knows even one would be too many for the things he is thinking about doing to her right here on this couch.

"You didn't tell me Tamara was your puppy?" he asks in an attempt to change the subject.

"My what?!" Lucy asks with disbelief. "Did you seriously just refer to a teenage girl as a dog? You are so much dumber than you look sometimes."

Tim momentarily tries to puzzle out whether that's a compliment or an insult (seems to be a bit of both) before he shakes his head. "I'm not calling her a dog. Puppy's just a term we use when our rookies find someone they think they can save. Happens every time, without fail."

Lucy narrows her eyes, "Did you have a puppy?"

'That's… not relevant here," he deflects.

"Uh huh," Lucy teases but doesn't push any further, though he's certain he hasn't heard the last from her on that topic.

"Tonight was fun," she says, smiling.

Tim nods, "I had a really good time. Who knew we'd be such a dynamic Pictionary duo?"

Her eyes sparkle with laughter, but she holds her features in a scowl. "You better sleep with one eye open, Bradford. You thought you were so clever with that Happy Meal bullshit."

He laughs out loud, "Are you seriously telling me you wouldn't have gone there if you drew that card?"

Lucy rolls her eyes.

Tim softens. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, though," he offers genuinely.

Lucy gazes at him for a few moments before allowing her twitching lips to form a smile. "I suppose you'll go on to live another day, Tim."

She takes the final sip of her drink and sets the glass on the coffee table.

She tilts her head to the side in that little flirty way of hers, and Tim braces himself for what she may throw at him next. But then her expression shifts slightly, and she looks suddenly shy.

"How come you didn't tell me you dated a lifeguard?"

Tim looks back at her in confusion, "Ashley?"

Lucy nods. And she's still being a little weird.

"Why do you ask?" he ventures carefully.

She shrugs, "No reason. Was it serious?"

Tim studies her carefully. Is that — is she jealous?

He shakes his head, "I don't know. Sort of, I guess. We dated for a few months."

"Why did you break up?"

"What's with the third degree, Lucy?"

She pauses, looking a bit taken aback by the question as if she herself isn't sure why she's asking so many questions about Ashley. Some mix of hurt and confusion flickers across her expression and she begins to pull her legs back from his lap.

He quickly moves to hold her in place. "We didn't want the same things long-term."

He slides his hand soothingly up her leg. "Sorry — you can ask me anything, Lucy," he offers contritely.

She smiles, seemingly appeased with his change in tone. "What does that mean?"

"She didn't want to get married or have kids," Tim answers directly.

Something changes in her expression again, but Tim can't quite place what it is.

Her voice is quiet when she asks, "If she had, do you think you could have seen yourself marrying her?"

Tim swallows, not really wanting to answer the question, but also not wanting to shut her down again. He shakes his head, "I don't know, Lucy. We never even really got there, but I guess, yeah, sure, on some level. I wouldn't have dated her for as long as I did if I didn't think it was going to go somewhere."

And for a split second, she looks completely shattered. She blinks rapidly like she might be about to cry and looks away from him.

He can feel his heart plummet into his stomach. He is completely lost as to why she's asking these questions and why she seems to care so much about a relationship he'd had before they'd even met and why she is reacting the way that she is.

"Lucy — I — that was before — it was completely different. It doesn't have anything to do with how I feel —" And he is on the brink of telling her right then and there how he feels — that he wants to give this a real try with her, but Jackson's warning about being sure is ringing in his head. And she deserves more than some kind of knee-jerk reaction in response to a drunken line of questioning that he doesn't even understand.

"It doesn't have anything to do with how I feel now," he finishes weakly.

When she finally looks back at him, she is smiling again — seemingly unaffected by whatever it was that just happened.

"So… um… your friend Emmett was hot."

Tim stiffens, caught completely off guard. He carefully schools his face into a neutral expression, even as a pit of disappointment opens up in his stomach.

"Uh… can't say I've noticed. But yeah, he's a good guy."

His head begins to throb. How much had he had to drink?

"Would you maybe consider setting me up with him? After this is over, obviously," she rushes to add.

And for maybe the first time since he's met her, Tim realizes he can't read her at all. He can't tell if she is trying to hurt him, or if this is some kind of a test, or if she is genuinely interested in being set up with Emmett.

He's starting to feel a little sick. He knows he has no right to be upset about this. He willingly gave up any claim he had to her. But if there was any remaining doubt about how he feels toward her, this has pretty much obliterated it. He isn't just uncomfortable with the idea of setting her up with his friend — or anyone else for that matter — he hates it.

"You can do better than Emmett," he finally answers.

Lucy's eyes crinkle with her laughter. "What does that mean?"

"He's a firefighter," Tim says, with obvious distaste.

"Exactly."

Tim sighs. "If, at the end of this, you want me to set you up with him, then yeah. I guess I can." The words all feel like they are shaped wrong as they come out of his mouth, but he means them.

Lucy deserves a great guy, and, despite his terrible career choices, Emmett is a great guy, though he certainly doesn't feel like the right guy for the woman at his side that unknowingly has a vice grip on his heart.

But if it would make her happy, it's truly the least he could do to make up for how he'd treated her.

He pats her feet and then lifts her legs so he can slide out from under them and stand up. "I've gotta take Kojo out, and then I'm going to get started on those dishes."


By the time he's finished enough of the clean-up to feel like he'll be able to sleep without nightmares of a sink full of dirty dishes, Lucy is completely passed out on the couch. She's huddled into the same corner she'd been in when they were talking. He briefly debates carrying her to bed, but given how that turned out the last time, he instead opts for retrieving a blanket and pillow from the closet. He shifts her until she's lying on her side.

A curtain of hair settles over her face in response to the movement, and he gently pushes it back before brushing his thumb over her cheek and allowing it to linger for a few seconds too long.