You should take the job, Tim.
Those had been some of the last words she had said to him. That, and Anyone can finish training me. I don't need it to be you. Lucy had meant it to sound encouraging, had phrased it as a push towards the well-deserved promotion he had planned to turn down for her sake. She remembered feeling alarmed when his gaze hardened, turning to ice as he pulled from her statement a meaning she had not intended.
His voice cold, Tim had responded, You don't need me, huh?
In the moment, Lucy had almost corrected him; an apology had half-formed on her lips before she swallowed it down. It was not what she'd said herself, but she saw quickly that his assumptions were succeeding in convincing him where her gentle goading had thus far failed. After a pause, Lucy sensed in the misunderstanding an opportunity. Hadn't she been thinking of putting distance between them, a last ditch effort to suffocate the feelings that thrived despite her attempts to diminish them? Hadn't she been searching for a way to create space, hoping to avoid the humiliation of loving him while knowing she would not -maybe even could not- be loved back?
Lucy had not trusted her voice to convincingly tell a lie so large. To his question, she offered only a wordless nod. It worked; Tim walked away without looking back, and never in her life had she felt so selfish.
Although they had not spoken again beyond that point, it was not the last time she crossed his path over the next few months. Lucy's connection to him had remained, if tenuously, through their mutual friendships. Tim was still dating Rachel at the time, her college classmate turned unlikely romantic rival, and the irony there had not been lost on her. Hadn't she rooted from the sidelines for their relationship, having set them up herself? If Rachel knew that Lucy and Tim had fallen out, she'd never let on, but when a job opportunity took the other woman to New York, it severed Lucy's strongest remaining tie to Tim. With Rachel gone, Lucy entered his orbit only once more over the next two years, and then, just briefly.
Angela and Wesley were married on a Saturday evening the last week of June. Lucy attended alone, wearing a long sleeveless dress made of navy blue fabric. Peach-colored flowers blossomed over the floor length gown, and she paired it with shoes that pinched her toes but looked so cute she decided not to care. She sat towards the back of the church with Jackson, clasping his arm enthusiastically as the wedding party began the processional. Tim, who had served as Angela's man of honor, entered after the first four bridesmaids had made their way down the aisle, and her heart plunged into her stomach.
Of course Lucy had expected to see him, but expecting had not been enough to fortify herself against all reaction. She could not help but gaze at him anxiously during the ceremony and throughout half of the reception, both willing him to look at her and unsure of what she would do if he did. It ended up not mattering, as such a moment never came. Tim was almost willful in how effectively he avoided her stare, and she was left feeling forlorn as she watched him dance with Angela, Wesley's mother, and pretty woman after pretty woman after pretty woman. He even let the flower girl get a few turns in, twirling her in her fluffy purple dress to the fawning adoration of the bridesmaids. Lucy kept a seat a couple of tables away from the dance floor, declining with a polite smile when Jackson tried without success to get her up for a song or two. She kept herself busy by counting the roses in the floral pattern of her gown, sipping absently at a glass of champagne all the while. Eventually, she feigned a headache and went home sometime before the cake had been cut. She spent the rest of the night lounging on the couch, watching reruns of "Friends" and wishing she'd stayed; wishing she'd danced, and wishing that she knew for certain whether Tim had seen her in that dress. It was then she realized that distance had failed to do what she hoped it would. The feelings had not disappeared. They'd only been shelved.
That had been true then. It remained true now, Lucy thought as she lingered in the tub until the water turned cold and the bubbles dissipated. She looked with worry towards the closed door. No matter how much time had passed, she still cared for Tim in a way that was deep, real, and unreciprocated.
She pulled the plug on the drain and dried off, dressing in leggings and a long black sweater before walking into the living room. Tim, who had backed away from the bathroom with both eyes covered, did not look up when she entered. Lucy did not need to see his eyes to know with certainty that he was irritated. He tensed when she sat beside him, but it wasn't like she had much choice in the matter. The cabin's living room did not have the space to accommodate more than the loveseat on which they currently sat. For a long time, neither of them spoke. His gaze remained forward, staring wordlessly out of the window at the dark outlines of the trees that surrounded Little Green. In the silence Lucy apprised him secretly. He wore a powder blue sweater beneath a black jacket. The soft color complimented his skin tone nicely, but the jacket was particularly significant to her; it looked quite similar to the one he'd worn on the night they'd last spoken. His hair was longer by an inch or two, and she was unsure whether she preferred it to the closely-shorn buzz he'd sported when they first met.
It was Tim who broke the silence, and he did so by asking sourly, "What is that smell?"
"Probably the bubble bath," Lucy replied.
"Why does your bubble bath smell like donuts?"
If his tone had been lighter, she might have laughed. As it was, she sighed and replied wearily, "It's nice to see you again, too, Tim."
"Why are you here, Chen?"
"What do you mean, why am I here? Why are you here?"
"I asked you first."
"…I had a bad month," Lucy answered in a stilted rhythm, for the moment hesitant to touch on her recent breakup directly. "Wesley loaned me the cabin to get my mind off of things."
Tim shook his head, jabbing one finger towards his chest as he said, "No, no; I had a bad month. Lopez loaned me the cabin for Christmas."
"You don't hold a patent on hard times, Tim. More than one person can have them."
His hands balled into fists before he leaned his forehead against them in frustration. "Obviously, they planned this."
The thought had crossed Lucy's mind too, but she was a bit less convinced by his conclusion. "Wesley would never do something like this. He doesn't have a conniving bone in his body."
"Wesley's a lawyer," he retorted, as if that alone were answer enough. "And even if he didn't have any part in it, this whole damn thing is right up Lopez's alley. She loves to meddle. She can never leave well enough alone."
"What do you mean?"
He answered quietly, "Never mind."
"Have you tried calling her?" Lucy asked, but before Tim could answer, the phone in his pocket vibrated. A text message had come from Angela, and he read it aloud for her benefit.
"'Check the bookcase'." They both turned to glance at the shelves on the wall. "Well, I hope she'll be more specific than that." As if his question had been heard, another text came through. "Ah. She says to look in the 'Home Alone' DVD case." Understanding the title she'd chosen was meant to be humorous, Lucy chuckled, which only made Tim glower more severely. "Don't laugh. It's not funny."
"Come on. It's a little funny." When he refused to crack even the smallest smile at Angela's joke, Lucy rolled her eyes, then rose to her feet and walked towards the shelf. She quickly found the DVD and cracked open the case. Inside were two small, white envelopes. The top one had Lucy's name on it; the other was addressed to Tim. She handed him his. "You've got to admire her forethought, though. I mean, this clearly took some planning."
He took his envelope. "How are you so okay with this?"
Once again, Tim misunderstood her. It was not that she was okay with their current situation, but what good would getting upset do? He was already there; so was she, and it was almost too late at night to do anything about their circumstances."Just read your note, okay?" She tore into her envelope with the same intention. Only a few lines of text were written on the page, scrawled in black ink.
"What does yours say?" he asked.
She read, "'Dear Lucy. You're welcome. Love, Angela. P.S. Don't be mad at Wesley. I'm hard to say no to." She folded her note into thirds and put it back inside the envelope, then looked at Tim. "What does yours say?"
He quickly folded his letter in half. "Same."
"Really?"
"Basically." Then, after tucking the note into his jeans pocket, he nodded towards the front door. "Well. I guess one of us should leave."
Lucy felt her brow furrow. "Leave? Why?"
"You can have your pick of reasons, Chen. There's only one bed. The couch is too small for either of us. I don't want to play Lopez's little game."
"I don't know if I'd call it a game," she mumbled, although what else could this level of meddling be called, she thought before giving a slow nod of agreement. "I guess when you put it that way, you're right," she said. If he was really so anxious to leave, she wouldn't stop him.
Her agreement mollified Tim. "Of course I'm right. I'll help you get your bags." He started toward the bedroom, stopping only when Lucy caught him by the crook of his elbow.
"Wait, no. What?"
"We can't both stay and you just volunteered to leave."
"I did no such thing! Why don't you leave?"
"I'm not leaving," Tim said, pulling free from her hand. "I deserve this."
"So do I."
"Well, I deserve it more, Chen."
"Says who?"
"I do."
"Prove it." Lucy folded her arms over her chest, a move he mocked by mimicking.
"I don't have to prove anything to you."
"If you're kicking me out, you better have a damn good reason, Tim. Why do you deserve this more than I do?" she asked again, waiting for him to answer. When he had no response, she offered a compromise. "Look. It's dark already, okay? It's getting late. Can we work this out tomorrow? We can handle one night, right?" She could probably muster the necessary strength to withstand the awkwardness of spending a single night with the man she still harbored feelings for, but not more than that.
He didn't seem so sure, scoffing outright at her suggestion. Still, despite his uncertainty, Tim conceded, "Fine. One night. But we're figuring this out first thing in the morning."
"Seriously, Chen," Tim grumbled beside her, "the scent is a bit much."
"You can thank Lopez for that, too. I think the bubble bath was hers." Lucy retorted, then reached up to adjust her pillow. The mattress was decent quality, but the pillows provided were too firm for her liking. She was sure she'd wake up with an ache in her neck if she couldn't find a comfortable position.
"Can't you do something about it? I'm getting a headache here."
"If it bothers you that much, sleep on the floor."
"I slept on a dirt floor in the army. I never pass up a mattress now."
Lucy snorted sarcastically. "Well. I guess it's nice to see you haven't changed."
The bed creaked beneath them as Tim turned on his side to face her; sort of a silly move, that, given it was pitch black in the bedroom. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means you're stubborn," she retorted, then laughed lightly before relaying with glee "and I get to say that now because we work at different stations."
"Careful, Boot."
"Oh, don't 'Boot' me. It's just a joke. Jeez," she muttered. "That hasn't changed either, huh? You're still as sensitive as ever."
"I am not." Lucy felt the mattress shift again as Tim returned to his original position, lying flat on his back by her side. It was quiet for long enough that she figured he'd fallen asleep, and she'd nearly succeeded in dozing off herself when he said suddenly, "This isn't what I had in mind for my vacation."
"Me neither."
"Really?"
"Obviously." Lucy decided to explain; perhaps if she were open with the circumstances that brought her there, he would respond in kind. "I was supposed to be in San Francisco."
"San Francisco? For what?"
"To visit my boyfriend's family. I mean, my ex-boyfriend's family. We split up a few days ago. That's why Wesley loaned me the cabin." After a deep breath, she said, "That's what I meant by a bad month."
It wasn't that she was looking for sympathy, but Tim's one word reply of, "Bummer," left something to be desired.
"Are you serious? That's all you have to say? 'Bummer'?"
"I mean, that… sucks?" he added, but said no more on the subject. Instead, he once more brought up Angela, trying again to deduce her reasons for deceiving them. "Why do you think Lopez would do this? What do you think she's getting out of it?" Lucy, assuming the questions were rhetorical, did not reply until Tim prodded. "Well?"
"How should I know?" she replied. "She's your friend."
"I know." He sighed. "It's just like her to do this, too. She always thinks she knows best. It's so annoying."
Lucy covered a yawn with her palm before responding, "Angela probably just wants you to be happy."
"So she sent you?" His retort was not delivered half as meanly as it could have been, but it still smarted. Lucy's mouth fell open in a quiet gasp, and Tim quickly spoke again. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that, Chen."
She didn't respond to Tim's snark, nor did she acknowledge his weak apology. Without a word in reply, Lucy stood and turned on the bedside lamp, then grabbed her phone and charger.
"What are you doing," Tim asked as he sat up in bed, watching as she went to the closet and grabbed her coat, shoes, and purse.
"Take the cabin," Lucy said as she bent down to tie her sneakers. "I'll find somewhere to sleep in town."
"It's the middle of the night. You can't walk down the mountain now."
"Oh yeah? Are you gonna stop me?" She looked at him pointedly, waiting for indication that his protests were anything more than empty words. None came, so she slipped into her coat, yanking the zipper closed before shoving her hands into her pockets. "I'll come by tomorrow for the rest of my stuff. Tell Angela I said thanks a lot." She opened the bedroom door, calling "See you around," over her shoulder before closing the door behind her with a slam.
It had been dark when she hiked up the mountain hours ago, and Lucy found in the interim the dark had only gotten deeper. The weak beam of her phone's flashlight offered very little assistance in her descent, and the light from the moon and stars above was fragmented by the thick canopy of trees all around. A wet chill had settled in the air, making the gravel slippery all the way down. Twice, she skidded; both times, Lucy paused to get her bearings before continuing her cautious march towards Julian.
She was about halfway down the mountain when she slipped a third time. Unlike the first two instances, Lucy lost her balance, and threw her hands out in front of her to break her fall. Her phone flew from her grasp, disappearing into the ditch beside the road, leaving her in almost total darkness.
"Damn it," she groaned, wincing as she stood to her feet. The fall could've been worse, but her palms stung, and as she brushed the grainy pebbles off of the heels of her hands, she was certain she was bleeding a little. Her right knee ached, too, and as she blindly brushed the gravel dust off her knees, she noticed the fall had torn a hole in her leggings. "What now," she asked herself before crouching on the path in thought. The light on her phone had shut off when it fell, so she had no idea where in the gully it landed. It was unwise to search for it now, but without even the small light from her phone, she was hesitant to keep walking either towards town or back to the cabin. Was she stuck until daybreak, then? That was probably equally unsafe.
She was still considering her next move when there came the sound of footsteps crunching in the stones behind her. A moment after that, a bright silver beam of light washed over her, illuminating the road. She squinted, raising one hand to her forehead to protect her eyes from the glare.
"You're bleeding," was the first thing Tim said as he walked closer, aiming the light at the ground as he extended one hand towards her and helped her to her feet.
"Thanks."
"Is it bad?" he asked, pointing to her palm.
"I don't think so." She held out both of her hands. A glance determined the cuts weren't deep, just dirty. Her knee had taken the most damage, bleeding freely from the hole in her pant leg.
"There's a first aid kit in the cabin," Tim said. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"Wait. I dropped my phone."
"Where?"
She pointed to the ditch, in the general direction of where it had landed.
"I'll help you find it in the morning."
"But-"
"-It's not gonna walk off or anything, Chen. We'll look in the morning," he promised. "Come on."
As they walked back to Little Green, Lucy asked, "Where'd you get the flashlight?"
"Found it under the kitchen sink."
"Oh. I should've looked there before I left," she grumbled. "I didn't even think to look for a better flashlight."
"Not surprising. You were in kind of a rush trying to get away from me."
Lucy stopped. "I was not trying to get away from you."
"You run from many people you want to be around?"
She sighed. "Do we have to do this now? I'm bleeding."
"Fine." They continued walking, but had not made it more than a few feet when Tim spoke again. "You didn't have to leave."
"You don't want me there, Tim."
"We said we'd give it a night. You couldn't even last one night."
"I could have, if you hadn't been rude."
"When was I rude?"
"You tried to kick me out, like, five minutes after you got there!" she exclaimed. "You said 'bummer' about my break up. You wouldn't stop whining about the bubble bath."
"I wouldn't call that rude. You smell like a bakery exploded."
She continued quietly, "You said if Angela wanted you to be happy, she wouldn't have sent me."
He hesitated before whispering, "I told you I was sorry."
"I know. It was still mean."
"Oh, like you've never been mean? You told me you don't need me."
"I never said that."
"Yes, you-"
"-No. I said I didn't need you to finish training me. You heard 'I don't need you', and I didn't try to change your mind."
Tim paused, turning to face her. "Then why did you-"
"-I was okay being the bad guy if it meant you got what you wanted. What you deserved." There was more to the story, of course, but she had no plans now or in the future to reveal how developing feelings for her TO had played a part in pushing him towards the job in North Hollywood.
Even with only the light of the flashlight to go by, she could see the astonishment on his face as understanding crested over his features in a slow wave. "That wasn't your call to make, Lucy."
"Well," she shrugged in sad resignation, "it's done. I can't change what happened."
"No. I guess we can't."
Although the silence resumed as they finished the hike back to Little Green, but Lucy noticed a distinct change in Tim's regard for her as he opened the door and let her enter first. Gone was the frustration that made his posture rigid and his face stern; in its stead was a quiet, surprising kindness. She almost wanted to call it compassion. He directed her to the kitchen, and she sat at the little white dinette while he fetched the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. When he knelt to tend to the cut on her knee, she tried to stop him.
"Let me," he said, and Lucy made no further protest as he carefully cleaned the cut with an antiseptic and applied a bandage. He gave the same attention to the scrapes on her hands, although those were shallow and did not require covering. After all of her injuries had been handled, Tim stood, standing above her as he said, "You didn't have to do that."
"Do what? Leave?"
"That, too." He tossed the wipe for her wounds and the paper from her bandaids in the trash can beside the oven. "I meant about letting me think you…" he trailed off, saying after a moment, "You didn't have to lie."
"And potentially let all those audiobooks I made for you go to waste?" Lucy shook her head. "I'm glad you took the job, Tim. You worked hard for it."
"Yeah. Okay," he replied, then turned towards the sink. He was in the middle of washing his hands when he told her bluntly, "I'm on medical leave."
The news, given with no lead up, left her momentarily stunned. "What happened?" was all Lucy could think to ask in response.
"Do you remember the very beginning of your rookie year? When I caught a bullet in my side?"
The details of the case had long since faded, but the adrenaline as the bullets flew, the shattered glass, the blood on his hands as he tried to staunch the bleeding were all things she remembered well. Lucy nodded.
"The bullet slipped."
"What do you mean, it slipped?" she asked. "I… I thought it went right through you."
Tim shook his head. "It didn't. A fragment started giving me trouble. I had surgery about a month ago."
"Oh, Tim," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
"It's okay. I didn't tell many people."
"How bad was it?"
"Very. There was a fifty-fifty chance I wouldn't walk again. That's what I meant by bad month."
"That's a very bad month," Lucy agreed. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Yeah. Me, too," he replied, taking the seat across from her and leaning his elbows against the table. "That's why I can't sleep on the floor, okay? I mean, I'm mostly healed, but… yeah."
"I get it."
"I'm not trying to be difficult."
"Tim." On instinct, she reached out to touch his arm in consolation. She drew back at the last second, laying her hands in her lap instead. "I get it. I can sleep on the floor."
"I'm not going to make you do that, Chen. I'm a gentleman, sometimes." Then, he smirked. "But maybe you could shower real quick?"
Lucy chuckled in spite of herself. "It can't be as bad as you say it is."
"You smell like you lost a wrestling match to the Pillsbury Doughboy," Tim teased. She laughed again, and for a second, it looked like his smirk softened into a smile. It faded quickly, though, disappearing in a blink, leaving her to wonder if she'd only imagined it.