Want You to Stay || Chenford / The Rookie

Part 2

Tim clears his throat, abruptly reclaiming his hand and running it through his hair as he leans back in his chair, eyes returning to the shadowy view. "My dad hated that I became a cop. I guess now I know why."

Lucy laughs mirthlessly. "My parents hate that I became a cop, too, but I'm pretty sure they aren't covering up a murder."

Tim pauses with his whiskey halfway to his lips. "They hate that you became a cop?"

"Uh, yeah. I thought I told you that."

"No." He's watching her closely, like he's trying to puzzle something out. She feels simultaneously exposed and like she wants to be seen. It takes Lucy a moment to realize she wants to be seen by him.

"The day I became a P2, I invited them over to celebrate," she confides quietly after a moment, taking a long sip of her tequila. "My dad didn't bother to show up, and — well, my mom only came to tell me it was time to go back to grad school and find a real profession. Something meaningful, so she can finally be proud of me." She follows her words with another humorless laugh, her resentment and hurt rising to the surface.

Tim brings his own drink to his mouth, but he's still eyeing her with that familiar shrewd expression of his. "That egg freezing stuff you were asking me about a few weeks ago —"

Lucy blanches at the mention of the topic, covering her face with her hands. "Oh god, let's not even talk about that."

"That was why you were so upset about it. Because you felt like your mom was trying to decide for you?"

"I — don't get me wrong, okay, I love my parents. And I know how lucky I am to have two parents that love me and want the best for me. But that's the thing, ever since I enrolled in the Academy, they have been convinced that I am ruining my life, convinced that only they know what is best for me and I —" Lucy shakes her head, trailing off.

"You what?"

She waves one hand dismissively with a half-hearted shrug. "No. it doesn't matter. I feel stupid complaining about this after everything you've been dealing with. They love me. That's what matters, and I know that. It just sometimes feels like they are more interested in controlling me than they are in whether I am actually happy."

He's frowning deeply, and Lucy hurries to continue, "I'm sorry — I told you, it's stupid."

He shakes his head, "We rode together almost every day for over a year and you never even mentioned any of this?"

Lucy sighs, averting her eyes, "You made it pretty clear how you felt about me discussing my personal life."

Tim scoffs, "And since when did that ever stop you?"

"I don't know... I guess — I didn't really tell anyone. Other than Jackson, I mean." She pauses, swallowing before she confesses, "I, uh, sometimes I think I haven't really accepted that he's actually gone." Her voice wavers as the emotion continues to well in her throat, "And then it's like something happens and he is the only person I want to tell, and I go to text him or start walking toward his room and it just hits me like a freight train all over again. I — uh, I feel really alone without him sometimes."

"Lucy —"

She shakes her head, "I'm sorry, Tim — I didn't mean to make this about me. I think I'm just still having a really hard time; I really, really miss him. But this is not what you need to be hearing after the night you just had."

She doesn't even realize she's crying until Tim is leaning in toward her, his thumb brushing a tear off of her cheek. But despite the unexpected tenderness of his touch, his eyes are stormy and his voice has a harsh edge to it, "Why are you apologizing?"

And he is so close to her now that Lucy can feel the heat of his breath on her face, see the tension in his jaw, "Why wouldn't you tell me any of this?"

And she sees it then, the hurt in his eyes, almost like she's betrayed him, betrayed their friendship by not trusting him with all of the things she herself hasn't been ready or willing to face.

The tears are pouring down her cheeks now, and she can't find the words to explain it to him — to explain that she has just been barely hanging by a thread, and being here with him is the first time she has felt fully human in weeks, if not months.

And then he is on his feet, towering over her for only a split second before he is hauling her up and into his arms. She is barely able to register the moisture on his own cheeks before she is wrapped up in him.

And god, he is holding her so tightly and he feels so warm and solid against her skin and he smells like comfort and safety and home, the same way he always has to her since he pulled her out of that barrel, and the only thing she is absolutely certain of is that this is exactly what she needs. He is exactly what she needs.

She's not sure how long they stay like that, how long he lets her cry into his chest. How long he continues to clutch her to him as his own shoulders shake. How long it is until he is rubbing his hand up her back one final time, pressing a final kiss to the top of her head, and then finally pulling back so he can see her, his voice gruff with the depth of his emotion when he finally speaks, "Lucy, I-I want you to talk to me. I want to be here for you."

And he is so damn earnest, Lucy knows he means every damn word. He slides his hand soothingly up her arm as she nods and she's suddenly aware of how good, how right it feels to be in his arms again. A wave of deja vu sweeps over her as their eyes lock, sending her back in time to the last time she was here with him.

Sometimes, Lucy convinces herself she imagined that moment between them all those months ago. She tells herself that the heady mix of grief and exhaustion made her see things that weren't really there. But the longing in his eyes as he stares down at her now is so familiar that it makes her heart skip a beat. And suddenly, the idea that there could be something more between them doesn't feel all that imaginary.

Her eyes drop to his lips and her cheeks are flushing as soon as she realizes it, forcing her gaze back up to his.

And holy shit, she is not prepared for the answering intensity in his gaze, the heat, maybe even the desire?

What is happening?

"Lucy?" His voice is husky again, and somehow she knows exactly what he is asking.

And then she's launching up on her toes even as he is already bending down to meet her, his lips finding hers and igniting a fuse that neither has any hope of extinguishing, even as her unanswered question from their exchange in the shop just a few days prior echoes in the very back of her head.

You're seeing someone?