The days that followed were a careful dance. Tim and Lucy remained professional at work, maintaining their usual dynamic in front of the team, but there was an undeniable shift in their private moments. Every glance, every conversation held a new layer of meaning—a quiet acknowledgment that something had changed.
They still hadn't figured out what their relationship would look like. Everything was so new, so fragile, that neither of them dared to define it just yet. But there was comfort in the unspoken understanding between them: they were navigating this together.
One evening, after a particularly long shift, Lucy found herself walking out to the parking lot, only to see Tim leaning against his truck, waiting for her. The sight of him there, casually leaning back with his arms crossed, sent a flutter through her chest.
"You waiting for me, Bradford?" she teased, a smile playing on her lips as she approached him.
Tim smirked, but there was something softer in his eyes as he looked at her. "Figured I'd make sure you got home safe," he said, his voice light but with an undertone of sincerity that made Lucy's heart skip.
"That's very chivalrous of you," she replied, her smile widening. "But you know I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
Tim shrugged, though his gaze remained steady on hers. "I know. Doesn't mean I don't want to make sure."
Lucy felt her pulse quicken, the weight of his words settling between them. This was new territory for them—no longer just partners in the field, but something more. Something deeper.
"You want to grab a drink?" Tim asked, breaking the silence. "Just... talk?"
Lucy hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Yeah. I'd like that."
They ended up at a quiet bar just outside the city, away from the usual spots their colleagues frequented. It was the kind of place where no one would look twice at two cops having a drink together, but for Lucy, the atmosphere felt charged with possibility.
Sitting across from Tim in the dimly lit booth, Lucy realized how much had changed between them in such a short time. The easy camaraderie they had once shared had deepened into something more intense, more meaningful.
As they talked—about work, about life, about everything and nothing—Lucy found herself feeling more comfortable than she had in a long time. With Tim, there were no pretenses, no masks. Just them, in this moment, figuring things out as they went.
When the conversation lulled, Tim leaned back in his seat, his gaze softening as he looked at her.
"You know, this wasn't what I expected," he admitted quietly. "Us, I mean."
Lucy raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Tim sighed, running a hand over his jaw, as if searching for the right words. "I didn't expect to feel this way. Not with you. But now that I do, I don't regret it."
Lucy's heart fluttered at his confession. She had always known Tim as the strong, silent type—the one who kept his emotions locked away. Hearing him speak so openly, so vulnerably, was like seeing a new side of him.
"I don't regret it either," she said softly, her eyes meeting his.
Tim smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made her feel like they were the only two people in the world.
For the first time in a long time, Lucy felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
