Thank you, for listening

Chapter 2 : Breaking The Ice

Tim Bradford found himself back in the waiting room a week later, despite every part of him that wanted to be anywhere else. He'd almost canceled,twice. But there was something about that first session with Lucy, something he couldn't quite shake, and here he was. Just one more session, he told himself. After all, he'd promised to show up, and Tim Bradford was not one to back down from his word.

The door opened, and there she was again, clipboard in hand, with that calm, steady presence. She smiled, not too wide, just enough to be welcoming.

"Tim," she greeted. "Come on in."

He followed her into the office, taking the same seat as last time, feeling like he was walking into a trap he'd set for himself. She settled across from him, crossing her legs as she picked up her pen, ready to start.

"So, how was your week?" she asked, her voice light, inviting.

"Fine," he answered, short and to the point. He was already prepared to keep this as vague as possible.

Lucy just nodded, waiting for him to add more. When he didn't, she gave a slight shrug, setting her notebook aside. "Let's try something different," she said. "Today, I want you to tell me about something that doesn't have to do with your job."

That caught him off guard. His identity was so wrapped up in being a cop that he hardly knew where to start. "There's not much else to tell," he muttered, shifting in his seat.

"I don't believe that," she replied easily. "Everyone's got a story outside of what they do. You have a family, friends, hobbies?"

He frowned. "I'm not big on hobbies."

Lucy tilted her head slightly, not pushing, just waiting. It was starting to get under his skin, how she didn't seem to take his words at face value.

Finally, he let out a sigh. "Fine. I like sports. Mostly football. Not much time to do anything else."

Lucy smiled. "All right, that's something. What about family? Are you close with anyone?"

Tim's jaw tightened slightly, an involuntary reaction he hadn't expected. He looked away, feeling the beginnings of frustration creeping in. "Not really," he said shortly, feeling the urge to shut down the line of questioning.

Lucy noticed, her expression shifting to one of quiet understanding. "It's okay if that's something you don't want to talk about yet," she said gently. "It's up to you to decide what you're comfortable sharing here."

Her words were simple, but he felt a strange wave of relief wash over him. It was the first time he could remember someone actually giving him the space to decide for himself. He nodded, glancing back at her, his defenses softening, if only a little.

Lucy leaned back, studying him thoughtfully. "How about this?" she offered. "Why don't you tell me about a memory you're proud of, something that's stayed with you over the years?"

He hesitated, but her patience was almost disarming. After a moment, he relented, letting his thoughts drift back. "There was this one night... a few years back. We'd gotten a call about a kid in a bad neighborhood, gang activity nearby. No one else wanted to go in; it was a dangerous part of town. But I didn't think twice."

Lucy's eyes softened as he spoke, nodding to encourage him to continue.

"It was just me and the kid," he went on, his voice quieting. "I stayed with him until backup arrived, kept him calm. I remember... he looked up at me, terrified but trying to hold it together. And I realized he was about the same age as I was when I got out of a rough situation. So, I just sat with him, tried to make him feel safe. Didn't leave his side until we got him out of there."

He fell silent, feeling unexpectedly raw as the memory resurfaced. It wasn't a story he'd told anyone before, not even his colleagues. He expected Lucy to jump in, to analyze him or try to draw some hidden lesson from it, but she just sat quietly, absorbing his words.

"That was really brave," she finally said, her voice soft but steady. "And it sounds like you made a difference for him that night."

Tim shrugged, trying to brush it off. "It's just part of the job."

Lucy smiled, an understanding expression in her eyes. "It may be part of the job, but you went above and beyond. That's not something everyone would do."

He looked away, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability in her acknowledgment. He wasn't used to being seen that way, especially not by someone who didn't know him. He'd built his whole life around his reputation as the tough one, the officer who could handle anything, and here she was, chipping away at that image with just a few words.

"So," he said, trying to steer the conversation back. "How long have you been doing this? Therapy, I mean."

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her mouth curving into a small smile. "Turning the tables, Officer Bradford?"

Tim chuckled slightly, relieved by the shift in focus. "Can you blame me?"

She laughed softly, nodding. "Fair enough. I've been doing this for about five years now. I went into it because I wanted to help people work through their pain, give them a safe space to be themselves."

Tim studied her, feeling a pang of curiosity. "Why? I mean, why would you want to spend your days listening to people's problems?"

Her smile softened, her gaze turning inward. "Because I think everyone deserves a chance to feel seen, to feel like they're not alone. I've been on the other side of that door, so I know what it's like to feel like you're carrying everything by yourself."

He felt a flicker of empathy as she spoke, sensing that there was more to her story than she was letting on. "So, you're saying you get it? You've... been there?"

Lucy hesitated, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "Yes. I went through some things of my own, and it was a long journey to get to a place where I felt... okay again. But I'm here now, and I want to use what I've learned to help others."

For a moment, they sat in silence, a shared understanding settling between them. It was strange, but for the first time since he'd stepped into her office, Tim felt something shift. It was as if he'd finally met someone who understood what it was like to carry a weight you couldn't explain, a burden that lingered long after the events were over.

"Well," he said finally, his tone softer than he meant it to be, "guess we have something in common then."

Lucy nodded, her eyes meeting his with a look of quiet respect. "Maybe we do."

They continued talking, the session unfolding more naturally than he'd expected. Lucy asked questions, but this time they didn't feel invasive or forced. She'd give him space when he hesitated, let him guide the conversation when he wanted. And for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself opening up more than he'd thought he would.

They discussed his routine, the things he did to unwind after a long shift (not much, he'd admitted, half-joking that unwinding wasn't in his vocabulary). Lucy had encouraged him to try small things—like taking a few minutes to just breathe before heading home, maybe finding a small ritual that helped him shift gears.

By the end of the session, he was feeling... lighter. It wasn't something he would've admitted out loud, not yet, but there was a sense of relief that he hadn't felt in a long time. Talking to her, even if he hadn't gone into every detail, had somehow helped.

"Well," he said as the session wrapped up, standing to leave. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

Lucy laughed softly. "Glad to hear it. Same time next week?"

Tim hesitated for a moment, feeling that familiar pull to walk away, to pretend this whole thing had never happened. But he knew better. Deep down, he knew he couldn't keep going the way he had been. He had a choice now: keep going, or turn back.

"Yeah," he replied, meeting her gaze. "Same time."

As he walked out of her office, he felt a strange sense of anticipation. There was still a long road ahead, and he didn't know what it held. But he knew one thing for sure: for the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn't walking it alone.