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Tim Bradford didn’t like feeling off.
He liked routine. Structure. Knowing exactly what his body could do and trusting it to do just that. For the last few days, though, something had been wrong. Not wrong enough to stop him from working, but wrong enough that it lingered in the back of his mind like a warning light he refused to acknowledge.
Lucy noticed.
She always did.
“You’re quiet,” she said one morning as they stood in front of the coffee maker in his kitchen. She was barefoot, wearing one of his old LAPD sweatshirts, her hair still damp from the shower.
“I’m always quiet,” Tim replied, forcing a smile as he pressed his hand briefly against his lower abdomen when she wasn’t looking.
Lucy turned, mug in hand, studying him with that look — the one that saw right through him. “You’ve been rubbing your side for two days.”
“It’s nothing.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “It’s probably something I ate.”
Lucy wasn’t convinced, but roll call was in twenty minutes and Tim was already dressed. She let it go — for now.
⸻
By the time they walked into the station later that morning, Tim’s discomfort had evolved into something sharper. Every step sent a spike of pain through his abdomen, but he kept his face neutral. He was a sergeant. He had officers counting on him. He wasn’t about to fold over because of a stomachache.
Lucy stayed close, her shoulder brushing his as they entered the briefing room. When Wade began roll call, Tim took his usual spot at the front.
He barely heard the first few names.
The room tilted suddenly, like the floor had dropped out from under him. A wave of nausea hit hard, pain exploding through his side. He gripped the podium, breath stuttering.
Lucy noticed immediately.
“Tim?” she whispered.
He opened his mouth to answer — and then everything went black.
The sound of his body hitting the floor echoed through the room.
“Tim!” Lucy shouted, dropping to her knees beside him.
Angela was already moving. “Call 911!”
Lucy’s hands shook as she cradled his head, tears burning her eyes. “Hey, hey, baby, I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
Tim groaned faintly, but didn’t wake.
Nolan hovered nearby, phone to his ear, while Nyla cleared space around them. Wade knelt down, face grim.
Lucy’s heart felt like it was trying to tear its way out of her chest.
⸻
The ride to the hospital was a blur.
Lucy sat beside Tim in the ambulance, holding his hand, whispering reassurances even though he was barely conscious. The medic asked questions, Tim answering in clipped, pained words when he could.
“Pain scale?” the medic asked.
“Eight,” Tim muttered, jaw clenched.
Lucy squeezed his hand harder. “You’re going to be okay.”
He looked at her then, eyes glassy. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her voice broke. “You did. A lot.”
The medic gave her a sympathetic look as the doors swung open and they rushed Tim into the ER.
⸻
Hours later, Lucy sat in the waiting room, knees pulled to her chest, Tim’s jacket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her hands still felt like they were shaking, even though she couldn’t see them trembling anymore.
Angela arrived first, sliding into the seat beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Any news?”
Lucy shook her head. “They’re running tests. He was in so much pain, Angela.”
“He’s strong,” Angela said softly. “But I know. This is terrifying.”
One by one, the rest of their team showed up — Nyla, Nolan, Wade, Celina, Miles. The room filled with quiet support. Coffee cups appeared. Someone put a hand on Lucy’s knee. Wade sat across from her, worry etched deep into his face.
Lucy stared at the floor, replaying the moment he collapsed over and over in her head.
What if she’d pushed harder? What if she’d made him stay home?
Finally, a doctor approached, clipboard in hand.
Lucy jumped to her feet. “That’s him. That’s my—” She stopped, swallowed. “That’s Tim Bradford.”
The doctor nodded. “You must be Lucy.”
“Yes.”
“We’ve identified the issue,” he said calmly. “Tim has acute appendicitis. His appendix is inflamed and at risk of rupturing. We need to take him into surgery immediately.”
Lucy’s heart dropped. “Surgery?”
“It’s a routine procedure,” the doctor reassured her. “But it’s good he came in when he did. We’ll take good care of him.”
Lucy nodded, tears slipping free. “Can I see him?”
“He’s being prepped now,” the doctor said. “But as soon as he’s out of recovery, you’ll be able to.”
Angela squeezed Lucy’s hand. “See? He’s going to be fine.”
Lucy nodded, even though her chest still felt tight.
⸻
The surgery felt like it took forever.
Lucy barely moved from her seat, fingers twisting together as the minutes ticked by. The team stayed with her, talking quietly, offering distractions, but her eyes never left the hallway.
Finally, the doctor returned.
“The surgery went well,” he said. “No complications. He’s in recovery now. You’ll be able to see him soon.”
Lucy let out a shaky breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” the doctor smiled. “He’s lucky to have you.”
⸻
An hour later, Lucy stood outside Tim’s hospital room, hand hovering over the door handle. Seeing him like this scared her — vulnerable, hurt — but she needed to see him.
She stepped inside quietly.
Tim lay in the hospital bed, eyes closed, IV in his arm, chest rising and falling steadily. The tension she’d been carrying finally cracked.
Lucy crossed the room and took his hand, sinking into the chair beside him. She pressed her forehead to their joined hands.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “You’re not alone.”
Minutes passed in silence.
Then Tim stirred.
His brow furrowed as he woke, confusion clouding his eyes. “Lucy?”
“I’m right here,” she said instantly.
He tried to sit up and immediately winced. “What… what happened?”
She gently pushed him back down. “Easy. You passed out at roll call. You scared everyone — especially me.”
He frowned. “Passed out?”
“You had appendicitis,” she explained softly. “They had to take it out right away.”
Tim’s eyes widened slightly. “Surgery?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling. “But you’re okay now.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then squeezed her hand weakly. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
She laughed softly through tears. “Baby, you scared me. I love you so much.”
His expression softened completely. “I love you too.”
The doctor entered then, checking Tim’s vitals and explaining the recovery process. Tim listened, asking practical questions, but Lucy could see the exhaustion pulling at him.
“He’ll be staying overnight,” the doctor said. “Just to monitor him.”
Lucy nodded. “I’ll stay.”
Tim glanced at her. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she said firmly.
He smiled faintly. “Okay.”
⸻
Lucy stayed by his side all night.
She helped him sip water, adjusted his pillows, talked to him when he was awake and held his hand when he drifted off. Every small grimace made her chest tighten, but she was there — steady, present.
In the morning, the doctor returned.
“He’s doing well,” he said. “We’re going to discharge him today. But someone needs to stay with him for the first week. No heavy lifting. Limited movement.”
Lucy didn’t hesitate. “Not a problem. I’ll help him.”
Tim smiled at her, warmth filling his tired eyes.
⸻
Back at Tim’s house, Lucy guided him carefully inside, helping him settle onto the couch with pillows and blankets.
“You’re officially on bed rest,” she announced.
He huffed a weak laugh. “I hate bed rest.”
She kissed his temple. “Too bad.”
The week passed slowly.
Lucy cooked, cleaned, helped him walk, kept track of his medication. Tim was stubborn about asking for help, but she caught him every time he tried to push himself too far.
They talked about everything — work, the future, silly memories. They cuddled carefully on the couch, Lucy tucked against his side, Tim’s arm wrapped protectively around her.
One evening, as Lucy adjusted his blanket, Tim caught her hand.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For taking care of me. For staying. For loving me even when I’m not at my best.”
She leaned down and kissed him gently. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
He pulled her close, careful but firm. “I don’t say it enough… but I need you. And I love you.”
Lucy smiled against his chest. “I love you too. Always.”
And for the first time in days, Tim felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.