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The silence of the apartment is something Isabel is still getting used to. It’s not at all like the persistent hum of activity of the rehab facility; here, it’s just… empty.
She wraps both hands around her mug, letting the rising steam warm her face as she curls up beneath a blanket on the corner of her living room couch. She never used to get cold the way she does now— another strange, physiological shift she’s had to adjust to. Peeking down, she checks the time on her lock screen: 8:00 PM.
It is the exact same time she checks it every night. They hammer it into your head in rehab that it’s good for recovering addicts to build a rigid routine, because the less vacant time she has in her schedule, the less opportunity there is to think too hard about the empty, aching craving that still runs through her veins, even though it’s been months since her last fix.
So far, it’s working.
Then, her phone rings, shattering the silence.
Isabel narrows her eyes, pulse quickening instantly. She doesn’t get a lot of phone calls anymore—she’d burned nearly all her bridges when she went off the deep end for two years. There’s no caller ID, and after running in criminal circles for so long, she’s become wary of unknown numbers.
Part of her panics that it could be an old dealer coming to collect a debt she hadn’t realized she owed, or perhaps an affiliate of her ex-boyfriend. Then again, she’d never given anyone her personal cell—she may have been an addict, but she had still been a cop—so she reluctantly picks up, pressing the phone to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Isabel?” A chipper, young female voice rings through the line.
“Who’s asking?” Isabel responds, not letting her guard down just yet.
“Oh, sorry! It's Lucy Chen. I’m Tim’s rookie—uh, we met once, a couple of months ago. I pulled your number from your old file, I really hope that’s okay.” The girl giggles nervously, the sound tiny through the speaker.
“Yeah, I think I remember.” Isabel replies, grimacing when she remembers the humiliating circumstances of that meeting—a Narcan delivery and a painfully awkward conversation with a rookie whose only impression of her was outside a convenience store, desperately demanding cash from her estranged husband before running away when he tried to talk to her. But as the words Tim’s rookie finally register, a spike of worry flares in her chest. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, yeah! Sorry—he’s perfectly fine.” Isabel sighs in relief. “It’s just, um… Tim is taking the sergeant’s exam in a couple of months.”
“Yeah?” Isabel’s voice betrays her genuine surprise. Tim has been a T.O. for what—eight years now? And in all their time together, he had never expressed a single ounce of interest in moving up the ladder. He had always talked about being a T.O. as some sort of sacred responsibility, said that molding the next generation of cops is the most important responsibility a person could hold, and Isabel had always found that stubborn dedication charming. Clearly, something has shifted in his world over the last two years, but she never truly thought he’d leave the role. So hearing this? It’s interesting, to say the least.
“Yeah. It was sort of a last-minute decision, actually, so he’s got a massive amount of studying to do in a short amount of time. Because of that, he’s been making me read to him in the shop between calls. I asked him why not just let me drive and he could read it himself, it’d be a lot easier, but he insisted that he learns best when he hears it. It just got me thinking.” Lucy pauses, leaving Isabel to wonder what any of this has to do with her.
Tim and her haven’t spoken a word to each other since Valentine’s Day, when he’d visited her in rehab and handed her divorce papers. They’ve handled everything through their lawyers, and once the papers were finalized, she’d thought that would be the absolute end of her role in Tim Bradford’s life.
Lucy continues after a moment. “You and Tim came up as rookies together, right? And you were friends back then?”
Isabel hums in confirmation.
“Do you remember if he ever seemed to struggle to learn his rook book by reading it? Then, or ever?”
So that’s what this is about.
“Uh…” Isabel pauses, forcing her mind to travel backward through a decade of memories. “Actually yes, now that you mention it. He used to have me read aloud to him while he worked out in the gym after shift sometimes. Honestly, it’s how we became so close initially. And I mean, Tim’s never been the type to settle down with a book; he always preferred to listen to audiobooks.” She chuckles, smiling fondly. “It used to get on my nerves sometimes, and I’d make fun of him for it a little, but he told me it was the only way he could actually retain anything.”
Isabel goes quiet, and for a moment, she wonders if her teasing, though lighthearted as she had meant it back then, had made him feel a lingering sense of shame about his learning style. She hopes not, but she wouldn’t be surprised. Just add it to the growing list of ways I managed to hurt him, she thinks bitterly.
“Huh,” Lucy muses thoughtfully, breaking the silence. “That’s really interesting, and it actually makes total sense why he’s having me read to him at work. Obviously, he doesn’t have someone to do that for him off-shift right now, though… Hmm.”
Lucy trails off, the moving gears of her brain practically audible through the phone.
Isabel cringes slightly, a deeper wave of remorse settling into her bones. If she has a single greatest regret out of all the wreckage she’s caused over the last few years, it’s the cruel way she had left Tim high and dry, leaving him to wonder where she was and what was happening to her. He probably didn’t even know if she was still alive, and when he finally saw her again she was a shell of the woman she once was. Tim never deserved that burden on him, and she’ll carry that guilt with her to her grave.
“Uh, sorry,” Lucy’s voice cuts through her spiral. “I’m just trying to understand what he needs so I can figure out the best way to help him. Tim would make a great sergeant, so I really want him to pass.”
“Yeah, he would…” Isabel agrees softly. He’s a hell of a cop, and can command a room. But more than that, he’s a genuinely good man, and the LAPD could use more people like him in those positions.
The thought’s itching at her mind, and she has to ask–
“How is he doing? With… everything.”
“It was definitely tough on him for a while, but I think he’s doing a lot better now. I mean, from what I can tell, at least.”
Isabel sighs, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “I’m glad.”
A comfortable silence stretches between them, and then—
“How are you doing?”
Isabel freezes, caught off guard. She hadn’t been expecting that.
Lucy doesn’t even know her, only knows of the horrible way she treated Tim during her worst moments. For the girl to ask about her well-being speaks volumes about who she is as a person.
It is evident in the way she speaks about Tim, too. For a rookie, she speaks of him with an undeniable fondness—which is completely unexpected, given the notorious reputation Tim has for terrorizing his boots.
Isabel does the math quickly in her head, and figures that Lucy’s probably just passed her six-month mark—pretty impressive for a rookie under Tim’s scrutiny. So she must be a good cop. But clearly, she’s also very caring. Isabel feels a swell of gratitude that Tim has someone like that in his corner now.
“I’m doing worlds better, thanks for asking,” She finally responds, and she means it. Not a lot of people have asked her that lately.
“Good, that’s really good to hear.” Lucy replies, and Isabel can hear her smile. “Uh, I know it’s getting pretty late, so I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you so much for your help, Isabel.”
“I hope everything works out for Tim,” Isabel says sincerely. “And for you too, Lucy.”
“Me too! thanks!” Lucy replies cheerfully, and a second later, the dial tone sounds.
Pulling the phone away from her ear, Isabel snuggles deeper into the couch. She stares at the wall, turning the conversation over and over in her mind.
She thinks about how supportive, and even protective Lucy had sounded when speaking about Tim. The girl doesn't just care for Tim as her training officer; she genuinely cares for him as a human being.
And Isabel can’t help but think: She’s good for him.
Isabel falls asleep that night feeling a little bit lighter, comforted by the knowledge that someone is taking care of Tim in a way she never could.
—
A few months later, Isabel’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, scrolling apartment listings in Santa Fe – she’s recently accepted a new job there with a police officer support network, and she’s ready to start fresh – when her phone pings with a notification. A yawn catches in her throat as she picks it up.
It’s a text from an unknown number.
6:32 pm- From: (323) 555 - 0194
He came in 8th out of 140!! Just thought you should know. Thanks again for your help!
6:33 pm- From: (323) 555 - 0194
Hope you’re still doing well💕
Lucy.
Isabel smiles warmly, returning to her task with a rejuvenated energy.
Yeah, she thinks. She’s definitely good for him.
—