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“You were wrong earlier.” Lucy says as they walk side by side through the station parking garage.
Tim furrows his brow with amusement. “About anything in particular, or just in a global sense?”
Lucy turns to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest with a smirk. “You said at the end of the day, we only think we know other people, but you’re wrong.”
Tim stops in his tracks, raising his hand. “Okay. Lucy—”
“No.” She cuts him off. “When I was in that barrel, I knew you would find me. No matter what it took.” Her eyes soften with sincerity as she steps closer to him.
Tim shakes his head. “I found you because of your ring, okay? You saved yourself,” he tells her, the same thing he’s told her a hundred times. “And I really hope what happened with Rosalind today doesn’t screw with your head.”
Lucy tilts her head, offering a soft smile. “If it does, I’ll deal with it.” She pauses, perking up and spinning around before taking off towards her car. “And I know you’ll help me.”
Tim stands in his spot, hand clutching his bag as he frowns playfully. “Uh, it’s not really part of my job description.”
“Mm-hmm.” She shoots him a final smirk before strutting to her car. Tim watches her get in before heading the other direction towards his truck.
He slides into the driver side seat just as his phone lights up. It’s a text from Genny—she’s coming to visit with Tyler and Austin next week and wants to iron out the details. They text back and forth for a while, and by the time Tim slides his phone into the dash mount, fifteen minutes have passed.
He pulls out of the space and turns the corner.
Lucy’s car is still there.
His eyes narrow with confusion. He’d watched her get in the car fifteen minutes ago. He’d’ve thought she would’ve been halfway home by now.
Pulling his truck perpendicular to the passenger side window, he sees her inside.
Her knees are tucked up under her chin, arms resting on them, and she’s staring straight at the concrete wall ahead.
He stops the truck, hopping out and slamming the door shut. She doesn’t flinch at the sound. He walks around the car to the driver's side, knocking softly on the window.
She startles, wide eyes shooting to him, and now that he can see her face, he can also see the damp tear tracks on her cheeks. After a moment, she seems to recognize that it’s him, and blinks the tears from her eyes. She slowly lowers her legs from her chest as Tim hears the click of the door unlocking. He doesn’t wait for an invitation; he grabs the handle and swings the door open, stepping into the frame to block the view of any passersby.
He doesn’t say anything right away, he just looks at her, expression and stance softening as he takes in the exhaustion in her eyes.
“Hey,” he says, voice dropping low and steady. “What’s going on?”
Lucy’s eyes move down to his torso, then the ground, then back up to the steering wheel, hand tracing over the stitching there. She’s not panicking, doesn’t look frantic—just completely deflated.
“Today was just… a lot,” she finally whispers. “With all of the Armstrong stuff going on, I’m just really worried for Nolan. Even if he keeps his job, this could destroy his career… it’s just not fair.”
Tim stays quiet, leaning against the doorframe, letting her share at her own pace.
Lucy sighs. It’s heavy and shaking, and her shoulders droop. “And then the Rosalind stuff. Finding out that she’s seen the footage… knowing that she saw me at my worst, most vulnerable moments… and then her singing the song—it just brought everything back up on a day that was already difficult enough, and I’m so tired, Tim.”
As she finishes, she looks back up at him, eyes shining with tears that refuse to fall, like she’s waiting for him to say something.
Tim isn’t sure what to do, though. She’s clearly not looking for a lecture or advice, he thinks she’s just tired of keeping it all together.
He holds her gaze. Tim knows some of what it feels like to carry a heavy weight like that, to pretend to be fine for the sake of the job until you’re alone and it all comes rushing back in. He clears his throat quietly.
“Do you want a hug?”
Lucy blinks, a tiny burst of surprise appearing in her bleary eyes. Tim gets it—the offer is very not him, but he thinks it must’ve been exactly what she needed as she offers him a weak smile.
“Actually… yeah. That’d be really nice,” she mutters meekly. “Thanks.”
She swings her legs out of the car. Tim steps back just enough to give her room, then wraps his arms around her once she stands. Lucy melts into it after a moment, resting her head against his shoulder as tucks her arms in between their chests. Tim wraps one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulder, brushing over the fabric there with his thumb.
Lucy’s eyes close as the tension leaves her muscles. For a few moments, the world around them seems to fade out as they stand there.
Eventually—reluctantly, Tim pulls back, one arm falling to his side as the other hand rests reassuringly on her shoulder. She lifts her head from his shoulder and looks up at him, a flicker of embarrassment flashing over her face.
“You okay to drive home?” Tim asks her.
“Yeah,” she says, giving him a small, weary nod. “Yeah, I am. I just needed a moment.”
“Alright,” Tim acquiesces, though concern still lingers in his expression. “Get home safe.” He gives her an empathetic smile as he lets her climb back in and walks back over to his truck. He waits until she pulls out to follow, a thought forming in his mind.
—
About an hour later, Lucy is back at the apartment, wringing out her damp hair with a towel, when there’s a knock at the door. Her brow furrows—she’s not expecting visitors at this time, and Jackson is already asleep. Tying her silk robe around her, she pads to the door with bare feet, looking through the peephole to see who is at the door.
It’s a Doordash driver, and Lucy frowns before turning the deadbolt and pulling the door open.
The driver looks at her with a mildly grumpy expression—not unlike her face in the mornings pre-coffee. “Hi, I have a delivery for a… Lucy Chen?” He reads off of the bag.
“That’s me,” she replies.
The driver smiles. “Great, I just need to verify your ID.”
“Oh, one sec.” Lucy turns around, fishing her driver’s license out of her purse on the island, walks back to the door and hands it over. The driver looks it over, nods, and hands it back along with the bag with a quick, “Have a good night.”
Confused, Lucy carries the bag to the kitchen counter just as her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out to find a text from Tim.
9:04 pm: From: Tim
Wasn’t sure which one the day called for, so I got both.
9:04 pm: From: Tim
Remember that you’re stronger than her, you’re a survivor, and you have us. Good night.
Lucy opens the brown paper bag to examine the contents.
Inside is a pint of strawberry ice cream (her favorite) and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.
She pulls out both, setting them on the counter as tears spring to her eyes again. They’re for an entirely different reason now, though, and a genuine smile finally breaks out for the first time all day.
(Tim was right, as he usually is when it comes to her—the day definitely called for both.)
—