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Lucy made herself at home at Tim’s house while he was working late. She let Kojo out, made dinner, nodded off while watching TV, and just when she decided she would crawl into bed without him, he walked through the door.
“Hey,” he sighed when he found her wrapped in a blanket on the couch.
“Hi, babe. Long day?” She asked and walked over to envelope him in a hug.
“A lot of waiting around for our suspect, but we finally got him.”
“Of course you did,” she grinned and pecked his lips. “I made dinner if you want to eat something.”
“Not really hungry. I just wanna take a shower and then get in bed with you.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He dropped a kiss to her forehead, looked over to see that Kojo was asleep, and then made his way into the en suite bathroom to take a quick shower.
Lucy no longer felt tired once she got into his bed. She could tell he seemed to still be buzzing from the last bit of adrenaline after a long shift, so she decided to light a candle on his nightstand and turn off the lights, creating a soft and soothing glow in the room while filling the space with the scent of pine trees.
Tim walked into his bedroom and exhaled at the sight of her in one of his t shirts and small sleep shorts that barely peeked out from under his shirt. Her hair was in a messy bun. Her face was makeup free. The candlelight made her eyes even more sparkling. She looked beautiful. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered into the still room.
She blushed, because even though he says something to that effect regularly, it still makes her chest tighten.
He removed the towel that was wrapped around his waist and rifled through his dresser drawer for a pair of boxer briefs. Tonight, he wanted to feel his skin on hers in a way that was comforting and grounding. Sometimes, he just needed to feel ALL of her. It wasn’t sexual. It was sensual. Tim never felt comfortable requesting that previous partners sleep in only their underwear with him, but with Lucy, just like pretty much everything else, he was comfortable asking, “Can you take off your shirt?”
She sat up and removed her t shirt and then her shorts, tossing them to the floor carelessly. “What else do you need?” Lucy asked. He was getting better at verbally expressing what he wants instead of holding back, but she still inquired to ensure he felt he had the space to speak for himself even if she was getting better at reading his mind.
“Just you, baby,” he answered quietly and climbed into bed next to her. She repositioned herself so her head was resting on his shoulder, their legs were tangled together, and one of her hands was on his stomach. Tim stared up at the ceiling while the mix of the scented candle and Lucy’s shampoo wafted in his nose, he felt the warmth of her skin leaking into his, and enjoyed the comfortable weight of her body pressed into his side. It was relaxing. It was exactly what he needed as he waited for the adrenaline to wear off.
At some point, he noticed that Lucy’s finger was lazily tracing a specific spot on his abdomen. He knew without having to check. “Are you thinking about your first day as my rookie when I got shot in front of you?” Tim asked based on the fact that her finger was outlining the bullet wound scar.
She nodded and then lifted her head off of him to bend down and kiss the raised skin. “I almost lost you that day.” Her breath was warm against the old injury.
“But you didn’t,” he assured her and followed her movements as she brought her face close to his.
“I know, but every time I see one of your scars…”
“You’re reminded of how damaged I am?” He supplied with pain lacing his otherwise small but even tone.
“No,” her voice was quiet but firm. “I see all the moments I wish I had been there for you.”
Tim inhaled a shaky breath as he pictured his whole life with Lucy as his fierce protector pulling him out danger, stemming bleeding when necessary, whispering comforting words, and just being there for him during every single serious injury. It was a nice image.
She ran a hand through his still wet hair and murmured, “But, you have me now, okay? Always.”
He didn’t think he could express how touched he was by her words, so he gently pulled her face to his for a kiss.
Lucy held his gaze for a long, silent moment as she watched the orange light from the candle dance in his blue eyes. Then, her eyes flicked over to a scar on his right bicep. She smoothed her thumb over it.
“That one is from my dad and a broken beer bottle,” he explained.
She dropped her lips to the spot and did not want to press him for any more details.
“You want to know about all of my scars, don’t you?” He couldn’t meet her eyes as he asked.
“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want you to have to relive something triggering or…”
“I don’t like talking about them,” he cut her off, his voice was low and harsh, but then he looked back up at her and continued, his tone calmer, “but, you…it’s okay if you know.”
“Tim, I really don’t want to upset you.”
He cupped her chin and replied, “A few times, people have asked before, and I’ve either ignored the question or lied, but I want you to know. It’s part of who I am, and I want you to know who I am. Every part. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Scars and all.”
She interlaced her fingers with his, kissed the back of his hand, and requested, “Okay. Tell me, but you can stop whenever you want.”
In the dark room only illuminated by candlelight, Tim nodded and pointed to his right thigh, then his left ankle, and the bottom of his right foot. He turned over and gestured in the vicinity of his shoulder blades, his lower back, his right hip, his left calf, his left wrist, and the base of his skull. Some of his explanations were short, others had longer anecdotes he was willing to delve into. His scars told the story of his reckless youth, mistreatment from his father, his time in Afghanistan, his years on patrol, and his back surgery.
Lucy kept her hold on one of his hands while the other glided over each scar as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. Sometimes, his tone was filled with sadness or pain and other times, there was pride in his battle scars. After each story was finished, she dropped her lips to the raised skin wishing she could kiss away the pain that coincided with each injury.
He felt vulnerable telling Lucy about some of his darkest moments, but there was no one he trusted more with those well-kept truths.
“Thank you for telling me about them,” she said softly. Tim flipped over and faced the ceiling again. She was on all fours hovering above him looking at him with so much love in her eyes it made heart stutter.
Tim held her face in his hands and replied, “Thanks for not running away.”
“I would never do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t, but before you, I used to think that if anyone knew my whole history, they couldn’t…” he choked on the words “love me”, which he was unable to say. Precious words they had yet to exchange.
Even in the low light, Lucy could see the anguish on his face. “Hey,” she said gently and angled her head to kiss the palm of one of his hands where it was cupping her face before looking straight back at him. “I love you, Tim Bradford. Scars and all.”
He was speechless as he stared at her. She loves him. Of course, he had felt her love emanating from her eyes so often it was not exactly a surprise, but to hear those three simple words falling from her lips so kindly and so genuinely, Tim thought he might explode.
“You don’t have to say it yet,” she murmured, interpreting his long pause as panic. Before being given the tour of his physical scars, she was familiar with his emotional ones. Lucy was well aware of Tim’s challenges with love, and she did not want to pressure him. It would be nice to hear him return the sentiment, but she knew deep down how he feels about her. Lucy kissed his temple, whispered, “I love you,” then each cheek, “I love you, I love you”, the tip of his nose, “I love you”, then his chin, “I love you”, and finally, his lips followed by a final quiet, “I love you.” She saw the way his eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and her thumb stroked his cheekbone. “It’s okay, baby,” she tried to comfort him.
He closed his eyes, releasing a few droplets, and as her hand wiped each tear away, Tim was completely overwhelmed by her love for him as if her literally kissing every one of his scars, every single record of some of the most painful moments of his life, was not tender enough.
When his face was dry, Tim finally opened his eyes to meet hers. The amber flecks in her irises were perfectly pronounced in the candle’s glow. It was always hard to say, but the words had been on the tip of his tongue for a while. Though confessing that truth was scary, it was far less daunting than telling her about his past suffering as it was marked on his body. If he could share the origin of every one of his scars, he could find the strength to tell her how he feels.
As Lucy leaned over him to blow out the candle, she heard it and froze. His voice was raw and thick with emotion, but to her surprise, he said it.
“I love you, Lucy.”
She abandoned the task of extinguishing the flame to meet his gaze.
“I do. I love you,” he repeated, his tone still fervent.
Lucy felt her arms and knees go weak seconds before she ended up dropping onto his chest, eliciting a surprised “Umph!” from him. She smiled shyly. “You do?” It was more of a question to confirm he was ready to share those words than the feelings behind them.
“Yeah, baby, I love you.”
She let out a happy little noise and kissed him once more, it was uncoordinated and messy due to their smiles, but it did not matter. He said it out loud. He told her he loves her.
Tim shifted slightly to blow out the candle and wrapped his arms tightly around Lucy, his fingers lightly dancing along her bare back. She settled against him easily, placed a kiss over his heart, and drifted to sleep soon after. He watched Lucy’s eyes flutter closed, heard her breathing deepen, and then he let out a breath he didn’t know how long he had been holding in. Tim had never felt more known or more loved by anyone before Lucy Chen, and he knew he would be lucky enough to experience that feeling for the rest of his life.