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He didn’t expect her to be in the kitchen.
Tim shut the front door behind him with a soft click, the weight of the day trailing behind him like smoke. His jacket still smelled faintly of gunpowder and motor oil—signs of a deal gone sideways, of territory lines being tested. He loosened his collar, the ring on his pinky catching the low light of the hallway as he stepped toward the back of the house.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. And then he saw her.
Lucy stood at the sink, rinsing a dish, her motions slow, methodical. She wore one of his black button-downs, oversized on her frame, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was tied in a loose knot, wisps curling down her neck. There was a plate of untouched food on the counter.
“I pay people to do that,” Tim said, his voice low and dry as he leaned against the doorway.
She didn’t jump. Didn’t laugh. Just kept washing the plate like she hadn’t heard him, or maybe like she had and didn’t care.
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. “Lucy.”
Still nothing. Just the soft sound of water and glass and the quiet hum of disappointment filling the room.
“I know,” he said, quieter now. “It’s the fourth time this week.”
She turned the faucet off, letting the last bit of water drip before she reached for the towel. Her back stayed to him, her silence louder than anything she could’ve said. He hated that. Hated the silence more than the screaming, more than if she’d thrown something at his head.
“I got called out. We had a complication in Oakland. One of the crews made a move without clearance, and I had to—”
“I’m not stupid, Tim,” she said without turning. “I know what you had to do. I know what this life is.”
She finally faced him, towel still in hand, her eyes dark and tired. “What I don’t know is if I matter more than all of that.”
His chest tightened. “You do.”
“Then why do I keep eating alone?” she asked. “Why do you keep coming home hours late without so much as a call?”
“Because I don’t want you to know how bad it is out there right now.”
“I already know how bad it is. I live with you. I see it every day. I just…I just would like a text message.”
Her voice cracked just a little, and Tim took a step forward, the floor groaning beneath his boot. She didn’t move, but her grip on the towel tightened.
“I’m trying to keep you safe, Luce. This life—what I do—it’s not clean. I wanted to keep it separate from this,” he gestured around the house, to the dinner she made, to the life she was trying so hard to hold together.
“But you can’t,” she whispered.
“No,” he said honestly. “I can’t.”
There was a beat of silence, both of them standing in the dim light of their too-quiet kitchen. Then Lucy dropped the towel and crossed her arms.
“You don’t get to be careless with me, Tim. You don’t get to forget I’m here.”
He closed the distance then, slowly, carefully. “I haven’t forgotten. Not for a second.”
She tilted her chin up, defiant even when hurt. “Then act like it.”
Tim reached out, brushing his thumb against her wrist, letting her feel the steadiness of him, the warmth beneath all the cold edges. “I can’t give you normal. But I can give you everything I have. Even the parts of me I swore I’d never give anyone.”
She didn’t speak, but her fingers grazed his—just enough to say she was still here.
Not forgiven. Not yet.
But still here.
“I’m gonna go lie down,” Lucy said quietly, already turning toward the hallway. Her voice was soft, not cold—but not quite warm either. Just tired.
Tim nodded once, hands resting on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Alright.”
She had made it halfway down the hall when he added, “I love you, Lucy.”
She stilled. Her spine straightened, just a fraction, and he waited—watched. She stood there for a breath, two, then slowly turned around and came back the few steps she’d taken. Without saying a word, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Soft. Lingering. Her hand rested for a second on his shoulder.
“I love you,” she murmured, and for a second, it felt like air returned to his lungs.
She didn’t stay long. Her fingers slipped away from him like smoke, and she turned again—this time without hesitation. Kojo, sprawled out near the fridge, lifted his head and, after a stretch and a quiet huff, padded after her, nails tapping against the hardwood.
Tim watched them disappear down the hallway. Watched the shadows shift under the doorframe as Kojo settled in beside the bed he rarely slept in alone anymore.
He stayed there in the kitchen, the faint scent of her dinner still in the air. He sighed and dragged a hand down his face.
“Get it together,” he muttered to himself.
Because the things he loved most in the world had just walked down that hall.
And he couldn’t afford to lose either of them.
Tim stirred to the faint sounds of morning—a car passing outside, birds chirping somewhere beyond the drawn curtains. His hand slid across the sheets, instinctively reaching for her, but all he found was emptiness and the lingering coolness of untouched linen.
He blinked, sitting up slowly, dread already curling in his stomach like a bad habit. Kojo was lying near the edge of the bed, head on his paws, ears perked slightly at the movement. The pitbull lifted his gaze to Tim, then back down with a soft huff, as if disappointed by what he already knew.
Tim followed Kojo’s line of sight. A small note sat on the nightstand, folded in half, his name written on it in Lucy’s familiar handwriting.
He didn’t rush to open it—he knew. He already knew.
Still, he unfolded the paper.
Morning,
Didn’t want to wake you. Heading in early to prep the bakery.
You were asleep, so I let you rest
—L
Short. Simple. No heart. No playful “miss you already.” Just words. Distant ones.
Tim let the note fall to his chest as he leaned back against the headboard. Kojo gave a low, thoughtful grunt and shifted closer, pressing his head to Tim’s thigh.
“You stayed, huh?” Tim murmured, scratching behind the dog’s ears. Kojo didn’t wag his tail. He didn’t even lift his head. “Traitor,” Tim added softly, but there was no bite in it.
She hadn’t kissed him goodbye. She hadn’t waited. And that—more than anything—told him just how far he was pushing her.
Tim dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled, deep and heavy. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I gotta fix this.”
Kojo, still pressed against him, gave a quiet sigh as if in agreement.
The sun had dipped low by the time Lucy pulled into the long drive. The gravel crunched beneath her tires, but no one came out to greet her. No familiar nod from one of Tim’s guys stationed on the porch, no quiet movement in the shadows that told her someone was keeping watch.
The house stood quiet. Still.
That was her first clue that something was off.
Tim’s house— their house—was never truly quiet. Even with a clear line drawn between the world Tim operated in and the part of it Lucy allowed herself to touch, there were always signs of his presence. A car idling, a muffled phone call, someone in the back checking perimeter. There were rules, layers of protection. But tonight?
Silence.
Until she opened the front door.
A warm, savory scent greeted her instantly—garlic, butter, something simmering low and slow on the stove. Her brows furrowed, tension easing only a fraction as she set her keys down.
“Tim?” she called gently, kicking off her shoes.
No answer. But a moment later, she heard movement. Soft steps and the faint clink of a utensil against a pan. She stepped into the kitchen—and there he was.
Tim stood at the stove, sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, apron tied loosely around his waist. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her, a soft smile tugging at his lips—hesitant, but real.
“You’re home,” he said.
Lucy blinked, surprised. “You’re... cooking?”
“I figured you deserved something that didn’t come out of a bakery case or a takeout box,” Tim replied, turning back to the pan with a practiced hand. “I’m trying to be better.”
The counter was already set—two plates, cloth napkins, a bottle of wine breathing beside the glasses. Candles sat unlit but placed with care. There were no guards in the hallway. No men posted outside. Just quiet, and him.
Lucy leaned against the doorway for a beat, eyes on him. “Where is everyone?”
“I gave the guys the night off. Told them to clear the property till morning.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You never do that.”
“I don’t,” Tim agreed. “But I figured maybe tonight, it could just be you and me. No noise. No people. No business.”
Lucy crossed the room slowly, heart thudding a little harder than it should have. “Did Kojo help you cook?”
Tim smirked, glancing down at the pitbull sprawled nearby with his chin on his paws. “Moral support. He tasted the first round of breadsticks, so if they’re awful, blame him.”
Kojo huffed in sleepy agreement.
Lucy smiled, but it faltered for a second as she looked at the table. “This... this is nice. Unexpected.”
Tim turned, setting the spatula down and finally closing the distance between them. His eyes searched hers for something, and whatever he found, it made his voice softer.
“I’m trying to show you that I know I’ve been screwing up.” He hesitated. “I hate how quiet you were this morning.”
She looked down, her voice low. “I hate being disappointed in you.”
Tim reached for her hand. “Then don’t be. Let me make it right.”
Lucy exhaled slowly, her fingers curling into his. She still wasn’t sure if tonight was a bandaid or a turning point—but she could smell the effort, feel it in the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing in his world right now.
So, she nodded.
“Alright, my love,” she murmured. “Impress me.”
Tim grinned. “Gladly.”
Dinner was quiet, the soft clink of silverware against plates and the occasional sigh of contentment filling the otherwise peaceful space. Tim had set a beautiful spread—roast chicken, caramelized vegetables, and potatoes in a rich, savory sauce. Lucy was enjoying every bite, savoring the flavors, and occasionally stealing a glance at Tim as he watched her eat.
“You’re a really good cook, you know that?” Lucy finally said, placing her fork down and leaning back in her chair.
Tim smirked, clearly pleased. “I don’t think that’s a surprise. I’ve got my talents.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the ‘chef’ type. I thought you were all about power suits and meetings.”
“I’m many things, Lucy,” Tim replied with a shrug, taking a sip of his wine. “But my mother didn’t raise me to be helpless in the kitchen.”
Lucy paused, surprised by the glimpse into Tim’s past. She didn’t know much about his family, but his mother had clearly been a big influence on him. “Your mom taught you how to cook?”
Tim’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked distant. “Yeah. My mom. She had a restaurant back when I was a kid. It wasn’t much, but she showed me how to do everything. Taught me to make her sauces, how to balance flavors, even how to carve a chicken. She didn’t let me get away with being lazy in the kitchen.”
Lucy’s eyes softened as she listened, taking in the rare glimpse into a part of Tim’s life he rarely shared. “Sounds like she had a lot of patience.”
He chuckled, a low sound. “More like tough love. If I messed up, I had to start all over. It wasn’t about the food; it was about the discipline. She believed cooking was the best way to learn patience, and I think she was right.”
Lucy smiled, imagining a younger Tim, probably stubborn and full of energy, standing by his mother’s side, learning the art of cooking. “It’s impressive. I mean, look at this meal.” She gestured to the spread. “I’d have been happy with takeout.”
Tim gave a casual shrug. “I enjoy it. It’s a nice break from everything else.”
Lucy nodded, her gaze softening as she took another bite, savoring the meal. She couldn’t help but admire him in a way she hadn’t before—not just because he could do the tough work, but because he’d taken the time to be good at something as simple as this.
“So, I’m assuming you don’t make this just for anyone?” she asked, her tone teasing but with an undercurrent of curiosity.
Tim met her eyes with a grin. “Not even close. You’re special, Lucy. I don’t cook for people I don’t trust.”
She raised her glass slightly in appreciation. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Tim met her eyes with a grin. “You should.” He leaned back in his chair, watching her intently. “I don’t do this often, but for you? I’d do it every night if you asked.”
Lucy’s smile deepened, and without a second thought, she stood up, her chair scraping lightly against the floor. She walked over to him, her steps deliberate. When she reached his side, she placed her hands on his shoulders, gently guiding herself onto his lap. The sudden closeness took both of them by surprise, but Lucy could feel the warmth between them, like a silent invitation to let go of any tension.
Tim’s breath caught slightly as she settled into his lap, her body fitting perfectly against his. He met her gaze with something softer than the usual intensity—something that felt like the quiet surrender of a moment he didn’t want to rush.
Lucy didn’t waste any time. She tilted her head, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was slow, tender, and filled with the unspoken gratitude she felt for him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer, wanting to feel the full weight of his presence.
When they finally broke apart, just inches from each other’s faces, Lucy whispered, her voice breathy, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
Tim’s hand rested on her lower back, steady and firm, and he smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
She kissed him again, this time with more urgency, showing him just how much his words and actions meant to her.
Tim’s lips were just about to meet Lucy’s again when the phone rang, sharp and insistent. He groaned, trying to ignore it, pressing his lips back to hers with renewed hunger. But the phone rang again, louder this time, almost demanding his attention. He cursed under his breath, the moment slipping away from him.
He tried to kiss her again, but the phone wouldn’t stop. It rang a third time, even more urgent. Lucy pulled back this time, frustration flickering in her eyes. She got off his lap, standing up, arms folded tightly across her chest. The warmth between them had cooled instantly, the intimacy of the moment replaced with tension.
“Just answer it, Tim,” she said, her voice thick with frustration.
Tim’s eyes followed her, his chest tightening at the sight of her annoyance. He hated when she looked at him like that. He grabbed the phone, knowing he couldn’t ignore it any longer. But there was a flash of regret in his eyes as he answered.
“What?” he snapped, his anger barely contained.
He listened, his jaw clenching as the voice on the other end spoke, but all Lucy could hear was the murmur of the conversation and the rising tension in Tim’s posture. She didn’t need to know the details; she could tell by his expression that it wasn’t something that could wait.
He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m not dealing with this right now,” he growled. But whatever was said on the other end made it clear that he didn’t have a choice. He rolled his eyes, his grip tightening around the phone.
“Fine,” he muttered, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’ll be there soon.”
He hung up, his eyes shifting to Lucy, who was standing across the room, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. The weight of the conversation pressed down on him, and he knew instantly that the moment was lost.
Tim sighed heavily, setting the phone down on the table. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every time he had a chance to be with her, something always pulled him away. And it wasn’t always something he could hand off to someone else. This was his world, and it demanded his attention in ways that he couldn’t escape.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his gaze softening. “I didn’t want it to ruin the night. I really didn’t.”
Lucy didn’t immediately respond. She stood there for a moment, her posture tense, before finally letting out a long breath. “It’s not the call, Tim,” she said, her voice softer now but still tinged with frustration. “It’s just… you always put everything else first. You say you’ll be here, but then something always pulls you away.”
Tim’s heart sank, the guilt weighing on him as he stepped closer to her. “I know,” he said, his voice low, rough. “But this is something I can’t just hand off to anyone else. If I don’t handle it, everything goes sideways.”
Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, her shoulders drooping, but when she opened them again, her gaze softened. “I get it. I do,” she whispered. “But sometimes… I just want to feel like I come first.”
Tim’s heart clenched at her words. He reached for her, cupping her face gently in his hands. “You do come first, Lucy. Always,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just... sometimes I have to do things no one else can. For us.”
She didn’t say anything at first, just looked at him, her eyes searching his. Slowly, she nodded, her arms uncrossing as she stepped closer. “I know. Just… try to make time for me too. For us.”
Tim nodded, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he kissed her forehead softly. “I will. I promise. Just give me a minute to deal with this, and then I’m all yours.”
Lucy let out a breath, the tension leaving her shoulders. “Okay,” she murmured. “But don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Tim smiled, relief washing over him. He squeezed her hand gently. “I won’t. I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”
As he grabbed his coat, he glanced back at her one last time, his heart full of regret for what had to be done. He knew it wasn’t always easy, but he hoped she understood just how much she meant to him, no matter how much the world tried to pull him away.
Lucy watched him as he walked toward the door, her heart heavy but her resolve clear. She knew the price of his world. She just wished it didn’t come at the cost of their time together.
Tim quietly opened the door to their home, the soft click of the handle echoing in the stillness of the night. The house was dimly lit, and a quiet, comforting silence hung in the air. He didn’t see her immediately, but when he glanced toward their bedroom, his chest tightened.
Lucy was asleep, curled up under the blankets, her breathing steady and slow. She looked peaceful, completely unaware of the stress and frustration gnawing at him. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of her—her hair spilling across the pillow, her face relaxed, lips slightly parted as she dreamed. His heart ached with the desire to be closer to her, to hold her, to make everything right.
But he couldn’t. Not tonight. Not after everything.
He exhaled sharply, stepping into the room more fully. His coat was still on, and he hadn’t even bothered to remove his shoes. There had been too many things today—too many people, too many issues that demanded his attention. And all the while, he had promised her he would be there. But once again, the world had come crashing in, stealing away the time they could have shared. And now here he was, standing in the doorway, watching her sleep as though he were a stranger in his own home.
He walked to the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing gently over the blanket. His mind raced, but he couldn’t shake the thought that, no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to fall short of what she needed.
He stared at her, frustration building deep inside him. All he wanted was to be there for her—to be the man she needed, the man he knew he could be. But the weight of his world always came between them. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to feel alone while he was stuck dealing with things that never seemed to end.
Tim’s jaw tightened as he leaned over and kissed the top of her head softly. "I’m sorry," he whispered under his breath, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. "I’m trying, Lucy. I swear to you, I’m trying."
The bed shifted slightly as he sat down beside her, his hand hovering just above her shoulder. His heart was in his throat, and all he wanted was to hold her, to feel her warmth and know that, despite everything, they were still in this together.
He sighed, sinking deeper into his own frustration. Maybe he could never make her truly understand. Maybe he was too far gone in his own world to give her everything she deserved. But damn it, he would try. He had to.
As he watched her sleep, a thought crept into his mind: maybe one day, she wouldn’t be waiting for him at all. Maybe one day, she’d grow tired of the empty promises, the missed dinners, the nights alone. And that thought terrified him more than anything.
He stood up slowly, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders, making sure she was comfortable. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake. He looked at her once more, guilt and love mingling in his chest.
"I’ll fix this," he whispered to the darkened room, his voice low and filled with determination. "I’ll fix this for you, Lucy."
And with that, he finally slipped out of the room, leaving the woman he loved behind—hoping, praying, that one day, he'd be able to make things right between them.
Tim tugged at Lucy’s hand, pulling her along the trail with a grin that spoke of mischief. The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm, golden light over the forest path, but Lucy couldn’t shake the frustration still simmering in her chest.
"Come on, Luce. It'll be good for you," Tim said with a playful tone, his grip firm as he led her through the wooded trail. His excitement was contagious, but it did little to ease the tension between them.
She sighed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at him. "I don't know about this, Tim," she muttered, her voice soft but firm. "I’m still annoyed at you. You can’t just expect me to forget everything just because you’re pulling me out on a hike."
Tim stopped walking, turning to face her with an exaggerated pout. "Hey, I get it, alright? I messed up. But I'm trying here. You’ve got to give me a little something." He dropped his voice, softer this time. "Please, Lucy."
Lucy hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering to the ground before meeting his eyes. "I don't think a hike is gonna fix things." But even as she spoke, she knew that a part of her couldn’t resist Tim when he put on that pleading look.
Tim chuckled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You’d be surprised," he said, a spark of humor in his voice. "Besides, you’ll feel better. I promise." He gestured to the wide expanse of nature around them. "I just need you to come out here with me, breathe, and leave the stress behind. It’s you and me, Kojo, and the trees. No one else."
She bit back a smile, despite herself. "You’re crazy, you know that?" Lucy muttered, rolling her eyes but following as Tim led her down the path once again. She might’ve been annoyed, but he had a way of wearing her down with that unshakable confidence.
"You say crazy like it’s a bad thing," he teased, glancing over his shoulder at her with a grin. "Look, you said it yourself. We need time together, and this is my idea of quality time."
She let out another sigh, but this time it was lighter. "I don’t know, Tim. I just think..." Lucy trailed off, watching as Kojo pranced ahead, clearly thrilled to be out on the trail. "I’m just not sure why you think pulling me away from everything will solve anything."
Tim’s expression softened, and he turned to face her. "I know I screw up sometimes, Lucy. But I don’t want you to think I’m doing all of this to make you mad or make you feel alone. I want to show you that you matter to me... even if I don’t always know the right way to do it."
Lucy studied him for a moment, her heart softening despite her best efforts. His words—raw, sincere, and vulnerable—struck her in a way she wasn’t ready for. "I know you care, Tim," she said quietly, meeting his gaze. "But sometimes... it’s not enough, you know? I need you to show up when it matters. And sometimes it feels like you don’t."
Tim winced, but he quickly recovered, stepping closer. "I’m here now," he said gently, a quiet determination in his voice. "And I’m not going anywhere."
For a moment, Lucy was silent, watching the way Kojo bounced through the underbrush ahead of them. She took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs. "Fine," she muttered, breaking the silence. "But I’m still not sure this hike is the answer."
Tim gave her a small smile, pulling her closer. "You’ll see. It’s not about fixing everything with one hike. It’s about showing you that I’m here with you, when it matters." He paused, his hand resting lightly on her waist. "And maybe... I’ll make it up to you later, huh?"
Lucy rolled her eyes at his cheeky grin but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "I’ll hold you to that," she said, her tone playful, but there was still an edge of softness underneath.
Tim gave her a wink. "Deal." He started walking again, his pace a little slower now, as though he knew he’d have to earn back some of her trust, step by step. "Let’s just enjoy the hike. And Kojo’s got enough energy for all three of us, so you better keep up."
Lucy snorted, the annoyance from earlier slipping away bit by bit. "You really think I can’t keep up with you?" she teased, the familiar competitive streak in her voice.
Tim shot her a sideways grin. "You’d be surprised," he said. "But I’m confident you’ll keep pace. Just don’t expect me to carry you if you get tired."
"Trust me," she said, matching his pace now with a twinkle in her eye. "I can walk this whole trail without you."
And with that, they both fell into step, the space between them slowly easing into something lighter. Maybe this hike wasn’t going to solve everything, but it was a start. Besides Tim had plans.
They kept hiking for awhile when Tim suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing Lucy to nearly bump into him. She blinked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing?" she asked, her tone laced with confusion. "We haven't seen anyone for miles. I don't think this is really a hiking spot."
Tim’s lips curled into a small, mischievous grin. "You’re right. This isn’t a normal trail," he said cryptically, turning back to her with a gleam in his eye. "But that’s kinda the point."
Before Lucy could ask what he meant, Tim started walking off the trail, his hand gesturing for her to follow. Kojo, naturally, trotted ahead, tail wagging as if he knew exactly where they were going. Lucy hesitated for a moment but eventually followed him, her curiosity piqued.
They moved through a patch of thick trees, the sound of birds and rustling leaves the only noise in the otherwise silent forest. Then, without warning, the trees parted, and Lucy's gaze fell on something completely unexpected.
A small, secluded cabin sat nestled in a clearing, its wooden exterior blending in perfectly with the surrounding forest. It looked old, rustic, and... private. Too private.
Lucy’s mouth fell open. "What the hell?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Tim, still with that same grin, motioned to the cabin. "This is it," he said casually. "My place."
Lucy’s brain stalled. "Your place?" she echoed, completely baffled. "Tim, when the hell did you get a cabin?"
Tim’s smile faltered just a little, but he recovered quickly. "It’s been a while," he said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. "I needed somewhere quiet. Away from everything."
Tim stopped at the threshold of the cabin, his hand resting lightly on the weathered wooden doorframe. He glanced back at Lucy, who was still standing several paces away, clearly thrown off by the sudden reveal of the secluded place.
"Alright," Tim said, his voice low but steady, "I’ll admit, I haven’t felt the need to come out here much since I met you."
Lucy blinked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "You... you’ve got this whole cabin, and you haven’t used it?" she asked, still trying to wrap her head around the idea of this hidden getaway.
Tim nodded, a touch of regret in his eyes. "No I use it. It’s just been here a while, but ever since I met you, I haven’t needed it. I’ve been content with just being with you. But now..." He trailed off for a moment, his gaze shifting to the horizon, as though gathering his thoughts.
Lucy’s heart softened a little, but she still felt a knot of confusion in her stomach. "Now?" she repeated, her voice quieter.
Tim exhaled slowly, turning to fully face her. "Now, things are different. The world’s been coming at us too fast lately. The work, the stress, everything. I wanted to take us out of it. I wanted to get away for a weekend—just you and me…and Kojo. No distractions, no pressure."
Lucy’s mouth opened slightly, and she glanced around at the secluded cabin, its windows glowing warmly in the dimming light of the afternoon. The peacefulness of it hit her like a wave.
"So, what, you brought me out here for a... weekend getaway?" she asked, her voice catching in disbelief. She wasn’t sure if she should be annoyed or touched, but the hint of something deeper was there, tugging at her heartstrings.
Tim gave a small, knowing smile, his eyes glimmering as he nodded. "I had my people bring everything out here—stocked it, set it all up for us. Everything you’d need. I know it’s sudden, but I thought it’d be good for us. We could just breathe for a few days, you know?"
Lucy’s gaze softened, and she took a few steps closer, her arms unconsciously crossing over her chest. "But why not tell me? Why bring me out here without any warning?"
Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned his head toward the cabin again, seemingly lost in his own thoughts for a moment. "I wanted to surprise you. It’s just... I’ve been so wrapped up in everything else lately, and I needed you to see this place for what it is—my attempt to shut out the chaos. To slow down, just for a bit."
She stepped toward him, closer now, studying the way his eyes lingered on her. "And this is your way of saying you want to slow down with me? No distractions?"
Tim turned back to face her, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Exactly. Just you and me, Luce. No rush, no noise, no expectations. Just us. For once. And... I want to share it with you."
Lucy couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her chest at his words. She looked over her shoulder, taking in the view of the woods around them, the sounds of nature filling the air. It was peaceful here, just as Tim had promised.
"I’m not sure what to think, Tim," she admitted softly, but there was less hesitation in her voice now. "It’s a lot to take in."
"I get that," Tim said quietly, his voice gentler now. "I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, but I wanted to make sure this was something you’d enjoy. Something... we could both enjoy. Away from everything else."
A brief silence fell between them before Tim stepped closer, his tone light but earnest. "What do you say, Lucy? You willing to take a break with me? No phone calls, no work... just us for the weekend?"
Lucy’s eyes softened as she took in the sincerity of his offer. For a moment, she just stood there, watching him, before she finally nodded.
"Alright," she said, her voice quieter but no less sincere. "I’ll give it a shot. But I’m still not sure how you thought I’d just go along with all of this."
Tim chuckled, his hands slipping into his pockets. "Well, I figured you'd like the idea of having me all to yourself for once. No interruptions."
Lucy rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You’re ridiculous," she muttered, though she didn’t move away from him.
Tim grinned, looking down at her. "Maybe. But you’re here, aren’t you?"
Lucy nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah, I am. And I’m willing to see where this takes us."
Tim’s smile deepened as he took a step back toward the cabin, glancing over his shoulder. "Then let’s get inside. I’ve got plans for us, and I don’t intend to waste a minute."
Lucy followed, her heart lighter than it had been in days. As she stepped through the doorway of the cabin, she knew that this was exactly what they both needed—a chance to reconnect, even if it was in the most unexpected of places.
The weekend had been perfect—an oasis of peace and laughter carved out of the chaos that usually surrounded them. Lucy couldn’t remember the last time she felt this... settled. She hadn’t touched her phone once. Tim had kept his promise—no interruptions, no business, no hushed phone calls behind closed doors. Just the two of them. Meals cooked together, sleepy mornings tangled in bed, her head resting on his chest as he whispered things he never let himself say out loud.
She loved it. She loved him. So damn much.
It was their last night, and Tim had insisted they watch the stars. She didn’t question it when he led her up the narrow staircase to the cabin’s upper porch, a thick quilt draped over his arm. The air was cooler up here, but not cold. The sky was wide open above them, painted with constellations and infinite darkness. A small firepit flickered in the corner, casting a warm glow.
He laid the quilt down and motioned for her to sit. She curled up beside him, her legs draped over his as his arm curled around her shoulders. For a while, neither of them spoke, and it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was grounding. The quiet kind of love, the kind that didn’t need to fill silence with words.
Lucy tilted her head to look at him, her hand resting against his chest. “You know, I could get used to this,” she murmured. “Just us. No one trying to kill you, no phones ringing every ten minutes.”
Tim chuckled, low and soft. “Careful, Luce. I might just build us another cabin if you keep talking like that.”
She smiled, but her heart fluttered as he shifted beneath her, adjusting so that he was facing her more directly. There was something in his eyes—focused, calm, but holding something heavier.
“You said earlier this weekend’s been perfect,” he said.
She nodded slowly. “It has.”
Tim reached into his jacket pocket, and for a moment, Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion—until he held something small and black in his palm.
“You know,” he said, thumb grazing the edges of the velvet box, “I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life. A lot of things I can’t undo. And for a long time, I thought that meant I didn’t get to have... peace. Or love. Or you.”
Her breath hitched.
“But then you walked into my life,” he continued, voice steady now, “and suddenly everything made sense. You never asked me to be someone I’m not. You just looked at me and saw past all of it. You gave me something real. Something I didn’t think I deserved.”
He opened the box slowly.
The ring glinted under the stars, simple and beautiful, just like everything about this moment.
Tim took her hand gently, eyes never leaving hers. “So, I figured I’d ask the smartest question I’ve ever asked. Lucy Chen—will you marry me?”
Lucy’s breath caught. She didn’t say anything at first—just stared at him, eyes wide, heart thundering.
And then she laughed softly, tears springing to her eyes as she nodded, unable to form the words at first. “Yes. God, yes.”
Tim grinned—one of those rare, unguarded smiles—and slid the ring onto her finger before she threw her arms around him, kissing him hard and fast, as if to seal it all in.
Up there, under the stars, wrapped in each other’s warmth, Lucy didn’t care about the rest of the world.
For once, they weren’t outrunning danger or cleaning up someone else’s mess.
They were just two people in love—finally, completely, and beautifully.
Things weren’t perfect.
They never really had been. There were still shadows waiting for them back home, unanswered calls and debts to pay, enemies that didn't forget, and secrets that didn’t stay buried for long. But out here, under the endless sky, wrapped in Tim’s arms with a ring glinting on her finger, Lucy didn’t care.
For now, this moment was perfect.
They hadn’t moved from the porch. The stars above still burned just as brightly, and Tim’s arms still held her like she was something sacred. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his thumb brushed slow, easy circles against her thigh, like he needed the reassurance that she was really there. That she had said yes.
She had.
And she’d say it again, a thousand times over.
The cabin door creaked open behind them, followed by the gentle padding of paws across wood. Lucy looked up just in time to see Kojo trot over, his tail swaying happily behind him. His eyes, bright and warm, blinked up at them before he nestled beside them with a soft huff.
Tim laughed, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek. “Look who finally decided to crash the party.”
Lucy smiled, reaching down to scratch behind Kojo’s ears. “He always knows where the love is.”
Kojo let out a satisfied little grunt as he leaned into her hand. Lucy leaned into Tim in the same way.
“This…” she whispered. “This is exactly what we needed.”
Tim nodded slowly, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Yeah. It is.”
They sat there like that for a while—just the three of them, tangled up in a quiet celebration. There was no champagne, no fancy dinner, no announcement to the world. But it didn’t matter.
Because Lucy was wearing his ring.
Because Tim had her full heart in his hands.
Because even in a life built on danger, this was theirs—this cabin, this weekend, this love.
And for now, it was enough.