#tuckson

Olivia watched the uniform in front of her trip over his own feet as he beat a hasty retreat from her office, muttering what she could only assume was a shaky “yes, ma’am.” The irritation that had flared hot moments ago drained just as quickly, replaced by a flush of guilt and the faint sting of embarrassment.

Her temper had gotten the best of her—over something as inconsequential as a typo in a report. She’d been on edge all week, and it was starting to show.

“Okay…” Fin leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, one brow arched. “That’s the second one you’ve sent packing today. What’s up, Liv?”

“Nothing’s up.” She scoffed, sharper than she meant to, hoping the bite in her voice would be enough to send him on his way.

It wasn’t.

He stayed put, steady as ever, watching her like he had all the time in the world. For a fleeting second, she considered handing him a stack of DD-5s that needed to be digitized—Fin hated paperwork. It would serve him right for pushing when she clearly didn’t want to talk.

Then again, unloading might actually help. And Lindstrom couldn’t squeeze her in for another week.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the dull ache building behind her eyes. Maybe Fin wasn’t the worst option. If nothing else, whatever she said wouldn’t leave her office—and he’d give it to her straight.

“Close the door.”

She slid off her glasses and set them down with a soft thud. Ever since Tucker had closed the door to her apartment, the image had replayed in her mind on a loop—him on the other side, her letting him go. Regret and grief tangled together, cluttering her thoughts until she could barely separate one feeling from the next.

Fin shut the door and settled into the chair across from her, silent but present.

For a moment, she stared at her hands, unsure where to start. “Tucker and I…” Her voice caught, quieter than she intended. “We broke up.”

Fin blinked, the smallest lift of his brow giving away his surprise. He leaned back slightly. “Okay…” A beat. “What’d he do?”

Her head lifted at that, a quiet spark of defensiveness breaking through the weariness. “Nothing,” she said quickly, too quickly. She forced out a breath, her voice softening. “He didn’t do anything. It was me. I’m the one who ended it.”

Fin tilted his head, brow knitting. “Alright, you’re gonna have to walk me through this. Last I checked, everything between you two was solid. You were still talking about Paris last week.”

“I know,” Olivia murmured, dragging her hands over her face. The words came out rushed, like they’d been sitting on her chest for too long. “I know. I had a man who loved me. Who loved my son. Who wanted to build a future with me. And I—” her voice cracked, “—I pushed him away.”

She shook her head, an exasperated, almost helpless laugh slipping out. “What is wrong with me?”

“You’re scared.”

She looked up at him, incredulous. “Of what? Being happy?”

He didn’t blink. “Yeah. You’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop this whole time. And instead of waiting, you dropped it yourself.”

His words hung in the air, heavier than she expected. Olivia didn’t respond right away. She stared past him, jaw tight, letting his words settle.

Finally, she shook her head, her voice low. “That’s not it. I’m not… scared of being happy.” A beat. “I want that. God, I’ve been fighting for it.” Her breath hitched; the edge softened. “It’s just… every time I get close, something gives. And between Noah, this job… maybe it’s just not in the cards.”

The room went quiet, Fin’s gaze steady, as if weighing whether to let it sit. Then, carefully, he leaned in. “So let me ask you this—did he ever give you a reason to think it wasn’t in the cards?”

Her brows knit. “What do you mean?”

“Did Tucker ever make you pick between him and Noah?”

She shook her head, certain. “No. Never.”

“Ever ask you to walk away from the job?”

“No.”

Fin nodded slowly, like he’d been waiting for her to hear herself. “So if there was ever a shot, Liv—ever a man who’d stand next to you, not in your way—it’s him.”

She stared at him, thrown. Of all people, Fin was the last she expected to question her decision. He’d never exactly been Tucker’s biggest fan—nobody in the squad was. The fact that they’d tolerated him at all had felt like a small miracle.

“You think I made a mistake?” she asked, quieter than she meant to.

“I think you think you made a mistake,” Fin said evenly. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be tearing into everybody else.”

“I’m not—” She stopped herself. There was no use pretending. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“First?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Be honest with yourself about why you ended it. I know you don’t like feeling outta control. But Tucker? He’d have done whatever you asked, if you’d just talked to him.”

Olivia’s lips parted like she might argue, but nothing came out.

Fin shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I never liked the guy. Still don’t. But I saw the way he looked at you. Man damn near worships the ground you walk on. He’s solid—for you and for Noah.” His voice softened. “And Liv… I’ve never seen you happier than you are with him.”

****

Fin was right. She knew it the second Ed walked out of her apartment—she had made a mistake. She’d told herself she was protecting Noah, protecting herself, holding on to the pieces of her life she’d spent the last few years rebuilding. But none of it felt right. The apartment had been quieter ever since, like it was holding its breath.

She’d loved before, but never like this. Never this steady, this sure. Ed Tucker wasn’t perfect—neither was she—but with him, it was never about perfect. It was about how everything slowed down when he was around. The way he’d made coffee for her that first morning without asking how she took it—because he’d been paying attention. The way his hand would find hers on the sidewalk like it was second nature. The way he showed up, again and again, without ever needing to be asked.

He was kind. Grounded. He’d spent a lifetime in the same world she had—seen the same ugliness—and somehow still had the capacity to love her and her son without flinching. She never had to explain Noah to him, never had to apologize for being tired or distracted or protective. He just got it. He got her.

That was what terrified her—how easy it had become to believe in that safety. To lean into it. To imagine a future that wasn’t just survival.

Maybe Fin was right about everything. Maybe even after all these years, the therapy, some part of her still believed she had a debt to pay just for existing. But God, she was so tired of letting that fear dictate her life.

The day had been quiet. Noah was at pre-K, laundry running in the background, sunlight cutting through the blinds. Somewhere between folding towels and pouring herself a midday glass of wine, she’d found one of Ed’s shirts tucked in the back of the linen closet. She didn’t even remember how it got there. That’s when she found it—one of Ed’s shirts, tucked in the back of the linen closet like it had been waiting for her. She didn’t even remember how it got there.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, the shirt still bunched in her hands. It was soft from too many washes, faintly carrying his scent—the one that used to linger on her coats, on the pillow beside hers. Something in her chest tightened.

Before she knew it, her phone was in her hand. Her thumb hovered over his name in her contacts, still saved the same way. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to change it.

She hit call before she could second-guess herself. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs as the line rang. When his voicemail picked up, she froze—drawing in a sharp breath she prayed the recording wouldn’t catch. It had been nearly two weeks since she’d ended it. Two weeks of silence.

“Hey, Ed… it’s me.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “Um… you still have some things here. A couple shirts, that sweater…” She trailed off, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come by and get them, or… I could drop them off. Or send them. Whatever’s easier.”

Silence stretched. For a second, she almost said what she really meant—I miss you. I made a mistake. But the words jammed in her throat, stubborn as ever.

“Just… call me back, okay?”

She set the phone down, face first, and leaned back against her pillows. It was ridiculous, she told herself. And yet, part of her still hoped he’d hear what she couldn’t say—that he’d know the door was still open.

****

After three days of silence, Olivia had pretty much given up hope of hearing back from Tucker. Not that she could blame him. She was the one who ended it. No warning, no real conversation, just a clean break, the kind she was good at.

Now, the apartment was too quiet. Noah was asleep down the hall, the dishwasher humming softly in the background, some mindless sitcom flickering on the TV. She’d poured herself a glass of wine—then another—and was working her way through a pint of Chunky Monkey she’d sworn she wasn’t going to touch.

She tried to keep herself from thinking about him. With every flick of the remote, she tried to shove him a little deeper into the back of her mind. She toyed with the ice cream, watching it melt into an unappealing soup. She focused on the bitterness of the cabernet, the faint sting as it went down. Anything to keep her thoughts busy.

Somewhere between sips and the low hum of the TV, the memories slipped in anyway. Their first real date.

The day he met Noah.

That second morning in Paris, at the little café just off the Seine—morning light catching in his hair as he leaned back in his chair, grinning at her over his coffee like she was the only thing worth looking at.

She could still hear him saying something that made Noah beam, the boy erupting into a fit of giggles. Then he reached for her hand, their fingers fitting together on top of the table like they’d been doing it for years. It had taken her breath away then. It still did now.

Her chest ached, the kind of deep, quiet ache that made her wonder—despite herself—what if she hadn’t let go?

A knock at the door cut through her reverie, pulling her back into the present. She froze, the question slipping away as quickly as it had come. For a beat, all she could hear was the faint hum of the TV and the thud of her own heartbeat. Then she set her wine down and pushed herself off the couch, frowning as she headed for the door.

Who would be here at this hour? If it were work, someone from the squad would’ve called first. She peered through the peephole—and her stomach flipped.

For a second, she stood there, pulse ticking in her ears. Her hand smoothed her hair down almost instinctively, buying herself a moment. For a heartbeat, she considered pretending she wasn’t home.

When she opened the door, Tucker was standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking just as unsure as she felt.

“Ed,” she breathed, surprise flashing across her face before she could hide it.

“Hey, Liv.” He gave her a wry half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and it took everything in her not to flinch. She knew she’d hurt him, but seeing it now—weeks later—hit harder than she’d expected.

“It’s not too late, is it? I got your voicemail.”

“No, not at all.” She stepped aside quickly. “Please, come in.”

“Alright.” He crossed the threshold slowly, like someone entering familiar territory that didn’t quite feel familiar anymore. His gaze flicked around the room before returning to her. “So… how’ve you been?” His voice carried an awkward edge, like he was trying to make the space between them feel normal again.

Olivia folded her arms, suddenly aware of the glass of wine sitting on the coffee table. “Busy,” she said with a shrug. “Work’s… work. Noah keeps me on my toes.”

Tucker nodded, rocking slightly on his heels. “That sounds about right.”

They hovered in the entryway, neither quite sure how to bridge the weeks between them. The television buzzed faintly in the background, filling the silence that stretched just a little too long. Olivia crossed her arms, more for something to do with her hands than anything else.

“Do you, uh… want something to drink?” she offered. It came out awkward, like she’d forgotten how to talk to him.

He shook his head. “No, I’m good. I won’t stay long.”

A pang of disappointment caught her off guard. She covered it with a quick nod. “Right. Of course.”

“I didn’t want to just show up,” he admitted. “But I figured if I waited any longer, I’d lose the nerve.”

Her throat tightened, but she managed a small smile. “You’ve never been short on nerve, Ed.”

“Not with the job,” he said, eyes steady on hers. “But with you… that’s a different story.”

The honesty in his voice caught her off guard. Her fingers drifted to her arm, an unconscious habit, but she didn’t look away.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them shifted—charged, familiar, alive in a way that gave her goosebumps. Olivia took a step closer without realizing it, like her body had made the decision before her brain could catch up.

Ed didn’t move at first. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, shoulders tense, like he was holding himself back. But then his weight tilted forward just slightly, an instinct he couldn’t quite suppress.

“Liv…” His voice was low, rough around the edges. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, shaking her head. Then, quieter, steadier, “No. That’s not true.”

She drew in a shaky breath, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I messed up, Ed. I panicked. You started talking about retiring and all I could hear was… everything I could lose. The job. Noah. You.” Her voice cracked. “I told myself pushing you away was the safe thing to do. But it wasn’t. It was just me… running.”

Ed shook his head slowly, like he was trying to make sense of the ground shifting beneath him.

“I should’ve trusted you enough to say that out loud,” she went on, voice soft but unwavering now. “And I didn’t. I blindsided you. I hurt you. And I hate that. I hate that I let my fear do that to us.”

She searched his face, desperate for something to hold onto, but he just looked stunned.

The doubt made her falter; she started to step back, but Ed’s hand brushed her arm, gentle and sure. The touch hit her like a live wire, every nerve sparking awake. He started to pull back—careful—but she caught his hand before he could retreat, threading her fingers through his.

For a long moment, they stood like that, hands clasped, everything else falling away. Ed tugged gently, drawing her closer inch by inch, his thumb brushing against hers like muscle memory.

“You were trying to tell me,” he said quietly, realization flickering in his eyes. “The night you ended it.”

She held his gaze, steady.

“I thought you were saying we didn’t have a future,” he said, voice low. “But that’s not what you meant, was it?”

She swallowed, the words catching on their way out. “I just… I’ve never had this much to lose before.”

His expression softened. “You don’t have to worry about losing me.”

She let out a quiet, shaky breath. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Why do you think I brought up retirement? Liv, I’m in this for the long haul. You don’t have to keep your guard up with me. I got you.”

She didn’t say anything, but something in her eased. Their hands were still joined, fingers threaded together like they’d never been apart. Ed gave the slightest tug, bringing her impossibly closer. She didn’t resist.

For a moment, they just stood there, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, it felt nice. Her free hand came up almost unconsciously, resting against his chest. His heartbeat steady beneath her palm.

He dipped his head, just enough that their foreheads touched—a gentle, familiar gesture that had always felt like home.

Neither of them rushed it. The world narrowed to the space between them, the silence holding steady. Then Ed tilted his head and kissed her—slow, sure, nothing performative. Just a kiss that said I’m here. I still want this. I still want you.

She kissed him back like someone who’d been holding her breath for weeks.

When they finally broke apart, neither of them moved far. Her forehead rested against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet.

“Stay the night?” she asked, breathless but sure.

“You sure?”

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips before she could stop it.

He brought a hand up to cradle her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “Okay.”

“Stay forever?” she teased softly, half a joke, half not.

His mouth curved into that familiar, wry smile. “Whatever you say, Ms. Benson.”