Lines Crossed

Lines Crossed - Part XIV: The Lie and the Getaway

Title: "Lines Crossed – Part XIV: The Lie and the Getaway"

Tim had never been a good liar.

He wasn't built for deception — not like some others in the department. But when he stood in Ashley's living room, duffel bag at his side, guilt sitting heavy on his chest, the lie rolled off his tongue smoother than he expected.

"Two-week undercover," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Gang-related, out of county. I'll be off the grid for most of it."

Ashley's brows creased. "You didn't say anything earlier."

"It came up fast. Last-minute assignment. I didn't even want it, but they needed someone experienced."

She looked uneasy, but nodded. "Will you be safe?"

"Yeah," he said, forcing a tired smile. "Just routine. Boring, even."

Ashley stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "Okay. I'll miss you."

He kissed her forehead, every inch of it a betrayal. "I'll call when I can."

Then he turned and walked out the door.

Straight into a lie.

⸻

Two Hours Later – LAX Airport

Lucy waited near the gate in oversized sunglasses and a plain black hoodie. She looked nervous, unsure if he'd actually show.

Then she saw him — black t-shirt, ballcap low, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"You came," she said quietly.

"I told you I needed time," he replied. "I took it."

"And Ashley?"

"She thinks I'm working."

Lucy hesitated. "Tim..."

"I know what this looks like," he said, stepping closer. "I know what it is. But I needed to be with you. Away from everything. Just us. No uniforms. No questions. No pretending."

Lucy nodded once.

Then they boarded the plane.

⸻

Two Days Later – Miami Beach

The hotel was tucked just off Ocean Drive, private and expensive. Their room overlooked the sea — blue and endless — and Lucy stood barefoot on the balcony, wearing nothing but one of Tim's shirts.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

"This doesn't feel real," she whispered.

"That's the point," he murmured. "For two weeks, it is."

They spent their days in anonymity — walks along the beach, late breakfasts, tangled limbs under cotton sheets and warm sun. No badge. No guilt. Just stolen time.

But every time Lucy glanced at her phone and saw no messages — every time Tim stared at the ceiling too long after they kissed — reality pressed its weight against the edges.

"This has an expiration date," Lucy said one night, lying on her side, looking at him in the dark.

"I know."

"And when we go back—"

"I'll figure it out."

"Tim," she whispered, "don't make me the escape. Make me the choice."

He didn't answer.

He just pulled her closer.

⸻

Back in L.A., Ashley sat on the couch, looking at her phone.

No messages. No check-ins. Just silence.

And the first crack of suspicion began to form.