“How do I make this right, Lucy?” he asks suddenly, his voice laced with sincere desperation as she whips her head to look at him, confused, snapped from her musical trance. “I don’t know what to do to make this right. I can’t go back in time and undo it, no matter how much I wish that’s what I could do. So right here, where we’re at right now – how do I make this better?” There’s a long silence between them. “I can leave. Do you want me to leave? I can transfer to another station.”
God, they’ve really come full circle on their relationship - back to the idea of one of them transferring.
She lets out an irritated huff. “You really think that’s what I’d want?” she snaps, voice even but laced with a hint of hostility. “I never wanted you to leave in the first place. You’re the one who just walked away.”
“I didn’t just walk away!” he exclaims in retort, and Lucy blinks in surprise. It’s the first time, in all these months, that he’s gotten upset with her. “Sorry,” he apologizes instantly for his irritation. “Sorry, I’m… sorry.”
“You did,” she returns sharply, because this is something she knows is true and she’s tired of tiptoeing around things. “And you can’t argue with me about that because you literally said to me, That’s why I’m walking away. You said it in the parking lot, Tim, and I know because I remember every single word of that moment after playing it on repeat in my head as I cried myself to sleep so many nights.”
Tim shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back against the headrest at the pain of finally having some insight into how hurt she’d been in the days after he’d left her, having confirmation that she’d cried herself to sleep over him.
“I know I walked away,” he returns, his tone more even and slow, then takes a deep breath and calms himself. “It’s the word just that hurts.” Lucy blinks at him, surprised at how easily he’s vocalized that he’s hurt, startled by his revelation that her words hurt him. “You make it sound like it was so easy for me, like I just got tired of you and left.”
“Well, that’s what it felt like,” she says softly, eyes looking out the windshield, avoiding his gaze. “Or more like, you decided you couldn’t trust me and left.”
There’s a long pause, and Lucy begins to wonder if the conversation is over before he speaks again.
“That’s not true.”
She shrugs.
“It’s not,” he insists. “I trust you more than anything. Then and now. It had nothing to do with you. Nothing. If you never believe anything else about our breakup, believe that. Please.”