Page 52 of Glass Jawed
Those words.
“I just need a few minutes. I... I’m not sure why but—maybe it’ll give some closure? To you or me... I don’t know. But I really hope you can give me a few minutes.”
And something in my brain had clicked.
Closure.
Maybe talking to Tim wouldn’t give me peace, but wasn’t Lucian just as much of a closed door in his own way?
Which is how I find myself—a few days later—sitting across from Tim in a random breakfast café.
Neutral ground. No memories.
He looks nervous.
Not in the dramatic, falling-apart way. Just... tired. Human.
“Listen...” he starts, fingers tightening around his mug. “It’s clear that—fuck—you’ve moved on. You both have. I can see that. But... I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
His eyes meet mine then. There’s guilt in them. A lot of it.
“I was wrong,” he says simply. “I shouldn’t have used you. Or put you in a situation where you felt—humiliated. But—”
“Don’t tag a’but’onto an apology, Tim,” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intend. “Change your phrasing.”
He swallows and nods. “Right. You’re right. Fuck, I’m sorry. I was lost. I was going through something. But I should’ve... I don’t know, talked to him first. Broken up if I was unsure. Done therapy—hell, I’m doing itnow. I’ve figured out why I was curious. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t excuse anything. I made a stupid choice. And it hurt three people.”
I nod. I don’t say anything. I’m not here to forgive.
But something settles inside me—not relief, not validation... just quiet.
Like I’d needed someone to say the words. And maybe that’s what I’ve been waiting for from Lucian too.
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I used you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I let him hurt you.”
He’s breathing hard now. Chest rising too fast for someone seated. “This is hard to say but... I don’t regret you. It gave me a wayforward. It’s just the way I went about it, you know? But Iamsorry.”
When I don’t respond he continues. “You’re the first on my apology train. But... thanks for listening.”
After a pause, I rise—grabbing my bag. “Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it. It doesn’t change anything... but I hope you found some peace with yourself.”
He gets up too, leaving his full cup of tea untouched.
He nods but says nothing.
And just as he’s about to walk out, I hear him murmur under his breath—”I’m getting there.”
When Tim walks out, I sit back down, the seat still warm from my slight panic.
Dread creeps up my spine, inch by inch, until it coils in the base of my neck like a fist.
Because now I have to tell Lucian. And I have no ideahow. Worse—no ideawhen. OrifI’ll even get the chance.
I’m not optimistic—what with the way he always shuts down the topic.
Fuck.
I grab my coffee, shove the lid on, and rush out. My head’s buzzing.
