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Rebecca let him down gently.
Elliot knew because Tim showed up at the farm around nine at night looking like someone had kicked a puppy directly in the soul.
“Hey,” Elliot said carefully as Tim climbed out of his truck.
Tim attempted a smile.
It was genuinely one of the worst things Elliot had ever seen.
“Oh,” Elliot muttered, “that bad, huh?”
Tim laughed weakly and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I think she used the phrase ‘you’re really sweet, Tim.’”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
They ended up sitting on the fence near the lower pasture while the sheep wandered nearby in sleepy little clusters beneath the dim porch lights.
Tim talked eventually.
Mostly about Rebecca. About how nice she’d been about it. About how stupid he felt for getting his hopes up in the first place.
Elliot listened quietly.
Because what else was there to do?
Tim had loved someone who didn’t love him back.
Elliot knew exactly what that felt like.
“I think maybe there’s just something wrong with me,” Tim admitted after a while.
Elliot frowned immediately.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Tim shrugged helplessly. “People don’t usually look at me and think relationship material.”
“That’s not true.”
Tim glanced over at him then, eyes tired and a little glassy in the dark.
And Elliot made the mistake of holding the eye contact.
Because Tim had always looked unfairly pretty at night. Softer somehow. Less overwhelming.
“You’d tell me if I was hard to love, right?” Tim asked with a laugh that didn’t sound real at all.
Something in Elliot’s chest ached so sharply it almost felt unbearable.
“You are not hard to love,” Elliot said quietly.
Tim went still.
The sheep shifted softly around them. Somewhere farther down the field, one bleated sleepily into the dark.
And for one terrifying moment, Elliot thought Tim might finally understand what he meant.
And a terrifying moment later he finds out that maybe that wouldn’t be so bad as Tim slowly laces their fingers together.