Chapter Text
Abby Clark is in love and she hates that it’s only come about after her mother’s death. Sam is amazing — a loving father, well-traveled, funny, kind, and a million other things that make Abby fall in love with him every day.
There’s just a little hitch of someone she left behind.
She means to call Buck back the first time she misses him, it’s just — L.A. feels so far away sometimes, and she did tell him to do whatever he wanted. The fact that she has no plans to go back, maybe ever, is just something she hasn’t been able to bring herself to tell him. He’s still living in her apartment, even, and it just makes Abby uncomfortable and upset to even think about L.A. sometimes, let alone return to her life there.
Her phone has voicemails and texts from him, most of them unanswered because Abby can’t figure out a way to just pick up the phone and tell him that, what, she’s fallen in love with another man? An amazing, wonderful man who she thinks loves her back?
(It’s early days yet, and Abby knows it’s on the verge of too soon to be calling her feelings for Sam love, but she also knows how it feels to love someone like that.)
But it’s Sam who gives her a look sometimes, especially when they look at her phone and see Buck’s name pop up. “You should tell him,” he’ll say, and Abby’ll shake her head.
“He knows,” she says, and Sam won’t say it, but she knows what he’s thinking. Buck promised to wait for her at the airport, and he won’t move on until she lets him go. Times like that, Sam’ll usually walk away and give Abby the chance to actually call Buck back.
She never does.
So when Buck calls during dinner in Italy one night in early August, Sam puts down his fork and stares at her. “You should answer,” is the only thing he says, and Abby nods, picking up her phone and standing to take the call in private.
Hearing Buck’s voice — actually speaking to him for the first time in a few weeks — is harder than she expects it to be. Abby knows that she should’ve picked up the phone and called him back, messaged him back anytime within the last few weeks, but she doesn’t want to risk popping the bubble she’s found herself in. She’s happy, she’s remembered why she loved traveling and meeting new people, and Buck just seems like a reminder of L.A. and everything she left behind.
He deserves better, and for that, she is sorry.
She’s also sorry for the vaguely relieved tone of his voice when she answers his call. “Hey.”
And for all of the terrible things that happened while they were dating, Abby’s actually glad to hear his voice. “Hey, Buck.” She takes a deep breath. “Listen, I-I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch as much as I should’ve.”
“Abby,” Buck says. It makes her stop short because his tone, gentle but firm, isn’t one she’s heard from him before. “You’re busy finding yourself. I get it.” Abby blows out a relieved breath, sagging against the hallway wall behind her. “I just — I wanted to say it out loud instead of sending it over text or through a letter, y’know?”
“Yeah,” she says after she remembers that he wouldn’t be able to see her nod.
“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath, the sound of it staticky over the phone. “We’re officially over, right? Like I’m not reading the radio silence wrong?” And Abby knows Buck’s a smart guy, but hearing it put out there in such plain terms stings. “Because if we’re not, then I’ve gotta call it, Abby,” Buck continues when she doesn’t say anything. “I can’t keep waiting, and I’m grateful, truly, for what you did for me and what our relationship taught me. But I can’t hang around like some ghost, haunting you.”
It’s an odd phrase, but Abby’s more relieved than anything. “You’re not wrong, Buck,” she says, gently as she can. It reminds her of days calming frantic callers, and it itches uncomfortably under skin. It’s not a comparison she’s thrilled to know. Buck doesn’t say anything for a long moment, so Abby sucks it up and says, “We’re done, Buck. And I’m sorry — you’re right, I should’ve told you sooner. It’s just.”
She pauses, turning to look towards the patio where Sam’s still sitting with their dinner. “I-I met someone,” Abby confesses.
There’s a sound that she’d think was a scoff if it came from anyone else, but Buck starts talking again before she can focus on it. “I’m glad for you, Abby. You deserve to be happy.”
“So do you, Buck,” she says. It’s quick, but no less sincere. Abby knows that Buck’s amazing and deserves someone equally as amazing in his life. She clears her throat before the awkwardness settles in.
Thankfully, it seems like Buck doesn’t want to stew in the silence any longer than she does. “So, I haven’t actually had a chance to look for a place,” Buck says, and Abby’s, frankly, relieved.
“Please, stay as long as you need. I don’t think I’ll be stateside anytime soon.” She winces as it leaves her mouth — more evidence that she should’ve done this sooner.
“Thanks.” Abby doesn’t know what time it is in L.A. right now, but if it’s a day Buck’s working, then he’s probably sitting in the locker room on the phone with her when he should be preparing for a 24. “Take care of yourself, Abby. I’ll let you know when I’m out of the apartment.”
“Stay safe, Buck. And,” she adds before he can hang up. “Thank you. Really.”
The only answer she gets is the sound of the disconnect on their phone call, and Abby blows out a breath. It could’ve gone worse, all things considered, so she’s pretty pleased with the way it went down. One less thing for her to worry about.
“Abby?” Sam pokes his head into the hallway. “Everything okay?”
She smiles at him. “Everything’s perfect.”
(Buck’s text letting her know he’s moved out of the apartment, a little over two months later, is perfectly cordial. I wish you and Sam the best is how he ends it.
Abby wonders, riding a train east, how Buck knows Sam’s name.)