She wished that he hadn't come back because the look on his face just made it that much harder for her to be angry with him. The way that he knelt down before her made Patty's hands tremble and the way that he brushed her tear off of her cheek made her eyes burn hotter than they were before. But she listened. She stared at him directly and she listened to him closely, hanging on his every word, and when he explained what happened to him in his lab she felt her heart twist painfully.
And then he finally said it. Three words, not the ones that she had always wanted to hear from him, but ones that held just as much importance to her because of what they had gone through. All she wanted was honesty. Patty needed to know that she could trust Barry, because Barry was good, he was kind and sweet and gentle, and if you couldn't trust someone like Barry than, really, who could you trust at all? Patty needed her faith restored in him or she would carry that with her for the rest of her life. She believed in Barry Allen so deeply that a betrayal from him cut her to her core, and it needed to be mended or she felt like she would never be able to trust that deeply ever again.
The confession seemed to tear down a wall in her, her strong demeanor crumbling and the flood gates opening. She was still telling herself not to cry despite the fact that her tears were falling freely now as she stared at him, biting her bottom lip hard to keep herself from making sound, and she only gave up when a small, quiet sob managed to slip it's way out. She hated how much she needed to believe in him. She hated how much she needed to believe that heroes were good.
With a sudden shift Patty moved forward and wrapped her arms around Barry's shoulders, embracing him tightly and pressing her face into his shoulder. Her fingers twisted in the back of his shirt, holding him close as she slipped off of her seat to instead kneel before him and cling onto him completely. She just wanted to turn back time, change everything and make it so he said that, exactly that, thirty days ago. A part of her understood why he didn't but a larger part didn't, because Barry knew her. She let him in further than she had let anyone, he saw parts of her that she tried to hide from the rest of the world, just like the part he was witnessing then. She wanted to believe that he knew he could have trusted her, but now a small part of her was doubting that. Maybe he didn't tell her because he didn't think he could trust her. Maybe she hadn't proven herself to be trustworthy enough.
She wouldn't let go of him until she was able to regain composure, cheeks flushed and eyes wet, and her hand moved up quickly to wipe her tears away before she looked up at him with a glassy shine still in them.