Booker sighed heavily. "I can't promise I won't try to get away," he said softly, looking off in the middle distance. "When that grief hits me it's very hard to fight. I get so tired."

That was really it, actually. Booker tired to fight it but it was exhausting. It hurt. It was easier to surrender and let it drag him down instead. In that tired state he didn't care that he hurt them when he drew back. He convinced himself it was better for them.

And he knew Andy would understand. She was just stronger and able to fight. "But I'm not going anywhere right now. Unless you wanted to go inside and find a bed so we have more space for activities."