[ In the heartbeat of a pause before he speaks, she thinks her heart might burst right out of her chest. She has spent so many years exploiting the idea of love that the reality of it terrifies her; she has never been in a place where love felt like a safe thing. It was a tool, a weapon, nothing more, because when you offer someone that much of yourself, it's a weakness they can instantly turn against you.

She has never trusted someone to not turn against her. And she does trust him, more than she ever has any other man, but the fear still hangs around her like an albatross on her neck.

He explains and she understands. She understands because she has spent so much time stubbornly believing she can will things into (or out of) existence if she just believed hard enough. Fake it 'til you make it, right? But that hasn't always paid off for her in the past. ]

You feel real to me. [ She takes his hand, holds it to her chest. Doesn't even notice tears slipping from the corners of her eyes, spilling over from the sheer overload of emotions she's having. ] We feel real. And if you can't make it home to me, then I will go to you. I'll find you. I'll always find you. I -- you're the first thing I ever had worth keepin'.

[ She was willing to lose herself to find him. ]