[She’s not crying yet. Ironically it’s the shushing that does it; released hands find their way around his back, pulling Sunny just a bit closer, a fraction of the desperation drawing hushed gasps from weary lungs.]

I…’ve missed you… [Or is it “I’ll miss you”?] Always have....

[He won’t go home.
[Thing is, Aubrey doesn’t blame him.
[Can’t.
[Won’t.

[And she won’t cry about it forever, but just, for this quiet, dark moment…]