As she falls in against him, a sob bubbles up from her throat, muffled against the front of his shirt. She hasn't ever really cried, not properly, not in the way that makes you feel wrung out but relieved at the end, tipping out all of your stress and sorrow so that you can finally begin to move on, if just a little.

"It isn't you," she tries to wetly clarify, but the words get stifled by the soft hitch of her crying and the solid weight of Cougar's chest.