"I never tried," she said quietly, sighing a moment later. When she shook her head, it was like an invitation for another tear to shake from the pool in her eyes. "I was defiant and stubborn and I never tried. But you did. And if my son were like that, willing to try for me, I'd be proud. Unbelievably proud." Rory didn't want Dennis defending her. He didn't want him in here, thinking of all the ways he could make her feel better about this situation.
She had to inhale carefully, unwilling to let her breath shake like it so clearly wanted to. No, she had to be strong. Even if she was crying, even if she never cried, she had to maintain some semblance of strength. Rory wasn't broken because he brother wasn't dying. Simple as that. "Stop. It doesn't matter if you wanted it. They were proud, and you deserved for them to be." And then she chuckled again, feeling the wetness of tears against her lips when she did so. "At least we can agree on that."
His smile almost broke her, but his touch truly did. As broken as she got, anyway. Rory had been through hell lately, and this was a whole new level of it. When Dennis touched her shoulder, Rory turned her body into it, shifting forward so she could hook an arm under his, force a hug that wouldn't hurt him where he was injured. It didn't matter that they hadn't hugged since they were kids, save for maybe a few posed family photos or something similarly orchestrated. Right then, it just made sense. "It will be okay," she whispered, "because you aren't dying. You're going to be fine." Physically, anyway.