Tony wanted to berate her for believing he was entitled to anything above all of those people who lost someone that day and might never know why. He wanted to point out to her how many times she said 'I don't' and 'I can't' and everything else that meant surrender in her admittance and protest. He wanted to admit he understood every word she said but he could never say them himself.
But he was just so tired and hurting so much and so afraid of her tears and even more afraid of losing his mind entirely the second she let go of him. He couldn't say a word for risk of his voice cracking and letting it all break. He was supposed to have more control than that, and he was supposed to be stronger than all of this. Instead, he pressed his lips tightly together against them, and responded to her just in shrugs, That's not right, Don't think like that, and when she did release his hand he grasped for hers again wildly. He pulled and he leaned, folding over for the comfort of her skin where he touched their cheeks together, then tucked his face to her shoulder when he had hooked an arm under hers.