He felt a sting at the back of his eyes just at how tenderly she treated him. How he wasn't expecting her to hurt him in a second, he wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's almost suffocating, his recognition of the fact that it had been so long since he'd trusted someone to help him without expecting a knife blade to sink between his ribs to go along with it. With Emilie, he would. With Emilie, he'd learned that she was only sweet and soft for so long, and then he said something wrong, or did something wrong. Or sometimes, it was just some trigger in her own head and he had no idea what it was, but he paid the price for it.
When she asked if he really believed it, he answered, blinking hard once, twice, pushing his emotions back down. "Yes," he answered softly, voice hoarse. "You have no idea how much has--" he shook his head.
He couldn't answer the last part, he just squeezed his eyes shut and seemed to curl in on himself. He didn't know. Or, no, he did know. He just hated his own answer so much he didn't want to give it voice so plainly.