Everything that Will had said was on Abigail's behalf. A confession that she couldn't quite say out loud yet, but the heartbeat after the last syllable felt painful and drawn out. What if he was wrong? What if this didn't help? What if she panicked? He wasn't lying when he said he felt guilty about showing up far too late. The only thing that kept him functioning after he couldn't save Mrs. Hobbs, and after he shot her husband to death, was the fact that Abigail survived. If exposing her to the truth killed her, there would be no living with himself. As Abigail hunched forward, he resisted the impulse to reach out to her. In the end, his hesitation made no difference. When Will felt Abigail's fingers loosely clutch at the sleeve of his shirt, the relief he felt even staggered his breathing. 'Thank you.' This time, he didn't hesitate to pull his arm from her, and carefully move it around her shoulders.
If Will had been normal, he would have told Abigail everything was going to be okay, that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her again.
But Will wasn't most people. He knew better than to make promises like that. Talk was cheap, and Abigail deserved better. The only thing he could do was prove that he wasn't going anywhere, that she wasn't alone as he held her close without a word.