That was, in so many ways, exactly what Bryce needed to hear. It didn't dull the pain, it didn't decrease his anger, and it didn't bring back Chuck and Sarah, but it helped. In some strange way, it helped, and he knew why he'd taken to Lucy so quickly. Of all the people he had met on this island, she demanded the least of him, and as a result, gave him the most. She didn't spend her time watching him, following him, listening carefully to each word out of his mouth. She didn't wonder who he was, underneath it all, she just accepted him as he was. (He felt an instant tinge of guilt and disappointment at that, forced to remember that she didn't even know him, that she thought he was someone else, but Bryce suppressed it instantly. None of those were emotions he could afford.)

"Thanks for that," he told her, his eyes finding hers — then darting away at once. Not until they made eye contact did he become so aware of the space (or lack thereof) between them; of the heat under her hand on his arm. Those, too, were things he couldn't afford to acknowledge. "It helps," he choked out, simultaneously clearing his throat. "Not having to explain."