You’ve had one foot out the door since the day you got here. It was true. He had. He had been halfway gone already. It’s what you do. Every time he started to let his guard down, every time his mask cracked, he expected to have to go. It was what he’d learned. He, Luke, the real Luke, was not acceptable. Posy, the real Posy, was not acceptable. Sooner or later, they were too much, or not enough, and they had to go. So he’d been expecting it. Waiting for it. He’d gotten ahead of it at the inn, over and over, insisting time and time again that he wasn’t staying long, that they’d leave soon, and
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