The bathroom was cramped, the sink close enough to the toilet that she could easily reached the basin from where she sat. He turned on the water and waited for it to warm, urging her palms over the porcelain.

"I know," he murmured, turning on the vanity light and bending in close to inspect her hands. With a soft washcloth, he wiped away the dirt, letting the trickle of water rinse her palms clean, the pink swirl of it disappearing down the drain.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, after a moment. "I do want you here."