“Want to talk about it?” I ask, bringing my thoughts back to the conversation. “Nah, let’s get ice cream,” she says, pulling me to my feet and out of the room. I’m not at all surprised that she doesn’t want to talk about it, but the fact that she’s here, with me, when she needs someone…It makes my heart swell, and I feel this fierce need to protect her. To pull her into my arms and tell her it will all be okay. Instead, I relish the feel of my hand in hers as she leads us through the house and out the front door.
