Lee extracts at least one hand from him, bending over in the same motion to rest her forehead on the top of his head, so close her eyelashes brush against his hair. Her freed hand goes around his back, and after a moment she starts stroking him.
"It's okay," she says again. She doesn't know what to do for him except make this space safe, to show him someone still cares. Whenever she breathes she can smell him, the way he always smells — some kind of aftershave, sweat. Her leg just under her knee is damp.