He kisses my head and carries on, washing my shoulders and back. Jake knows me, maybe not every inner thought, but he’s learned enough about me to see when the wall has gone back up. The old Jake would have gotten pissy and tried to push, but the new and improved Jake knows when to let the battle simmer. I know it won’t last; his impatient, overbearing self will win over, and he’ll push me again, and by then, I hope to God I can get my head around this enough to talk.  

“Stay ...