Nettie’s arms pulled him closer.

Malachi had never felt so far away.

Fingers tightened their grip on the handkerchief, arms remaining awkwardly at his sides. He’d never minded closeness with her – (tried not to mind it, convinced himself enough that he didn’t) – but in that moment it felt constricting. Suffocating, for her worried words had stolen his breath and her handkerchief covered his face.

His eyes had reddened, but his cheeks were dry. Gently, as if the slightest force could damage her, Malachi set his arms upon her shoulders in return of the hug.

“Please,” he repeated, quieter this time. “Just tell me something good.”