On one hand, it was a good thing to be worried about. It meant that someone cared, and that was more than he deserved. It meant that someone did want to comfort him in return.

On the other… it felt wrong. It always felt wrong. Like his hand was being burnt where she touched it.

But his smile didn’t waver, and his hand remained still.

“Of course,” Malachi promised, “as I said, all I need is some rest.”

Slowly, he retracted his hand from her cheek and threw a glance to the presbytery door.

“I should go… as long as you’re sure that you’re alright. I don’t mind sitting out here with you or walking you home if you need me.”