Sabrina can't help the soft, relieved intake of breath, or the way her mouth curves up happily at the touch.

She hadn't known how much she would miss being able to touch Rosie until suddenly she couldn't just drape over the other girl's side or kiss her neck or fingers or mouth. Touch, she's learned, grounds her and the clamor of feelings and impulsivity she'd like to call infernal, but is probably more Sabrina than anything else.

"It feels like," she says very softly, her eyes pricking with warmth, "like I lost you too that day, sometimes. And I can see the path back, and I'm going to keep following it. I'll keep going, I promise."