It sets his nerves on edge, the way she says it. It feels so much like progress--real, genuine opening up into someone who felt safe and secure and properly loved--has been cracked by this mistake.

His mistake. His mistake in handling what was her mistake in asking, but still his mistake.

"If..." It's a little easier to speak if he drops his voice down to a murmur, hopefully just loud and low enough to carry through the door. "If I could, I'd... I'd promise you wouldn't-- ever get hurt again. But-- I can't. That's not... that's not how love works."

And really, for better or worse, loving the way Eichelns did--almost all-consuming--only ever made that worse.

"All I can promise is... is doing my best. Is-- is putting everything else-- everything less important, Rach, which-- is everything."