The anger that had simmered in the center of every one of Rosita's bones when she got here isn't gone, it wasn't false in any way, but it's the part of her locked away now. Part of that is because it's Jesus across from her, who knows her, who she does not doubt cares about her.

She promised to follow his lead. She has reasons for why not, for being the way she is, and she likes who she is. But she looks at his upturned hand and remembers her promise and sighs.

"I don't like this part of life," she huffs, but she reaches to tangle their fingers together. "But I'll try."