Neil doesn't ask what it was, and despite the slow, soothing reassurance of his fingers in her hair Rosie's momentarily hurt by that. Not that she could have told him anyway, not tonight when there's been so many other things to eclipse it; fresher and deeper injuries, losses that are still so new her grief hasn't had time to scab over, or form some kind of callus. But he could have asked, even if she couldn't have explained.

"Sabrina took it hardest," she says after a minute, trying to relax into the touch of his hand and the solid weight of him as they stay tangled up on the couch. "For obvious reasons. And Charlie had to be steady for us both for...up until he dropped us off at home, I think. Which wasn't fair, but he did it."