“I saw him.” Rinn shook her head. Her eyes were still closed. Like she was telling herself something she couldn’t quite believe. Like she was remembering the story and she had to get it right, but she also didn’t trust herself. Like she’d been taught to never believe herself when she had to say horrible, true things out loud. “I heard him come on to Daniella. She tried to get him to stop, and he didn’t listen.”

“Shit.”

Rinn ducked her head back over the sink. She grabbed the edges, like Imogen had this morning. Perhaps guarding against reality. Perhaps trying to make sense of her own memories. Imogen wouldn’t ever know for sure. But she could see the flinch of pain followed by the peace of shutting her eyes against the world for just a moment longer. “She stepped on him—stomped on his feet or his knee or whatever—and then I walked in. I heard her saying stop and no before I opened the door. I couldn’t get the handle open fast enough.”

“Jesus.”

“And then I tried to find her. And I made it all worse. I was trying to help, and I made it worse. God, I don’t even know if she’s okay. All I wanted to know was that she was okay.” Rinn slowly pulled up from her stoop over the sink. Her face was still dripping, still a mess.

Imogen grabbed some paper towels out of the dispenser and handed them to Rinn. “Let’s get you back together in one piece before worrying about her, okay. We can worry about her in a minute.”

Rinn took a shuddering deep breath, but she didn’t start crying again. “You’re good at this.”

Imogen took the heel of her hand and made circles against the top of Rinn’s back. It was a soothing gesture she’d learned from her mother. That her mother had done when she’d been unable to sleep. “I’ve read a fair number of self-help articles on the internet. They have all sorts of tips. But most of them can be summarized by the flight-safety-info tip—put on your mask before assisting others.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Rinn asked, her eyes direct and so questioning that Imogen could only give her the truth.

“No. Definitely not.” Imogen let out a small, hard laugh. “Why is your face red on one side? Or more red. It’s just one cheek and your nose.”

“Daniella hit me.” There was something so sudden about the way Rinn was relaying information. Like she was finding the truth and processing it as she said it aloud. “She slapped me, and I deserved it. I couldn’t help her.”

Imogen shook her head. “The only people who deserve to be smacked in the face are Nazis, TBH.”

Rinn sniffled. “Why are you being so nice to me?”