Ethan returns home later than anticipated. It’s past bedtime, so he tries to be as silent as possible as he sets down the groceries.

He finds you in the living room, organizing toys. It’s been only a few weeks since you’ve started work as his babysitter, and he’s already grown used to your presence.

“Hey. Sorry I’m so late.” he smiles apologetically, leaning against the wall.

He bends down to pass you a toy, his fingers brushing against yours.

“How was she? Any trouble?”