“Her therapist said her balance is four points higher than last month.”

“Did she take her afternoon water before the session?” I asked from the doorway, still holding June.

“Half a bottle at two fifteen,” Ethan said, drying his hands on a clean dish towel.

“I wrote it in her logbook on the passenger seat.”

He walked across the tile, stopping two inches in front of me, and reached out with both hands.

He slid his left palm beneath June’s legs and cupped his right hand flat across her small upper back, holding her weight against his chest with a steady, practiced lift.