every little girls wants to be found

Raindrops splatter on the windshield as she turns her head away, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. He offers her a tissue.
"What's wrong?" he asks, turning to her as they stop at the light.
"Nothing."
"That's not true." The light turns green and he pulls the car out onto the main road.
She feels like a child again, wanting to be small, unseen. Her words fail her, betray her. Fear and insecurity wrap around her. She needs to hide.
She hides from her beloved. Yet as her heart throbs inside her, Grace finds her, lifts her head. A startling realization comes over her, washing over her. Oh, how you love me. No matter what I have done, what I have said, what I have broken. In spite of my wretchedness, my sin. You love love me. Oh, how you love me!
The rain continues to pelt down, drumming on the windows with a hollow persistence.
It breaks into her thoughts. She cannot look at him. Their words divide them, as they stand on opposite sides of a chasm. The space between them is too much for her to bear.
Once home, she runs upstairs, up and away, to the furthest place she can go. There is no bed to hide under now, as she did as a child. Back then, the darkness and quiet would calm her and she'd lay staring up at the bed frame. And wait. She'd count the staples on the wooden frame, one by one, and wait to hear footsteps coming up the stairs.
They never came.
She stands now, leaning against the bathroom sink.
His shadow falls across the open doorway.
"You didn't have to come," she says.
"I know," he pauses, standing up straight. "But every little girl wants to be found."
Her eyes widen, then shut as the tears well up from a deep spring within her. Shoulders heaving, she is undone. Arms encircle her, strong arms of love.
And the healing begins.