My heart clenched at the sight; then as my shirt fell to my elbows, I breathed in and out, knowing what he’d be seeing. I had nothing underneath my shirt, nothing but my skin and my scar and my true self. I held my breath as Cromwell saw the result of years of fighting. I worried it would disgust him. I worried it would be too ugly. I worried that— A quiet sob slipped from my throat when he leaned forward and pressed his lips over the raised skin. He kissed the scar from the tip to the bottom. Every inch that told the world I had a broken heart. My entire body shook. Cromwell took my face in
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