He was leading and she was following, and in the darkness like this, with her pressed so close to him, trusting him not to let her fall, he could almost believe he’d gone back in time . . . he was just himself, just Jonah, unscarred, a man with the freedom he’d taken so much for granted once upon a time. But no, he wasn’t. He was scarred—damaged—and it hurt too much to pretend otherwise. This was his new world, but the real miracle was that Clara had come into it of her own free will, and she was holding him just as tightly in her arms as he was holding her.
