“Jonah,” she whispered and he met her gaze. “It’s you who doesn’t realize that you should hold your head high and wear those scars like the courageous battle wounds they are. I would walk proudly into any restaurant with you. And you would keep your eyes on me, not anyone else. On me, Jonah. And who cares if people stare? Those scars you’re so ashamed of are proof that you threw yourself at a madman while everyone else ran away.”
