Katniss had long since grown comfortable with physical affection from Finnick. But even still, she flinched just a little bit. Not because of him, but because she felt so horrible about herself that being hugged seemed wrong. The next moment her selfishness kicked back in and she accepted the comfort. She buried her face in his chest, curling her fingers into his shirt.
It seemed like an appropriate time to cry, but no tears came. All the same it was a while before she composed herself to withdraw from the safe, dark place just a little bit, turning her head to rest it against his shoulder. "He tried to kill me," she said quietly, her voice strained. "He's alive, but... I don't know if he's... Peeta anymore."
There were other reasons why it bothered her. The same reasons that had been made uncomfortably explicit in the book. But she had been so hopeful when she'd realized he would live, even if she died, and all of the rationalizations she'd been trying to use to comfort herself were not holding up so well in the face of Finnick's sympathy.