She had been about to step into the shower under the much needed (and earlier cut off) spray when his hands were suddenly around her. Her heart was still leaping hard against her ribs, nearly vibrating her insides with the pressure, but his touch helped to support that he wasn't disgusted--that he didn't suddenly hate her for the mar.
Keeping her head turned toward him, she nodded, chewing on her bottom lip letting herself lean into him just slightly. "Yes." The word was quiet but meant; she wouldn't speak it out-loud, but she needed it. To associate the scarred word with something besides the memory she desperately attempted to repress.