Kitty had managed to retain her composure as she left the surgery tent, but as soon as the cool night air hit her she realised her heart was thumping, tears biting at her eyes. The last time anyone had grabbed her like that… She shook her head quickly, trying not to think about it. Suffice to say that she hadn't known if she would make it out alive. She never wanted to be in that position again. Rosalie was right- men were pigs. And Kitty should have learnt that by now.
Yet there had been a softness in Thomas's eyes that shone through his cruel words, as if he were almost as afraid as she was. Desperate as she had been to get out as soon as he let her go, something had made her stay, rooted to the spot for a few seconds, willing him to look up at her one last time. And the places- the places his hands had been- they didn't burn the way Elliott's grasps had (and maybe always would). What remained of Thomas's touch was the fading warmth of something lost.
Later, clutching Mathilde in her own arms and trying her very best not to think of Sylvie, Kitty realised what it was she had felt in Thomas's embrace, so long missing in her life: tenderness.