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Hearing her say my name was the most beautiful kind of torture.
“Anson Bartholomew Cattigan.” That lip twitch was back, a little stronger this time. “You know that’s not my name, right?” “Well, I don’t know your full name, and I needed three names for emphasis.” “It’s Anson Sutter Hunt.” It was my turn to scowl at him. “God, that’s a good name.
I’m going to let that loss teach me, not harden me.”
“You’re doing the plant gods’ work.” “I need that on a T-shirt.”