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“You could come home with me,” a voice said from behind her. And that’s how she met Emily. And that was the beginning of everything. Even the end.
“They are books with car chases and gunfights and back covers that are nothing but giant author photos of dudes who are always—always—wearing a leather jacket.”
“There’s no way, no universe, no reality in which you aren’t the brightest star in the whole damn sky, and . . .” His cheeks flushed. His hand shook, and he looked away like, suddenly, he was the one who was embarrassed. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
Sometimes careless people hurt careful people.
If you were missing, I’d find you. I’d tear the house down stone by stone. I’d rip apart every room and scour every field and I wouldn’t stop. I would never stop.”
It was the sound that hope makes when it leaves the human body,
“I know the world hasn’t given you a lot of reasons to believe this, but just so you know, if you were mine, I’d never make you park the car because my shoes are suede. If you were mine, I’d carry you through the storm. If you were mine, I’d fight the sky.”
“I thought you looked like forever.”
“So, what you’re saying is, I’m what you want for Christmas?” She was turning red. She was trying to tease. “No.” Oh. “You’re what I want for always.”
“You know, if mankind has one universal superpower, it’s gaslighting women into thinking they’re the problem.”
