“No matter who gave birth to me or what blood runs in my veins, I’m a Hawthorne, everything my father raised me to be. I won’t poison you, too, Hannah. You deserve—” “You,” I bit out. I pushed myself up into a sitting position and locked my eyes on to his. “I deserve you. I deserve to be happy, and you make me happy, you impossible, arrogant, self-destructive, infuriating, brilliant, wonderful son of a bitch.”
