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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The majority of children who are kidnapped and killed are dead within three hours of the abduction.
To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.’”
Most people built walls to protect themselves. Dean did it to protect everyone else.
“It’s considered impolite to talk above seventy-five decibels,” Sloane sniffed. “I believe it’s called shouting.”
Someday, I was fairly certain that Lia would write a book entitled Making an Awkward Situation Worse.
“Okay, I’m calling it,” Michael announced when the quiet got to be too much. “I’m turning on the radio. There will be singing. I would not be opposed to car-dancing. But the next person whose facial expression approaches ‘brood’ is getting punched in the nose. Unless it’s Cassie. If it’s Cassie, I punch Dean in the nose.”
“Touch her again,” Michael told Christopher conversationally, “and Dean will be the one trying to pull me off of you.”
YUM
“Do you want to go after him?” Michael’s question took me by surprise. “You’re the emotion reader,” I retorted. “You tell me.” “That’s the problem, Colorado,” Michael replied, leaning toward me. “You want me to tell you what you feel. I want you to know.”
It’s not the bad memories that tear a person apart. It’s the good ones.
unfortunately.
“Sometimes you do what you have to in order to survive.”
from what I’ve gathered, this particular witness specializes in mind games and subtle suggestion, and that won’t work on me. I get numbers and facts and the literal meanings of words. Subtle gets lost in translation.” No one could argue with Sloane’s logic. “I can probably offend him without even trying to!” Sloane was sounding altogether too enthusiastic now. “If things get too intense, I’ll tell him some statistics about domesticated ferrets.”
I love her sm!
“Do you—Dean, I need to know what you feel. For me.” Any second, things could change. “I feel… something.” Dean’s words came unevenly. He turned toward me, his leg brushing against mine. “But I don’t know if I can—I don’t know if it’s enough.” He closed my hand around the tube of lipstick I was holding, his hand covering mine. “I don’t know if I can.…”
… I hate men
Michael reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. I froze. “I know,” he said. “I know that you care about him. I know that you’re attracted to him. I know that when he hurts, it hurts you. I know that he never looks at you the way he looks at Lia, that you’re not a sister to him. I know that he wants you. He’s in over his head with you. But I also know that half the time, he hates that he wants you.”
#teammichael
“That’s the difference between the two of us,” Michael told me. “I don’t just want you.” Now both of his hands were on my face. “I want to want you.”
YASSS
But Michael was there, telling me how he felt. He was leveling the playing field. He was asking me to choose. He was saying Pick me.
CHOOSE ME. LOVE ME.
“I was wrong,” he said, “when I said I just felt something.” He was breathing heavily. I couldn’t breathe at all. “When I said I wasn’t sure it was enough.”
“You win some, you lose some,” he said with a shrug. Like I’d never been anything more than a game. Like I didn’t matter.
“If it had been me in the woods, if I’d been the one to go with Briggs, if I’d been the one you saw at the exact second…” Would it have been me? He didn’t finish the question, and I didn’t answer it. As I turned back toward the house, he went back to knocking the windows out of that broken, battered car. “Yeah,” he said, his voice carrying on the wind. “That’s what I thought.”
“When the odds are bad,” she said, removing something from one of them, “you change the rules.”
