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“Decent men don’t do this,” I tell her. “But that’s why I wanted this one. She’s a devil, just like me.”
“The only one who can bring Ivar Torrance’s father to his knees is Ivar’s mother.”
knew I was Superman.
Winter and I play. When we’re in bed—or the pool—it never feels like we left high school. We’re perpetually two horny teenagers, and I feel alive in my life every day.
“I need Will back, Rika,” she whispers. I lift my head, resting my chin on her chest and seeing her eyes glisten. She purses her lips to keep her emotions in check, but eventually, she explains, “I love you and Banks and Winter and the guys, but…Will gets it.”
The love. The need. The longing.
was there when she was five and eight and thirteen, so you remember where you and she started the next time you want to imply you have any more responsibility or love for her than I do,” he bites out. “My woman. Sit down.”
We’re not criminals, and I have to constantly remind myself of that. We don’t break laws for personal gain. We do it for fun.
“Sometimes, I thought I wanted to touch you,” Michael whispers, and I feel it on the top of my hair. “Other times, I thought I wanted to kill you. I didn’t know if it was love or hate, but I knew it would change my life.” “Slower,
“We will have kids. If you want them. But I will never not have you.” He shakes me. “Do you understand?” A sob lodges in my throat. “Do you understand?” he growls again. “A world where there is no us can’t happen.”
“I can’t follow the rules,” he says, “and with you, I don’t have to. I’m not alone. I can’t go back to being alone.” He hovers over my lips, our mouths open and hungry. “I can’t fucking breathe without my little monster.” Little Monster.
“What does he look like?” Winter whispered up at me, her voice raspy. I smoothed my hand over both their heads. “Like next year he’ll be running around in the fountains with us,” I told her. “He’s perfect, baby. Black hair, a little pissed off…”
While driving, we think, even for just a moment, about jerking the steering wheel into oncoming traffic or leaping off the balcony of a ship and into the abyss of the black water below. They’re passing thoughts and little dares we allow our psyche, because we’re tired of not living and we want the fear. We want to remember why we want to live. And some of
“There’s a French phrase for it,” she said. “L’appel du vide.” I looked up at her, her pink lips misty with hot water. “That’s what binds us,” she told me. “Who?” “Our family.” Our family?
“Kai, Banks, Michael, Rika, Will, Alex…” she went on. “You and me. We all hear it. L’appel du vide. The call of the void.” I stopped,
