But if I hadn't fallen, I wouldn't have met you.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. This isn’t a good idea. This isn’t right.” “There’s all kinds of right,” he murmured. “On the spectrum, we’re still in the safe zone.” ... “Definitely right. Usually right,” Patch continued. “Mostly right. Maybe right.

Being nice? He’s being horny.

Cheshvan starts tonight," Rixon said, "What are you doing arsing around in a graveyard?" "Thinking." "Thinking?" "A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision.

You’re impinging on my private space,” I said, inching backward. Patch gave a barely-there smile. "Impinging? This isn’t the SAT, Nora.

I love you more than I think I should.

Patch? Whatever happens, I love you." I wanted to say more, those three words painfully inadequate for the way I felt about him. And at the same time, so simple and accurate, nothing else would do.