Patch is the last person you want to antagoonize. He doesn't hold grudges because the people who cross him tend to disappear quickly.

But if the choice I have to make comes down to you or me, I choose you. I always have. All my love, Patch

Is everything a joke to you?” I asked. He dabbed his tongue to his lip again. “Not everything.” “Like what?” “You.

That was a good fight back in the gym,” he said. “But I think you could benefit from a few more boxing lessons.

"This isn't over," I said. "After everything we've been through, you don't get the right to brush me off. I'm not letting you off that easily." I wasn't sure if it was a threat, my last stab at defiance, or irrational words spoken straight from my splintered heart. "I want to protect you," Patch said quietly. He stood so close. All strength and heat and silent power. I couldn't escape him, now or ever. He'd always be there, consuming my every thought, my heart locked in his hands. I was drawn to him by forces I couldn't control, let alone escape. "But you didn't".

Go ahead. You're not going to walk in on anyone. I'm home alone." "The whole night?" Immediately, I realized it might not have been the smartest thing to say. "Dorothea will be coming soon." That was a lie. Dorothea was long gone. It was close to midnight. "Dorothea?" "Our housekeeper. She's old- but strong. Very strong." I tried to squeeze past him. Unsuccessfully. "Sounds frightening," he said, retrieving the key from the lock. He held it out for me. "She can clean a toilet inside and out in under a minute. More like terrifying.

Father' is such an arbitary word. Douche bag, on the other hand.