Your mine, angel. And I won't let anything change that.
What I really wanted was the impossible.
Nora: What are you planning? Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.
Your past wouldn’t frighten me,” I said, buckling my seat belt across my lap. “I’m guessing I’d be more appalled than anything.
In the end, the only thing between us was silence.
I know you followed me. Don't look so surprised. It's called a rearview mirror.