I love you." Z squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't be a tragedy, Bella.

Man, life was complicated. But the truth was simple. He was her home. He was where she belonged.

My twin's not broken. He's ruined. Do you understand the difference? With broken maybe you can fix him. Ruined? All you can do is wait to bury him.

Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words, I love you, Jane.

There aren't any syringes." Red Sox came over and held a sterile pack out. When she tried to take it from him, he kept a grip on the thing. "I know you'll use this wisely." "Wisely?" She snapped the syringe out of his hand. "No, I'm going to poke him in the eye with it. Because that's what they trained me to do in medical school.

Come here. I need to hold on to you." She felt the same way. And when there was no distance between them, it was like coming home.

Blay didn’t shake the hand that was offered. He reached over, took a hold of the fighter’s face, and drew Qhuinn in for a kiss. It was supposed to be only a split-seconder— like their lips were the ones doing the handshake thing. When he went to pull back, though, Qhuinn captured him, and held him in place. Their mouths met again… and again… and once more, their heads tilting to the sides, the contact lingering. “You’re welcome,” Blay said roughly. Then he smiled a little. “Can’t say it was all a pleasure, though.