I think at this point, safety isn't a feeling, it's a process. Starting with trust.

I like pessimists. They’re always the ones who bring life jackets for the boat.

The Travises who had survived were the most purely stubborn people on earth, the kind who relied on their backbones when their wishbones were broken.

I want you any way I can get you. Not because you’re beautiful or clever or kind or adorable, although devil knows you’re all those things. I want you because there’s no one else like you, and I don’t ever want to start a day without seeing you.

Both of us were quiet with the recognition that something was ending, and something was beginning.

If loneliness was a choice, what was the other option? To settle for second-best and try to be happy with that? And was that fair to the person you settled for?

The freedom of saying anything to him, telling all, relieved a burden I hadn't even realized I'd been carrying. In my relentless push to keep moving forward, there had been so many emotions I hadn't let myself inhabit fully, so many things I hadn't talked about. Now I couldn't quite catch up to myself.