They linger near the back door, forehead to forehead and curved like statues as their lips whisper and brush together.

And then they kiss. Slowly, gently. Because with the right person, sometimes kissing feels like healing.

Go force your condescending man-logic on the next house. You can go now.

It's the intent, not the word, that makes something harsh.

Jacián!" She yells again, and then she says something in Spanish. A moment later he comes down the hallway. "I'm going to tell Grandfather you said that," he says. "What do you want?

The thought of being with Shay Wilder makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a butter knife

Maybe you don't have to remember something for it to be true. For it to exist.