In the end, it only comes down to one thing: choosing the one you can’t live without.

I was no suffragette, but I was pretty sure the he-can’t-control-himself defense was a big, stinky load of horseshit.

I want you. I want you so badly I can’t stand it. When you left, it felt like the world got darker. Like I couldn’t truly see anything. Couldn’t feel anything.

Because in most cases, I believe that people deserve a second chance. And because I couldn't have lived with myself if I'd stood by and let them both die souless, when I could have helped.

Like I'm going to pass up an opportunity to smack your cousin.

So, you reap souls and crush hopes? Is that part of the job, or just a service you offer for free?

How long can you keep me invisible?" "As long as were in physical contact." My throat felt dry. "Holding hands?" That's how we'd done it last time. "Unless you had something else in mind?