Why is this so hard?” I whispered. His pulse leaped crazily at my admission. “Everything worth fighting for is hard.

You think I need to be rescued?" "I think it doesn't hurt to let someone else do the rescuing every now and then, when your own armor starts to get banged up.

"Hey, do you wanna go out for..." His words melted with a sigh when he noticed Tod, but then he rallied with a smile. "Hi, Tod, I didn't realise you were here. In my daughter's bedroom. With the door closed." "Happy to be here," Tod said, and I groaned out loud.

She wasn't feeling nothing. She was feeling too much. She was blocking it all out. That was a survival skill, and her still-beating heart was proof that it worked.

But I'll be fine. I'll be with Tod. He's a good guy, you know." He just hides it under all the sarcasm and curls.

I'd just stepped out of the kiddie pool and into the deep end, with no floaties. And drowning was not an option.

Not that I don't appreciate the rescue," Holt said. "But I'm forced to ask, in the interest of self-preservation ... exactly how well armed are you right now?