What's going on?" I sat down on the bed and finished the last of the scone. "Bad things," she said mischievously. "You'll approve.

Then why are you crying?” “Because of you!” I beat my fists on his chest. “Because I love you, and I don’t know what to do! I can solve almost any problem, but I can’t solve this. I don’t know how to deal with that. And I’m afraid! Afraid for you! Do you know what it’d do to me if something happens to you?” I stopped hitting him and clasped my hands over my own chest, as though there was a danger my heart might fall out. “This! This would break. Shatter. Crumble. Crumble until it was dust.” I dropped my hands. “Blown away on the wind until there was nothing left.

Sleep with Seth Mortensen? Good grief. It was the most preposterous thing I'd ever heard. It was appalling. If I absorbed his life force, there was no telling how long it'd be until his next book came out.

I used to think you were weak and just didn't fight back ... but now, honestly, I think you're actually pretty tough. It takes a hell of a lot of strength to not complain and lash out.

This isn't a Christmas special! This is my life. In the real world, miracles and goodness just don't happen.

I’ve seen all I need to. I’m going to go drink now in a futile effort to wipe away the memory of this debacle.

I'd do a lot of things to protect you.