I miss you when you’re not there. When you’re happy, it makes me happy. But I could say the same thing about Charlie, Jacob. You’re family. I love you, but I’m not in love with you.

It's easier to come up with new stories than it is to finish the ones you already have. I think every author would feel that way.

Is it really sick for me to be happy right now?" I asked. My voice broke twice. He didn't push me away. He pulled me tight against his ice-hard chest, so tight it was hard to breathe, even with my lungs securely intact. "I know exactly what you mean," he whispered. "But we have lot of reasons to be happy. For one, we're alive." "Yes," I agreed. "That's a good one." "And together," he breathed. His breath was so sweet it made my head swim.

He was silent for a moment, staring out the window into the rain; I imagined he was contemplating the fact that his family's presence was turning the locals into giant dogs.

I love you," I said in a low, intense voice. "I will always love you, no matter what happens now.

The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.

Believe me, I wanted to say. I've tried. Oh, and also, I'm wretchedly in love with you. Keep it light.