Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. His voice was so low that I was the only one who could hear. 'I held you in my hand, Wanderer. And you were so beautiful.

Will you be?” I asked, suddenly anxious. “Will you really be here?” “As long as you want me,” he assured me. “I'll always want you,” I warned him. “Forever.

Uncle Jeb," we croaked in surprise. "You found us." "Well, now," he said, and his gruff voice brought back a hundred memories. "Well, now, here's a pickle.

It's the strange world.' 'The strangest.

I was thinking, while I was running..." He paused. "About not hitting the trees, I hope.

Her existence alone was excuse enough to justify the creation of the entire world.

I could see how easy it would be to fall into loving Bella. It would be exactly like falling: effortless. Not letting myself love her was the opposite of falling—it was pulling myself up a cliff-face, hand over hand, the task as grueling as if I had no more than mortal strength.