People rarely said what they thought, or revealed how they felt. No one was honest.

I could never be afraid of you.

Brooke?” I puff out a sigh. “For chrissake, Reid, who do you think it is? And haven’t you put me into your contacts yet?” “Yeah... It just says Satan, though, and I forgot I’d assigned that title to you.

Look at me, Emma." Her eyes are full, the lids heavy. "Graham," she breathes. "I need you to hear me." Cradling her head in my hands, thumbs sweeping her tears away, I stare into her eyes. "I belong to you. There is no one else. All I want is to be where you are.

I'm gonna make that asshole gnaw his own hand off that night, dammit.

I wanted to tell you that I just--I miss you. And maybe that sounds ridiculous--like we barely know each other, but between the emails and texts and... everything else, I felt like we did. Like we do. and I miss--I don't know how else to say it--I miss both of you.

I miss you Emma." I'm not sure, but it looks like her eyes tear up. "I was fine for months without you," she says, the words hushed and forlorn. "Why does it hurt now?" I'm sighing and shoving a hand through my hair, which I know from experience leaves strands of it stabbing out in numerous directions, defiant and crazy-looking. Maybe crazy is exactly how I feel. "Because now we have hope of something more.