I opened my mouth wide one time to see if the words I was thinking would fall out, but they wouldn’t. If words don’t want to come out, they don’t. I don’t understand when people say things and then they say, I didn’t mean to say that. Words don’t just fall out. You have to push them out. And sometimes, you can’t push them out, even if you want to.

I breathed him in, closing my mouth tight and inhaling the scent of him through my nose. I felt sheltered by him. Safe.

Growing up with my dad taught me to either lie like a pro or not bother.

He brushed my tears from my face. "How did I find you?

Say stop, whenever you want to stop. Understand?" I nodded. "Do you want to stop now?" My head moved back and forth to the pillow. "Thank God.

Did that hurt? On your lip?" "Not too much. I said a few choice four-letter words, though.

I want it to be better than okay. You deserve better than okay.